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thefanficmonster · 3 years

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Let Them Talk

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female) ft. Sykkuno

Warnings: Swearing, Jealousy

Genre: Fluff, a bit of Angst

Summary: We can all agree Among Us is a fun game on its own but what makes it ten times better is playing it with the right company. Y/N could agree 100% Being a streamer herself, she loves playing with the streamer gang that includes her boyfriend and best friend. But, what happens when her boyfriend starts doubting her feelings for him due to her close relationship with her best friend.

Requested by @cheetoscat . Thank you so much for your request! Sorry it took so long to write, I hope the final product is worth the wait. Enjoy! Love, Vy ❤

Y/AU/N - Your Among Us Name

I settle in my gaming chair, adjusting my webcam one last time before joining the Among Us lobby with my friends.

“Hi everyone!“ I say into the mic, a smile plastering itself on my face. Discord is a magical thing, man. It’s so easy to forget that the people you are talking to aren’t around you or within arm’s reach. You could be separated by miles and miles of land or - in our case - oceans as well. Distance becomes negligible when you hear your friends’ voices, their laughter; when you have a good time together despite being each behind a screen, often times alone.

Well, I’m one of those lucky ones that isn’t alone. No one knows that, though. Everyone thinks I’m a single, self-employed girl that’s straight out of college. And they are 90% right. Only thing is - I’m not single. That would be a shocker in and of itself, but revealing who’s changed my relationship status would be a bomb with a whole new intensity.

Speaking of my significant other who shall remain unnamed - just kidding, it’s Corpse - his form materializes in the doorway of my recording room. I give him a hand signal the camera isn’t able to capture, alerting him of the fact that my mic is on. He replies by blowing me a kiss and walking off down the hall to his recording room where he’ll be stationed for the next three or so hours.

I owe this relationship to my best friend Sykkuno. I’m a pretty new and not very well known on the platform, however, thanks to him I haven’t only obtained a boyfriend, but a following of a little over million subscribers as well.

It all started with an invitation to fill a spot in the Among Us lobby him and his friends had created. It took him quite a bit to convince me to join, but I eventually caved and agreed. Suddenly, there I was. In a Discord call, in an Among Us lobby with some of the most well-known names on this platform. I’m talking YouTube legends. I was that puppy playing with the big dogs. The newbie tagging along with the big leagues. Or at least that’s how I felt until we all started vibing - talking and teasing each other as though we’ve known each other for years and not minutes.

When I joined the call, Corpse wasn’t present. After everyone else introduced themselves, Sykkuno informed me that we were waiting for Corpse to return. The name sounded really cool to me and I was genuinely very excited to meet this Corpse guy.

And then, out of the blue - no prep, no warning...

“Did you get someone to fill the spot? Oh- Hello, Y/AU/N.“

…he started talking and he had me star-struck. Apparently, he also had me a blabbering mess cause I remember blurting out: “Whoa, who’s this guy speaking in bold and underlined at the same time?”

The entire lobby, including Corpse, laughed. Sean, or Jack like they called him most often, answered my question, “That is the voice of God, Y/N. Its source is named Corpse, though.”

Heat spread from the bottom of my neck to the tips of my ears. I was mortified by my own stupidity. I was well aware they couldn’t see me and I was incredibly thankful for that, but I simply could not get myself to open my eyes. “I’m so sorry.” I said through nervous laughter.

“No, no, I like that description. Bold and underlined at the same time, huh?“ His voice sounded even more pleasant when it had that teasing, mischievous note to it. That thought popping up in my head only made things worse for my self-esteem and only made me more embarrassed, causing me to hide my face in my hands. “You sure it’s not in Italics as well?“

His question got a weak laugh out of me. “Nope, definitely not. Nothing Italic about it.“

Yes, I don’t even know how some terrible jokes about MS Word fonts got me as far as a romantic relationship, but they did! We’ve been living together for quite some time now, dating for even longer - hiding it just as long. It’s not that we have been actively trying to hide it or something, we just wanted to see how long it would take someone to become sus of us. When we realized no one would notice, we decided that if any rumors about us started, or even fans shipping us, we’d come clean. That hasn’t happened either, so we haven’t had the proper chance to address our relationship and neither of us minds.

At this point, I’m honestly afraid of revealing it to the gaming squad. Sykkuno especially. He’s my best friend, after all. I can see him being hurt by the fact that I kept a secret so big even from him. The last thing I wanna do is hurt my best friend but it’s already too late for that, it’s inevitable.

“Y/N have you looked at Twitter today?“ Rae, another streamer I’ve become close with over the months, says urgently.

Overlooking the tension in her words, I answer: “Nope, haven’t had the time. Why? What’s up?“

Before Rae can say anything else, Sykkuno joins the conversation, his voice somehow even more urgent than Rae’s. “It’s nothing, Y/N. If you see it, just don’t let it bother you, ok?”

Hearing such a tone from Rae isn’t unusual, but hearing it from Sykkuno is completely different and a lot more worrisome. “Well if it has the potential of bothering me it can’t be nothing. What’s going on?”

Just then, my phone dings with two notifications. I check to see they are messages from Rae.

“I sent you screenshots. Sorry, Sykkuno. She has to know in order to address it and defuse it as well. I know better than anyone how fast these rumors can spread, especially if no one reacts to them.“ She says, her tone barely apologetic at all.

I open the screenshots she has sent me and I find myself frozen in shock. Some old pictures of Sykkuno and I have been posted on Twitter by some random user. These pictures have started an entire thread of suspicions surrounding our relationship.

The pictures in question are from a New Year’s Eve party a mutual friend of ours held two years ago. Sure, in the pictures we are a lot closer than what would be considered a platonic proximity. And yes one of the pictures is of me kissing his cheek. Yes we were both a bit tipsy. I acknowledge all those things and yet none of them are concrete reasons for these rumors to have started piling.

“This is silly.“ I finally say after maybe five minutes of silence on my end. ”This is absolutely ridiculous! And why are people so serious about it as well? Actual, important matters get discussed more nonchalantly than the potential relationship between two online personalities! What is this world we live in?“ I know I shouldn’t let these rumors get to me like this, especially not on camera. Still, I can’t help it. I feel it’s so unfair to Corpse. He has to put up with this as well and it’s by no means easy for him. I’ve been shipped with people from our group in the past and he always took those rumors to heart despite acting like he didn’t care. Neither of us should get worked up, but him getting upset about them creates a domino effect with my emotions - causing me to be hit just as hard as him, in some cases harder.

Rumors of the past aside, this one is the worst by far. Mostly cause even Corpse himself suspected something between Sykkuno and I at the very beginning, when we were still acquaintances, barely crossing into the realm of friends.

I pull up Twitter to look for the whole thread, barely sparing my stream chat a glance in the process. It seems pretty split - those who agree with me and those who think Sykkuno and I make ‘such an adorable couple’. The thread is ridiculously long, and if we take into account that it was only started approximately five hours ago, you can either view it as impressive, amusing or sad. Why sad? Because someone has dedicated so much time and effort into fueling the fire of a weakly supported theory.

I love Sykkuno with all my heart. Everyone knows that - fandom, streamer squad, Corpse and Sykkuno included. I love too much and too platonically to ever even dream of having a romantic connection with him. I thought that was more than obvious, but people are either blind here, or just grasping at straws. One thing’s for certain - they’re stepping on a nerve.

“Hey where’s Corpse? Did he disconnect?” Felix asks, gaining my full attention. My eyes dart to the monitor, searching through the little avatars in a desperate search for the one of my boyfriend. It’s nowhere to be found.

“He just messaged me saying his connection is unstable but he might join us later.“ Rae says, “You guys can invite someone to fill...“

“Bathroom break.“ I interrupt, not waiting for a response before shutting my mic off, putting the ‘BRB‘ graphic on my stream and yanking the headset off. I basically run down the hall to Corpse’s recording room, my heart pounding like a bass drum.

“Corpse?!“ I call out to him, one hand already on the doorknob. When five seconds pass by without a response, I barge in.

Inside, I find his usual spot on the gaming chair empty and his slumped figure seated on his bed.

“Corpse?“ I try again, watching for even the tiniest change of body language. He remains still as a statue, not bothering to look up at me either.

His hands are gripping the edge of the mattress, his head hanging low. His eyes are covered by the short curtain of his dark messy curls. I can’t gauge much. Is he angry? Is he sad? Both? How should I approach the situation?

Before I find the answer to any of those questions, I am kneeling in front of him, our height difference eliminated. I gently pry his hands off the mattress and take them in mine, holding them firmly but tenderly. With one hand I reach up to tilt his head so his eyes can meet mine. He complies, his tear-filled brown orbs meeting mine. Those tears have the same effect on me as fifty sharp knives stabbing into my chest. These tears focus their attack straight on my heart, tearing it to pieces.

“Baby....“

He cuts me off, “Why is it always someone else, huh? Do they deem me not worthy of being with you? Do they think you deserve better?” His voice wavers, “Well, they might be right. They are correct and there’s little I can do to prove them wrong. They mean you well, Y/N - pairing you with guys better than me. Those are some loyal fans you’ve got. They only want what’s best for you. And so do I. If ‘best’ is being with someone else then...”

It’s my turn to cut him off. I put an end to his nonsense ramble that’s slowly killing me by pressing my finger against his lips. The sternness of my gaze is beyond me as I get up and walk over to his computer setup. I put on his headset and hop into the call as well as the lobby with his avatar.

“Hey Corpse’s back!” Toast says, “Good to have you back buddy.”

“No, not Corpse.” I say in a casual, nonchalant voice.

“Wait, wha-“ Sean’s voice shows just how confused he is, representing the confusion of the entire lobby actually.

“I know all of you are streaming so this message will be heard by several different audiences so I’m gonna make myself perfectly clear.“ I take a deep breath, “Sykkuno and I aren’t dating. He’s a lovely guy and he deserves to find a girl who will treat him right. That girl isn’t and won’t be me though. I am already treating someone right. Someone who treats me more than right as well. An amazing person. A man-child with a heart of gold. You know him, to a certain extent. He goes by the name of Corpse Husband, but I prefer to call him ‘Love of my life’. Thank you for your time and attention, goodbye.“

I exit the call and turn around to find a stunned Copse looking at me.

“That was meant for you just as much.“ I say with a fake strict attitude, one hand on my hip the other rested on his desk behind me, “Were you listening?“

Within milliseconds, he’s on his feet standing directly in front of me, his lips inches away from mine. “I heard and memorized every word. But...” he pauses for a moment, “I think you have no idea how big of a chaos you just created.”

I smile mischievously, “We’ll worry about that later. For now...” I close the gap between us, connecting our lips in a sweet and passionate kiss.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @hacker-ghost @itsminniekat @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis @waterlilypat @idontknowwhatthisisfam @evi-ka @classyandfabulous00 @redperson58 @lilysdaydreams @the-fuck-up-of-today @slashersdream @chiefwombathoagiepizza @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite @axen-gers @luckygirl144 @nj01

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babybluebex · 3 years

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of pubs and profs [tom holland smut]

➽ pairing: prof!tom holland x fem!reader (y/n) ➽ word count: 4.7k ➽ summary: you have what you consider the best night of your life, but discover that it was with the worst person possible. ➽ warnings: NSFW/MDNI. smut, explicit language, fingering/oral (f recieving), unprotected sex (i am begging yall to wear a condom irl) ➽ a/n: alright so... don’t fool around with your teacher pls. live vicariously thru y/n :)

He seemed so out of place here. For one thing, a bar like this was hardly known for much good happening, and this man exuded good. He seemed fit, even as he sat at the bar, his face sharp, full of angles that would have been glorious to sketch, and he had caramel-amber hair that curled around his ears and the nape of his neck. He wore a dark blue turtleneck and slacks, a watch with a leather band around his left wrist.

“You’re staring.”

I jumped. I had forgotten that I was mid-conversation. “Huh?”

Zendaya scoffed. “You’re staring at that guy,” she said. “Like, staring super hard. Do you know him?”

“No,” I mumbled. “He’s just…” I trailed off for a moment, then attempted to save face by taking a sip of my drink. “I like the look of him. Ya know?”

Zendaya scoffed at me. “I like the look of him too, but you’re on something else here.” There was a pause between the two of us, and Zen’s mouth split into a smile. “Five bucks.”

“For what?” I asked.

“You can’t get his number,” Zen said. “I’ll give you five whole dollars if you get his phone number.”

“You don’t have five dollars,” I said playfully, with narrowed eyes. “You don’t even have two coins to rub together.”

“Right, and who bought your drink?” Zen asked. “C’mon, you need to put yourself out there. Ever since you and Jacob broke up, it’s been nothing but… Sad. Your room’s a cave, Y/N. Will you do this for me?”

I cast a glance at the guy once more, and I sighed. “Why not?” I mumbled under my breath. “But I had better get that fucking money, or I’ll take away your apartment privileges.”

“I pay half of the rent, fuck you,” Zen laughed. “Go. Go!”

“I am!” I giggled, and I slid myself out of the booth. The pub was bustling with nightly business, and I edged my way past a group of girls to find a place at the bar. My plan of attack was to order a drink and strike up a conversation with this guy, and grab his phone number before I left. Lucky for me, there was an empty space next to him, and I leaned against the bar with my forearms.

“Oh, hey, good lookin’!” the bartender, Jake, exclaimed. He was a close friend of mine, hence why I always chose to drink at this particular bar. Our freshman year, he lived in the room across the hall from me, and we frequented each other for screwdrivers (of both varieties) all year. Since then, we continued to grow close. “What’s cooking?”

“Not a lot, Gyllenhaal,” I replied, and our hands met in a quick dap. “Lemme get a rum and Coke.”

“Sure thing,” Jake said. “Gimme two minutes. We’ve got a bachelorette party in the back.”

“No problem,” I replied, and I watched Jake slide to the other side of the bar.

The game was now on. I looked over my shoulder to Zendaya briefly, just for long enough to gauge that she was laughing at me, and I cast her a look before turning back. Then, I looked back over my other shoulder, the one closest to the guy, and I caught sight of a book he had. “What’re you reading there?”

He looked up at me with big brown eyes, and my breath caught in my chest. From far away, he was hot but, up close, he was totally something else. He had strands of ginger in his dark hair, and his fingers closed the book in order to look at the cover, like he himself wasn’t sure of what he was reading. “Chaos Walking,” he answered, and my eyes widened. His voice was gorgeous, pitched low, accented with a London attitude. “My mate told me I’d like it.”

“Don’t think I’ve read that,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “What’s it about?”

“Well,” he began and laughed lightly. “A lot. Basically, though, it follows a boy who lives in a world with no girls, where you can hear others thoughts, and he meets a girl. It’s sci-fi and… I dunno.”

“Is it a good read?” I asked. “You seem like you enjoy it.” The book was battered, the paper cover torn and creased, with the spine broken. It was a book that was well-loved, and I liked how his entire being seemed to reflect the book.

“Oh, I love it,” he said with a smile. “It’s so fun, ya know? The entirety of the story is incredible.” Then, a beat passed, and he added, “I’m Tom.”

“Well, hi,” I said and gave him a warm smile. “I’m Y/N. No offense, but this sorta place doesn’t seem like your vibe.”

Tom gave the front of the book a firm pat. “It’s not,” he said. “I was waiting on a friend but he doesn’t seem like he’ll be joining me tonight.”

“I didn’t think so,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “You seem like a coffee shop kinda guy.”

“You don’t quite seem like the sort to be here either,” Tom told me.

“How do you mean?”

“You don’t belong in a pub like this, I just know it,” Tom told me. “You’d be better suited somewhere else.”

I shrugged. “I usually don’t leave my apartment to drink,” I said. “But I’m friends with the bartender and I visit every so often just to say hi.” A moment passed. “Wait, back up. Where would I be better suited?”

Tom smiled, but it seemed more hesitant than before. “At the risk of being bold,” he started. “My flat.”

“Jesus!” I breathed, and my face went hot.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “That was-- I’m so sorry--”

“No, no!” I said quickly. “No, it’s not a problem, I promise. That was bold, Tom, but I don’t mind it. As a matter of fact, I think you might be right.”

“Glad we agree,” Tom said. “D’you wanna get out of here now?”

“Sure thing,” I said. My skin prickled at the thought of him against me, and I laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Let me get my bag.”

When I approached the booth, Zendaya stuck her tongue at me. “You lost,” she said.

“Did I?” I asked, pulling my bag onto my shoulder. “Or am I going home with him?”

“Shut up,” Zen laughed. “That was quick as hell.”

“That tends to happen,” I shrugged. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with Tom.”

“I hate you,” I heard Zen mutter as I turned away from her.

Tom’s apartment--his flat, as he called it--was just a short cab ride from the bar, and I had hardly passed through the front door before his hands were pressing into my waist and his mouth was on mine. In an instant, I had melted into him, and my hands tangled in the bottom of his shirt. His mouth tasted like whiskey, which felt totally in-character for him, and he carefully nipped at my bottom lip.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Tom whispered, and he pushed my hair from my neck in order to brush his lips against my throat. No guys in my past had ever told me that in such clear terms, and my entire body ran hot at his words. A shiver ran down my spine, and he huffed a laugh into my neck. “Do you like when I say that?”

“I just like the way you talk,” I admitted. “Could listen forever.”

“That’s an awfully long time,” Tom told me warmly. His slender fingers inched under my shirt to touch my bare skin, and he slid his hands to lay flat against the small of my back. His kisses lingered on my neck, and the feeling of his soft skin was so lovely. “Let’s start with tonight.”

“I can manage that,” I laughed. “Bed?”

As soon as I was down in his bed, Tom was working my shirt off. His hands were so strong and sure against me, and I had no hesitations in letting him do whatever he pleased. His kisses trailed down to my stomach and chest once they were bare to him, and the feel of his mouth on my hip made me take a fistful of those pretty brown waves of his. He just laughed and continued his pursuit downwards, and he rid me of my jeans and panties before pausing and looking up at me. “Is this alright?” He asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “Just… Yeah.”

“Good girl,” Tom whispered, and I swore I died right there. He took my leg in his strong grip and kissed my inner thigh, and he placed the softest kiss to my quivering cunt. I immediately knew that I was in good hands, and I let my body relax and submit to Tom. His shoulders nudged my legs open further as he pressed his warm tongue to my wetness, and I bit back a moan as I tried to keep my legs from closing. I was already shaking, which was honestly embarrassing, but Tom didn’t seem to mind. In fact, it seemed to encourage him, because he placed a series of sloppy kisses to my throbbing clit that made me squeal. Then, his mouth went straight to where I was leaking, and an obscene slurping filled the air. Fuck, he was good.

“Oh my God,” I whispered, and his fingers quickly joined his tongue. First one, then two, then his thumb met my clit, and I whimpered. “Oh, fuck, oh my God.”

“No need to call me that,” Tom whispered. His breath was hot against my wet cunt, his voice raspy, and I couldn’t help the fluttering that enveloped his fingers. “Just my name will do for now.”

The combination of his fingers and mouth made my stomach quiver, and I knew that it wouldn’t be long before I came. I had never come just from being eaten out, and my heart raged against my ribcage when I dared to imagine what came next. His thumb moved slowly around my clit, and his mouth replaced it as his fingers moved in me deliciously. His tongue, so skilled and quick, took up his thumb’s previous job, and he took the throbbing bud into his mouth and quickly nipped it with his teeth at the same moment that his fingertips found home inside me.

There was no hope of obscuring my moan. “Fuck!” I yelped, writhing in his grip. “T-Tom, fuck.”

“Do you wanna come?” Tom whispered, looking at me through his eyelashes. “Use your words, my darling, please.”

“Please, please,” I gasped. My head fell back to expose my neck, and I squeezed my eyes shut. My breathing was ragged, and a shock of electricity raced through my whole body when he laughed into my cunt.

“Such a needy girl,” Tom chuckled. “You don’t have to ask. Whenever you’re ready, just let me know.”

He lapped at my wet cunt, tasting me like he had dreamt of this, and my hand went from his hair to his shoulder. His waves and curls fell into his eyes, but he kept at his work, even when I pushed at his shoulder. “Tommy,” I whimpered out helplessly. “I-I’m gonna-- You--”

“My darling,” Tom said. “I want you to come on my tongue. Let me taste you, babygirl. Come for me.”

My bottom lip was bitten nearly raw, and it only became worse when he said that. I nearly tasted blood as he gave my cunt one last kiss, so much more gentle than what he had been doing before, and my hips stuttered as hot pleasure pulsed through every part of me. I grabbed handfuls of his shirt and tugged him close, and he came to lay with his hips between my legs. My vision was blurry with tears as I studied him, oh so close to me now, and I felt a tiny pride at his pink cheeks and glistening lips. That was all me. “Oh, thank you,” I whispered, and he sweetly kissed each of my cheeks. “That was so good.”

“I’m glad,” Tom said. “Secretly, I pride myself in being able to do that.”

“You should be proud of that,” I huffed. “Also… ‘my god’?”

“That was in jest,” Tom began with a light laugh.

“I know,” I said. My hands trailed up his back, hiking his shirt up to his shoulders, and he helped me in tugging it off. He shook his hair out once it passed his head, and I added, “It’s a fitting name, though.”

“Really?” He asked, bracing himself above me. “Am I a god, Y/N?”

“Close to it,” I told him. I noticed the way that my hands were trembling as I went to his belt, and he must have noticed as well, because his hands went to my wrists. His hands fit all the way around my wrists easily. It wasn’t rough or dominating by any means; his hands slid up from my wrists to grasp my hands, fingers interlocking with mine as he pressed my hands down beside my head.

“Take a deep breath, my darling,” Tom told me gently. His thumb made comforting circles on my hand, and my stomach went all fluttery at how serene it was. “You’re shaking so hard. Do we need to stop?”

“No,” I told him. “I’m alright. I promise.”

“Alright,” Tom said. “Let me know if we need to stop.”

I nodded quickly, reaching for a handful of his hair, and I tugged him down to kiss me. I could taste myself on his mouth and, normally, that would have irked me, but with Tom, it only made my thighs tense and warmth spread through my body. My skin rippled at each touch of his fingers, and I let out little mumblings of his name as he kissed my neck and shoulders.

A surge of boldness ran up my spine, and I moved my hands from where he had placed them back down to his belt. As it seemed was the norm, he was two steps ahead of me, because he was already in the process of leaning back and pulling off his pants. The bedroom was cast only in the soft light of the lamp beside the bed, but I still captured every freckle, hair, and ridge on Tom’s firm chest and stomach. He was the definition of the skinny white guy that had good dick. Or, at least, he gave good head. But someone that good at giving head had to be as skilled elsewhere, right?

He was back on me in an instant, kissing my neck and making little marks on my skin as I shoved his pants down his thighs. Tom’s hands captured my legs and drew them around his naked waist, and I gasped aloud when I felt his hard cock brush against my cunt, already throbbing once more. In fear of seeming dumb, I didn’t intentionally look, but I could feel the weight of his cock against my body, and I stuttered, “God, Tommy..”

“That impressive, huh?” Tom laughed.

“Of course,” I remarked. “What, have you never been told you have a big cock before?”

Tom lifted his head from my neck, and I let out a giggle at his blown-wide pupils and red cheeks. “Where the hell have you been all my life?” He asked with a smile. He laughed, and I noticed the way that wrinkles formed right by his eyes with the extremity of his smile. That was adorable as hell. “You’re gorgeous and so funny, and you’re complimenting me like this? You’re perfect.”

“I’ve just been waiting for you, I guess,” I shrugged and ran my hands over his built arms, rock solid like a statue.

“Sorry it took me so long to find you,” Tom smiled. “Traffic was a bitch.”

I laughed, my head falling back onto the pillows, and Tom situated the head of his cock at my folds. At the feel of it, I gasped, and he swallowed my gasp with a kiss. “Let me know if we need to stop,” he reminded me, kissing my chin gently.

“I’m fine,” I told him, even though I was shaking so fiercely. Tom sank himself into me, and the deep rumble of his moan made my back arch up against him. “Fuck, darling,” he mumbled. “Cunt’s so tight… Squeezing the hell outta me.” His fingers dug into my hip, surely leaving bruises to later admire, and he snapped his hips forward so that he was fully in me.

“More,” I whispered. I wasn’t sure what I wanted more of; I just knew that I wanted more of whatever he ended up giving me.

My whole body thrummed with blood and life as he fucked me, pausing to pant into my neck and kiss my mouth. His back was taut with hard muscles and I raked my fingers down to his waist and back up to his hair. A curl had escaped the rest of his hair and bounced against my forehead with each thrust, and Tom and I each huffed out a laugh at it. Silently, I reached up and twisted the perfect curl around my finger, and Tom gave me another eye-wrinkling smile.

“F-Fuck, darling,” Tom muttered, and I could tell by his stuttering that he was close. The rhythm of his hips had slowed, but his grip on my waist and legs was as tight as ever. “So fuckin good for me, God.”

“I’m getting close again, Tommy,” I told him, my voice shaking. I’m sure he already knew, what with the way my chest was hot and my breathing was erratic, but I still wanted to see the look on his face when I said it.

“Oh, me too, my darling,” Tom whispered. His hand fell from its place at my hip and came to rest on my stomach, just above the point where he had himself buried inside me, and his thumb-- that damned thumb of his-- slid down until he was playing with my clit once more. There was an urgency this time, though, his movements quicker and messier. With each thrust, his own belly quivered, and I desperately pulled at his hair. I needed him to come first. I needed to feel him spill himself inside of me. I needed to feel his cum leak out of me, to hear him laugh at the mess we made like I knew he would. I needed so much. I just needed him.

“Tommy,” I whimpered, keening into his touch. “Fuck, Tom--”

His lips crashed into mine, and that was all it took. My legs shook around his waist, and my vision went white-hot for a moment. His thrusts were messy, his waves and curls completely undone and hanging in his eyes, and he watched with a greedy gaze as I writhed under him. I pulled his head down into my neck and he resumed his work of nipping my skin and soothing the sting with his tongue, and I kissed the shell of his ear. “Oh, Tom,” I whispered, just loud enough for him to hear over the sounds of our shared gasps. “Please, for me?”

He pulled himself from me and was spilling in an instant, covering my waist and stomach in his warm cum. He settled himself on his elbows above me once again, and I took care to brush those waves off of his forehead. His hair had gone super curly with the little bit of sweat on his forehead, and I bit the tip of my tongue. “Yeah?” I whispered.

“Yeah,” Tom agreed. “Let me get you a towel. Stay right there.”

“Wasn’t really planning on going anywhere, honestly,” I laughed.

When he returned, he was wearing a pair of boxers and a t-shirt that hugged his muscled frame. He sat beside me and carefully wiped me clean with the wet corner of a towel, and he placed a sweet kiss on my forehead. “Are you feeling alright?” Tom asked. “Can I get you anything?”

“I’m fine,” I told him. “Thanks, though.”

“No worries,” Tom told me. “You’re welcome to stay the night, if you’d like. I must warn you, though, that I like to cuddle.”

“I would have expected nothing less,” I told him. I sat up, testing my legs for a moment, and my cheeks went hot. “Umm… I don’t think I can walk.”

Tom’s eyes went big for a moment, and he reached for me with a hesitant hand. “Are you kidding?” He asked.

“My legs are shaking too hard,” I whispered and bit my lip.

“Oh, my darling, I’m so sorry,” Tom told me, his eyebrows pitching up. “I truly didn’t mean to hurt you--”

“You didn’t,” I said quickly. “It’s… This is a good thing. I promise.”

There was a brief exchange that ended with Tom giving me a shirt to sleep in and me promising him that I won’t try to walk until my legs quit shaking. We found each other again once in bed, my head fitting snugly under his chin, and his fingernails lightly scratched up and down my back. The feel of his strong arms around me, holding me in such a protective way, lulled me to sleep.

The night passed under a thin veil of dreams. All too soon, an alarm began to blare, scaring me fully awake in a second. From the darkness, there was a groan of displeasure, and a grunt as the bed squeaked and shifted, and the alarm was turned off with a solid stab of a finger. “Sorry, darling,” Tom whispered. “I forgot I have an early morning today.”

“You’re fine,” I whispered. The lamp turned on, and I was met with Tom, his hair messy and frizzy, his face flushed with good sleep. I stretched my arms above my head, allowing a quick squeal, and I said, “I should probably be heading out soon too. I have an eight AM.”

“Ugh,” Tom groaned. “I hate those.”

“Right,” I agreed. “Who wants to learn at eight in the morning?”

“The poor instructor,” Tom laughed. His voice was lower than before, scratchy as well, and my chest warmed at the sound. He fixed his hair out of his face, and he turned to see me, still wrapped up in his shirt and blankets. “You look cozy.”

“I am,” I said softly. “Wish I could stay for just a little longer.”

“Pursuit of knowledge is an honorable one, though, darling,” Tom told me. “Would you like to shower first?”

“No,” I said. “I have to go by my apartment to get my stuff and change clothes anyway, I’ll just shower there.”

“Alright,” Tom nodded. He reached for me and I met him halfway, brushing my lips to his in a soft kiss, and he gave me a light laugh. “I need to get your phone number. I’d love to do this again.”

“I’d like that too,” I said. I gave him a parting kiss, then worked myself from the bed. I stretched once more, feeling my back pop, and I found my bag by the door to the bedroom. I gave Tom my phone, open to a new contact listing, and he gave a mischievous smile before plugging in his information. “What’s that smile all about?”

At the top of my screen, it read Big Dick Tom.

“Oh, God,” I laughed. “That’s really gone to your head, hasn’t it?”

“You’re the one who told me that,” Tom argued. “And, if someone tells you that you have a big dick, you take that shit to heart.”

“Sure, sure,” I said quickly. “I’ll text you; maybe we can get dinner this weekend?”

Tom gave me a smile that was fit for a king. “Of course, my darling girl.”

Tom ended up sending me home with the shirt I had slept in. It was for some carpentry school in Wales, but it was soft and smelled like Tom, so I didn’t really mind the odd reference. Just before I left, he had swept me up in his arms and kissed me, and he pressed his forehead to mine. “This might be premature,” he whispered. “But do you wanna be my girlfriend?”

Zendaya slapped a five dollar bill in my hand when I entered the apartment. “Did you have a good time?” she asked.

“The best,” I told her. “He’s super sweet and a great time, and he asked me to be his girlfriend.”

“You said yes, right?” Zen asked.

“Duh,” I scoffed. “A hot Brit who likes me? I’m not letting that go.”

“Right,” Zen said, and the smile dropped from her face. “Well, while you were off getting dick from your new man, our literature professor dipped.”

“What?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Zen said, spinning her laptop to face me. She had an email pulled up from the head of the department, declaring that our professor, our beloved Dr. Osterfield, would not be teaching the course any longer. Buried in the text of the email, it said the name of the replacement professor: Dr. Holland. “I tried to look this guy up, but he’s not on Rate My Professor or anything.”

“It’s halfway through the fuckin’ semester,” I groaned. “This blows.”

“I just hope this new guy’s easy,” Zen groaned. “I can’t deal with a hard class right now.”

The class was still held in the same room as before, and the general air was worse than a normal eight AM. At least, with Dr. O, he had an infectious energy that woke us all up. Nobody knew what to expect with this new guy. I hoped that, for my sake, he was cool.

The door to the classroom opened, and a man said, “I apologize for the wait. It’s just my luck that I’d be late today…”

My whole body went cold and my heart stopped. Tom. My boyfriend, my fucking Tom stood at the front of the small lecture hall, wearing the jeans and white buttoned shirt that I had helped pick out. “Well, this is a strange thing, isn’t it?” Tom chuckled, clasping his hands together. “I’ll explain, don’t worry. But first, I think maybe an introduction is in order.”

He unwound his bag from his shoulder and opened it for a moment, and a whole new wave of dread washed over me. While he was in the shower, I had written him a quick note and stuck it in his bag. It was nothing more than “thanks, love. hope to see you soon xx”, but a smile split his face wide. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Apparently, my girlfriend left me a little note. Hmm! Anyway, I’m Dr. Holland. Call me that, or Tom, or any variation of the above. I promise you, I’ve heard it all.”

Tom settled himself on the edge of his desk and he fluffed up his hair a bit. It was then that a quiet wave of titters passed through every girl in the hall; a hickey. It was small, but it was there, right under his ear. “I went to school in London, where I’m from, before I got a degree in English literature from Cambridge. Then, I came to the States and managed to get my doctorate in it, and, who’d have guessed it, this is my first teaching job. Go easy on me, huh?.” My little note, written on a sticky note, was clasped in his hand, and I seriously wanted to die right then and there. My professor. I was stupid. Of course the stars had aligned (or misaligned?) to allow this to happen. And just when I thought I found the right guy, too.

“Right,” Tom said. “Let’s look at the attendance, see what we’re working with, and I’ll let you guys fill me in on what Dr. Osterfield was covering.”

The closer he got to my name, the colder my face went. I hated every single moment of it. “And… Y/L/N? Y/N?”

I quietly raised my hand, then managed a meek, “Here.”

His eyes trained on me, and I watched the same recognition flood his eyes. Quickly, though, Dr. Tom Holland averted his gaze back down to his computer, and he said, “There you are, Y/N… Can I see you after class?”

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland smut #smut fanfiction #prof!tom #i'm so excited for this yall #u don't get it

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alrightberries · 3 years

Text

honey, honey (how you thrill me)

request: i loved strawberries and cigarettes but levi just can’t catch a break :(( can we have a super fluffy modern au with boyfriend levi instead? thanks!

request: hi i’m new here and had read your fics. i love your take on levi’s character! Also that your writing is very great to read!😘 (tho that angst really made me cry HARD) if i may request umm... i want a levi x reader fic about them being like an old married couple but they’re not in a relationship ‘yet’ so like everyone ships them. Its a fluffy crack fic/ Reader is like “well you’re clean and I kinda lilke you so...” then levi be like “you’re tolerable and knows how to properly clean.” and then they really ended up married. It’s like the easiest transition from friends to lovers that one day they just said lets get married we act like it anyway whats new 😂. I want fluffs and laughs! Aot is angsty enough we need fluffs with our favorite characters!!

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff, semi-crack. ❈ word count: 4.6k

❈ summary: modern au. In which you and Levi are both professors at the same university, and are painfully unaware that all the students and other staff members have a bet that’s been going on for years now. What’s it about? When you’ll both finally confess to each other and just date already.

❈ trigger warnings: profanity. mentions of sex

a/n: made it gender neutral as per usual. this was really fun to write! makes me think about writing fluff more often (pffft sure)

Trost University was home to many brilliant minds. It was a prestigious school with an acceptance rate of 600 out of 4000 yearly applicants, and producing the finest students; those of which would almost always graduate with high honors before starting a successful career of their choosing.

Its professors, undoubtedly, were of the finest quality as well. They were professional, extremely skilled, and highly trained. It was a workforce full of almost over qualified educators excelling in their respective fields, with master and PhD certificates framed on cubicle walls being the norm in the faculty room.

Erwin himself was proud to be a professor here. He started working as a high school teacher when he was still studying for his master’s degree, shifting from high school teachings to college teachings as years passed by, before eventually getting recognized and offered a job seven years ago by the prestigious school.

His friends— a loving and longterm couple who, as far as he knew, were high school sweethearts and still going strong today— had joined him on this journey as well. He’d known them since they were in college, all studying different fields but aiming for the same career of teaching.

The three of them shared a strong bond; a bond built on study groups, mutual dislike for crappy teachers, and a certain love for education. They were there for him, and he was there for them. He especially disliked it, however, when their relationship went through rough patches. He didn’t like picking sides, and listening to the same story being told from two different perspectives almost always made him want to grab Y/N and Levi’s heads and bash them together for how dumb they were acting.

But despite the differences and occasional fights, he wouldn’t hesitate to say that he trusted them with his life.

So Erwin, for the life of him, couldn’t figure out why he was just now finding out that the power couple he knew and loved wasn’t even a couple at all.

“So, wait.” He speaks, trying to be heard over the crowded cafeteria chatter. “You’re telling me... they’re not a longterm couple?”

“They’re not.” Moblit confirms easily. “Apparently, they’re not even dating.”

“Or so they claim.” Hange interjects. “Y/N and Levi have actual matching rings. Literally— I asked Levi about it once and he said Y/N was his fiancé.”

“But not romantically.” Moblit quickly adds on. “I was there too, he said not romantically.”

“Why would Levi propose to someone he’s not romantically interested in, huh?!” She counters back, a little louder than the brown haired man’s volume.

“I don’t know! Citizenship? Money? Sex—“

“They’re in love! You know they’re in love, you’re just denying it because you want to get in Y/N’s pants.” She huffs. “And because you’re about to lose the bet.”

Erwin’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “Bet? What bet?”

“Oh, you don’t know about the bet?” Hange asks. “It’s been going on for, like, five years now. The entire faculty’s in on it.” She begins to chow down on her soup, not offering more of an explanation. Moblit takes this as his cue to expand when he notices Erwin’s blank stare.

“Since you guys joined maybe... seven or so years ago? Everyone just assumed Y/N and Levi were a thing. Because of, y’know, the way they interact with each other. But then five years ago Hange and I asked them when their anniversary was so we could get them some wine, and both of them full on denied even being in a relationship.”

Hange nods, more than a spoonful of soup and a more than generous bite of bread in her mouth. “Yeah, but then I peaked at their faculty files—“

“Peaked at their faculty files?” Erwin murmurs, but he’s ignored.

“—and they have the same home address. They live together!”

“I can confirm that much, at least.” The blonde man answers thoughtfully. “They’ve been sharing a dorm since college but Y/N moved out at some point. They live together in Levi’s apartment now, though.”

“That doesn’t prove anything.” Says Moblit. “They could just be roommates and really good friends.”

“Well I’ll say!” Hange throws her hands in the air. “I caught Y/N sucking Levi’s dick at a party once. Must be one hell of a friendship they have, aye Moblit?”

Her elbow begins nudging the brunette beside her, and Erwin stares with amusement when Moblit starts getting irritated from the eccentric woman’s teasing.

“So what’s the wager?” Erwin asks.

The two professors stop their bickering and share an evil smile. Hange gestures for Erwin to come closer, as if she were about to tell him a secret, and he does just that.

“Whoever wins the bet gets a free meal from Shaw’s Bistro.”

Erwin’s eyes widen. Shaw’s Bistro; the classy high end restaurant with the fancy wine, fancier atmosphere, and the best Japanese Salted Salmon he’s ever had.

It was an expensive restaurant— even for someone with his salary. Erwin knew he could rarely ever eat there unless he wanted to run his bank account dry. And he concludes that this petty bet must be a Pretty Big Fucking Deal.

He squints his eyes. “I’m listening.”

Hange giggles as she continues. “Basically, you have to guess how long it’ll take for Y/N and Levi to finally admit they’re couple. But you can’t choose the same answer as other people in the bet, we can’t afford two winners. Literally.” She gestures to Moblit. “Unless you’re like dumb dumb over there who wagered they’ll never admit it because they’re not a couple—“

“They’re not!”

“—I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

Erwin nods his head, one hand on his chin in thought. He never did explicitly ask whether they were dating or not, he just assumed they were.

He carefully considers his options; be a snoop to his longterm friends and possibly break their trust for joining a foolish bet? Or Japanese Salted Salmon from Shaw’s Bistro?

Hange and Moblit look at him expectantly, smiling when he nods.

“Deal me in.”

The cafeteria was noisy when you walked in.

Students mingled amongst themselves, chatting idly about academics and gossip. Cutlery scraped against each other as people took bites of their meals. Your eyes scanned the crowd, spotting your friends sitting around their usual table and having what seemed to be a heated discussion.

You turned to look at the man beside you. “Did you bring your own lunch today?”

Levi nods as he lifts up a small black bag. “Always do. But I’ll stand next to you in the lunch line so you don’t look like a loner.”

That was Levi Speak for I’ll wait for you.

You smile. “Thanks.”

The brief silence between you is broken when you start talking about your students— how proud you were that Armin was tutoring some of the struggling students in his free time, how terrible Jean was at hiding his crush on Mikasa, how terrible Mikasa was at hiding her crush on Eren (“I don’t even think she’s trying to hide it. At this point, I’m convinced that Eren is either dumb or dense.”)

Levi nods along to your tales, seemingly uninterested and bored. But anyone who knew him well would know he was listening intently as you spoke, every word heard loud and clear and processing in his mind as soon as they left your lips. Occasionally, he would pipe in with his own comments (“Eren’s just dumb.”) but he didn’t engage too much, opting to let you speak and rant on.

Your talkativeness never got on his nerves, contrary to popular belief. He liked listening to your stories, listening to your voice, and seeing the little glint in your eyes when you start talking passionately about your students. He overall just liked being around you. You were cleaner than most people he knew. You were tolerable. Sometimes a pain in the ass, but still tolerable.

But what does get on his nerves, however, is being ‘secretly’ watched by his friends.

Once he’s sure you’re not looking, he turns his head in the direction of their table, murderous glare prominent on his face. Hange, Moblit, and Erwin quickly snap their heads down and pretend to eat, but Levi knew they were definitely staring.

“Oh crap, I forgot my free meal card.” He hears you mumble beside him. He hadn’t even realized you were already standing in front of the counter.

“Figures. You have the memory of a gold fish.” Levi comments off-handedly.

He hands the cashier his free meal card and grabs your tray for you, and you silently took the coat that Levi had swung over his arm to carry with you instead. You knew he’d hate for it to get dirtied by any accidental soup splashing.

“So, what’s happening on your end of the gossip?” You ask, both making your way to your usual table with friends.

Levi shrugs. “The brats are doing well on their thesis. Their grammar is shit though; makes you wonder how they graduated high school.”

You snicker. “You say that now but tomorrow pull an all-nighter to help them study and revise.”

“You’re not one talk. You scheduled two different consultations between classes and three more after your shift.”

“I can’t help it, okay?! You know I have a soft spot for the kids from the 104th.”

Of course he did. He knew of your affection for that specific group of students— admittedly, he held a twinge of affection for them too.

They were part of the first class you ever taught in your entire teaching career. At the time, you both worked at some crappy school in the 104th district. And to see the kids now, all grown up and studying at a prestigious college, it made your heart swell. And Levi’s heart... well, suffice to say it cracked some of the ice around it.

“That soft spot of yours is making you lose sleep.” He scolds. “I’ll take some of the consultations off your hands. The lil shits deserve a teacher who isn’t half asleep.”

Again, that was Levi Speak for Don’t overwork yourself, let me help.

You jokingly slap his arm. “That’s rude!”

“I know.”

Your conversation is interrupted when you finally arrived at the table, Levi setting down your tray in front of you and you handing him back his coat as you sat down next to each other.

“Hey.” You greet your friends, and Levi silently unpacks his lunch. “What were you guys talking about? It looked pretty intense.”

“Oh, nothing, nothing.” Hange waved off. “Just the usual. Grading papers, grading lab experiments, grading essays. The usual.”

You nod, unconvinced but letting it slide. “I see.”

The table is once again filled with laughter and conversations. Banter was thrown around here and there, mostly between you, Hange, and Moblit as you debated about films and TV shows. Levi and Erwin stuck to light chatter, but it didn’t go unnoticed to the shorter man when Erwin’s eyes squinted as Levi placed his arm around the back of your chair like he always did, or when Hange tried to hide her squeal when he wiped some excess soup from the corner of your lips.

Something was up.

It was about ten minutes into lunch when your phone began to ring, a notification from a reminder app you downloaded. You picked up your phone and sighed as you read your schedule.

“Gotta go. I have a meeting in a few.” You mutter, beginning to clean up your tray and utensils; you were a little disappointed. You didn’t even get to finish your soup.

Levi eyes you and the way you kept glancing back and forth between your soup and the clock. He sighs before he speaks, “I’ll take care of your dishes and buy you lunch later. Just go.”

“No, no, I can— fuck!” You yell when the bowl of soup is accidentally knocked over, spilling over your jacket.

Levi silently offers you his handkerchief to clean yourself up. He starts using napkins to clean the table as well, before taking the coat he brought and giving it to you.

“Use this for now.”

You smile at him once again, taking your coat off and slipping on his as you stood up. “Thanks.”

He doesn’t flinch (or react for that matter) when you kiss his cheek before you left, only letting out a small hum of acknowledgement as you waved goodbye to your friends and made your way to the meeting.

Once you were out of view, Hange’s smile immediately drops in favor of too serious eyes as she starts interrogating Levi.

“Okay, cut the crap, Ackerman. How long have you—“

“Hange, no, we’ve talked about this.” Erwin tries to reason but his pleas fall on deaf ears as she continues.

“How long have you and Y/N been dating?”

Ah. So that’s what it was about.

Levi sighs and continues to chew on his bread. He unenthusiastically stares at the woman yelling at him, swallowing his meal before speaking, “I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again: we’re not.”

“Bullshit!” She yells. “You guys are a disgusting old married couple who have two adopted children—“

“Dogs.” Levi corrects boredly, but just like everyone else at the table, he’s ignored as Hange continues her tirade.

“—have matching sweaters, do small bullshit for each other like paying for meals and lending your coats. And for god’s sake, they literally just kissed your cheek even though you hate human contact.”

She finishes her rant but Levi looks unphased. God, she wanted to punch his dumb and oblivious face so bad.

“Those are normal things normal friends do. I’m not surprised you wouldn’t know, four-eyes.” Says Levi, but Hange is unaffected and already used to his abrasive words.

Levi continues. “We don’t do anything beyond what’s considered friendship.”

Hange squints her eyes in suspicion. “Didn’t Y/N move into your apartment?”

“Yeah. Their landlord was shit.”

“Where I caught you having sex?”

“We’re fuck buddies and you don’t know how to knock.”

“But you introduced them to your mom as your fiancé?”

“I lied so she would stop bugging me about getting married.”

“You literally have a shared bank account and a shared retirement fund!”

“It’s easier to keep track of.”

“Damn it, Levi!”

Armin stares at the study guide in front of him, mind half processing the words and half... not. Quite frankly, he starts to wonder if the papers you’d given him were written in gibberish or some dead language no one spoke anymore.

You see him struggle to understand the sheet of paper in front of him, and sigh.

“Need a little help there, Armin?” You offer but he shakes his head. “I’m okay. I think I can understand this if I read through it more, it’s my friends I’m worried about.”

He glances beside him where the rest of his study group also stared the papers, each face painted with a unique mixture of confusion and dread.

You weren’t surprised, however. The readings for this module were quite complex, and the fact that your brightest students— Armin and Mikasa— were struggling with it made you feel a little bit hopeless for the rest of your class. Truth be told, even though you taught this topic countless of times, you weren’t entirely sure how to simplify it without leaving out too much information.

“Okay, how about this, we could—“ A soft knock interrupts your sentence, and you stare at the students in front of you to remember if you were expecting any more. It seemed like everyone was here, however, so you weren’t sure who was at the door.

“It’s me.” Came Levi’s voice, almost like he heard your inner monolgue.

“Come in!” You called out, focus shifting back to the paper in front of you as you heard the door open and close.

Okay, so I guess I could take this part and summarize it for them? Or would that still be too complicated? No, maybe I can—

“Ah, it’s that topic.” Levi mumurs, snapping you out of your thoughts. His face was directly next to yours as he stared intently at the papers you held. “No wonder you all look like you’re about to crap your pants.”

“Language, Levi. Not in front of the students.” You scold.

“They curse more than I do.”

“Still.”

He ignores your comment as he hands you a brown paper bag, pulling a chair out to sit next to you. He grabs the paper from your hands to look over the study guide you prepared, undoubtedly trying to figure out a way to simplify it as well.

“What’s this?” You ask, opening the paper bag.

“Bought you dinner.” He replies, eyes not leaving the paper in front of him. “I figured you’d forget again.”

As if on cue, your stomach suddenly starts feeling empty. It was impossible that you were hungry, though. You just had lunch. And after lunch you had some meetings to attend to, a couple classes, some last minute consultations, and— okay. Maybe it’d been a couple hours since lunch, but it couldn’t be that bad. A brief glance at the clock confirms that—

“Holy shit, it’s almost 8pm.”

“Language, Y/N. Not in front of the students.”

“Kiss my ass.”

“Gladly.”

The students in front of you let out a loud groan, faces over exaggeratedly contorted in disgust at your and Levi’s conversation.

Levi glimpses up at them and raises his eyebrow in question, while you jokingly roll your eyes.

“Alright, I think we should continue our consultation another time.” You said, beginning to pack up your teaching materials as the students did the same. “It’s getting late and curfew’s at 8pm. I’d better not see any of you outside the dorms.”

You knew you would though. It’s Friday night, there’s a bar across the street, and they’re teenagers. What could possibly go wrong?

You turn to Levi and hand him the keys. “You go ahead to the car, I’ll finish packing up.”

“It’s alright, I’ll wait for you in the hallway.” Levi takes the car keys as he stands up, walking out the door once again and leaving you alone with your students.

As you began to arrange your papers and clear the table, you start to remind them, “Okay, so we can discuss chapters—“

“Are you and Professor Ackerman dating?” Eren asks curiously, earning a shove from Jean and a silent threat to shut up, dumbass.

You chuckle. “No, Eren. We’re not.”

He gives you a doubtful look, one which you only return with a curious face.

“What’s with that look?” You ask, and he shrugs.

“You should date him— ow, what?!” He speaks, getting shoved by both Reiner and Jean this time before Mikasa pulls them off of him. You pause from your task.

“Okay, I’ll humor you. Why should I date him?”

The students share a look, daring each other to respond to your bold question. A few tense moments pass by and you smugly continue packing your papers. Yeah, you figured no one would—

“He’s nicer when he’s with you.” To your surprise, it was Mikasa who answers.

Unsure how to answer but still wanting to remain professional, you nod your head without looking up from your task. “Duly noted. Now go on, I know you have parties to attend to. I won’t hold you here much longer.”

The students laughed as they said their goodbyes; you held the door open for them until everyone was out before you left as well, shutting down the lights and locking the room once more.

A warm hand makes its way to the small of your back, and you smile.

“Hey.” Levi greets.

“Hey.” You repeat. “You read to go?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna share my dinner when we get back home?”

“...yeah.”

He takes the stack of paper from your arms, his free hand reaching out for your own. You walked down the hallway in relative silence, interlocked hands swinging slightly from every step.

From the opposite corner of the hallway, the students’ prying eyes observe the small interaction; the two professors remained completely unaware that they were being watched.

“Told you they were a thing.” Ymir gloats, and the group snickers as Reiner irritatedly hands her some money.

Something was wrong.

If there was one thing Erwin knew from the nearly two decade long friendship he shared with you and Levi, it was when something was wrong.

It didn’t go unnoticed to him when Levi didn’t open your side of the car door as he usually would when you arrived at the parking lot; when he made a beeline for his cubicle in the faculty instead of helping you get settled first; when you didn’t make a fresh pot of tea for him before classes started; when your small sweet gestures throughout the day were kept to a minimal; and most importantly, when neither you nor Levi wore your matching gold rings.

The faculty was nearly empty, save for himself, Hange, Moblit, and the two people who were having a lover’s quarrel. The entire day went by without seeing you two walk side by side like you usually would, and Erwin was pretty sure Levi’s permanent frown somehow got deeper.

Yeah. Something was horribly wrong.

“Pssst.” Erwin hears from the desk next to his. He turns around and is met with Hange and Moblit’s curious gazes.

“The hell happened to those two? Trouble in paradise?” Hange asks, eyeing Y/N and Levi’s grouchy faces and refusal to acknowledge each others’ existence as they each packed their things. She adds on, “Are they getting divorced?” Only to be reminded by Moblit that “They’re not dating.”

Erwin shrugs, answering Hange’s question. “No idea.”

Moblit chimes in, “I heard Petra tried asking Levi out yesterday and now Y/N is jealous.”

She scoffs. “Y/N isn’t the jealous type. Besides, Petra’s part of the bet so that means she thinks they’re going to get together.”

“I’m part of the bet and I don’t think they’re going to get together.” Moblit points out. “And Petra stares at Levi the way Levi stares at Y/N.”

“Full of disdain and irritation?” Hange asks.

“No,” Erwin finally interjects. “Full of love and admiration.”

“Can the three of you creeps keep your mouths shut?” Hange, Erwin, and Moblit’s heads snapped to the direction of the voice, eyes meeting a pissed off Levi with a pissed off Y/N beside him. It seems like their hushed whispering wasn’t so hushed at all.

“When you gossip about our private life the least you could do is wait until we’ve left the room.” You gritted.

“No, it wasn’t-” Hange tries to defend herself but is cut off by Levi, “We already heard you talking. Now out with it before I change my mind about letting this slide.”

The three guilty professors sigh, sharing a look before Erwin decides to come clean. “We’re concerned for you.” He starts. “You’ve been ignoring each other the entire day and whatever this fight is, it’s the worst one I’ve seen you have.”

You sigh. “Listen, it’s not that we don’t appreciate your concern, it’s just that-”

“-it’s just that it’s none of your goddamn business.” Levi interjects and you immediately glare at his rudeness.

“Shut it, Levi. I don’t have time for your bull.”

“And I don’t have time for your petty lies.”

The three watched as you and Levi begin to quarrel, sharp words and irritated glares thrown around with each passing second. Your voices overlapped with each other as Erwin tried to make sense of what it was you were even fighting about, some words about betrayal in the highest degree and ruining a good thing and a relationship built on lies being the few words he understands.

Finally, he has enough.

“Stop.” Erwin says loudly but firmly. The two of you pause from your bickering him and stare at him incredulously; he continues to speak, “We’re not teenagers anymore, we’re grown adults. I’m getting tired of playing mediator whenever you fight but if I have to do it again so you stop yelling, then I will.”

He sighs. “Now what the hell are you two fighting about?”

“Y/N started it.” “Levi started it.” You say at the same time, and Erwin feels a headache coming but decides to ignore it.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

The two of you stare at each other angrily, almost daring the other to back down. This goes on for a few seconds before Levi finally sighs and speaks.

“Y/N thinks lemon scented detergent is better than lavender scented detergent.”

Hange and Moblit snicker but quickly shut up when Erwin gives them a look. He wasn’t even surprised that a fight as small and menial as this would be the fight that tears his favorite power couple apart.

“It is and you know it.” You reply defiantly and Levi groans in frustration, hand holding his head in disbelief as he quietly mutters, “I can’t believe I’m marrying someone who thinks lemon is better than lavender.”

At that, Hange’s ears perk up. “You’re getting married?!” She screams, and the two of you look at her in confusion, fight suddenly forgotten.

“Yeah, next week.” You reply wearily. “We emailed you the invites.”

If Erwin thought your bickering was loud, then the squeal that Hange let out was nothing short of deafening as she suddenly lunges at the couple, forcing them into a group hug as she cheers, “I knew it! I fucking knew it! You are together.”

Levi scoffs. “Don’t be silly, it’s for tax purposes. Apparently the bank won’t approve the loan for our new house unless we’re legally wed; something about tax fraud.”

“House?” Moblit echoes. “Don’t you already live together?”

You nod. “Yeah, but we figured the kids-”

“Dogs.” Levi corrects.

“-deserve a yard to run around in. Our apartment’s getting too cramped for the four of us.”

“Don’t ruin this for me!” Hange yells. “I have a wedding to plan.”

Levi sighs. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, four-eyes. There isn’t going to be a ceremony. We’re going to a court house to get our marriage license approved. That’s it.”

“And we invited you and Erwin to be our witnesses.” You explained. “There isn’t going to be a celebration but we’re going to host a small dinner party for close friends and family.We’d greatly appreciate it if you can RSVP to the emails within the week so we know how much food to prepare.”

The three professors nod, each exchanging pleasant smiles. It wasn’t the wedding invite they were hoping to receive but it was still a wedding invite nonetheless, and they weren’t about to burst your bubble.

“Hold on a second,” Erwin mutters, suddenly remembering one detail. “Where are your rings?” He gestures to your ringless hands.

“We had them engraved with our initials. Makes things more believable.” Levi answers. “If you’re done with the dumb questions, we’ll go ahead now.”

He doesn’t wait for them to answer as he holds your hand in his, walking you out of the faculty room and into the hallway as he pretends not to notice his friends giggling like teenagers at the information you just shared.

“So...” You start, giving him a warm smile as you squeezed his hand. “Do you think they’re catching on?”

Levi lets out a rare smile, eyes softening as he looks at you. “No. They’re too dumb to know we’re actually together. They’ll eat up whatever bullshit explanation we come up with.”

“Okay, but remind me again why we have to keep pretending like we’re not actually together and not actually getting married next week?”

He brings your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles affectionately before placing his hand on the small of your back.

“Does it bother you that they don’t know?” He asks, and you hum as you think it through. “No. It’s actually really entertaining.” You laugh. “But why don’t you want them to know?”

He shrugs, pulling you closer to him. “That’s what they get for placing stupid bets.”

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#tis cute tis cute #ngl i hope i didn't make it too long like last time #i have a bad habit of writing innner monologues too long lmao #writing #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman imagine #levi imagine #snk x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #snk imagine #shingeki no kyojin imagine #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #aot imagine #attack on titan imagine

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cappsikle · 4 years

Text

the comfort of you // fred weasley

Pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

Summary: you have your period and the pain becomes too much to bare, but it’s ok, because you have Fred

Warnings: intense period pain, mentions of jumping off a tower, mentions of blood and bleeding

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: i think you can actually feel my anger through this lmao. being a female sucks, ok? Also I know that the way i’m describing it could be seen as an overkill or something but literally everything i’ve written is basically just what i go through when it’s that time of the month.

tags: @ryeryemilani @weasleysflowr message me if you’d like to be added!

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!!

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The minute you woke up, you knew something didn’t feel right. You knew what it was, although you prayed to all those above that you were wrong. Oh, how you wished you were wrong. By the end of the day, your suspicions were later proven correct when you rushed to the bathroom in a panic. It only really went downhill from there.

The next morning, you were about ready to throw yourself right off the astronomy tower. You felt absolutely horrible, you couldn’t even bring yourself to get out of bed. Even though you were practically cursing your own exitance, you were also thankful that its the weekend, so you didn’t have to sit through any of your classes.

After 10 or so minutes, you decided it would probably be a good idea to go down to the great hall for at least something to nibble on, even though the thought of eating made your stomach churn. So, as you hauled yourself out of bed and with minimum effort, you got ready. You then made your way through the common room and down the moving staircases. Whilst walking, you really couldn’t help but question literally everything. Why did you needed to be reminded every month that you weren’t pregnant?? You could do a great job of that yourself without bleeding every single month.

Your frustrations, and your pain, only seemed to grow as you walked through the doors of the great hall. Despite your growing nausea, your spirits were immediately lifted when you spotted Fred, your boyfriend of two years, sitting at the Gryffindor table. You walked as quickly as you could, noticing the empty spot next to him reserved for you, and sat down.

Fred instantly perked up when he noticed your presence besides him, and greeted you, “Mornin’, love! How are we this morning?”

Whilst your mood did lift a tad when you saw him, the constant ache in your stomach and lower areas prevented you from releasing a genuine smile, so instead you scooched closer to Fred and leaned your head on his shoulder, wrapping both your arms around one of his. You just really needed a cuddle right now. Fred chuckled at your slightly odd behaviour and tilted his head, so it was leaning against your own, “not in a talking mood, huh?”

“No.” you shifted as close to him as you could, the small amount of warmth spreading a feeling of comfort you only now realised you were desperately craving. The pain in your abdomen grew stronger, spreading to your lower back. It was like your torso was bring ripped from your bottom half. You scrunched your face up in discomfort and nuzzled your head into Fred’s shoulder, wanting to hide from everyone and everything.

Fred knew that something was wrong the moment you sat down. You weren’t your usual cheery and bubbly self, which concerned him a great deal. Fred frowned slightly at your disgruntled form, reaching the arm that wasn’t being smothered by you, not that he minded, to push a lock of hair that had fallen in front of your face behind your ear. The gentle action soothed you, and you felt yourself leaning into his touch even more. Fred leaned his head down to stop beside your ear, whispering so that only you could hear him, “You feeling alright, love?”

You shook your head slightly to answer, trying your hardest to hold back the tears. The pain keot getting worse the longer you sat. You couldn’t stomach the thought of eating at this point. You really just wanted to go back to bed and cuddle your boyfriend. Fred’s frown deepened at your verry obvious distressed state, his heart hurting knowing that you weren’t well. “I think it’s a good idea to go back to bed, don’t you think?”

You nodded your head slightly, not bothering to speak. At your nod of approval, Fred took his arm out from yours and wrapped it around your shoulders instead, standing up and walking you out the great hall back to the dormitories. You, on the other hand, wrapped your arms around your abdomen in a weak attempt at easing the pain. Fred leaned down and pressed a light kiss against your temple, reassuring you on the way.

As soon as you reached the common room, you immediately headed to the boy's dorms instead of yours, wanting to be surrounded by all things Fred. You couldn’t describe it, but it was like you constantly needed to be around at least some part of him, even if he wasn’t there with you. Walking up the stairs into the dorm, you practically jumped onto his bed, grabbing on of his pillow and hugging it as close to you as possible. It's not even lunch time, yet you just felt so drained and tired. You could already feel yourself slipping into a sleep-like state just from the comfort of Fred’s bed alone. Fred smiled fondly at you, finding you completely adorable. Fred walked over to his trunk, searching for something he knew you would be grateful for.

He sat on the edge of the bed, once again tucking fallen hair behind your ear as to get a better look at your face. You really were beautiful, in his opinion, the most beautiful person he had ever laid eyes on, in fact. Fred traced his finger across your cheekbone, down to your jaw and down your neck, his heart swelling at the subconscious smile that made its way to your lips. His finger smoothing down your skin caused the best kind of shivers to run through your body, leaving goosebumps on your exposed skin.

You squinted one of your eyes open, a smile still present on your face, and reached up to grasp Fred by the back on his neck, fiddling with the ever-so-soft ginger locks at the base. Your smile grew as you both stared into each other’s eyes, finding nothing but love and adoration for each other. Your pain and discomfort fell to the back of your mind, your focus entirely on the man in front of you.

Eventually, you gently pulled Fred’s head towards your own, bringing his lips just close enough that they weren’t fully touching yet. Your lips brushed against each other gently, your breaths mixing as your heart rate sped up. Tired of the waiting, Fred brought his lips upon yours, slotting together like the last piece of the puzzle. No matter how long the two of you have been together, or how many times you’ve kissed, the butterflies never ceased to make themselves known and cause a ruckus in your stomach. For a moment, just a moment, the two of you got lost in the kiss, and lost in each other.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, as it always feels like time stops the moment your lips meet, but after a while a particularly nasty cramp rolled its way through your body, forcing you to break the kiss and whimper slightly. That brought you back to reality. Fred gave you a sympathetic smile as he stroked your cheek with his thumb.

You closed your eyes again, the warmth of the bed and Fred’s soothing touch lulling you to sleep. However, Fred’s gentle nudge woke you up again, bringing your attention to the jumper he held in his hands. No words needed to be spoken as you sat up, reaching your arms above your head as an indication. Fred then pulled his jumper over your arms and body, reveling in the way it practically swallowed your smaller form whole. Immediately, the feeling of warmth and comfort spread throughout your being, incredibly grateful to have someone as sweet as Fred to take care of you.

As you laid back down and pulled the covers over yourself, Fred slid into the covers with you, ridding himself of his shoes and jacket. Instinctively, Fred laid on his side and brought your body as close to his as he could, one arm laid under your neck around your shoulders whilst the other slid across your waist. You nuzzled your head in the place where his shoulder met his chest, breathing in his scent of chocolate and fireworks.

Fred trailed kisses from your cheek to your ear, whispering sweet nothings in between each one. These were the moments he lived for, where you could both just hold each other until the other felt better, no interruptions, no expectations.

You were the first to break the silence, a yawn slipping by your lips as you said, “you know I love you, right?”

Fred smiled to himself, squeezing you as close as you could physically get and whispered, “yeah, I do. And you know I love you, right?”

You giggled at his remark, the pain and stresses of the day just completely melting away as you felt your conscious slip even deeper,

“Yeah, I do.”

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Damn I really do need a fred to comfort me lol.

Don’t forget to reblog, like and comment! I hope you all have a lovely day or night wherever you are!!

- Mills <3

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #soft fred #fred weasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x fem!reader #periods #comfort #harry potter #harry potter imagine #hp #hp fanfic #harry potter fanfic

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longitudinalwaveme · 3 years

Text

Arkham Files: The Flash (Wally West)

Hugo Strange: From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: Wallace “Wally” West, also known as the Flash. Session One. So, Mr. West, how are you?

Wally: Let’s go over the situation I’m in, shall we? My wife and I visit your creepy, Gothic asylum-perfectly legally, by the way- to make sure that Bruce Wayne is okay, and you get us arrested on bogus charges of trespassing. Then you pull strings to get me stuck in Arkham Asylum while I’m awaiting trial, and now you’re trying to have me declared legally insane so that you can lock me up in here for good. How the heck do you THINK I’m feeling?

Hugo Strange: Your hostility is unnecessary, Mr. West. I am trying to help you.

Wally: If this is your definition of ‘helping’ me, I’d hate to see what you do to people you want to hurt. Seriously, did you go to the Zoom Academy of Making Things “Beeetttteerrrr”?

Hugo Strange: I am nothing like Mr. Zolomon, Mr. West.

Wally: I’ll say you’re not. Hunter...he’s sick. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. But you? What’s your excuse?

Hugo Strange: I do not need an excuse, Mr. West. You may not realize it yet, but you-and all the other costumed vigilantes-are doing more harm than good.

Wally: What do you mean, more harm than good? I’ve had my powers since I was ten years old, and since then I’ve done my best to hold to the promise that I made to Uncle Barry: to use my speed only to help those in need, to combat evil-and never for my own personal gain. I haven’t been perfect at it-I’m not as selfless as Uncle Barry, and I’ve got quite a temper-but I’ve tried. I’ve really, really tried.

Hugo Strange: Let’s talk about your Uncle Barry, shall we, Mr. West?

Wally: Why? So you can twist my words and use them to make him out to be some sort of misguided lunatic? Not gonna happen.

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, I assure you I bear no ill will towards Mr. Allen. Obviously, you bear a great deal of affection for him. I simply wish to know why that is.

Wally: Because he’s a hero! He’s brave and loyal and honest and kind and good. He cares about everybody. He uses his powers to protect the weak and help the poor and defend the helpless. He became friends with Albert Desmond when nobody else would’ve given him a chance and got him his job at S.T.A.R. Labs, and he’s tried to help Mick Rory get the treatment he needs for his pyromania, too. He’s raised billions of dollars for charities, and he’s helped to save the world more times than I can count. (Pause) And he does all that while also working for justice as a police scientist!

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, the exploits of Mr. Allen are well-known. I was asking you why you, in particular, are so fond of him.

Wally: Well, he did marry my favorite aunt. (Pause) More importantly, though...as a kid, I really needed a hero, and he….he was my hero. My parents barely knew I was alive, except when I did something that inconvenienced them. When that happened, my dad would call me names or hit me, and my mom would wail and cry and guilt-trip….and then they’d go right back to obsessing over their own problems or arguing with each other. I...I felt like I was all alone, except for Aunt Iris. She was the one person in my family who really seemed interested in me, and she also had this awesome job as a reporter in a big city. She was really cool, but because I lived two hours away from her, I didn’t get to see her very much. (Pause) When Uncle Barry first became the Flash, I didn’t know who he was...but I idolized him. I was his biggest fan! I was even the President of the Blue Valley Flash Fan Club. (Pause, laughs) President and only member. The other kids thought he was cool, but they weren’t as invested in him as I was. To me, he represented freedom.

Hugo Strange: It sounds as though you were a rather lonely little boy, Mr. West.

Wally: Yeah, I guess I was. (Pause) That’s why I was so excited when my folks sent me to live with Aunt Iris in Central City during the summer when I was ten. And that’s when I first met Uncle Barry. Like I said, I didn’t know he was the Flash yet, so at first I thought he was...well, honestly? Kind of a dweeb. But then he told me that he knew the Flash and could introduce me to him. I was so excited, I probably could’ve inhaled an entire shoe. Anyway, Uncle Barry used his super speed to change into the Flash and act like he’d been waiting for me to arrive, and that’s when I met the Flash. He was everything I’d dreamed he would be. Even though I had been a little bit of a brat to him as Barry Allen, he treated me with respect; like he was happy to meet me and have me around, and it put me over the moon. Eventually, he started to explain how he’d gotten his powers, and that’s when it happened: lightning struck twice. I was doused in the same chemicals he’d gotten his super speed from, and I gained access to the speed force. It was the best day of my entire life. Besides the day I married Linda, of course. I became his sidekick, and from that point on, he was like a second father to me. He laughed at my stupid jokes, got me ice cream, took me on field trips, played games with me….all the things I dreamed of having my dad do with me. Eventually, he told me his secret identity. It was shortly before he and Aunt Iris got married, and I was ecstatic to learn that my favorite aunt was going to marry my hero. I was the ring bearer at their wedding, and from that point on, Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris basically raised me. They helped me through my parents’ divorce. Uncle Barry taught me how to balance a checkbook and apply for college scholarships; Aunt Iris helped me get my driver’s license and taught me how to really notice when other people were in need. (Pause) If it hadn’t been for them, I...I don’t know what would’ve happened to me. Maybe I’d be one of Captain Cold’s strays right now.

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, let me posit a question to you. If your uncle loved you so much, why did he put you in a costume and allow you to fight dangerous criminals? You became the so-called Kid Flash at ten years old, and by the time you were eleven, you had already faced the Weather Wizard, Captain Cold, and the first Mirror Master-to say nothing of your garden-variety gangsters and thugs. Surely, a responsible adult would have ensured that you stayed far away from such violence...and yet Mr. Allen seemed to almost thrust you towards it.

Wally: (Annoyed) Thrust me toward it? Are you kidding? If Uncle Barry hadn’t allowed me to be his sidekick, I’d have struck out and done superhero work on my own. I wanted to be just like him, remember? If anything, I thrust him into letting me fight criminals. (Pause) Besides, it wasn’t like he was just letting some random kid fight crime. I had super speed, remember? The chances of my getting shot were virtually nil. And the Rogues have a thing about not hurting kids. I wasn’t in any particular danger, especially not with Uncle Barry watching out for me.

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, you obviously are unaware of this, but your uncle is a very sick man.

Wally: Have you been listening to anything I said? Uncle Barry is the best man in the world. If that makes him crazy...well, I don’t want to be sane!

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, I understand that this is difficult for you, but you must face reality. Your uncle was a very eccentric, very lonely man. He had few friends; most of his life was absorbed in his work. He always wanted to be someone special, but he knew that slow, lazy Barry Allen was no one important. Like you, he idolized a superhero-in his case, the Mystery Man known as Jay Garrick, and, like you, he wished that he, like his hero, was special. When his metahuman powers were activated by the lightning strike, his mind, already fragile from years of being mocked and looked down upon by his peers, shattered. He decided to use his powers to emulate the hero he had read about and idolized as a child, so that he could finally be special. Eventually, his antics drew the attention of other, even more damaged individuals, thereby indirectly inspiring the debut of all the costumed oddities that both you and your uncle spend so much time playing cops and robbers with. And then he met you. Another lonely little boy who wanted to be special. When you got your powers, he saw a chance to expand his fantasy world; recklessly endangering you. He may have been deluded enough to call you a sidekick, but what you really were was a child soldier. No wonder your life was sent into such a tailspin when he was temporarily lost in the speed force five years ago. Without him around to help maintain the fantasy that he had indoctrinated you into, you were lost, and the only solution you could think of was to take up the role that he had once filled. You are not a hero, Mr. West. You are a sad, deluded child; just as your uncle is a sad, deluded man. But I will see that you get the help you need.

Wally: (Furious) That’s a load of bunk, and you know it! I don’t know what your game is, Dr. Strange, but you’re not going to get away with dragging my uncle’s name through the mud!

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, your loyalty to your uncle is misguided. He is a dangerous vigilante, one who took advantage of your innocence and loneliness to turn you into yet another costumed freak. What he did to you was wrong, and it is my duty to make sure that you, and the rest of the world, realizes that fact.

Wally: (Very loudly) Don’t you talk about Uncle Barry that way, you filthy liar! (Stands up rapidly; knocks over the chair he was sitting in)

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, I would advise you to refrain from such open displays of hostility. Otherwise, I will have to recommend that your children not be allowed to visit you, for the sake of their own mental health.

Wally: And how do you think it affected their mental health to have their parents locked up on phony charges, huh?

Hugo Strange: Neither of you were fit guardians for them, Mr. West. I understand that having them separated from you was upsetting, but it is for their own good. You and your wife obviously love them, but you are too ill to properly care for them, and your wife was only enabling your behavior. It was simply not a safe environment for the children, so they have been removed from your home until such time as you have been cured and can properly care for them. Two generations of costumed vigilantes is quite….(Hugo Strange is frozen solid)

Capt. Cold: And he’s got the nerve to call us crazy. Really, accusin’ you an’ your missus of being bad parents? I seen how you dote on those kids, West. Only a nutjob could think you were unsafe for ‘em.

Wally: Captain Cold?

Capt. Cold: The one and only. You ready to bust outta this joint, kid?

Wally: Are you seriously asking me to help you escape prison?

Capt. Cold: Sam got Lisa and all the guys out already, and I’ve pretty much already escaped, kid. Just figured I’d be nice and get you outta here, too-before the Doc decides to give you a lobotomy. (Freezes and breaks Wally’s metahuman power dampener) Besides, Central City is furious over what happened to you and your missus. They ain’t exactly gonna expedite you back here.

Wally: All right...but as soon as Iron Heights gets rebuilt, I’m taking all of you Rogues straight back there.

Capt. Cold: I wouldn’t have it any other way. (Pause) C’mon, kid. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.

#the flash #dr. hugo strange #wally west #captain cold #flash comics #dc comics #fanfic

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joontier · 3 years

Text

Parallel Palpitations | V1; report i

pairings: dr. park jimin x female reader

chapter rating: NC-17 | genre: romance, slice of life, humor

warnings: none to note

word count: 2k

g/n: this is just an intro basically ksjdfksjdf but i’d also like to inform yalls this coincides with the Subliminal in Scrubs universe (jk’s installment of TWA)

Parallel Palpitations (the records) | navi. | m.list

Closing his locker with his foot, Jimin tries to carefully balance his books placed precariously on top of each other in his arms as he walks back to the dean’s office where he’s also arranging most of his stuff to take home. It’s already been a week since he’d officially graduated medicine from Busan National University, and he had only kept going back to school to gather all his belongings so he could start reviewing.

“Jimin, is that you?” The question almost knocks clumsy Jimin off his feet, surprised at how there was still any other person in the office besides Kyungjo who was also collecting his stuff to take home. Jimin sets all of his books down first on a desk and turns, only to come face to face with none other than Jeon Jungmin himself, associate professor and chairman of the Jeon Medical Center.

“Professor Jeon! Good evening Sir...It’s already late, professor?”

Jeon Jungmin laughs, patting Jimin on the back, “I was going to say the same to you kid. You should go home.” Jimin flashes the older man a small smile, “Ah...yes, Professor. I’m just grabbing the last of my stuff then I’ll be on my way. This won’t take long.”

“It’s fine, Jimin. The staff know you well anyways,” Jungmin sighs, then rests his weight on a pillar as he puts his hands in his pockets. “You know, Jimin...you’re a very bright student...I think even one of the best in Korea if I do say so myself.”

The young man momentarily pauses with what he’s doing, taking in the professor’s words, “Oh, I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration, Sir.”

Jungmin chuckles as he shakes his head. “It’s true - you’re driven and you’re smart. It’s a fixed formula for someone who achieves great success in life later on. Your parents must be very proud. I would be too, if you were my son too.”

“Thank you, Professor. Everything I do, I do for my parents.”

The older man lets out a deep exhale and gives Jimin another pat on the back. “Just wanted to let you know that you’re going to be a fine doctor Jimin - and the Jeon Medical Center would definitely need fine doctors like you. I realized I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I really hope you will choose JMC for your post-graduate internship. We have a good program here,” Jungmin’s voice goes down to a whisper, “If you wish to, just let me know…”

Someone enters the office and bows to the both of them and recognizes the same man as the professor’s driver. The man collects the professor’s briefcase and coat with one nod of Jungmin. “Well, I’ll head off first, Jimin. I can give you a ride home if you’re done with those.”

Jimin shakes his head quickly, declining the one and only Jeon Jungmin’s generous offer. He’s unsure about the other offer though, but if he lets himself get a car ride home with the chairman himself, the latter might take it as a favorable answer to his proposal to which Jimin is still undecided. “No thank you Sir. I’ll be alright. This might still take a while after all,” Jimin says with an awkward laugh, tapping the top of the stack which was rivaling Jimin’s height.

“Alright Jimin. Get back home safely. And I...hope to see you again very soon.”

Jimin gives him a curt nod. “Good night, Professor.”

He continues on with his remaining tasks, wanting to finish quickly so he could finally go home and rest. “Is he gone?” Kyungjo’s voice startles Jimin, the book in his hands nearly causing the tower of books to collapse. “My god! Stop doing that!” Jimin scolds his friend as it wasn’t the first time Kyungjo’s sleuthing had given Jimin a fright.

“Yeah, he left already. You done with your stuff?”

“Uh-huh. All set and ready to step into the real world,” Kyungjo replies, waving his hands in the air. Jimin narrows his eyes at the other boy, judging him silently. Kyungjo has a particular inclination towards alcohol and Jimin wonders if today was one of the days where his friend indulges himself yet once again.

“Have you heard about his actual son? What was the kid’s name again...uh…” Kyungjo snaps his fingers in mid-air as Jimin asks what was the issue with the chairman’s son, likewise reminding Kyungjo it wasn’t best to talk about it in the dean’s office. “Ah! Yes, Jeon Jungkook. Heard that their relationship got so bad that Jungkook completely cut himself off from the family once he graduated high school and went to Yonsei instead of BNU because of his daddy issues.”

Jimin, unsure how to handle and process that kind of information, simply shakes his head at Kyungjo. “It’s wrong to gossip about other people's lives like that.” When Jimin looks over at his friend, Kyungjo is no longer listening, fumbling with the remote as he turns up the volume of the office television.

“In other news today, two thousand five hundred sixty one students of Seoul National University graduated this afternoon 25th of February, 2023. The ceremony was held at COEX Convention Center in Samsung-dong, Seoul to accommodate the number of graduates this year. With a yearly average of at least two thousand three hundred graduates, this year’s commencement ceremony records the highest number of graduates in the history of the national university.

“Not only did they record the highest number of alumni, but this year also marks the first year to have a foreign national graduate as the school’s valedictorian.” Jimin is listening just as intently as Kyungjo now with both boys focused on the TV screen. “Jeong Yeorum, also known as Summer Jeong by her colleagues, graduates with flying colors today from Seoul National University’s College of Medicine. Here is part of her valedictory speech this afternoon.”

A girl appears on screen and she stands behind the podium with a bright and reassuring smile on her face. “As we embark on the journey of the rest of our lives, I implore you all, to do what you love, because I believe it’s what you’ll do best. There will be countless times of trial, but keep in mind that perseverance will always prevail. Always aim for the moon, because even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars. Class of 2023, good luck. And remember, graduation is only the beginning.”

“Wow!” Kyungjo claps his hands enthusiastically as he marvels at the girl. “The twenty-six year old, who along with her family migrated to South Korea back in 2015 when her father was reassigned to an office here in Seoul. The valedictorian says she’s not entirely foreign to Korea as her paternal grandmother is actually a native of Jeju. Jeong Yeorum then attended a co-ed high school in Mapo District, where she likewise finished her secondary education with academic distinction.”

The reporters, equally impressed with the girl’s achievements, couldn’t help but add their own comments to the news report, “Wow...I guess some people are simply born for greatness.”

“I agree with you there, Dongho-ssi. We might be looking at the next Bae Jeonjoo, the only woman in the group of doctors who pioneered neurosurgery in South Korea. Ms. Jeong Yeorum, if you are seeing this, we’re rooting for your promising career. Fighting!”

As soon as the news anchors proceed to report other news, Kyungko turns off the television and mentions the time. “Well, she was pretty cute, wasn’t she? Totally my type! Maybe when we get to Seoul to review, we’ll get the chance to meet her...and make her my girlfriend!”

Jimin rolls his eyes at Kyungjo, placing a firm grip on the shoulder, “My friend...you are either drunk, hungry, or high. Either way, you should go home. Don’t worry about me, I’ll just close up here.”

Kyungjo shrugs his shoulders. “You’ll still go, right? To Seoul?”

“I will. Don’t worry.” Jimin gives the other boy a reassuring nod.

“Still half half with the rent, a’ight? I’ll be counting on you, Jiminie...and don’t let me down. Also, tell me when you’re leaving for Seoul so I know when I’m not supposed to bring hot city girls home...they have the tendency to be...loud sometimes.”

This boy was definitely high, and whatever substance he’s taking, Jimin wants none of it.

“That’s your cue, Kyungjo. Go home and take a cab instead.”

“I can drive! I’m not high or drunk!” Kyungjo puts his hands up in the air in defense. “Hey, look, I can even moonwalk!” He proceeds to dance wildly as he exits the office, leaving Jimin questioning how he even became acquainted with Kyunjo in the first place.

You barely hear the sound of your name being called on stage when the audio of Hoseok’s loud whooping completely dulls that of your professor’s. “Oppa! Nobody would be able to make out my name with your audio input!” Playfully shoving your cousin’s phone back into his hands, you continue to mumble your complaints about the poor video quality.

Indignant with your words, Hoseok retorts, “Hey! I’m not a professional videographer, alright? What’s important is the actual moment happening and not how the moment was captured!” Hoseok hooks an arm over your neck, bringing your head to his chest as he gives you a noogie. “Oppa, my hair!!”

Pulling yourself away from his grasp, you quickly pat your hair down but not delivering a solid smack on Hoseok’s back. As you’re fixing your hair, you weren’t able to put much thought into where you were walking, ultimately, and accidentally bumping into someone in a blue and black graduation robe similar to yours.

Quickly, you look up, apologizing profusely at the person. “Oh! I’m so sorry- I…” “It’s okay,” the guy smiles a little, “_________, right?” You’re sure the surprise is evident in your face when he mentions your name when he barely even talked to you during the entirety of med school. “Yes! I mean...hello, Jungkook..” Clearing your throat, you quickly think of something to divert the impending awkward silence, “Well...um, congratulations to you for graduating as the batch valedictorian!” It now dawns on you that he really did graduate on top of the class, “Wow! You’re real smart!” comes your thoughts, unconsciously voicing them out.

‘You’re real smart?’ Really? That’s the best you could’ve done?

Jungkook chuckles, slightly taken-aback by your audible observation. “Oh yeah...um, thanks.” From behind you, you hear Hoseok clear his throat before speaking up. “Hello!” You hang your head low momentarily, already imagining Hoseok making fun of you later for this.

“Right, Jungkook, this is my cousin, Jung Hoseok. Oppa, this is my classmate - Jeon Jungkook.” The two men shake their hands briefly before Jungkook speaks up, “Well, I’ve got to go now. Congratulations to you too Soomin. And Jung Hoseok-ssi.”

As soon as Jungkook gets out of your sight, Hoseok nudges you with his elbow. “Please tell me that man was Jeon Jungmin’s son,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief. Nodding your head, you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Got a crush on the dude?” Oh god. Here we go again.

“No! Jeez.”

“Why were you so awkward around him then?”

“We barely talked in class. Hell, I don’t even think we were within at least fifty meters from each other.”

“But he’s a handsome man?”

“Maybe you’re the one that’s got a crush on him?”

Hoseok glares at you.

“Do you think maybe you’d know which hospital he might be interested in taking his PGI? Woocheon perhaps?”

It’s your turn to glare at him. “I told you. This incident was only one of our very few interactions ever. I think the last time he talked to me was when he borrowed a pencil during a class and that’s it.”

“Well...if you’d discover where, let me know. Because if he does apply for Woocheon, and we’d happen to get the girl from SNU too....” Hoseok nods his head slowly, stroking his chin “Woocheon will have the A-Team interns this year, you included.”

You roll your eyes, resting your arm against the car door that Hoseok opens for you, “You really think that’s going to pay for you ruining my hair?”

“No, but you’re going to thank me if Woocheon manages to snag the dream team!”

#jimin x reader #btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #btsghostie #park jimin #bts aus #bts fic #park jimin x reader #jimin fluff #doctors au

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incorrectlumityquotes · 3 years

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FULL REVIEWS: “Covention”

I didn’t think I’d have a harder time doing these reviews on my days off than on a workday, but errands and all that. I had no expectations going into this episode at the time since “covention” is a fake made up word. But I heard Amity was going to be in it, so I got excited. The spice of life returns. It’s been a hot minute. Let’s see how the episode holds up.

The episode starts with one of my favorite cold openings. Super funny and gives a good shot at those books that have that pretentious flowery language. Seriously who says “thou” and “hast” anymore. Lame. Luz tossing King into the portal right when it closes was my favorite bit. Was Eda really going to go to the human world just for that?

Also I didn’t notice until someone pointed it out but I guess they’re using Azura and Hecate as some kinda parallel to Luz and Amity. Hope Amity doesn’t find out that she’s not the Azura character. Does that mean that Eda is that old ass lady and King is that little fox dog thing? That’s not cool, man. Be nice.

So much can be read into it, but that’s for another blog post for another time.

And of course, dumb-dumb me had to wait until the word was said out loud to realize that it was a play on the words “coven” and “convention.” So basically it’s a con episode. Cov episode? Whatever. Big brain hurt.

Relationships are a give and take and sometimes you gotta give in. Sorry, Eda.

I don’t know about you guys, but I never really had a lot of fun going to cons. The only part I really liked was meeting my favorite voice actors and watching indie wrestling. All the food, merch, and art was always overpriced and from shows I don’t watch. I don’t join video game tournaments because those people take the games way too seriously. Plus the area that I live in isn’t known for being big on nerd culture so the cons are never that impressive. I met Steve Blum last time and went to one and you can only go down from there so I don’t think I’ll be going to another one any time soon.

I caught this first time I saw it on TV. Luz and Willow arm in arm. Maybe in another life I would be shipping Luz & Willow. Maybe maybe. Also, Skara in the background. I think her design is really cute. Maybe she’ll get an episode in season two. Maybe maybe.

More lore and more worldbuilding which people really seemed to want and we got it. Eda explains that while covens seem like cool groups to belong to, they also strip you of all the other kind of magic you can do. Why? My theory was (and is) that about fifty years ago a bunch of religious and political hustlers got together and tried to figure out a way to control people. Really keep them in line. They knew that people were basically stupid and would believe anything you told them, so they announced that this one guy could talk to the titan that the Isles were based of off. This one guys says that only he could talk to the titan and hear what the titan was saying and that only he could do all kinds of magic. Everyone else is doing it wrong and only he’s doing it right. With no proof or evidence, but trust him he’s on the level. The Boiling Isles was just doing fine before him, but now all of a sudden, we’re all doing it wrong. Let that be a lesson to you, kids. If anyone tells you anything like that, it’s bullshit.

Also the nine covens. Why nine? Why not group the bard and illusionary covens together into the music video coven? Why does potions get its own coven? How much school do you really have to take to learn to mix shit together and stir? Wouldn’t the plant magic coven know something about using plants to make potions? Why does the construction coven get it’s own coven? Couldn’t you use any kind of magic to build things? Is the construction coven the blue collar coven? Beast keeping gets it’s own coven? Like the bitch at the plant coven needs to switch covens to be told to feed her dog? My theory, the nine covens was really a marketing decision. Ten sounds too official. They knew that if it was too neat and tidy, they’d know something was up. Would they though? I don’t think so.

Any group that has their own stormtroopers is automatically evil. Even more proof that the coven system is bullshit.

“Distraction spell!”

This moment made me laugh so damn hard. The crap that Eda pulls is one of the highlights of the show for me.

Luz and Eda go check out The Emperor’s Coven panel in the main hall, and we’re introduced to another major character. Enter Lilith, Eda’s older sister. And I swear to you guys, I was so confused this entire time on who was the older and who was the younger sister until the season finale. Seriously, I kept getting mixed messages. I mean, I know now but give me a break here.

I think Lilith is a good character and a great foil to Eda. The fun part is that since they are sisters, Eda knows exactly how to push her buttons and drag Lilith down to her level. It’s always fun to see a stoic character break.

My finger points.

Amity shows up which automatically makes this episode better. Luz properly introduces herself and we get more back-and-forth. Amity being a real bitch here is more to mislead us for the last act of the episode, but when I first saw it I thought it was more confirmation that Amity was going to be the Draco Malfoy-clone of the series. Glad I was wrong.

We get more of Luz trying to make life play out like her favorite stories and challenges Amity to a witch’s duel. A thing she read in Azura that she has no clue whether or not is a thing in The Boiling Isles. There’s an equal chance that Amity could have just shaken her head and be like, “The fuck is a witch’s duel? That sounds like something you just made up.”

Also Amity should have caught that Azura reference from the start, but then that kinda would have spoiled Lost in Language, huh?

Again, Luz needs to learn that life does not play out like it does in her favorite stories. Challenging your rival to a duel is cool on paper but a big “Yeah no” IRL. Especially since she knows no real offensive spells, no defensive spells, is a weak nerd who has probably never been in a real fight in her life and has no fighting spirit. Trust me guys I learned the hard way. Life is not a shonen anime. You can’t settle anything by fighting.

I love mentor/mentee stories especially when they have a rival mentor/mentee pair. Too bad Dana has already said that Amity and Lilith were not close at all. It was more a relationship of convenience. But then again that would help witch whole foil angle. Lilith and Amity just use each other to get ahead while Eda and Luz do actually build a familial bond.

The duel goes...exactly the way I thought it would. Honestly. The cheating, the whole fight just breaking down, even Lilith and Eda doing an actual witch’s fight. Totally saw it coming. What I didn’t see coming was the bad ass animation they used for the Lilith/Eda fight and...

The Amity scene. The big reveal that Amity is not a Draco Malfoy clone (I only saw the first four movies). She’s just a girl who thinks people should follow the rules, hates cheaters and is under a lot of pressure to succeed. Only someone as empathic as Luz and try to keep building that bridge and try to make things right with Amity, but that’s a whole other episode.

And the episode ends with another great lesson I really like. “Will I ever be a true witch?” “I don’t know. What’s a true witch?” There are always expectations and pressure put upon you to be a true something. Others will want you to conform into a label for one reason or another. But all those expectations and labels are just illusions. It reminds me of a Bruce Lee quote. When an interviewer asked Bruce if he considers himself Chinese or American, he answers that he considers himself, “a human being.”

Labels can be fun because it makes it easier for the brain to organize things, but when people put too much stock into these labels problems arise. Think of labels as a boat to get you across the river. Once you cross the river you leave the boat behind. You don’t carry the boat with you. That’s just dumb.

“Witch please”

FINAL SCORE: 5 - Loved it.

Hot take, Amity makes every episode better. More funny jokes, more worldbuilding, more Amity and hints at the main villain of the show. Lilith was a great addition and the episode hints at the main plot. Probably the most fun I’ve ever had at a con. And speaking of more Amity...

#the owl house #my works #full review #full reviews

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ct-7386 · 3 years

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Beans are Spilled

[So, I mentioned this in another post, but I copy-paste threads to a gdoc so that I can keep track of the story, write more coherent responses, and go back and reread at my leisure. Please go read that post, because I'm also using it as a general disclaimer for all the completed threads I'll post as oneshots. If you've reacted to that post, thank you ^^ I've had so much fun with everyone.

Anyway, here is the first thread - both chronologically and the first thread I was a part of.

Please keep in mind that this will have an odd flow to it bc it was written by two people, each writing as their own character. I've done my best to edit for basic mistakes, but otherwise everything is as we wrote it originally.

Authors: myself and @cc1010fox Characters: Commander Fox (them); CT-7386, Commander Stone, Corporal Cory (all me) Rating: T TW: mentions of suicide; depicted depression and anxiety; clones bullying each other; referenced reconditioning and decommissioning

If I forgot any warnings, please let me know ^^

Thank you!]

Commander Stone comms:

"Sir, I have a situation down in Lock Up. Two of our troopers got into a fight with each other, and they won't tell me anything. I know you're busy prepping for that upcoming gala, but..." His grimace is audible, and his volume drops slightly. "I have a feeling this won't be pretty. Can you spare any time for this osik, sir?"

Vod drama sounds like it might be just what he needs to break himself out of the monotony of his current work, so he decides it can't hurt. "I'm on my way." It takes a short while on foot, but he needs the exercise and to expend the energy he, like his vode, was created to have. When he arrives, he's let through without much hassle. After all, he's easily recognizable. "Where's the idiots?"

Stone takes off his bucket and runs a hand over his head. He gestures at two of the holding cells. "Here, sir. When they wouldn't break it up, I had them forcibly separated and thrown in the cells." He steps forward and raps on the dome of his helmet. "Attention, men!"

The clones in each cell snap-to, each with their bucket set to the side on the uncomfortable looking cots.

"Because of your ridiculous behavior, Commander Fox has deigned to address this problem himself." His eyes are narrowed, but there's a tightness around them that betrays his quiet worry. It's just not normal for there to be in-fighting among the older troops.

"With everything the Coruscant Guard has to deal with, you want to add each other to that list?" Fox barks, his tone every bit the reason his men stand at attention when he enters the room. "Who here is going to tell me what's going on first? Because you're both going to, or I'll have you working in such close quarters you won't have a choice but to learn to get along."

The clone in the cell to the right instantly bristles and tenses.

"Work with it?!" He gestures to the wall that separates them. "This shabuir, aruetii, vod-killer!?!"

The entire room stills.

It stills indeed. A vod betraying their own is nigh unheard of, especially in the Coruscant Guard. All they have is each other. Most won't even speak against a vod to save their own lives, even when wrongfully accused.

Fox eventually breaks the silence, looking to the accused, but not speaking to him. His gaze is suspicious, untrusting. Do they have a vod-killer among them? "Those are some heavy accusations, vod. Explain yourself."

The trooper in question stands stiff and almost unnaturally still, lips pressed into a thin line and eyes hyper-focused on Fox's lower face.

"... It was," he finally grits out, "information shared in confidence - a mistake, apparently, and no one's business but my own. Sir. Corporal Cory" - the other trooper, then - "holds a personal grudge against me, and today it interfered with my duties. Not only has he betrayed the trust I had in him, but he could have put the lives of every trooper present at risk."

Corporal Cory looks ready to throw himself at the energy barrier in the door to his cell to confront the yet-unnamed trooper. He is livid. "I betrayed your trust? What about the trust of your vode, huh? What about the ones you -"

At the last second he bites back his words - a surprising show of restraint, given the situation. And yet, every vod in the room feels chills at what the corporal has just implied.

The unnamed trooper swallows and closes his eyes briefly as if to gather himself. "I confronted Corporal Cory," he says quietly, "about his actions. Our argument got... heated. That's when Commander Stone was forced to intervene. Sir."

There's a tired sort of anguished resignation that hangs over the trooper. He's willing to accept whatever his punishment will be if it will keep him from having to relive the past all over again. He just hopes everyone will leave well enough alone.

"You're glossing over pertinent information, trooper," Fox tells him, his tone holding a warning. "Did you kill a vod? Do I need to worry about my men around you?" It's clear he's dodging the subject, but Fox's aim is better than most. He always keeps his eye on the target.

While he may view the vod as a danger currently, there's still no question he would protect him. Vod-killer or not, he's one of the Coruscant Guard, one of them. He just has to know what to do with him, like separate him from the others if necessary.

The look of anguish intensifies for a brief moment before the trooper replaces it with a blank mask. "The only danger I pose is to myself, sir. As for the pertinent information..."

He grinds his jaw, frantically searching for a way to answer the indirect order while maintaining some dignity.

"It was on Kamino," he says at last, voice painfully small; he seems to fold slightly in on himself, as if the weight of his words is almost too much. The trooper swallows. His voice is slightly ragged as he finishes, "It was a - a mercy kill."

There's a moment where the air echoes with the silence, and then he's straightening once again wearing that mask.

"With all due respect, sir, it was a long time ago and has no bearing on the current situation or my performance as a soldier of the Republic. Corporal Cory took the few facts he had and blew them out of proportion." The corporal does look a little guilty. "I will accept whatever punishment you deem necessary for my actions, sir, and for lying by omission, but I request that you not alter my duties in any way. I'm the only clone with my specific qualifications, sir, and my skills are needed in the Senate building almost constantly. On top of that, there are still a couple senators I need to contact to finish smoothing over the ruffled feathers the corporal caused with his... overreaction earlier."

A mercy kill. Questions need to be asked, specifically whether or not the deceased vod requested his "mercy". Otherwise, it was unforgivable, merciful or not. It would be merciful to kill them all, to put them all out of their misery, but it's their choice whether they live or die. Most would rather live so they wouldn't have to be replaced by another innocent vod. They survive and fight through the osik for each other.

Fox wants to ask the question where the others can hear the answer, hoping it will clear it all up, but--

"Senators?" His ire is turned on the other trooper. "You started a fight in front of senators? Do you have any idea what danger you put us all in? Fresher duty. A month's worth. If I hear one complaint, I'll extend it another month." Fox needs the senators to feel safe around them, not wonder when the unstable brutes will snap. The more on edge they are around them, the more likely they will be to have them reconditioned for the tiniest mishaps.

Somewhat surprisingly, the unnamed trooper hesitates slightly and shifts in place. "With - With all due respect, sir, Corporal Cory knows better than to start a fight in front of the senators. He just - I'm a translator, sir, and the corporal interfered with my work and nearly caused a diplomatic incident without really understanding what it was he was doing. I confronted him because he knows better than to interfere with my work yet did it anyway because of our petty rivalry. He didn't - He didn't mean to, not really."

“He knew what he was doing. He knew the senators were there.” It is, however, reassuring that he’s trying so hard to protect a vod. There is definitely more to his background than he’s made known.

The trooper straightens. “Understood, sir. And my punishment?”

He knows he played his own part in this debacle. There were ways he could have deescalated the situation sooner; he could have requested a transfer to another squad when Cory became a problem months ago; he could have not started a fight with Cory afterwards - hell, he could have not told Cory anything. That would have been a fantastic idea.

And now - Now he’ll feel obligated to go to Commander Fox, a man he has barely seen since being stationed with the Guard, and explain this all to him against his own better judgement. What a kriffing disaster.

"An explanation. Whether your past affects your work with the Guard is up to me, not you. Do you understand? We can discuss it in private." Besides, from what he can tell, Cory started the fight, not the other vod.

Fox gestures to his cell, a silent order to release him so they can go elsewhere. He obviously doesn't want to divulge what happened to the others.

Commander Stone follows the silent order and presses a button on his vambrace, and the barrier in the trooper's cell disappears.

The trooper himself snaps a slightly shaky salute. "Yes, sir!" He turns and tucks his bucket under his arm and steps out of his cell, very deliberately not looking at any of the other vode in the room. Then he walks to stand in front of Fox, waiting to be led to - what he sees as - his inevitable doom.

"To my office, trooper. March," Fox orders. In his office, they can't be monitored by curious members of the Guard. At least there's no one in the building brave enough to press their ear to his door.

The trooper quickly marches out of the room, all-too aware of the Commander behind him. He leads the way briskly down the halls all the way to Commander Fox's office where he waits at the door.

His own professional, yet more casual, stride beside him tells witnesses that the trooper is in trouble, a walk of shame. At his door, Fox relieves him of that humiliation, "At ease..." before he opens the door.

Once inside, Fox pries the helmet from his head and sets it on his desk. He then seats himself behind the desk and gestures to the chairs opposite his own. "Have a seat. What's your name, trooper? Do you have one yet?" Not every clone has a name. Sometimes, they're just too attached to their designations and, other times, they just haven't found the right one.

He takes a seat but hesitates to answer the question. "I..." The trooper swallows and looks down at the helmet in his lap. "I go by my designation, sir. CT-7386, or sometimes just 86. I gave up any right I had to a name back on Kamino. I don't -" His voice drops almost to a pained whisper, and he sort of starts to curl around his bucket. "I don't deserve one after what I did."

This vod is not a cold-blooded killer, nor does Fox believe he has it in him to kill a vod without being coerced into it by that vod. The guilt is clearly eating him up inside. The ori'vod, which is what he is to most of his vode, in Fox is making him want to comfort him. He resists the urge to hug him, but not to use his words. "What happened, 86? Look at you, vod. You need to tell someone..."

His eyes snap up to Fox, wide and terrified. "Sir, I - I can't. You would - You would never look at me the same, sir. I'm already isolated from the rest of the Guard, already defective, and now they know -"

86 shudders and curls even tighter around his bucket as if for comfort. It was an order, he reminds himself. This is my punishment, so I just gotta take it. He forces himself to open his mouth and begin speaking even though he refuses to straighten and look at the Commander. 86 doesn't want to see the disgust in Fox's eyes.

"We - We were an experimental batch, sir. The Kaminiise wanted to see what would happen if they tried enhancing our senses beyond perfect hearing and 20/20 vision. Only, because they'd never done it before, a lot went wrong, and they kept us mostly isolated from the others in order to keep studying us."

His breath hitches slightly, and he tightens his grip on his bucket.

"Not all of us survived. We were down to six by the time we learned only I would ever be deployed, the others kept in the labs. And we couldn't - We were afraid. We didn't want to live like that, didn't want to be test subjects, didn't want to live that waking nightmare anymore. So 7301, our second youngest, he came up with this - this crazy plan: stage an accident that would kill us. Only - Only we needed one to stay alive so that someone would remember we had ever existed. They chose -" His voice breaks, and his eyes burn. "They chose me, because I was the only one who could be reassigned and deployed. So I - I sabotaged the program on our training deck. I killed them - all of them."

As he listens, he tries to put himself in 86’s place. The pain he would have felt, not only from the experimentation, but from watching his vode suffer too.

As far as clones go, Fox has always been privileged, selected for the ARC training program, encouraged to embrace his individuality, and given power over his vode. It might be hard at times, but he’s never been experimented on extensively or used as cannon fodder.

Still, he knows what it’s like to suffer, to want to be free from his suffering, and what it’s like to love his brothers so much he’s willing to endure anything for them. If his vode came to him, in pain, desperate for release from this life, would he kill them?

…Yes.

He leans over his desk, that little bit closer to his vod. “You didn’t kill them…You set them free…”

86 laughs bitterly. “Freed them - and enslaved the next poor bastards the Kaminiise decided to continue the experiments on. I know there were others who ‘benefited’ from the results we produced. Freed them?”

Another laugh, though this one he chokes on. He finally looks up, revealing the tears rolling down his cheeks and the absolutely broken look in his eyes.

“That’s not what the ghosts in my head say.”

"Yeah, well, those ghosts aren't your vode. They are thankful." As much as he would love to lay a hand on his vod's shoulder to comfort him, he stays put and lets the sympathy show in his eyes alone.

"You're not responsible for what the Kaminiise do..."

86 shakes his head and scrubs the tears from his face. "I know that logically, but that will never change the fact that my batch was killed by their ori'vod." He sniffs a little and straightens. "Is there anything else you'd like to know, sir?"

"Like they wanted," he insists. It was almost cruel of them to ask 86 to do it, leaving him to live with the crushing guilt. He wasn't handling it well at all. "We don't have any licensed therapists in the Guard, but our medics are willing and able to act as one if you need them to. You also have me. You've really twisted it in your head to make yourself a bad guy when you're not." It's the pot calling the kettle black, and Fox can't see it.

His next huff is supposed to be bitter again, but it comes out just so tired. “With all due respect, sir, I’ve been with the Guard just as long as you have - you’re only a dozen or so batches older than I am, even. This begs a couple questions.”

86’s eyes harden just slightly, more in suspicion and vague distrust than actual anger.

“First, don’t think I haven’t seen just how hard you are on yourself, so, with respect, don’t ask me to do something you wouldn’t. I know exactly how responsible you feel for all of us, and even though I could never imagine the amount of work you’re doing, I know it’s way worse than any of my own problems.

“Second, I’ve managed this long just fine. It took a vod betraying my trust and then having to admit my recurring nightmares under duress for anyone to give a kriff. I don’t see what will change now that I’ve bared my soul.” Okay, that might have come out just a little upset.

“And finally, again with all due respect, but -” His walls once again crumble, eyes bright with tears he refuses to shed, voice hitching with the raw emotion held back purely by strength of will, “why has no one cared before?”

Before Commander Fox can answer, 86 is holding up a hand to stop him.

“No. No, I’m sorry. That -” He swallows, blinks away the shine in his eyes. “I know you’re busy. I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty. I know everyone else is busy too. And I work every day in the Senate Building with no one except the natborns; the only time I see vode is when I come back to HQ to sleep.” 86 laughs incredulously. “I don’t - I don’t even know who the medics are? I don’t” - He blinks, brow scrunched in mild confusion and distress. “I don’t think I’ve been to the medbay since our mandatory exams when we were first stationed here…”

Fox doesn't tolerate much blatant disrespect, but he knows what 86 is going through at the moment. When emotions take hold, they're uncontrollable, torturous, until they're finally unleashed like a violent storm. It always ends the same, always. The tears come, shining in his vod's eyes. Again, he's assaulted with the nearly irresistible urge to hold him through it. That isn't Fox, though. He can't risk that sort of bond only for it to be broken by their rank imbalance.

"With all due respect, vod...which is every ounce I've shown you, when was the last time you told anyone the whole story? You hide your pain so well, apparently better than I do," he chuckles, a tinge of bitterness to his laughter, "so how was anyone supposed to know you were suffering? Let your vode know. They will care. They will support you.

If you don't mind, I'd like to recommend our CMO, Paws...and my personal "therapist", Thorn." Yes, he does talk to someone, as much as he's comfortable doing so at least. It helps that they're married in the Mandalorian tradition. "They're both more understanding than you ever thought a vod could be. No matter what you tell them, they'll try to see it from your point of view."

86 blinks, eyes wide. “I-I’m sorry, sir,” he stammers, head ducking in shame. If Fox is talking to someone… maybe he should, too. “If you think this is what’s best, I’ll - I can try.”

He worries at his bottom lip with his teeth while he thinks.

"I think... I think I can try talking to Paws? I - I know I need to visit medbay soon, anyway. This one senator -" He stops himself. "Maybe a story better saved for Paws," he mumbles. Yeah. Yeah, he can see what Fox means about talking to someone.

He inhales deeply, closing his eyes and centering himself before releasing the air slowly and steadily.

"I've never told anyone the whole story. Corporal Cory was... He's in my squad. I had a nightmare and woke him up a couple months ago. When he asked me about it, I was... I was shaken." He's ashamed of it, really, but nothing can be changed now. “Without thinking I admitted it was about my batch and how I’d caused their deaths, but that was it. He - He blew everything out of proportion. So, yeah. No one really - really knows.”

Another measured in-out of breath.

“And you’re wrong, sir: I don’t hide my pain all that well.” 86’s smile is wry, his tone self-deprecating. “It seems I’m just really good at hiding myself.” He swallows. “I know I’m not around the vode a lot just by nature of my duties, but - I could have made more of an effort to reach out to them.” He can - He can maybe still try. Maybe. Just - later. When he can think about this all clearly.

Once again he squares his shoulders and straightens. “Is there anything else you’d like to ask, sir? Or have I fulfilled the parameters of my punishment adequately?”

“There’s one last thing I’d like you to try… A mediated conversation between you and Cory. I know he was cruel, but think about what he thinks you did. It’s unheard of. He’s shocked. If he just knew…” he tries. Cory is a vod, so he can’t be completely unreasonable, can he? Honestly, Fox wonders if anyone outside of 86’s guilt ridden mind could possibly interpret what he did as cold-blooded murder. 86 is clearly a victim in what happened too, he just didn’t have the merciful release of death after it all.

That in mind, he really admires this vod. It would be too easy to swallow his blaster, but he’s chosen to stick around and keep his position filled so another vod doesn’t have to suffer through it. After Fixit, Fox knows all of the vode who suffer with suicidal ideation have been struggling to find the strength. He knows because he’s one of them. With 86’s background, he must be so much stronger than all of them, most of which are just victims of Coruscant.

The moment 86 hears Cory's name, he tenses hard. After a long moment he grits out, "As long as you're the one to mediate, sir, I think I can do it. I still - I still wanna shoot him for that stunt he pulled in front of the senators earlier. He could have gotten all of us killed. Thankfully, the senators I was translating for were easily persuaded to ignore the incident," he grimaces.

"Here, there's a good chance he will be shot because someone hates clones so much they can't bear to see us live. You don't want to wonder if your hatred for him was petty when he's already gone, vod. Trust me." It's always the ones who were arguing with the victims that cry the most when they're gone. "I'll mediate."

86 looks away guiltily. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” He hasn’t known hardly any of the vode lost to Coruscant, and it’s not exactly a lesson he wants to learn any time soon. He’ll talk to Cory. 86 looks back at the Commander. “If you’re too busy, sir, I’m sure someone else you trust can mediate. And -” He hesitates. “I think the rest of the squad should be there, too.”

“I’ll make the time. You bring whoever you’re ready to tell.” Besides, he already knows what happened, so he’ll be able to correct course if 86’s self-loathing gets in the way and he portrays himself as a heartless killer.

86 honestly feels a short rush of relief at knowing the Commander will be there. Having someone, anyone, standing next to him while he bares his soul to the most recent vode he feels he has wronged will help give him the strength he needs to get through this.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready,” he hedges, “but I - They deserve to know the truth.” The truth of why I’ve basically abandoned them, too. “Just name the time and place, sir. We’ll be there.”

"Will three days be enough time for you to plan your wording?" He doesn't want to rush him, but he also wants to pull it off like an adhesive bandage. Three days just seems like a good in-between. Besides, the longer he waits, the more time he'll have to convince himself it's a bad idea. At least that's how Fox's brain works.

86 nods. “Yes, sir. Thank you.” He’ll need all the time that gives him to think of what to say.

#Wren:pt1 #cgrp oneshots #rp #oneshot #star wars #swtcw #coruscant guard #commander fox #commander stone #ct-7386 #corporal cory #roleplay #sw ocs #coruscant guard ocs

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feysandfeels · 3 years

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Bless that T Swift/SJM crossover anon!! Can I add some other ones?!

The 1 - Chaol & Celaena after she’s Aelin again (or Chaol & Nesryn.....poor Chaol)

The Last Great American Dynasty - more like the Last Great Terrasen Dynasty lol

My Tears Ricochet - Aelin @ Arobyn

Mirrorball - Lysandra

Mad Woman = AELIN

The Lakes - Aelin talking about Rowan when she’s tired of it all

Not my (Chloe Ting sponsored) ass realizing just now that the original anon meant all the sjm pairings, but since I’m deep in the acotar trash atm I only made those.

ACOTAR I & II

Apologies jeje.

Manorian: generally speaking they have such reputation vibes. Immaculate record for immaculate couple.

... Ready for it? - “But if he's a ghost, then I can be a phantom Holdin' him for ransom” // “Younger than my exes but he act like such a man, so I see nothing better, I keep him forever Like a vendetta-ta” // “You should see the things we do, baby In the middle of the night, in my dreams I know I'm gonna be with you So I take my time Are you ready for it?”. Listen do I really need to explain this or do we all just see it?. This song has the electricity, the sexyness, the roughness, the daring aspect that makes manorian be the GOD tier couple that they are.

I’d Lie - Right, bare with me but I will lol at this forever because Manon is basically “And I could tell you his favorite color's green He loves to argue, born on the seventeenth His sister's beautiful, he has his father's eyes And if you asked me if I love him, I'd lie”. It’s such a weird song to associate with them but it fits her so well hahahahaha because my girl lives in such denial that I just can’t hahahahahahaaha and like “I don't let nobody see me wishing he was mine” this is MANON FOR DORIAN ALL THE TIME, and everyone is like but we see you wanting him so just do something about it!!!

Rowaelin

Willow - this screams Rowan looking at Aelin: “Wherever you stray I follow I'm begging for you to take my hand Wreck my plans That's my man”. He straight up left Maeve and the blood pact thingy they had for the blond girl he met three months prior. Also “Wait for the signal and I'll meet you after dark Show me the places where the others gave you scars Now this is an open-shut case Guess I should've known from the look on your face Every bait and switch was a work of art”, this speaks of the vulnerability shared through HoF about their scars and of Rowan realizng that every step he took was so he would met her. Willow is Rowan’s song for Aelin.

The Lakes- LET HER GO TO TERRASEN WHERE ALL THE POETS WENT TO DIE, LET HER STAY SO THAT WISTERIA GROWS AROUND HER FEET BECAUSE SHE HASN’T MOVED IN YEARS.

Elorcan

Hoax - the balance of the deep betrayal and the love, the hurt and the I would choose you again all of the nuances of Lorcan’s betrayal and the shattered illusions that speak of them even in their absences, are in Hoax: “Stood on the cliffside Screaming, "Give me a reason" Your faithless love's the only hoax I believe in Don't want no other shade of blue But you No other sadness in the world would dI believe in Don't want no other shade of blue But you No other sadness in the world would do”.

Lysandeon

Paper rings- “The wine is cold Like the shoulder that I gave you in the street Cat and mouse for a month or two or three Now I wake up in the night and watch you breathe”. This song matches their energy so well even if the lyrics don’t all offer exact parallels. They did however play cat and mouse for a month or two or three. “I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings Uh huh, that's right Darling, you're the one I want” Lysandra being accustomed to the finer things in life but she would slum it for Aedion; she is here for thick and thin.

Nesraq:

Gorgeous - “Of your magnetic field being a little too strong And I got a boyfriend (Chaol), he's older than us He's in the club (palace) doing, I don't know what (Yrene....) You're so cool (Sartaq really is the coolest), it makes me hate you so much (I hate you so much)” // You make me so happy (dude Nesryn loves spending time with him and he feels valued), it turns back to sad (fuck what about Chaol.. we promised each other it give it ago), yeah There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have (because he’s the prince and I’m not royal) You are so gorgeous it makes me so mad”.

Chaorene:

Dancing with our hands tied - even if the lyrics don’t create perfect parallels, I think the main theme of the song being two people that want to be together, but feel their relationship has a lot of baggage would fit them well. Yrene has to get over her hate for Adarlan (even though she has every every every right to hate Adarlan) and Chaol has to get over *himself*. “I, I loved you in spite of Deep fears that the world would divide us So, baby, can we dance Oh, through an avalanche? And say, say that we got it I'm a mess, but I'm the mess that you wanted”.

Sam x Celaena:

I know places - them trying to run away so they could find a safe place to be in love? indeed. Me crying right now because they never got to? you bet: “'Cause they got the cages, they got the boxes And guns They are the hunters, we are the foxes And we runBaby, I know places we won't be found and They'll be chasing their tails trying to track us down Cause I, I, I, I know places we can hide, I, I (...)”.

Dorian x Celaena:

The Way I loved you - To Dorian from Aelin... with love, friendship love that is. Because she recognizes the potential in him, in them, she knows he would be good to her and she knows that she indeed fell for him hard enough to want him for herself, but it just doesn’t feel like *that* anymore.

Red - From Dorian’s perspective: “Loving him is like driving a new Maserati down a dead end street Faster than the wind, passionate as sin, ending so suddenly”// “Touching him was like realizing all you ever wanted Was right there in front of you Memorizing him was as easy as knowing all the words To your old favorite song Fighting with him was like trying to solve a crossword And realizing there's no right answer”. They were literally a crash and burn. But neither of them can actually bring themselves to regret it. It was fun while it lasted and in its way it brought them closer.

Chaol x Celaena:

We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together - self explanatory, this is them through QoS. My Celorian ass is here for this pettiness I will take no criticism.

Forever and Always - “Was I out of line? Did I say something way too honest, made you run and hide Like a scared little boy I looked into your eyes Thought I knew you for a minute, now I'm not so sure So here's to everything coming down to nothing Here's to silence, that cuts me to the core Where is this going? Thought I knew for a minute, but I don't anymore” This was essentially Chaol’s thought process wondering why him an Celaena don’t work anymore and feeling like... a “we were supposed to be together 5ever what happened.... besides me not doing much to prevent her bff’s death and working for the dude that orchestrated the murder of her nation ?”

August - if I’m being honest this song fits them too not my fave song from folklore being for my least favorite couple in this story but if I gave Feylin some of my all time favorites I can give this one to them, but like “But I can see us lost in the memory August slipped away into a moment in time 'Cause it was never mine And I can see us twisted in bedsheets August sipped away like a bottle of wine 'Cause you were never mine Your back beneath the sun Wishin' I could write my name on it” Even though Chaol was ready to leave it all for her (he would literally cancel plans.. his life plans in case she’d call) she knew that this was an impossibility, their time was brief and it slipped away like a bottle of wine. She could never be his, because she was not entirely herself with him being Aelin meant opening up a lot of things and if Chaol had a hard time getting past a lot of Celaena’s traits then we can imagine the work, literally work he would have to do to accept Aelin... you know what, we don’t have to imagine it... it’s right there in QoS and ToD, anywho, he could never write his name on her back because she was never his, because he did not accept her for all that she was.

Aelin x Dorian x Chaol:

Long live - “I said, remember this moment, in the back of my mind The time we stood with our shaking hands The crowds in stands went wild We were the kings and the queens” // “Will you take a moment? Promise me this That you'll stand by me forever But if, God forbid, fate should step in And force us into a goodbye If you have children some day When they point to the pictures Please tell them my name Tell them how the crowds went wild Tell them how I hope they shine Long live the walls we crashed through I had the time of my life, with you” // I’m emotional right now and I need to cry it out.

I’m not 100% sure on the Chaoyrene one... but I think it’s good enough for me to post this hahaha

Anywho, I hope whoever asked for this enjoyed it 💛💛

#Feysandfeelsasks #Rowaelin #Manorian #Elorcan #Chaorene #Nesraq #Lysandion #Celorian #I don't know what Chaol and Celaena were #sorry

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wkemeup · 4 years

Text

By Any Other Name (14)

series summary: When Special Agent Bucky Barnes is tasked with infiltrating the notorious gang Hydra and gathering evidence against its leader, Brock Rumlow, Bucky finds himself drawn to the woman who doesn’t seem to belong in this world of violence, the wife of the head of Hydra… you. pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 6k warnings: references/descriptions of smut, reference to previous dub/con, a set up for the series climax 🌹series masterlist 🌹

Restraint was never your strongest suit.

Certainly not when it came to biting your tongue around your husband or feigning even a semblance of the loyalty he so desired from you. But this? Pressed up against the wall of your library, books falling from the shelves as James snapped his hips to yours, chasing highs and withering gasps, pushing you to an edge of sweet relief; this was something else entirely.

There was no holding back. No ability to control the need for him when he walked into the room, the desperate ache between your legs, the unsteady twitch in your hands until you could feel the hardened build of his muscle under your touch. It ran like heat in your veins, a flush in your cheeks, and it couldn’t be tamed unless his arms were around you, his lips on your neck.

In the safety of an empty home, he took you on the couches, in your bedroom, pressed flush against the kitchen counters, in the bath -- though that had caused quite a mess; laughing together as water splashed up and over the edges, pools of soapy bubbles on the tile flooring.

Lips on one another the very moment your husband left through the front door, the closing of its hinges a gate to your sanctuary.

You’ve seen James make love, knew what it was like to be touched with a gentle fever, to feel his adoration in every movement of his hips and the heat of his breath to your skin. You knew him when he was soft and tender, when he pressed sweet kisses along your collarbone and slowly rocked himself inside of you. He encapsulated every rush of emotion inside of you, the words you couldn’t find as you neared the brink, watching as his eyes fluttered shut and he struggled to catch his breath; unequivocal power over one another, never abused, never threatened, but as ends of the same rope.

He was yours, and you were his.

But you’d come to learn, in the shadows of this home, that he was capable of much more.

Pushed into cramped closets, on the cold floor of your bathroom, in the locked dressing room of a department store, in the car parked at the very end of the driveway far away from the security cameras… James fucked.

Rushed and needy; rough and desperate, when your time together was limited and he was reminded that you weren’t his, not yet, not in the way either of you wanted.

He left marks; finger prints in your hips and bruising on your chest from his own lips. You left scratches on his back; some surface level, others leaving angry lines in their wake he’d come to wear like a badge of honor. Colorful evidence of the love you shared.

Though as James would pull back slowly, coming down from his high, he’d take one look at what he left behind on your body and a shame would sweep over his features, eyes darting away from you, until you pulled him back for more.

They were markings you could easy hide, you’d tell him, before you begged for more.

There was a terrifying moment in the warm afterglow of a Sunday downtown, when you’d forgotten the hand that was intertwined so casually into yours as you stepped up to the front door of your home, a feeling you’d become so accustomed to you hardly thought to pull away as you stepped inside, and Clara stood waiting by the kitchen to prepare your supper. You pulled away in an instant, heart stammering, words caught in your throat, and James froze. Though, you could have sworn you saw a curve pulling at the corner of her lips as she turned into the kitchen.

You were treading on paper thin ice over rushing rapids. Walking a tight rope over the open mouth of a volcano. Standing at the edge of the tallest building and looking down at the heavy traffic below.

It was dangerous to give in to each other the way you were. Risky. Reckless, even.

But restraint was never your strongest suit.

***

One week before the shipment and Brock was none the wiser. He kept to his business meetings with men in black suits in the living room with scotch in his hand, coming home in the early house of the morning with disheveled hair and his tie undone, dragging men down to the basement where they’d emerge hours later on the back of his cronies and covered in blood.

There were a few occasions he tried to sneak a hand along your hips when you passed by to the kitchen, and while it left James with copper on his tongue, he managed to hold himself back. It wasn’t anything you weren’t used to, but you imagined seeing your husband touch you so freely and knowing how much you despised it, left behind a bad taste in James mouth; especially now that he knew what it was like to touch you in the ways Brock carelessly stole in passing.

Those nights, when you’d sneak down from your room to find James waiting in the kitchen moments after Brock left for the evening, knuckles clenched over marble countertops and tension like stone in his shoulders, you’d remind him exactly who’s hands you wanted on your body, who’s lip on your skin, who you so clearly loved and adored and you’d give yourself to him over and over again until neither of you remembered what it felt to have anyone but each other.

Two weeks full of loving him in the shadows of this house, of crying out a name that wasn’t entirely his own, of laying with him on the couch in your library curled up against his chest, of a new, unbridled kind of happiness you hadn’t known in years.

Two weeks of digging through your husband’s drawers, in the cracks in the wall of his office, and gathering the evidence James hadn’t been able to acquire. You’d written down testimonies of the countless nights you'd seen the unconscious bodies of men he kept under his payroll being dragged, bloodied and beaten, from the steps of the basement, of the times you’d walked into the kitchen to find him meeting with prominent city officials and businessmen. You’d recorded firsthand accounts of every criminal misdeed you’d ever witnessed, including the days he jaywalked across 5th avenue.

You’d even brought James and his team dozens of files hidden in a loose floorboard in Brock’s bedroom; copies you’d made while he was downtown, ones James didn’t even know existed. You placed them on the table at the warehouse in front of the wide-eyed expressions of his friends and explained that these were the logs of everyone on his payroll, the accounts of who was where and when.

Sam had almost yelped out in excitement, covering his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. Natasha was grinning as she gathered several papers in her hands to begin taking notes. Even Steve had cracked a smile, a slight shake of his head as he bent down to pick up a roster with a notable name listed at the top: Alexander Pierce.

James sat back in his chair, a little stunned, though he was beaming. A hand brushed down over his mouth as he glanced up at you, hands on your hips and a proud kind of grin on your face that made him question why he hadn’t brought you in on this sooner.

It was the first time you’d felt a sense of purpose in years.

You’d come to spend most of your nights at the warehouse. Whenever Brock left for his business meetings, you’d find a way to sneak out to the abandoned factory to meet James and his team. You’d spend hours curled up on metal folding chairs, shivering under the breeze of the empty space until you finally gave into James’ constant requests to hang his sweatshirt over your shoulders. Your eyes would grow tired from reading and your hand aching from writing, until Steve would eventually send you home with a grateful nod.

It made for long, sleepless nights, but you supposed you wouldn’t find much sleep until all of this was over, anyway. There was no rest while you knew that in every moment James stood next to your husband, acting as the right-hand man of a monster wrapped in Armani suits, his life was in danger.

***

BANG!

BANG! BANG!

BANG!

Six piercingly sharp gunshots on your left snapped your attention back to the redhead in front of you. One right after the other. Echoing through the enclosed room and stammering a jolt in your chest, leaving you winded.

Natasha eyed you, carefully pulling back the ear protectors and set her handgun on the table. The paper outline of a man’s silhouette sprung forward on the line until it swayed within reach. She’d hit the bullseye in every shot.

“I thought you were paying attention,” she teased, watching the way you glanced back through the window to James. He stood around the table with Steve and Sam, arguing about the stack of papers thrown about the room. He ran his fingers through his hair as he slumped into a chair, ruffling it messier than it was before he attempted to tame it. You smiled.

Turning back to Natasha, you found her raising an eyebrow at you. “Sorry, huh?”

“You wanted to learn how to shoot, didn’t you?” she smirked, reloading the magazine.

“James wants me to learn how to shoot,” you said, leaning against the counter beside her.

You watched as she disassembled the gun, quick, reflexive movements as the pieces flowed through her hand like clay, like she commanded them entirely. This was her world; the chaos and violence and deceit all part of a life she chose. She chose to live in the shadows and give over pieces of herself to a cause bigger than herself. Sam, Steve... James... they all did.

But Natasha, she was one you’d come to spend most of your time with in this warehouse. She was the one showing you basic self-defense skills and throwing you to the ground while James watched from the sidelines with an expression varying from amusement to defensive, depending on whether Nat was letting you have the upper hand.

She was small in frame, petite, with the kind of beauty where most men would easily overlook her intelligence. She was a fighter, a warrior even, and there was a part of you that envied that. You wondered if she would have stayed as complicit to Brock as long as you had or if she would have stood up to him, challenged his bluff and faced the consequences. She didn’t seem like a woman who would tolerate a cage.

You glanced back through the window, watching as Sam kicked back into his seat, piles of papers stacked on his lap as he set a mug of coffee on the top. It was a balancing act and Steve quickly swooped in and removed the coffee before a caramel ring could stain the documents. Sam grumbled, shooting him a look with a roll of his eyes while Steve made his way to James.

Sam was sweet, funny, and he had the kind of charm that could make you smile on even the worst day. He fought like brothers with James and they relentlessly teased each other, but he cared far more than he let on. In the moments that counted he was always there, that much you could tell simply by the way he watched James under cautious eyes when he wasn't looking.

Steve, the leader of this team, wasn’t as stone cold as he appeared to be. He smiled often, broke more rules than he followed, but he was disciplined. Anything less than success wasn’t an option, because the alternative was a member of his team – his family – being exposed in the field. You all knew what that meant and the consequences it brought.

You realized then, as you watched the three men gathered around the table, silently reading through the dozens of documents you brought them, that you seemed to know something more about these people you’d only known for a few weeks than you knew about James.

“Nat?”

She glanced up briefly before turning back to the assembly of the gun. “Yeah?”

“Is there... um... Is there a reason I’m allowed to know your name and not James’?” You bit on your lip, feeling nervous suddenly as the clicking of metal ceased in her hands. “You, Steve, Sam... Do you... Do you not trust me to know? Does he not--”

“Y/n,” Natasha urged quickly, cutting you off before you could spiral. She set a hand on your forearm before you realized it was shaking. “It’s not safe for either of you if you knew. Imagine if you let it slip accidentally, especially around Rumlow. It would expose his cover instantly and the fact that you’re working with us. We can’t let that happen. It’s been dangerous enough as it is with you knowing what’s going on.”

You nodded, exhaling a heavy breath as it weighed in your lungs.

“James trusts you,” she added, tilting her head just enough to caught your eye. She smiled at you; perfect pink lips curving up along her mouth like she was carved from stone. It wrinkled up by the green of her eyes, a laugh on her breath. “That man doesn’t let down his walls easily. He doesn’t trust people and he keeps everyone at a ten foot distance. It’s why he’s so good at this job. But, he trusts you. He did from the very beginning and he won’t do anything to compromise this case, Y/n. There’s too much riding on it now.”

Now.

Since he realized he loved you.

Since you fell for him, too.

There were a lot of reasons – good reasons – that Brock deserved to spend the rest of his life in jail, but you wondered whether James motivations to put your husband behind bars overlapped with his promise to free you from this life. They were one in the same. You'd never be able to be with him, not the way either of you wanted, if Brock was a free man; still forcing you to submission of his will, holding Peter for ransom, and caging you to that house.

“Everything okay in here?”

You turned to find James standing in the doorway, concerned eyes studying your sudden change in demeanor, the tension in your muscles and the slight tremor in your grip around the gun. Then, his eyes flickered to Natasha and you could tell by the way his features started to harden, lips curving to a frown that he was drawing conclusions he shouldn’t.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, but it was too late for that.

“Nat, will you give us a second?” he asked and Natasha sent you a short, apologetic smile before she slipped past James and jogged the rest of the way to meet Steve and Sam at the table overlooking the files.

“I really am fine,” you tried again as he closed the door behind him.

“I think I know you better than that by now, love,” he said softly, a slight ache in his voice. There was a guilt there, a shame, and it didn’t sit right in his tone. It didn’t belong there.

“It just…” you sighed, “it scares me when I’m reminded of how dangerous this is for you. If Brock finds out…”

“He won’t.”

“But if he does,” you stressed, tears brimming in your eyes, “he’ll kill you. He wouldn’t think twice about it. He’ll kill you, James, and I... I won’t survive that.”

James took in a heavy breath and you watched how it filled his chest; broad shoulders moving with each inhale, a dip in his sternum with his exhale. He crossed the room to you, gently prying the gun from your grip and setting it on the table. He warmed your hands in his own, kissing at your knuckles, trying to simply pull the tension from the joints with the tenderness of his touch.

“He would,” James confirmed and it caused a hitch in your breath, “but he’s not going to find out. I’ve been doing undercover ops for years, Y/n. I’ve never been made. Not once. Besides, we’re only a week away. We just have to bide our time. We’ve gotten this far. I need you to trust me on this.”

“You know I do.”

“So, trust that we’ll get this done,” he said slowly, a sad kind of smile on his face as he tried to find your eyes again. “Trust that I’ll get you through this.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” you admitted weakly, staring down at the floor to the cracks in the concrete, the wingtips of his brown shoes under navy slacks.

“I know, sweetheart, but I swear to you, I will do everything in my power to finish this so I can come home to you.”

James enveloped you in his arms, tucking his chin over the crown of your head, pulling you in to nestle into the crook of his neck. He was warm and soft despite the hardened layer of muscle on his chest. In his arms you could imagine a world where you would love him out in the open, away from the shadows, hold his hand in the streets and kiss him on the sidewalk.

It was a fantasy, a world you could easily get lost in, and for the first time in years there was hope that it might actually come true.

“Alright,” you conceded, though the word felt heavy on your tongue.

James smiled softly, a lingering sadness behind his eyes, and he slowly stepped behind you.

“Nat get you shooting straight yet?” he teased, lightening the air as he ran his hands down your arms. You were grateful for the quick change in subject.

He reached around you and set the grip of the gun in your dominant hand. His chest pressed to your back, the heat of his breath touching your hair and you let him mold your grasp to the gun. It was easy to lose yourself in the feel of him; the warmth of his hands as he adjusted your positioning, placed your finger above the trigger.

“Don’t think I’ll ever learn to shoot the way she does,” you admitted.

“Long as you hit the target, it doesn’t matter,” James replied with a slight chuckle.

He guided your hands in front of you, arms taunt, running his fingers along the curves of your forearms, sliding up your biceps and over your shoulders. Slight pressure, steadying muscle, his touch drew a line down your spine, tracing the power of your stance. Gentle fingers gathered your hair from in front of your shoulders and swept it to your back, away from your face as his nails gently grazed along your skin.

You tried to suppress the shiver that followed.

“Pull the trigger on your exhale,” he instructed, his breath warm on your neck, voice impossibly low, silky, like it was dipped in chocolate. “Concentrate.”

He stepped back and a chill swept your spine in his absence.

You took in a deep breath, eyeing the target; a dark black bullseye with three rings surrounding it positioned on a large, white sheet of paper at the other end of the room. You’d managed to hit the edges before, bullet holes amongst the sea of white.

You repositioned your stance, released the tension in your shoulders, but kept a firm enough hold to prepare for the kickback. On your exhale, your pointer finger wrapped at the trigger and squeezed.

The kickback shot straight to your shoulders, but you held it firm. It hurt more than you remembered from your last training with Natasha, like a heavy jolt through your bones. The feeling was unpleasant, the echo of it pulsing in your ears, because this wasn’t your world the way it was theirs.

You quickly flipped the safety back on and set the gun on the table, pushing it aside. When you looked back to James, he was grinning, arms folded over his chest and extenuating the hardened lines of his biceps. He nodded to the paper and you realized, which quite a bit of shock, that you hit within the circle.

Certainly not the bullseye, but it was in the third ring. It was something. Maybe you weren’t as out of your league as you thought.

“Um,” a voice called through the window behind you. Sam tapped on the glass, raising an eyebrow with that cheeky kind of grin on his face. “You guys need me to play Unchained Melody or…”

“Shut up, Sam!”

***

Only a few days before the shipment and you’d managed to keep up appearances at home. It wasn’t out of character for you to avoid any room Brock was currently occupying, to turn quickly on your heels at the sight of him hunched over at the kitchen table, cigar nestled in his fingers and smoke from his lips, so he didn’t question your frequent absence.

You’d often spot James standing in the corner of the room, in guard and surveillance of the one man he despised above all others, and you’d hold his stare for just a moment, just long enough to remind him that under the mask of the cover he wore, he was still yours. The nod he returned to you was subtle, barely noticeable, but it was enough to get you through the days where his time was stolen by your husband.

The nights at the warehouse became the only place he was within reach. Brock had made him busy with various assignments, none of which James would divulge to you because the less you know at this point, the better, though that didn’t ease your worry. Especially when he came back with broken knuckles.

You glanced down at the papers ahead of you, record logs of the men and women Brock kept in his pocket, called upon for various favors; the corrupted politicians, sheriffs, business owners, and attorneys. You knew some of the names on the list, recognized them from the news and from the chairs of your living room, bourbons in hand and a pocket of cash heavy in their pockets in exchange for their morality.

Your finger slid over the name of the prominent councilman in New York; Grant Ward.

“What’s the plan here, boss?”

Sam’s voice pulled you from your thoughts as he slumped back into his chair, pulling a few of the files he’d been reading for the last hour along with him.

It was when a breeze from the air ducts caught your chill, a shiver sweeping up your spine as Steve stepped up to the table, hands planted firmly on his hips in concentration. There was a hardened look on his face, once that seemed to be heavy on his features, and it set an unease in your stomach

“We don’t have enough to nail Rumlow.”

His words were like the onset of a freight train to your chest.

“What?” James jolted to his feet, metal chair falling out from under him and clanging to the concrete as he lunged over the table to grab the folder in front of Steve. “How can that be possible? That can’t be fucking possible!”

Frozen, rigid. Ice in your veins. You suddenly became painfully aware of your own heartbeat thunderous in your chest. The light blue of Steve's eyes flickered apologetically in your direction, a slight grimace on his face, before he turned back to James.

“I ran the evidence by Sharon down at the DA’s office and she said while it would be more than enough to bring down just about anyone else, Rumlow could still slither his way out these charges,” he explained, though you caught little of it through the muffled ringing in your ears. “He’s got contacts in the NYPD, the best defense attorneys in the country on his payroll, Washington politicians in his pocket. What we have isn’t enough.”

“What about the raid this weekend?” Sam questioned, quickly loosing that teasing, light hearted energy you’d come to recognize in him. “That has to count for something.”

“Sure,” Steve nodded, “and maybe Hydra will be scraped down to bones for a while, but we all know it can be rebuilt. Rumlow wouldn’t be in lockup longer than a month.”

“We have payroll lists and shipment logs with his signature on them,” Natasha argued, but Steve shook his head.

It wasn’t enough.

You could barely feel the floor under your feet.

The four of them argued back and forth for what felt like hours. There was a numbness that came over you, realizing that this life that you allowed yourself to imagine, where you’d be free from your husband, where you could love James out in the light of day, might always remain as it was; a distant fantasy, a foolish dream you fell into in your weakest moments.

Brock would have a hold on you as long as he was free. He’d threaten Peter and May to keep you complicit, to keep you locked up within that home and dangling off his arm no better than the diamond crested watch around his wrist.

You’d do anything to protect your family and he knew that. He’d exploit it for far worse than he already had. He’d bring you to your knees and find pleasure in the burns on your skin. He’d rip you to pieces.

“We need him at the dock when the raid goes down.”

“That asshole won’t step within five feet of a shipyard in his Gucci wingtips, Steve.”

“We’ve got to catch him in the act, Sam. It’s the only shot we have at making this stick.”

“You’re essentially saying we need Colonel Mustard in the Billiard room with the lead pipe?” Nat raised an eyebrow, arms folded over her chest.

“Exactly,” Steve nodded, defeated. “This isn’t like our other cases. We need insurmountable proof that he’s behind all of this. We’re not only fighting against his defense attorneys but an entire department that’s been bribed and corrupted by Hydra. We need to prove the sky is fuckin’ blue.”

“So how do we get him there?” Sam asked.

“I could try to convince him, but given what went down with Peter, I don’t think it’s a good idea to draw attention to myself,” James admitted, frustration evident in his voice.

“No, you’re right. We need to keep you off Rumlow’s radar. Nat?”

“I don’t know, Steve. I could go under myself, try to build some trust to get him down there but that would take time we don’t have. Months.”

“Why don’t we just throw a bag over his head and bring him there ourselves?”

“Sam!”

“I’m serious! Who’s to say why he suddenly woke up in the cargo hold of a ship surrounded by his precious Cerberus? He’s still at the scene of the crime. Who gives a shit how he got there?”

“Sam...” Steve warned again, hands planted firm on his hips.

“I could do it.”

The words fell from your lips before you even realized you said them out loud. They were too soft, too quiet, because no one seemed to notice; not with the four of them talking over one another, arguing back and forth. Voices rising, echoing up into the empty arcs of the rafters above.

“We don’t have time for games, Wilson,” James snapped, tension aching in his tone.

“I don’t see you coming up with better options here, Karpov.”

“I could do it," you said again, this time on your feet. Natasha turned her attention to you, narrowed eyes, almost a hint of pleasant surprise lurking behind the dark green. She exchanged a glance with Steve and you turned to find him watching you curiously. His hands fell to his sides, then quickly to the table as he looked for the paper with the details for the shipment this coming weekend.

“I could plant hints,” James continued, oblivious to your offer beside him. “I could do something!”

“Don’t be a complete idiot!” Sam shot back with a scoff. “We both know any step you make out of line with Rumlow is going to put you six feet under!”

“Hey!”

Palms stinging on the table, James and Sam quickly bit their tongues as you pulled your hands from the surface, rubbing the tender muscle on your thighs. Your heart was pounding, pulsing deep in your chest and rushing up to your ears, but there was a calmness in it, a sense of relief, a purpose.

“I could do it,” you repeated for the third time, voice steadier, firmer, and the blue of James’ eyes seemed to turn dark, his lips slowly parting as a heavy breath left his chest.

“No. No way in hell.”

“I could talk to him. I could get him to the dock. He’d listen to me if I say it in the right tone.”

“We’re not doing this, Y/n. It’s not happening.” James planted his feet, arms crossed defensively and everyone else’s eyes seemed to avert elsewhere, like they were intruding on something private. The way his jaw was clenched, the short, staggered breaths from his lungs, you started to wonder the same thing.

“Brock always had this fantasy that I’d fall in line one day and run Hydra alongside him,” you told him gently, watching how he flinched at your husband’s name. “You know that if I showed interest, he’d take me to the shipyard himself.”

James gripped at the edge of the seat in front of him, knuckles paper white in the tension. “It’s too dangerous. No.”

“I can handle him. You know I can.”

“It’s not about that!” he shot back, shoving the chair hard against the table, causing Natasha to peer up over the edge of her paper cautiously. “It’s about putting yourself in the line of fire! It’s you having to cozying up to that fucking monster and God knows what else. No. Okay? No.”

You pinched at the bridge of your nose. “James, you’re not hearing me--”

“I’m hearing you just fine. I’m not putting you in that position.”

“But James--”

“I SAID NO!”

Closed fist slammed down on the table, echoing up high into the atrium, and you slowly pressed your lips together, argument dying on your tongue.

It was the first time he ever raised his voice at you, ever so much as threw even an ounce of anger in your direction, though you didn’t flinch; certainly not in the way you would have if it was Brock in his position.

You knew his anger was only a symptom of the very real, paralyzing fear of losing you to this invisible war. He was scared, just as you were, and it was evident the way his shoulders slumped the moment the words left him and he realized he'd lost his composure the at very woman he was trying so desperately to protect.

He pulled his hand to his chest, stretching at his fingers and wincing at the cracks that followed; skin red and angry, the pulsing beat of his heart straight to his fingertips.

You could see the apology forming on his lips, the guilt, the desperate search for words he couldn’t quite find and you stepped forward, gently pulling his hand to his side. You touched along the tension in his shoulders, gingerly running over the strain in his muscle, until his eyes fluttered shut in defeat, lips parting in a quiet whimper.

“James,” you started, tenderly drawing his attention back to you, beautiful blue eyes swarming in remorse, “if this is the only thing that’s going to put Brock behind bars, I have to do it. I want to.”

It’s the only thing keeping me from you, you wanted to add, but despite his team’s busy appearances, noses deep in files and studying monitors of your husband’s current whereabouts, you knew they were listening in.

“Y/n, please,” James urged, your name on his tongue painful, aching, desperate. There was a panic there, a helplessness you didn’t expect as he cautiously glanced back at his team before he stepped closer to you, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath on your cheeks. “We’ll find another way. You don’t have to do this.”

You sighed, running your hands soothingly along his arms until the tension started to faded. Muscle unclenching under your palms, his breaths coming in steady, and you pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

“I’ll be fine,” you whispered. “You’ll be right there with me.”

“I can’t always and you know that.” James shook his head defeatedly, dark blue of his eyes still focused on you. “I don't want you doing something you don’t want to just for this case.”

You clenched your jaw, knowing what he was alluding to and you were thankful for the soft undertones of his voice, how quietly he spoke so only you could hear him. James knew of the nights you’d give Brock reign over your body, how it was often easier to submit than to fight him on it or push it off to another night when he came home drunk and angry and took what he desired by force. It hadn’t happened in nearly ten months, but it still lingered. The shame of it, the anger, never quite went away.

“It won’t come to that,” you assured him, certain, because it was the truth. “It’s two days. I’ll flirt with him a little, warm up to him just enough to get him to bring me to the docks. I can handle that. As long as it brings me back to you, I can handle anything, okay?”

James nodded. He trusted you. That, you knew above all else. It was the reason you were standing in this warehouse and not spending your nights alone and curled up in a bedroom with the door locked in a house that was foreign and cold to you.

The warm touch of his lips grazed your temple, a heat of his breath as he pulled away.

“Okay.”

You leaned into his arms, letting him encompass you in his embrace and you listened for the steady thump of his heart as it slowly evened out, how his breaths came in quieter and the tension he’d been holding washed away at the feel of you against him. He kissed the crown of your head, sighing sweetly as you held him at his waist.

The idea of speaking to your husband, let alone pretending to feel some sort of affection for him, was like bile in your mouth. It was poison in your veins, foreign to your body, but you’d learned how to wear a smile when you needed to, learned to wave at the cameras and say the right things to keep Brock happy.

You’d find a way to fake your way through this, too.

“I wish we had another choice,” Steve said steadily, tone as gentle as he could manage. “She’s our only option.”

“Our best option,” Natasha added with a smile.

“Guess we’re putting the fate of this entire case in the hands of a civilian,” Sam shrugged, though he was smirking. “Seems appropriate the woman Rumlow’s been treating as a prisoner for years will be the one that puts him behind bars.”

“I like the sound of that,” you laughed, muffled only slightly by the thick fabric of James’ sweatshirt as you pressed your cheek to his heart.

He held you a little tighter, almost painfully close, but it was never close enough. It wouldn’t be until this was over.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes

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iekxow · 3 years

Text

Reposted from my Wattpad

Xiao x electro yaksha reader

Requested by @yoruna_tokito (on Wattpad)

Trigger warning: Mentions of suicide, blood, and death.

Aqua water, golden leaves, and fresh air. A break from your everlasting duty to protect Liyue and its citizens. You sat upon a ledge of a mountain as you took in the beauty of Luhua Pool. The clear and unpolluted waters of Liyue were always fascinating to see, and the trees surrounding Luhua Pool never got old to watch. They aged slowly, turning from the little saplings from thousand years ago to the majestic, large trees that would forever accompany Liyue.

You had lived thousands of years, most of those going towards working under Rex Lapis, who was now known as Zhongli to the residents of Liyue Harbor. The Archon of Geo had rescued you and Alatus, better known as Xiao, from the evil god who had gotten hold of both Xiao's and your weakness, who then made the both of you commit horrible crimes that could never be repented for.

Xiao had been tasked with eating the dreams of his victims, while you had been, against your will, sucking the hopes out of those who opposed your old ruler. It wasn't at all pleasant, to say the least, but to say that the hopes of others didn't taste good would be a plain out lie. Especially back then, when both immortals and mortals who weren't being controlled by a master could freely wish to do anything they liked. You and Xiao both had that right taken away from you.

Before the control of that god, you and Alatus had lived as friends. Quite good friends, who would often visit each other every day. For some reason, Alatus had stopped talking to you after meeting the god who you grew to resent.

You were both later saved by Rex Lapis, who then offered you a job as one of the Yakshas. After serving your duties in the Archon War, three of the Yakshas turned against each other, successfully destroying each other. A fourth had disappeared. He likely caused his own end because of the unbearable pain from karmic debt. This left you and Xiao, the two surviving Yakshas.

Back at the present, you hummed a tune, which you probably heard a few hundred years back, and fiddled with your purple mask while quickly walking away from someone who had just been approaching. Adepti have no need to meddle in human affairs, you thought while giggling to yourself, sounds like something Xiao would say.

For the thousands of years you have been an Adeptus, there was not a human who was as bold and fearless as the one who had just called out to you, telling, almost demanding, you to come closer so that he could sketch you.

"Me? You do realize that my presence alone could destroy you, right?" You were just as confused as you were annoyed. Does he not understand that the Adepti already spend most of their time protecting Liyue and its people? We don't need humans intruding on the days we have to ourselves.

"Huh? I'm the famous painter, Vermeer. You must have heard of me somewhere."

A painter named Vermeer? Didn't ring much of a bell to you. "Painter? I know what a painter is, but I've never heard of any 'Vermeer's in the thousands of years I've been in Liyue."

"Ah. You're one of the th— two surviving Yakshas, am I correct? I expect that someone so old would like my paintings. Many of the elderly people of Liyue enjoy my paintings. Don't you?"

Elderly... old... just who exactly do you think the Adepti are?!? Have you no respect for the very people who protect you? You obviously didn't like to be called old. Indeed, being called old is almost always hated by people, but to you, it felt more like mocking. Something along the lines of 'Haha, you won't ever be able to age and live a normal life.'

"Look, I'll stop bothering you if you let me sketch the basic lines of you. I just need a model and you're the only person who's here right now."

You cave in, agreeing to let Vermeer draw you as long as he stopped bothering you afterward. "Fine. I'll stay for a few minutes. I don't care if you can't finish within that time. I have more important issues I have to attend to."

Vermeer held up his end of the deal, not speaking even once while working on his painting.

"Hey, are you done yet? I'll get going soon. Wrap up your sketch." You didn't exactly know why you wanted to leave, but the man was acting quite weird. He kept checking his watch and looking behind you.

"Uhhh... uuuhhhh... just a bit longer, please."

Please? What a change of attitude from before— Wait. Behind me?!? Who's behind me?

"Well, well, well. Long time no see, (Y/N). If it isn't the other Electro Yaksha. You took my rightful place as the Electro Yaksha."

"Hey, wait up. No one ever took your place. There weren't and aren't a limited amount of spots for the Yakshas. And why are you so upset about the fact that we're both wielders of electro? Above all that, where the Archons did you disappear off to?"

"You've gotten weak. I've been training all this time for this. Hahahaha! I'll finally be the Electro Yaksha!"

"Get that stupid idea of yours out of your head, dummy. I wanted to get along. Didn't you see? None of us ever thought of you of anything less than us five. Why don't you open your eyes and get that thought out of your head?!?"

He goes in for an attack. You dodge. Ten entire minutes into the fight, there still wasn't a clear victor.

"Ah. I'm done warming up. Time for the real fight. Try to keep. You'll probably lose anyways."

You silently curse. That was his definition of a warm up? Last time I checked, he wasn't half as strong as this—

"Ah!" A scream tore itself from your lips. First try, and he already landed a hit on you. Your left shin had been scraped by the long blade of the other Electro Yaksha. You immediately whipped out your weapon, (Y/W). Looks like talking won't be an option.

"Haha, like I said, little (Y/N). Those years you spent lazing around have weakened you quite a bit."

Where did he get so strong? Was he somehow trained by the Tsaritsa? By the Abyss? You tried attacking, but those attacks seem to not take any effect on him. Blood slowly but steadily seeped out of the wound on your left leg, dragging your speed down by a whole lot.

Another cut. This time, he aimed for your dominant hand, and you screamed once again, your panicking voice not at all matching the peaceful scenery of Liyue. Wait, where did that Vermeer go?

Your question was answered by a hand holding on to each of your arms. Vermeer was working with him... for what reason? You kick and trash, but your wounds weren't exactly helping, and you didn't have much energy left.

The other Electro Yaksha had a wicked grin on his face. "Hah, I defeated you before you even had the chance to use your mask."

Tears stream down your normally peaceful face. You cry, wishing that Xiao could help you.

"Don't worry, I'm here now. You can relax." Xiao's soothing voice seemed like a light in the void of darkness you had been swallowed in.

First, he took care of Vermeer. Just a few strikes, and he was unconscious. You stood for a few seconds before your left foot decided to give up on standing. Your body collapsed, and possibly because of the loss of blood. The last thing your eyes saw before blacking out was Xiao's spear colliding with his weapon. Thank you, Xiao.

Your eyes slowly blinked a few times, then opened completely. "Xiao?" You said the first thing on your mind.

A soft voice spoke from your left."That was dangerous. Don't go anywhere without me knowing, please. I can't lose you too."

"I'm sorry, Xiao. I'll train harder. I guess he was right. I got weak."

"He's wrong. You're not weak. I-if you ever wanna train, I, uh, could help you."

"Aww, is little Xiao embarrassed? Anyways, sure. Who else would I train with? You're my favorite person, and you're strong."

"I— thank you."

You threw your arms around Xiao. "I miss being like this. Why did you even stop talking to me? Is it because of the 'sins' you've committed? Have you forgotten that I've done the exact same thing as you? We've both done terrible things, but everything's going to be fine now, Xiao."

Xiao looked down, and, surprisingly, returned the gesture, wrapping his arms tightly around you. "If... if you don't mind... I..."

"Eh? What are you trying to say?"

"I would uh, kinda like to try out a thing called dating...", he finished with a tint of pink on his cheeks.

"Ehhh? Really? I almost thought you hated me."

"Uh— uhh—"

"Are you kidding me? Of course the answer's yes. I've liked you for so long, you idiot."

Xiao blinked, trying to take this new information in. "You have?"

"Yeah. But don't worry, we can take things slow. We have eternity, after all. I suppose that's one good thing about not being able to age. No matter what happens in the future, we'll protect each other. I promise you that everything will be fine, Xiao."

Hope you enjoyed it! Requests for any of the characters are open! (not counting Klee, Diona, and Qiqi, unless it’s sibling!reader)

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin xiao #xiao #genshin x reader #liyue #xiao x reader #yaksha #fanfic #genshin fanfic #xiao genshin impact #genshin impact x reader

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kabira · 3 years

Text

08 | distance

pairing — spider-man!vernon x ofc

featuring — joshua, yeji (itzy), felix (skz), yangyang (nct)

word count — 2.5k

genres — spider-man au, marvel au, fluff, action, angst, humor

warnings — minor violence

note — ok so this was kinda later than scheduled (three WEEKS) but the next update will hopefully be on time so i can keep up! by which i mean sunday 6 am (ist). also, for the love of god, tumblr make this show up in the tags. pretty, pretty please.

go to fic masterlist | main masterlist

“Okay, so here’s what I found out about your Rhino guy,” Yeji said, jumping over the side of the rooftop and landing on another, hitting the ground with a roll before coming up on her feet. They were currently involved in a high-speed chase, which meant she had to yell at the top of her voice for Vernon to hear her—not that it mattered a lot. Up here, no one could hear you scream. “He’s Russian. Name’s Alexei Sytsevich.”

“Russian, huh?” Vernon yelled back. He swung over a tall rooftop garden, taking care not to accidentally knock over something he wasn’t supposed to. “Anything that could tie him to Osborn?”

“Not really!” Yeji yelled. “His identity is public, so anyone could get to him, and he must have happened to have been around when he attacked you. But there’s nothing concrete we could go after.”

The two of them were chasing Batroc the Leaper across the top of the buildings, having caught up with him just moments after he robbed a store. A basic assignment, really, but it was still a challenge to apprehend him before he got too far from the crime scene. One of their more casual operations, much like a training session, except this was the real deal.

“Anything of interest?” Vernon asked. They were close to catching their quarry, very close. Batroc wasn’t really that notorious in the underworld, but he was still a menace and technically a criminal. A more notable point of interest were the mechanical leaping legs attached to both his feet which allowed him to jump several feet high in the air, making for a good old-fashioned superhuman chase scene.

“He was experimented on with this gamma radiation technique to give him superhuman strength and durability, but it ended in an accident,” Yeji answered. Her voice, apart from the strain due to the yelling, sounded strangely relaxed for someone who was chasing a guy across the tops of buildings. Even after having time to get used to it, Vernon was still surprised by her resilience. “The suit he was wearing that day—remember how it was made of some kind of self-regenerating polymer? It’s literally stuck to his skin. Can’t get it off him.”

“Must be constipated; it explains the anger issues.”

Just then, Yeji caught up to the Leaper. She sprung off a ledge and onto the top of a water tanker, from where she dived towards the unsuspecting criminal, flattening him to the ground. Vernon swung up to her, landing on the ground next to her. Batroc tried to wiggle away, but Vernon webbed his hands and feet to the rooftop, successfully trapping him. “So,” he said, turning his attention back to Yeji. “Any idea where they’re keeping him?”

“If you’re wondering if he’s being kept anywhere close to Osborn, don’t worry.” She placed her hands on her hips. It looked strangely satisfying, her claws aligned with the gray markings around the waist of her white suit. “Rhino’s placed in the Helicarrier for now, but in a special ward designed specifically for the big guys, though th They have specialists looking into his, er, sticky situation, but he’s on an entirely different level than Norman. And I mean that quite literally.”

He nodded. “Did the files mention which specialists are looking into it?”

“Eez it perhaps—” Batroc started.

Vernon webbed his mouth. “Zip it,” he said.

“No. The only files I could access didn’t have much on him,” Yeji said, sounding genuinely sorry. “There was other stuff, like his eye color and his blood type, but I don’t think you’d be very interested in all of that.”

“You think right.”

“There might be more details in the confidential reports coming in from the Helicarrier holder itself, but getting them would be a lot of trouble,” she said. “Although if you really want them—”

“No, it doesn’t matter,” Vernon said, shaking his head. “Thanks for digging up the rest, though. I owe you one.”

“Consider it early payback for when your Aunt May teaches me how to beat your ass at video games.” He couldn’t see her face, but he sensed that underneath the mask, she was smiling.

“Hey, that’s an Aunt May thing, not a me thing,” he said, then paused, hesitating. There was something else he had wanted to ask her, but he didn’t know if he really wanted to follow through with it. “Hey, Tiger…” he trailed off. “Actually, never mind.”

“No, go ahead,” she said. “Unless you’d rather not.”

He shook his head slightly. “It’s not like that,” he said. “This might sound kind of intrusive, but do you know the deal with Fe—Iceman?” he asked. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s great and everything, but with all the brooding and the secrecy, I’m just a little—” He scrunched up his nose. “That does sound intrusive.”

“It does,” she agreed, but it sounded amused. “Look, I’d tell you. I really would. But it’s something I feel he should tell you yourself, you know? If and when he’s comfortable talking to you about it.”

“Did he tell you?”

“No, I just kind of figured it out.” She sounded a little sheepish. “And maybe I got it out of one of the IT guys.”

He looked at her, amused. “They have IT guys at S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

“Well, I guess they’re not IT guys in the strictest sense,” she mused. “There’s a hierarchy of ranks even within the record regulators, so it’s a little hard to explain. Not that it really matters, anyway.”

“It would be kind of cool if S.H.I.E.L.D. needed IT guys,” Vernon said, looking down at Batroc, except he wasn’t really looking at him, but through him. “Unrealistic, though.”

Yeji shook her head slightly, like she was unable to believe they were having this conversation. Or maybe he was just projecting his own amused disbelief onto her. But he noticed the tenseness of her shoulders and she let her arms fall to her sides, as if she was holding in a laugh. It was one of those conversations that took a turn that didn’t even have to be funny to make you laugh.

“Good talk,” she said, and this time he could actually hear the smile in her voice. “Now let’s get this guy back to the carrier.”

Luce knew something was up.

She had known this for a while now—about a year, in fact. She had only just started to suspect it when Vernon had changed, and Joshua had gotten secretive, and Harry had first started floating away. It had come one after the other, like the three of them were carrying out parts in a play and she was in the audience, watching but unable to take part. Change, and secrecy, and distance.

She liked distance. Luce had always been distant, someone who stood in the crowd and yet apart from it, unwelcome and unsettling for most around her. Eccentric, some called her, or strange, or downright creepy. It never really mattered to her, because for her, it had always been just the four of them—Vernon, Joshua, Harry and her—and even after everything that had happened, they still felt like four. Three people with a ghost in between, still shaking his head at their dumb jokes and still taking the best seat in the Parker living room when they had movie night.

Looking back, she realized that the cracks in their relationship had first appeared a year ago. Often, after Harry died, she thought about how they had collectively ignored those fractures in their friendship, that had come in the form of change and secrets and distance.

The first to change had been Vernon, of course—trading his glasses for unexplained bruises, his mysterious disappearances poorly covered up and rarely questioned. Then Joshua—the two of them with their heads together in the hallways, shooting each other knowing looks that shut everyone out. It felt like it was just the two of them sometimes, Luce and Harry often forgotten during their closed conversations. That was probably what had pushed them together, but now that Harry was gone, she was left alone. Still on the outside, trying to look in, but in vain.

She knew she couldn’t blame Vernon and Joshua for it, she had started to blend into the background a little more with every passing day. Catching one without the other was hard, so at some point she stopped trying, letting them find her whenever they felt like it. Sometimes she felt like a ghost, too, lurking in a ruined castle, only seen when a wanderer needed shelter.

Now, it was all happening again. The arrival of the new kids had seemed like a minor disturbance at first, like a tiny cloud on the wide horizon, but Vernon had warmed up to them surprisingly quickly after his initial coldness. It wasn’t that Luce didn’t like them—after all, she had been the one to initiate first contact—but she had still been taken aback by how quickly they had become a part of their little group of three (and a dead boy, but he didn’t take up seats anymore).

Except they didn’t feel like it. Not to her, and probably not to Joshua either, whom she had seen watch the new trio with lingering looks when he thought she wasn’t looking.

She was a little surprised by her own reserve, because the arrival of more people should have been a good sign. More people, even numbers, pairs, so she wouldn’t be a third wheel anymore. But it hadn’t worked out that way—she was still stuck outside, but this time Joshua was stuck with her.

It was hard not to be even a little mournful.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” she called as Vernon walked past her in the school hallway after fifth period, looking distracted as he usually did these days. He turned, surprised, as if he hadn’t even noticed her there.

“Me?” he asked, looking confused, and she sighed internally. On the outside, she simply shook her head as if in amused exasperation, reaching into her bag and taking out a spiral notebook.

“Notes. From Physics.” She handed it to him, and he stared at the cover for a dazed little moment before looking back up at her. “You missed another class today.”

“Right,” he muttered, giving her a grateful smile. Fifteen seconds had passed already, about five seconds less than the longest conversation they had held in two weeks. He probably hadn’t even realized. “Thanks.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, meaning it. No point in moping after something that hadn’t been for months. She leaned against the locker door and folded her arms across her chest. The zips along the cuffs of her jacket pulled against the leather. “Going somewhere?”

“Not really.” He shrugged. The smile was still on his face, that stupidly delightful half-smile that still felt like it was behind a glass wall. “Are you?”

Am I ever? She shook her head. “Where did you go?” she asked instead of answering his question.

He frowned. “Where did I go…when?”

“During physics,” she clarified. “You’ve been disappearing a lot lately.”

“Oh, you know…” he started, trying hard to keep his voice casual. “Places.”

It was hard not to smile. “Like?”

“The principal’s office,” he said, sounding a little disappointed.

“The new guy?” Luce raised her eyebrows. “Did you do something to piss him off? Get a low grade?”

“Of course not,” Vernon said indignantly. “My scores are perfect.”

“I know. The rest of us on the curve are suffering because of it.”

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry in the least. Instead, there was a small smile on his face that looked suspiciously like a smirk.

Almost a minute now. Luce let the back of her head hit the locker door, finally letting herself believe that he wasn’t going anywhere, not this time around. The feeling that came with it was so warm and delicious that it spread inside her chest like hot water, reaching her toes and fingers and the tip of her nose. “You’re not sorry,” she said with a smile, though she didn’t really mind. “Are we still on for Friday?”

Now Vernon’s smirk dropped, replaced by a split-second look of horror. “Friday?” he echoed. “This is going to sound bad, but I don’t—”

“Movie night,” she supplied. “And don’t worry, I didn’t expect you to remember. The last time we talked about that was a while ago, anyway.”

Movie night, or game night, was their irregular childhood tradition that had become increasingly infrequent over the past few years, but particularly so in the last year. Even then, they’d never gone this long without getting together at least once. The last time they’d done something like that together, it had been almost two months ago, when they had still been four.

When Luce finally mentioned it, she felt strange thinking about the prospect of movie night with only three people. It felt odd. Unnatural. Three felt like the wrong number, like fates and the prongs of a pitchfork. Too little.

“Tell you what,” she said, pulling herself out of her thoughts with difficulty. She did that too much, lose herself in her memories or some random vein of thought and manage to completely detach herself from the world around her. It got harder and harder every time, and sometimes she wondered if one day she was just going to be trapped in her own mind.

“What?” Vernon asked. He had that distracted look on his face again, his posture jumpy like there was extra energy wrapped into his body.

“Why don’t you bring Yeji and the others along this time?” she suggested. Six wasn’t that great of a number either, but it was definitely better than three. And maybe this way she’d be able to get to know the others a little better, pull herself back to reality. “I’m sure they’d like to. And that way, it’ll be an even team.”

“Not if May decides to join in again.”

She smiled. “Then maybe I’ll bring Hairball.”

He groaned. “Oh, no, not Hairball,” he said, eyes refocusing on her face. There was such a vibrant intensity in his gaze that it made her want to stand up straighter. Then he smiled, and she actually had to stand up straight. “You sure, though?”

Of course he would ask her. Vernon Parker, despite all his bodily changes, was still the same guy from fourth grade who always let her have the rest of his lunch—if he managed to keep it from Flash. Luce was almost tempted to reconsider, but she saw the earnest look on his face, the slight arch of his eyebrows, and swallowed the words that welled up in her throat.

“Of course,” she said. “Three’s already a crowd, so we might as well have a whole party.”

“A party, huh?” He winced. “That reminds me. Food.”

“We’ll order from Larry’s.”

“I’ll have to decide if they deserve it yet,” he joked. At least, she thought he was joking. “See you on Friday.”

37 notes · View notes

chancelloramidala · 3 years

Text

Across The Stars In A Galaxy Far Far Away ★ Star Wars & Marvel Crossover AU

TWO.

Despite her Jedi training, Ahsoka couldn’t help but be have a child-like excitement of their surroundings. She sat in the window seat beside Anakin and pressed her face against the glass, staring at the big flashy lights and people they passed. From what she saw, Manhattan looked like a smaller version of Coruscant, and lacked the many, MANY, skyscrapers, flying speeders in the air, and alien species walking around. In fact, Ahsoka could only see the human species on the streets and in the cars they passed. Were there no other alien species on Earth? Was she the only alien species here?

Padmé, who was on the other side of Anakin, grinned at Ahsoka’s visible enthusiasm and constant pointing at something new she didn’t recognize but thought it resembled something back home. She nodded along to the teenage Torguta’s animated hand movements and tried to answer as many questions as she could. But the Senator, once Queen, was equally as curious about this planet they were on as Padawan, but dimmed down a couple of notches.

Anakin on the other hand, didn’t like any of this. He was one to throw original plans out the window and improvise, but this was a completely different territory for the Jedi Knight. Hell, this was a completely different part of the galaxy that didn’t know anything about the Jedi or the Force.

Obi-Wan, who was sitting in the front seat with the chair slightly reclined backwards (not that Ahsoka was complaining), could sense his former student’s anxiety about their new environment. Their bond never diminished as time passed, but fortified and became a constant in their lives. He turned his head to look at Anakin and gave him a small smile, sending him soothing waves of warmth through their bond and then closed his eyes for a moment.

Rex was stuck in the back with Artoo, and even if the SUV was roomy, he did not like the tight space. It was different, nothing like a speeder or ship he’s been in. Even Artoo was quietly grumbling about how much he hated this stupid speeder because with each turn and stop, Rex had to outstretch his arm(s) to make sure the astromech droid didn’t topple over and hit Anakin in the back of his head.

Their driver, Clint, stared at the strange bunch. Now when he was expecting a couple of aliens that had kidnapped Peter, he was expecting something along the lines of the Chitauri that he faced all those years ago. But these aliens, weren’t anything like them. Most of them were human, the teenage girl though, she was definitely an alien, for she had orange skin, white face markings and something that resembled horns? She also didn’t have any hair, which wasn’t an issue for the man, but it was different than what he was used to seeing.

But then again, after joining S.H.I.E.L.D. and becoming an Avenger, normal wasn’t in Clint’s vocabulary anymore.

After they finally reached the garage of the Tower, Clint parked the SUV and lead everyone to the elevator, including the beeping robot, which somewhat resembled a rolling trash can, that he forgot they had.

“They have turbolifts here, Master,” the orange skinned humanoid female commented as the elevator started to move. “Fascinating,” she mumbled under her breath.

“It’s slower,” the shaggy-haired human male said with a small smirk.

Clint chuckled softly, “Don’t let Stark hear you say that, he’s already an insufferable bastard as is.”

“I take it this Stark person made this turbolift?” Padmé inquired.

“Yup,” Clint popped the ‘p’, “and the entire building along with a lot of other technological gizmos. He’s the one in the metal suit from earlier that wanted to blast your asses on the spot,”

“Comforting,” Anakin said dryly.

Then, the doors to the turbolift or also known as elevators, opened revealing a red and gold skinned being. Vision smiled amicably at the newest arrivals and stepped aside to let them through. “Welcome, my name is The Vision or just Vision. I’m a synthetic android made from vibranium that was once an A.I for Mr, Stark. He also told me to lead you to the medical labs to be checked up on and to provide you with clothes to change into.”

“Thank you, Vision.” Padmé smiled back at the man and decided to walk beside him, introducing herself and the rest of her group to him.

Anakin then took Obi-Wan off of Rex’s hands, allowing his former teacher lean against him as they followed after Vision and Padmé down the long corridor. When they finally arrived at the doors to the lab, Vision input something into the panel before the doors slide open. There was a man in a purple shirt with his back to the rest of them, staring at a holographic screen and rubbing his chin anxiously.

“Dr. Banner, may I introduce our guests?” Vision told the man, causing him to turn around with blatant surprise.

“Vision, hey,” the Doctor nodded his head and curiously glanced at the group behind him.

“This is Padmé Amidala, Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Captain Rex, Ahsoka Tano, and their astromech droid, R2-D2,” Vision carefully gestured to each and every being clearly making sure that each brief description Padmé gave him correlated correctly.

“Nice to meet all of you, my name is Bruce Banner,” he raised his hand slightly to wave. “I’ll be doing some basic scans and check-ups on all of you, Tony guessed all of your sizes and has some clothes stacked on the bench over there,” he pointed to said bench, “that you can change into. There’s an bathroom connected through that door,” again, pointing to where said door was.

“I’ll go first,” Ahsoka stepped forward with a bright and eager smile.

Bruce eyed the young Torguta with a great amount of curiosity before nodding firmly and gesturing to the table he’d be examining her on. “Thank you, and you’re... Ahsoka, correct?”

“You’re right, doc!”

━━━━━━━━━━━━

An hour or so later, everyone had changed out of their clothes and into Earthly outfits. Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Rex were given gray, black, and blue sweatpants along with white, green, and gray t-shirts. Ahsoka and Padmé wore black leggings paired with red and blue tees. They’d also been given black sneakers and socks which were surprisingly comfortable.

Obi-Wan, despite his initial injuries, was given a thorough check up by Dr. Banner. His chest was wrapped and he was given some pills for the pain. Everyone else had a clean bill of health, and vaccinations just in case.their space bodies couldn’t handle whatever illnesses Earth had to offer.

Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Padmé were then tasked with trying to explain their situation to the Avengers (which Anakin was absolutely floored to learn that was their actual team name.) Ahsoka and Rex lingered in the background, keeping to themselves and talking to each other about how weird this all was.

An eccentric billionaire who used all of his high-technology to make the world a better place. A super soldier that was frozen alive for 70 years with a heart of gold. Two assassins with a deep history with one another. Super-powered twins, one was weird, the other was fast. A Doctor that turned into an alternate person which was green and severely muscular when angered. A former assassin that was brainwashed to be a human weapon... and many other team members that they haven’t met because they weren’t on site according to Vision.

“Sorry if I find it hard to believe... any of that.” Tony blinked after Obi-Wan and Padmé spoke about the Clone Wars that had recently ended in their galaxy. “And sorry, that you two and the kid are... um... space wizards?”

“Some find that the Jedi are sorcerers with our magic-like abilities through the Force,” Obi-Wan nodded patiently.

“What about this War you had? You said it was caused by the secession of star systems from your government, the Republic to the Confederacy and for the War, the Clone Troopers were created for the Republic to be used for battle... but there was another alternative plot beneath it all?” Steve asked, particularly eager about the war they had fought.

“Yes, the Chancellor of the Galactic Republic, Sheev Palaptine, was actually a Sith Lord who orchestrated the entire War. He wanted the Republic to crumble along with the Jedi Order so he could restore the Sith Empire... and...” Padmé carefully glanced over at Anakin who was now staring at his hands, gripping them tightly.

Padmé frowned softly and then reached forward and put her hand over his, giving it a small, reassuring squeeze.

“Palpatine... Darth Sideous was grooming me for years and nearly seduced me into the dark side of the Force to become his new apprentice...” Anakin announced in a soft voice as he tried to steady himself from lashing out or leaving the room.

“He had chips put in Rex and all of the clones that when activated, would massacre any and all the Jedi they served.” Obi-Wan added, quick to take attention away from Anakin, knowing all-to-well that the revelations of Palpatine’s true nature was a hard pill for his former student to swallow.

The room went silent for a moment, allowing the information they were receiving to float in the air. It was clear that this group had been through hell and back again for the three years that the Clone Wars raged on.

Steve looked at each and every person, taking note of what kind of role they played. Padmé was a senator, the former Queen of her planet Naboo, who didn’t agree with the War from the start. Obi-Wan and Anakin were generals who watched hundreds of soldiers die under their command for a worthless war. Rex was one of those soldiers who didn’t know where his place was without the War and had survived it but not without a few battle scars. And Ahsoka, she was only a child when the War started, now a growing young woman who not only shouldn’t have never stepped foot on a battlefield, but never had a real childhood.

"I still don’t understand how you got here though. I know space is huge, but out of all the planets to land on, you really chose Earth, huh? And New York nontheless!” Tony chuckled lightly, doing his best to make light of the situation.

“It’s possible that during our escape, we got sucked into a wormhole.” Obi-Wan suggested. “There’s been no records of anyone travelling through one before.”

“Yup, now you’ve lost me,” Clint blinked blankly before getting up to walk into the kitchen. “Anyone want some beers? Don’t answer that, because everyone is getting one. We’ve deserved it.”

“Like I said before, there are Separatist sympathizers that want us dead. They hit our hyperspace drive right when Ani put in the coordinates while we were escaping the skirmish and... here we are.”

Clint then returned from the kitchen, handing out beer bottles to everyone before stopping in front of Ahsoka and eyeing her warily. “How old are you anyway?”

“Galactic Standard would have me at 17,” Ahsoka replied as she eyed the beer bottle in his arms. “It’s the legal age to drink in most of the galaxy,”

“Ah, sorry little lady, but the legal drinking age here is 21,” Clint patted the space between her montrals ever-so carefully in a playful manner before continuing to pass out drinks.

Ahsoka scrunched her face together in annoyance and turned her head in the direction of Anakin. “What a bunch of bantha-poodoo! Master, you’ve seen me drink before! Tell the sleemo,”

“Sorry Snips, but if their legal age is different here then...” Anakin shrugged his shoulders to indicate that the situation was simply out of his hands before popping open the top of the beer bottle and taking a sip.

Rex laughed loudly and slapped his hand over his mouth to stifle it. He’s seen his fair share of the Torguta drinking, many times he had to drag her back to base over his shoulder because she was a bit of a lightweight. And if he was going to be honest, this was the peek of entertainment.

The teen crossed her arms over her chest and huffed as she watched him drink. “This sucks, Skyguy.”

“Ah, I’ll have to decline from drinking.” Obi-Wan gestured to his chest. “I’m on medication and I don’t know how well that would mix with alcohol.”

“I can make some tea instead, I don’t drink anyway,” Wanda waved her hand as strings of red floated from her fingertips and towards the kitchen, where the stove turned on and a tea kettle started to bottle.

“Splendid,” Obi-Wan nodded his head in her direction, thankful that they at least had tea here. “Might want to make some for Ahsoka here, she looks like she needs a calming tea.”

Ahsoka stuck her tongue out at the older man in a childish manner. “Oh you think you’re so funny, Master.”

Whilst everyone was busy conversing and sharing stories, Padmé would discreetly pass her beer to Ahsoka, knowing that a few sips couldn’t hurt. The teenage girl was more than happy that the Senator was giving into her whims. Plus, the two have had their fair share of nights spent sharing a bottle of Alderaanian wine towards the end of the War.

Though, this act didn’t go unnoticed by everyone. Tony thought it was funny when he first noticed the exchange, recalling how his first few drinks were at home with Jarvis. He didn’t say anything, just smirked behind his bottle and went on with their night.

31 notes · View notes

thejudgingtrash · 4 years

Note

hello mel i Love You

HELLO DIL I LOVE YOU EVEN MORE!!!

You had me SCREAMING! Criminal genius/Detective Annabeth is my new hyper fixation, I fucking swear T_T

My brain went OVERBOARD with this! It’s super long! Please enjoy!!

(I’ve withheld this story due to the current political climate and I still feel sorta a way. But if reading about the p*lice triggers you or makes you feel uncomfortable, I wholeheartedly understand if you want to skip this one. Also... the story has some... a little bit of heat in it. Not much, it’s SFW. But it’s there <.<)

And: law enforcement, medical and science side of the pjo fandom, I doubt that this will make any sense :D

Also thanks again Torie @percyheartsannabeth for being an amazing beta!!

The Golden Age (WC: 9,5k)

“Absolutely not,” Detective Annabeth Chase crossed her arms and shook violently her head. The blonde curls nearly escaped her bun. Her partner Detective Luke Castellan was surprised. He had never seen Annabeth reject a direct command.

“We need his statement, Chase,” said Sergeant Charles Beckendorf. “It’s his M.O. The drugs, the paintings. Either he’s operating from prison again or someone’s copying him. We need to put a stop to this nonsense once and for all!”

“Even so, we’re busy with the robberies in Chelsea.” Annabeth didn’t want to pick this case up again. The case that made her famous, the case that changed her life forever. For the worse.

“Stoll will take over that with his younger brother. Chase, you don’t have a choice. You will talk to Perseus Jackson. That’s an order,” Captain Dougenis commanded. He had the final say. Luke nodded, Annabeth did nothing.

“Don’t you think we haven’t tried to get him to cooperate earlier? He said he only wants to talk to you. The person that put him behind bars,” Beckendorf explained.

Fuck Annabeth thought. She did not want to face Perseus Jackson again. She wanted to forget him and move on. The looks from her two superiors said that they would deny her wish. Jackson was a cunning manipulator. She knew how he worked and what he was. A criminal. A thief. A criminal.

“When will I speak with him?” she sighed. A battle that was lost quickly.

“In two days. Should give you enough time to study the case files,” Dougenis said.

Off to a great start. The sound of footsteps echoing in the hallway muffled as the prisoner was placed into the interview room two days later. He sat down and the cuffs fell from his hands. He rubbed his wrists. A little bit of freedom regained. Orange was a hideous color, but he actually managed to make it look good on him.

He and Annabeth were separated by the thin layer of the one-way-mirror. His sea green eyes scanned the plain fake wall in front of him. They tried to find her as he knew he was being watched. The piercing stare actually caught her eye directly. Annabeth sighed. He couldn’t hear her, but a smirk found its way onto his lips regardless. He knew her.

“You’ll be fine in there?” asked Luke who would stay outside of the interview room. He had been a part in arresting that monster. The condition that Jackson gave them was that he wanted to speak with Annabeth – alone. Annabeth nodded. Then she stepped into the small room. Tension laid in the air.

Four years had passed since he had been locked up. Perseus looked good. His hair was grayer, the beard had been trimmed recently. He looked like he exercised on a regular basis. Annabeth’s eyes spent two seconds engraving the picture of his brown biceps into her memory.

“Perseus Jackson, 38, born in New York City, arrested due to art theft and extortion. Twelve years. You’ve managed roughly a third so far.” Despite her marvelous work, they never were able to charge him for drug trafficking directly. The witnesses had remained silent. Annabeth took a seat in front of him.

“Annabeth, you know me,” Perseus pouted. A contrast to his deep voice. “Call me Percy,” he winked.

Her neck felt hot. “It’s Detective Chase for you!” she hissed. Amusement sparked through his eyes.

“Okay, Detective Chase.” How was he able to make her name sound so… dirty? So profligate?

“The woman that I have to thank for my new cozy home needs my help now all of a sudden. The tables have turned. I like that.” And Annabeth did not like one bit how his mocking tone sent shivers down her spine. The way his tongue flicked. The urge of standing up and fleeing the room was prominent, but she was a professional and had a job to do:

Make Perseus Jackson sing.

“I need information.” Annabeth’s mouth was pressed to a thin line.

“Straight to the point, Detective, huh?” The attractive man leaned forward. “And what information do I supposedly have?”

“Your family never stopped your business,” Annabeth spat. Perseus shrugged and his fingers tapped on the desk. An annoying habit.

“Someone is operating with the same methods as you. Art gets stolen and drugs follow the leads. Either you’re behind it or someone else has been recruited to fill your place. We need to find that someone.” She opened the case files and showed him pictures of missing paintings and locations as well as new collecting points for drugs on a map.

“Oh?” Jackson made and tilted his head. He faked interest and glanced lazily over the pictures.

“I’m pretty sure that I don’t have the time in my precious little cell to run all of the things that you’ve been accusing me of. Everything comes at a price, Detective,” he then smiled.

Sea green met light gray. Annabeth swallowed. Memories came back.

ii.

Two years. Annabeth had spent two years on that fucking case and barely made any progress. The smuggling of paintings to cover up or be used as payment for drug operations just didn’t make any sense. Her partner Luke got undercover into the business as a small middle man, but the rules were different for women. Sexism ruled yet once again. Detective work had narrowed the window down and came to one person: Perseus Jackson. He was invisible. He was a phantom. He had been swallowed by mother earth, never to be seen again.

He was part of the Greek syndicate that ruled with an iron fist over the East Coast. Not even the Italians, Chinese, Egyptians or Russians had that much power. Chrýseon Genos. The Golden Age. A fitting name for a bunch of pieces of shit that found joy in ruining people’s lives and making New York unsafe each and every single day. Everything was coded and followed the basic principles of Greek mythology. After Konstantinos Olympianidikis, otherwise known as Kronos, died in the 1970s due to a raging war with his own brothers, his three sons split the legacy and entire empire into three sections:

Adrian Olympianidikis. Hades. Racketeering and money laundering.

Petros Olympianidikis. Poseidon. Theft and drug trafficking.

Zacharias Olympianidikis. Zeus. Prostitution and human trafficking.

All these crimes were tied to the Golden Age and the police forces couldn’t do anything. Witnesses vanished or remained silent. The little evidence they had left was either compromised or disappeared. Everyone in the Golden Age had their little specialty. Everyone passed missions and power onto the next family member in the hierarchy. So did Petros aka Poseidon do the same thing with his sons. One of those sons was Paris. His youngest. The only pieces of information that Annabeth had of him were a 17-year-old picture that showed Paris shoplifting with some of his cousins and a diploma that showed that he had studied art history. A picture of him as a boy and proof that he had a college degree. Wow. Compelling evidence.

Annabeth took one final look of the teenage boy. The picture had been taken in the year 2000 hence the quality of the security camera of Macy’s being complete shit. Despite seeing a long mop on his head and awfully baggy clothes there was next to nothing that was useful for Annabeth in the year 2017. Hell. Who knew what Jackson looked like now as a grown man? The probability of him running around like in the early 2000s was next to none.

“And?” Annabeth asked Luke as he returned from a meeting in the syndicate.

“Poseidon is willing to speak to you,” her blond colleague nodded. The scar under his eye had proved his loyalty. A near fight for life and death. The other person had remained in the hospital for a while but was fine and dandy by now according to Luke.

“Okay.”

“Only you. Not anyone else. I’ll drive you.” Annabeth nodded.

The townhouse in the Meatpacking District did not look much like most of the houses in the area. The real luxury laid within. The house was filled with two kinds of people: security guards and young models. Annabeth felt uncomfortable and underdressed as she was following a young girl’s lead. Barely a woman. Not only did Poseidon enjoy his life at the fullest, no, he was also rich as fuck. Young women served drinks and cooked in the kitchen. Bikinis, shorts and cocktail dresses so short that they nearly gave Annabeth whiplash. A young thing named Lacy brought Annabeth to the garden where a mini pool party was going on at its fullest.

Despite being in his 80s, Poseidon looked good. He looked young and was full of life. He looked like he was in his solid early 50s. The hair and the bushy beard were so white that it seemed to have been dyed. The tanned skin was healthy. A friendly face. The only indication of his age were the neck and his hands. Had Annabeth been into older men, she had to admit that she wouldn’t have said no to Poseidon from the visuals alone.

Poseidon enjoyed his book and the giggling girls in the background as Lacy caught his attention with the new arrival. “Ah!” he said, and his eyes twinkled as he put the sunglasses away. Girls were swimming in the pool or playing volleyball, music was blasting, and food was served.

“Detective Chase!” Poseidon stood up and shook her hand. A firm grip. He spoke with a soft Greek accent.

“What can I do for you?” he asked friendly.

“More like how can you help me speak to one of your sons?” Annabeth smiled.

Poseidon laughed. “Which one? I have many.”

Yes, you do you horny bastard the blonde thought. Poseidon had twelve sons in total. Or twelve sons that he publicly claimed. All by different mothers of course. All of them had joined the family business and most have paid the price with their lives.

Proteus. Triton. Khrysomallos. Pegasus. Arion. Polyphemus. Bellerophon. Theseus. Orion. Sciron. Chrysaor. Paris. More than half of them were dead, less than half of them were alive. Tryfon aka Triton, the son Poseidon had when he was 19, had been killed by his cousin Iraklis also known as Hercules in 1974. Orion had been twelve when he had been shot in the street by Antonios and Phoebe aka the twins Apollon and Artemis in 1986. Assassinated by his own cousins. The trend of getting killed by your own family members was fairly present in the Golden Age.

“The youngest,” Annabeth answered which made Poseidon laugh.

“Ah, my boy Paris. What did he do?” Curiosity swung in the words of the old man that referred to his son in his codename.

“Sorry, confidential,” Annabeth deflected and pouted.

“Of course, of course. Ah the police. Friend and helper. As you can see-” Poseidon pointed to the precious gardens. “My son isn’t here.”

Annabeth nodded. “Well, if you happen to see him, tell him to give me a call.”

She gave him her card. Poseidon studied it. “Of course, I will Miss Chase.” Another friendly smile.

The blonde nodded and then left. The smile of the old man vanished for a split second only to appear as one of his young helpers gave him one of the many burner phones of the house.

“Thank you, Drew!” he said before pressing a number into the small device.

“Yes?” asked the tired voice of a man on the other side.

“Can you explain to me why a certain Detective Chase from the NYPD came to my home to talk about you?” The old man sounded cold and amused at the same time.

“What?” Now he was wide awake.

“I thought the woman would introduce herself as your fiancé! Something that would actually make me proud,” complained the old man and nodded to another young thing that handed him a drink.

“I will take care of it.”

“Yes, you will.”

The line was dead.

And Annabeth continued to work for another two weeks without any other results. Her shift came to an end but at least the desk was clean. She didn’t drown in mountains of paperwork like Castellan did.

“See you tomorrow!” said Connor Stoll as she crossed ways with him in the hallway.

“See you!” Her mood had reached its lowest so far. It was time to visit her best friend since childhood and his bar The Grove. As soon as Annabeth stepped out of the police department, it started to rain.

“Great.” Her steps got faster.

Fortunately for her, The Grove was within walking distance. The pouring sky distracted Annabeth so much that she didn’t realize neither a black Lexus parking around the corner nor the footsteps that had been following her. The leather jacket and the blonde curls were wet but nothing that would worry bartender and owner Grover Underwood all too much. He had seen her in fairly worse states.

“What can I do for you, Annabeth? An Old Fashioned like usual?” His friend nodded.

“Have you eaten something?” The dark-skinned man knew Annabeth and her habits. Overworking herself and forgetting to eat lunch were her favorite deadly combinations.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind something to snack on,” she confessed.

Grover only shook his head but gave her a glass full of pretzel sticks. A delicious Old Fashioned stood on the counter a few moments later. The door behind her opened and closed.

“What can I do for you, sir?” asked Grover and looked to the door.

“Whiskey. Double.” A rich baritone. Pleasant to the ears.

Annabeth heard the squeaking of the barstool next to her. She turned her head to the right and nearly fell to the ground. A man sat next to her that was a younger copy of Poseidon. Paris Olympianikidis also known as Perseus Jackson, son of Poseidon. The man she had been searching for since forever randomly decided to appear. Her talk with Poseidon must have sparked something and Annabeth hated the stupid rule about women not being in the family business unless they had been born into it even more. Precious time that could have been used for undercover operations had been wasted.

Perseus looked… good. Good didn’t even describe it. His salt and pepper hair had the same streaks in the beard. He had a chiseled face with a straight nose. Wrinkles around the eyes showed that he loved to laugh and smile. He seemed to enjoy his regular exercise; the way his shirt shifted whenever he moved a muscle made it seem like it was about to tear apart. His skin was of a rich brown, and his lips were curled into a devilish smirk. The sea green eyes were a direct copy of his father’s. He had won the genetic lottery. He had nothing in common with the shoplifting boy from the year 2000.

“A little bird told me you were looking for me,” he winked.

Why did her chest feel so heavy? Why weren’t her lungs functioning normally?

Percy had to admit. His father had been right. Annabeth Chase was his type. Her body had a beautiful shape from what he had observed in the past few days. A firm ass that did Pilates on a regular basis in a class not far from her shithole of an apartment. A heart shaped face and a slight tooth gap that made her look only more adorable. Blonde princess curls that seemed to be fairly taken care of with expensive products. But her eyes… an interesting gray that told him one thing: she had a flaming spirit that was blessed with intelligence. Or was it cursed by its burden?

“Your father,” she commented.

The whiskey was served, and Percy took a swig. He was pleased.

“Do you mind?” the handsome man asked as he grabbed a smoke. Annabeth turned to Grover who ignored the antics of the new customer. The bartender placed an ashtray in front of him instead. What in the fuck is going on?

“I usually don’t smoke,” he confessed and lit the cigarette regardless. Annabeth pulled a face. Where was the logic in that?

“And you do now because…?” The interest was honest.

“I only smoke when I’m having a good drink-” He raised the glass to Grover who nodded and appreciated the compliment. “And am sitting next to a beautiful woman,” Perseus winked.

Annabeth didn’t know whether she wanted to blush or strangle him. She was 29 and acted like an insecure school girl for fucks sake! She nearly laughed.

“So, I have the honor of finally meeting you, Annabeth.” The way he said her name. So smoky and dark. He belonged in prison for that.

“It’s Detective Chase for you!” she hissed. The criminal next to her only raised an eyebrow.

“Bossy. Kinky. I like it,” he smirked and enjoyed the redness of her face as he pulled from the cigarette and blew the smoke.

Grover in the corner tried to hide his laughter with a cough. Annabeth turned to her best friend with a murderous rage. “Annabeth and kinky. Yeah right.”

“Grover, shut up!” she commanded. Jackson next to her was more than just amused.

“Now I’m interested.” He tapped some of the ashes off.

“You really want to know the details of her love life?” Grover asked.

“Oh, I definitely bite,” Percy smiled. Yes please. Annabeth wanted to smack herself.

“Could we come to the more pressing matters?” the woman groaned.

“Sure,” Jackson shrugged.

He lifted his drink, she lifted hers. They met in the middle and both felt a spark immediately.

“I need information.” Chase cutting the chase.

Percy smiled. “Everything comes at a price.”

The fact that Annabeth had spent another hour next to him and had let him pay for all of her drinks made her stomach churn in hindsight. He even insisted on paying for the Uber that picked her up.

As Annabeth returned to her apartment, she started searching through it high and low in her semi drunken state. The stupid Greek syndicate had to have bugged her. Her already chaotic apartment was even more disheveled. At least she would be forced to properly clean up once the weekend hit. The worst part was that she found absolutely nothing.

What’s worse? Being wrong or being crazy?

iii.

“I’m pretty sure you got the wrong person,” Percy said and grabbed the glass of water in front of him. The interview room looked sad. “I know nothing.”

“I’m pretty sure we’ve got the right person,” Annabeth retorted and leaned forward. Her hand grabbed the edge table so tightly that the vessels nearly popped. He had to give her something.

“You’re the key. You were the blueprint and now someone’s running off with your legacy. And you’re more than okay with that?!”

“Mmhh,” Percy made. As if he had seen the most delicious thing in his life. The fact that he didn’t lick his lips was a wonder. Annabeth’s eyes followed his gaze right into her cleavage. Two buttons of her blouse that had been left open. Boys will be boys.

“Are you fucking serious, Jackson?” she spat.

The prisoner leaned backwards into his chair with a grin that quickly vanished. “It stinks in here,” he sighed.

Annabeth halted her movement. Her eyes widened in shock.

“No,” she whispered.

His beautiful sea green eyes told her one thing. Yes.

iv.

“Is this really necessary?” Annabeth questioned Beckendorf’s decision behind his back.

A visit to an art gallery. Perseus Jackson decided to become visible to the public eye all of a sudden and started to work as an art collector and conservator. He had meetings with clients, he had visitors in his studio and seemed to actually use his degree for something. Whether it was for the good or not was a matter of perspective. The criminal went to the gym daily; he even bought his own fucking groceries. Observing him had been nerve wrecking. Especially since probably he knew that he was being watched and therefore enjoyed every second of Annabeth’s annoyance. The detective felt like a true voyeur. He hadn’t done anything suspicious unless being a little piece of shit counted. Jackson didn’t separate his waste for an instance. Prick.

When Luke told her that Jackson had planned the opening of a gallery and proposed that they should go, the blonde almost laughed. A public event where no invitation was needed. A ballsy move. It seemed like Jackson really gave no fucks. Unfortunately, Beckendorf caught wind of it and now she was forced to go.

“I’m afraid so,” Luke said as he rubbed his temples. He really wasn’t in the mood for a fight with Annabeth. She was an opponent that just maimed you with arguments.

“What’s going on, Annabeth?” her colleague asked. “You wanted to find Jackson the entire time. You’ve worked for years on this and now you’re basically backpedaling. This is so not you.”

For better or for worse, Annabeth didn’t talk about Luke with her meeting with Jackson at The Grove. Something told her that she should hold onto the information.

“I don’t know. Just a bad feeling I guess,” she confessed. Annabeth didn’t know what would happen once Jackson was aware of her presence. And he would definitely see her.

“You’re not alone.” Luke patted her shoulder. “Grace, Beauregard and hell even that di Angelo informant guy said they would be present. Jackson must have pulled a big gig if even the Italians are interested in his shitty joint. Nothing will happen to you.”

I’m not so sure about that, Annabeth thought, but the only thing she did was nod.

A month had passed, and the day of the gallery opening was finally there. Annabeth stood in front of the building where soft string music could be heard from the outside and guests flooded in. Annabeth saw how undercover cop Jason Grace entered. He quickly glanced in her direction but turned around. Annabeth understood; he was a valuable asset who could not let his cover get blown over.

The blue dress that she wore hugged her curves tightly and the high heels that she chose made the detective regret every life decision that led up to that exact moment. Her soles would be burning the next day and it wasn’t like in the movies. An attempt to run in those things would be a one-way ticket to the ER. The wire in the dress didn’t make the discomfort any better.

“Chase, everything's fine?” asked Beckendorf in her ear. Of course, she had been bugged.

“Yes, everything is good. I’m moving,” she said.

Annabeth mingled with the crowd and entered. The blonde actually stood in awe and registered all the modern pieces. Pop art, minimal art, abstract expressionism, all sorts of different post-modern works that fought for space but harmonized wonderfully together in the rooms. How the fuck was that criminal scum be able to display works from Andy Warhol, Helen Frankenthaler or Jackson Pollock?

They had to be either stolen, bought for a large sum, rented, which was not the style of the Greek syndicate or, something that was Jackson’s supposed specialty, be forged. A waiter offered her champagne which she politely declined. As much as Annabeth would love to cloud her mind, she could not afford it on that evening. She had to look out for Jackson. The blonde made her first round at a slow speed.

“Can you see him yet?”

“No, not yet. Oh, there he is! With Chiara Benvenuti!” A known mafia bride. Chiara was surrounded by her bodyguards like always as she pointed towards a picture.

“Good,” Beckendorf breathed into her ear. “Perhaps we can finally raid this place.”

The painting was an abstract piece with lots of red elements. Blood that was spilled on the dance floor. Something fitting for a coldhearted villain.

“Of course, painting it was a task, but I thoroughly enjoyed it,” Annabeth heard Jackson say. The way Benvenuti laughed made her rage. Jackson joining her, didn’t make it any better. The fact that Benvenuti stared at his tanned chest as he had left some of the buttons of his shirt open, pissed the detective even more off.

Jackson’s sea green eyes shifted to the right and caught her staring at him. A pleased expression rested on his face and the smile could almost be considered to be honest. Embarrassed, Annabeth turned around and immediately left the corner. Fuck that mission. Fuck everything. Fuck that man in particular and the uneasy feeling that rested inside her heart. She saw Luke mingling with two people in black suits, they looked like they would fit the description of some of the Golden Age’s lackeys. Luke was irritated but there was no time for explanation. Annabeth needed alcohol, she needed it badly.

“Chase, what’s going on dammit?” hissed Beckendorf as he heard her frantic steps. She was glad he was unable to see her in that pathetic state.

“Nothing,” Annabeth lied. “Don’t want to blow cover.”

Fortunately, another waitress was making her rounds and Annabeth grabbed a glass which she nearly inhaled. She was wandering through the gallery and tried to figure out her next steps. Too little, too late.

“You left me waiting. Good evening, Detective.”

Annabeth almost let the glass fall as she heard his deep voice behind her and felt his large hand around her waist. A scent of musk and fresh sea breeze crawled into her nose. The grip wasn’t extremely tight, but it was clear that Perseus Jackson had no intention of letting her go.

“Fuck!” hissed Beckendorf into her ear. It was too early to storm the place. They had nothing in their hands against Jackson.

“You have quite the collection,” Annabeth complimented him.

“Thank you, love.” She punished him with a sour look that made his grin only widen.

“Interested in buying?”

“If it’s real perhaps.”

“Oh, my dear Annabeth, everything is real.” The warmth of his hand spread throughout her entire body. Her glass was empty, and he gave it to one of the lackeys.

“Mister Olympianidikis,” the boy nodded and ran off with it immediately. Oh, the power of someone in the higher hierarchical position of a crime syndicate.

Jackson accompanied her through the gallery and showed her his favorite pieces.

Annabeth could picture Beckendorf walking up and down in the small van, nearly losing his shit at the man babbling about oil colors or frameworks that he or other painters used. Jackson was hindering them on purpose. Something was going on.

“There’s something I want to show you. Follow me.” He took her hand and walked to a hidden niche. Jason Grace who stood in the corner and spoke to a woman eyed them with suspicion.

A white door was there with the words Emergency Exit engraved on it. A cold and naked hallway was in front of them. Lights were off and the moon was the only orb that illuminated the place. They were alone.

“And what are you supposed to show-” Jackson cut her off. With a brutal kiss.

A spark that set the entire place in flames. Annabeth did the one thing she was not supposed to: not use her intelligence. Her arms automatically wrapped themselves around his neck as she fiercely kissed him back. Their lips fought a battle against their lungs, and they dived into each other again and again. Taste. That was all they thought.

Percy pulled away from Annabeth. She was beautiful. Her citric smell was divine. The delicate updo was no more. The lipstick was smeared. Her lips trembled and there was something else written in her eyes. Lust. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. A wild look was on his face. He kissed her again. He held her close to his body and pressed her against the wall.

Annabeth felt how one of his hands slid underneath the dress. Did Annabeth exchange the boy shorts for a thong in the last minute? Yes, she did. Did she regret that decision? No, she did not. But his hands had a different goal in mind. The yanking made her shriek into his mouth. A solid welcome for his tongue. The wire underneath her dress was no more. Only then did he place his tight grip on her ass.

Oh, two can play this game Annabeth thought and grabbed the wire that stuck out of his collar.

“Guess that no one’s listening in on us anymore,” Percy commentated.

“It seems like it,” Annabeth agreed. A calm before the storm. A storm that broke loose as they kissed each other again. Percy’s lips wandered.

“Who told you to waltz in this place with this fucking dress?” He claimed her neck with kisses. His beard tickled her. “You look perfect!”

Annabeth wished she could retaliate the compliment. Percy looked fairly handsome in the beige suit, but her brain was short circuiting and only focused on not moaning too loudly and enjoying the feeling of being pressed against him. The probability of her colleagues rushing in that compromising situation was way too high.

Percy broke the kiss off for good. He made a move towards the staircase. A foot was set to the lower step. “Come with me!” His hands reached out for her.

Annabeth was panting. Heart or sanity who would win? Annabeth made one decision that would seal her fate forever. She took his hand and the unlikely pair fled out of the building.

As soon as they opened the backdoor, Annabeth heard a frantic scream for her name. There was no turning back now. A black car was waiting for them in the hidden alley. It looked like Castellan didn’t do his homework properly and had received the wrong plans of the building to study.

Percy held the door open for her and she slipped into the limousine. Percy followed. “Leo!” he barked. The vehicle moved with screeching tires and drove through a garage which led to a tunnel that Annabeth had never seen. She stopped paying attention to it as Percy claimed her lips yet again.

The car ride was a blurry memory. They entered another garage which was when the car stopped. “We’ve arrived,” announced the chauffeur.

Percy nodded to the front and then exited the car. He reached out for Annabeth and helped her out of the car. “Where are we?” she asked as they entered an elevator.

Percy pressed a key card against the board. “My home.”

There was no time left for sightseeing. They immediately entered the bedroom. His jacket was tossed aside, her dress slid to the floor. Both of them fell to the bed. Both of them never wanted to leave the bed.

Annabeth woke up to the wonderful smell of coffee. Her eyes fluttered and the memories hit her. The wonderful night she had shared with a wanted criminal. Her naked body was wrapped in satin sheets. The blonde sat up. Her pale body was sore and ached but in the best way. She didn’t remember the last time she had sex with anyone; work had been way too busy. She didn’t want to remember. What Perseus Jackson did to her would be fairly impossible to top.

Said Perseus Jackson entered the bedroom in nothing but sweatpants and two mugs. Oh yes, he did enjoy his daily workouts. “Morning,” he smiled.

“Morning,” she replied and thanked him for the cup. A delicious aroma took over the room. Annabeth took a sip.

“Mmhh,” she delightfully sighed. Two pumps of hazelnut and heavy cream, just the way she liked it.

“Yes, I did do my homework,” he laughed and drank his tea. “You aren’t the only people that study others. Was seeing me work out at least fun?”

“Shut up, Jackson,” Annabeth blushed. He laughed.

The cop finished her cup and Percy put it on a nightstand. “And what do you want to do now?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Something’s coming to my mind.” His light eyes darkened, and he cupped her face. Annabeth pushed the blanket aside, revealing her perfect self.

“That insatiable?” she laughed but didn’t receive an answer as she felt his lips on hers again. Her hand went on to grasp his black curls.

“Very,” he said as his hands roamed over her very naked body.

Putting the blue dress on again felt wrong. Percy wouldn’t have minded for Annabeth to stay the entire day at his apartment, but he knew she had a point when she said that her colleagues would searchthe entire city for her. Turning brick by brick if they must.

“I honestly can’t come up with a good excuse for my boss. You didn’t think this through.” Annabeth wandered through the modern apartment. It was bathed in light and had window fronts that showed her the entirety of Manhattan and the green of the Central Park. A dream apartment. The Golden Age had money, no doubt in that.

“Well… I actually have an idea,” Percy started. Annabeth turned to him with one cocked eyebrow and her hands on her hips.

“That sounds like I won’t like it,” she predicted.

He opened a cabinet and showed her the bottle.

“Are you fucking serious?!”

“Well as you’ve said. I didn’t think it through,” he shrugged with a goofy grin. It made him look adorable. Stop Annabeth. No time for that. Percy grabbed a cloth as well.

“Let’s just say that I never had the honor of being treated that way,” Annabeth muttered. But she agreed with him. It would make the lies that were about to come out of her mouth easier.

Percy kissed Annabeth one last time and brushed a lock out of her beautiful face. “Sweet dreams, Annabeth,” he wished her.

Then he pressed the drenched cloth over her nose and mouth. Her eyes rolled back, and she was embraced by darkness. Annabeth slumped down but Percy caught her.

Four hours later, Luke Castellan and Jason Grace made their way to Annabeth’s apartment, looking for possible clues. Both of them were fucking pissed. At Jackson, at Annabeth, at the entire fucking operation. The police force was frantically looking for her. They got Paris Olympianidikis for kidnapping at least. If they would catch him.

Luke had a key to Annabeth’s apartment because they were close friends. Annabeth had actually defied orders, nearly ruined a mission and drove him to the hospital as his wife gave birth three years ago. He had to find her. Not to make it even, but to know that his friend was safe.

“Look for anything useful,” Luke commanded. Jason nodded.

Luke entered the living room and Jason worked through the bathroom which was followed by the bedroom. He nearly slipped to the floor.

And there she was, sleeping like a princess.

“Annabeth?! Annabeth! Luke, she’s here!”

The next thing Annabeth remembered was waking up in the hospital. She knew that everyone was pissed at her. But Castellan had defended her for the stupid act of following a criminal to nowhere. Jason had seen where they left, and Annabeth thought the Sergeant could hear important information. Who would have guessed that the wiring would be cut off?

Examinations. DNA samples were taken to get a hold of Jackson. Questions. So many questions. A knock. Yet another person that wanted to annoy her. “Yes?” Annabeth sighed.

“Annabeth,” Beckendorf entered the hospital room. Annabeth felt patronized but of course her hands were tied. She refused to speak with her boss about a certain criminal. She covered up the truth and enjoyed living her life in lies. The young detective had no family who anyone could call. That made Beckendorf extremely worried about her.

The tall man took a seat next to her bed. “I’m not here to tear you apart, pretty sure Captain Dougenis had the pleasure.” Yes, he had. “I want to hear from you what happened.”

The blonde retold her vision of events. “I don’t know,” she sighed. “It was a trap. I can’t remember how I ended up in my apartment.” Annabeth spoke a little truth in her web of lies.

“The way our connection cut off as soon as you left the exhibition… I thought it was static. Then you were gone.” Oh no, he heard us making out Annabeth thought. She tried to suppress the panic that was bubbling up in her and was glad that Percy had discarded the wires. The technicians at the police department would have immediately figured out that there had been no static. She remembered almost everything. The staircases. The car. The apartment. The way he felt between her legs. The way she straddled him. The way he grabbed her throat. The pleasures and the cries.

Beckendorf looked deeply into her eyes. He knew that she had something to hide but was wise enough not to ask. The old man was one of the few people that blindly trusted her instincts in the department.

“Okay,” was all that he said. “I’m trusting your judgement.” She nodded. He was a kind soul.

“Take the next week off. You need the rest.” Beckendorf stood up.

Percy saw how her delicate fingers grabbed the folder and closed it. The shiny object fell into his vision.

“I like your ring.” His sea green eyes shot up to her face. He saw a slight blush on her cheeks.

“Thank you,” she nearly whispered and played with the small white band.

“Someone very important gave it to me a long time ago. Someone dear to my heart.”

He blinked twice. She blinked twice.

A devilish smirk rested on his face.

vi.

Their affair lasted an entire year. The fact that it came to an end was saddening. But it was predictable. Star-crossed lovers from two entirely different universes that weren’t meant to be. Otherwise the balance of both of their worlds would crash, burn, and fall.

Annabeth had insight into the police work and Percy had insight into the Golden Age. That was the sole reason they barely saw each other in a work related context. They actually managed to live a fairly happy life outside of the working hours. They went on secret dates, they visited museums after they had been closed and reopened only for the powerful son of Poseidon, they watched movies together, they even flew out to visit his Hawaiian mother Sally who adored Annabeth. And the sex was amazing. A welcoming bonus. Both felt happiness for the very first time. Both felt love for the very first time.

The secret studio in his art gallery was one of the few places where they could be free.

“And here’s the Mona Lisa,” Percy grabbed the painting out of the box. He showed Annabeth some of his latest pieces that were part of his collection or creations. Real paintings and forged ones.

“Wow, that looks so real. An incredible copy.” Annabeth had visited France in her college days.

“The thing that’s hanging in the Louvre?” he winked.

“Tell me you’re joking.” The corners of his lips pointing up was all she got.

Annabeth laid next to him a week later. They were inside of her shitty apartment. Percy had surprised her because of course he could cook as well. To the question “Is there something you can’t do?” Percy only answered, “Change a tire and board planes because I hate heights.”

He might have been joking, he might have been serious. Annabeth did not care. She had returned from yet another demanding shift. This time her task force had hunted down one of Zeus’ kids. Aristidis also known as Ares. Despite being in his late 40s he was an annoying little piece of shit. The fat fuck tried to sell child slaves on the dark web and barely managed to escape them.

As Annabeth had entered her apartment, she was greeted by the delicious smell of parmesan that melted over fresh pasta. Seeing houseman Percy cook was not only a picture for the gods but something she could get used to. Annabeth placed her bag on the sofa and ran to the kitchen to greet Percy with a kiss. A passionate kiss.

“Aren’t-” kiss. “You-” kiss. “Hungry?” he asked between their kisses.

“Well, I think we can eat later.”

“Grover is right, you’re a terrible liar when it comes to food,” he joked. The Grove was another spot for them together. Once the customers left, the three would sit together and joke. Mostly at Annabeth’s expense.

Annabeth pouted and then kissed him again. The only thing that broke her silence was her stomach grumbling.

Percy broke off from her with a roaring laughter. “Eat first. Then we can come to the more fun activities.”

Annabeth pouted but Percy unfortunately had a point.

Now she was fighting against falling asleep as she laid on his chest and he played with her hair. He inhaled her smell. Raindrops were racing on the window as gravity pulled them down. The shower on the outside calmed them. “There’s a good reason why you never found me. Why no one found me,” Percy started.

Her tiredness was gone. Curiosity won. “The fact that my father uses me as his master forger is abundantly clear, right?”

Annabeth nodded. They didn’t talk much about his business ventures in the Golden Age, but she had pieced large chunks of the puzzle together.

“I want to leave my family,” he confessed.

“What?” That came as a surprise to Annabeth. Percy seemed fairly content with his life in the family business. He joked about it and enjoyed the high standards of life that came with the fruits. Then again, Annabeth had seen the dark shadows that followed the Golden Age everywhere they went. Blood, bodies, chaos, destruction.

“A rule that my father engraved into my brain was to be invisible. Live like there’s no tomorrow, but don’t forget to clean the remains of yesterday. The day me and my cousin Ethan were caught shoplifting seventeen years ago changed me. It changed us all. We were so naive, and felt so invincible. For normal parents that would have been a tirade and grounding. Our parents think differently. For Ethan, whose idea it was to begin with, it cost him his eye.”

Annabeth’s eyes widened. The cruelty of parents. The fact that the Golden Age had no problem with hunting their own down was still sickening to her.

“It didn’t matter. Four months in and he had been shot by the Russians, the Bratva. Nearly started an entire fucking war,” he sighed.

“Percy, that’s horrible.” Annabeth tried to see if there was any emotion left in his eyes. There was none. His eyes were dull from the wars he had seen. Percy was blind and used to the cruelty of the survival of the fittest.

“Annabeth, I’ve witnessed my first murder as a thirteen-year-old. At least I haven’t pulled the trigger myself yet. Not in a deadly way.” He stared at the white ceiling.

Her heart broke for the boy that lost his honest smile. “That doesn’t make it any better.”

“No, it doesn’t. It really doesn’t.” Percy hugged her tightly. “I want to be free. Die as a free man. Live in the sunlight and not in the shadows. Not in fear of getting gunned down by a crazy family member. My father spoke with my uncles. They gave me an impossible task. Once I solve it, I’m a free man.”

“Who are you? John Wick?” she joked. She wasn’t in the mood for cracking stupid jokes, but she had to uplift the situation or else the mental image of Percy losing his innocence as a child would forever haunt her.

“That guy is amazing; I’m not going to lie.” Percy managed to crack a crooked smile.

“And the task?”

Percy sighed. He wouldn’t have minded a smoke. “It stinks in here, the three of them had said. ”He turned to Annabeth. “There’s a rat.”

A rat? she thought. “Someone that betrays my family. They mix up our business and create chaos from within as if they want us to implode. I have to find and either obtain or eliminate them.”

Someone that betrayed the Golden Age? Whoever they were, they were crazy and suicidal.

“And what do you want to do once you’re free?”

“Move to Hawaii. Be reunited with my mother again. Find a woman,” he looked at her and grinned. “Marry her, pop out a kid or three. Be an artist.”

Silence. Annabeth was speechless. “I wouldn’t mind seeing that and being a part of that,” she whispered.

Percy only kissed her.

Another month later. The fact that Percy disappeared around her birthday upset her, but that was life. He had been in Los Angeles for a gig. Which gig exactly she did not ask. Was it a legal gig? Highly debatable. It had something to do with the rat. That was all that he told her.

A small package got sent to her and she was curious to see what it was. No sender. Carefully she opened it. A small ring box was in there. Tiffany’s & Co.

A card was attached to the box. Happy Birthday, Princess – P.

“Oh no…” Annabeth opened the little box. The ring had a small silver band that was covered in small diamonds. Her jaw dropped. The ring was beautiful. And it was meant to be for her?

Annabeth put it on. It sat perfectly on her ring finger. Annabeth looked at the box again. It had a code on it. The detective grabbed her phone and searched for the ring.

“WHAT THE-”

Perseus had spent fifteen thousand dollars for that little piece of jewelry.

“No…” she cried. How could he have spent so much money on her?

Annabeth ran into her bathroom and shoved a loose tile aside. She used that little space to hide something. That something was the burner phone that Percy had given her so that they could always stay in contact. Annabeth called him.

“And?” he asked.

“PERSEUS JACKSON!” she yelled.

“HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING MIND?!”

“Why? Don’t you like the ring?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I love it. We have to talk about the price.” Her left hand already played with the beautiful ring.

“Why? Do you want a more expensive one? Let me know which one, I’ll buy it,” he stated.

“What?! No! You’ve spent way too much on that ring! I can’t accept this!”

Percy laughed. “You can and you will. It is my gift for you. Happy birthday, Annabeth.”

Annabeth wanted to scream. Denying his gift felt so wrong, but it was the right choice she made.

“Once you’re here we’re going to have a talk. We have to return this!”

Annabeth could practically hear how he shook his head. “You’re going to like the ring and you’re going to keep it.”

“Fine,” she huffed. Annabeth accepted her fate and waited until the days of solitude would be over. Until she was reunited with her Percy again.

The year had passed. Then it happened. The day Paris Olympianidikis would fall.

vii.

“Cooperate with me, Jackson,” Annabeth sounded soft. He merely raised an eyebrow.

“Cooperate and we can make a deal. Better conditions in prison, a reduced sentence perhaps and-”

“I want out,” he boldly stated.

Annabeth stared at him blankly. “Pardon me?”

“You said cooperate and we can make a deal. That’s my end of the line.” Jackson leaned back into his chair again.

Annabeth was speechless. He had beaten her with her own game. She closed her eyes for a second before focusing on him again. Don’t let him get the best out of you.

“I’ll see what I can do.” He smirked as he loved to hear that answer. Then she remembered what he had said.

“You said it stinks in here?” she repeated. Annabeth eyed him suspiciously.

“Yes, Detective,” he truthfully answered.

“What does it smell like?”

“Colors, Detective.”

“Why?”

“You should be able to see it for yourself.” He scratched his temples.

viii.

They got him. They didn’t get him with drugs or anything else that would give him a long sentence. But they got him with one of his forges. The good old Al Capone method. If you don’t get him with the big guns, try to stick to the petty crimes. Criminals get sloppy. Especially criminals that do way too much in too many places. The meeting was over, and everyone cheered. Everyone but Annabeth.

“Shouldn’t you be happy? Hell, Annabeth. You’ve spent more than three years on this case.” asked Travis Stoll.

“It’s just…unbelievable. The fact that everything comes to an end. Goal completed and all,” she smiled sadly.

Annabeth dreaded her seeing Percy again. He was waiting in her apartment and probably preparing food for them. The sight of her apartment complex made her heart sink. Where once was joy, ruled depression.

“Annabeth, what happened?” Percy ran to the door as he saw her in her desolate state. The door closed and she told him what would happen in the next sixteen hours.

“I’m so sorry,” she cried. Percy just held her and hugged her tightly as the tears blinded her. He fought his own tears that threatened to rise. Their future, destroyed.

“It was bound to end like this,” he said. Sadness rested in his voice. But also, tranquility.

“No.” Annabeth shook her head and buried her face into his strong chest.

“Whatever happens. I’ll be fine. Most of the prisons and the judges are smeared.” He kissed her head.

“Of course, they are,” she laughed darkly. Knowing that he wouldn’t be subjected to fights in prison didn’t do much to calm her down. She’d rather have him next to her.

“Annabeth. I want you to arrest me.”

“No. Never.” She violently shook her head again and slapped his shoulder.

“I mean I’m already used to your cuffs, now’s the chance to make it official,” he grinned.

“Percy! Now is not the time to joke about our sex life.” They shared a laugh anyway.

“I have another wish. Move on, Annabeth. Live life to the fullest,” he whispered.

“Everything but that.” She refused to move on. How could she?

“Find an idiot, marry him, have kids and live happily with him. Do that for me. Please,” he continued.

“I want you to be that idiot,” she pressed and looked deep into his eyes. “I don’t care how long it’ll take. I’ll wait for you.”

He kissed her. Don’t do this Annabeth. Don’t give me hope he thought.

The unlikely couple hugged each other tightly as they went to bed. One last time. It didn’t come to Annabeth as a surprise to find his side of the bed cold and empty. His side. His side was no more, it was only her side.

Perseus spent the night and morning hours in the art gallery. He had one final piece to finish. He drank and smoked and cursed. The bottle of cheap whiskey nearly fell to the ground, but he managed to catch it.

The oil painting was a self-portrait. An anchor to the last few moments of his life as a free man that hid in the shadows.

The task force broke into his gallery. He had a cigarette in his mouth and put the paintbrush down as his lover approached him. He had a sarcastic smile on his lips which vanished as he registered the pain in her eyes.

“Perseus Jackson, you are under arrest,” spoke Annabeth with a commanding tone.

She put him into cuffs and read him his rights. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in court... A glance at the painting he had been working on ever since he left the apartment.

Annabeth knew immediately that it was them. Percy in the painting hugged her but their faces had been cut off. She saw the birthmarks on her back and the accuracy of how he portrayed his hands on her hip. Percy’s final act of love to her for all of them to see. Unfortunately, all of them were blind to it. All of them but Annabeth.

The moment she was at home she ran to the bathroom and emptied her stomach. Gush after gush came out of her. Her mouth felt sour and dry, the teeth hurt and had an ugly yellow color, the tears that blinded her ran towards her nose. “What have I done?” she cried and looked at her pathetic self in the bathroom mirror.

Judgement day came eight painful months later. The judge slammed the hammer and sealed his fate.

Twelve years. Twelve years was the sentence. Perseus lost his coolness for one second. Annabeth’s heart broke in two. Poseidon who sat on the other side of the room looked like he wanted to shoot the judge right then and here and Annabeth would have gladly joined him.

They were robbed of twelve years together. Percy was put into handcuffs. His sea green eyes searched through the ranks until they found her gray ones. He blinked twice. I love you. She blinked twice. I love you too. The police officers around her almost cheered.

They complimented her for the worst decision of her life. An act that had destroyed her life. Her lover was gone. And a free rat was still out there.

The trail of memories stopped. Annabeth knew that Luke was restless behind the one-way-mirror. The talk had stretched into eternity and gave little information to the hidden detective, but so much to Annabeth. Percy had been right. He was roaming freely in prison. He was able to talk with his family day in and day out. And most importantly. He knew of operations. And he knew of his own operations the best.

Finally. There was movement in the gallery. Whoever was decided to continue the work of Percy Jackson was stupid enough to revisit the place where it all began. The rat would be caught in a trap.

“NYPD PUT YOUR - no.” Annabeth had the gun pointed at him. But she couldn’t believe it. The rat. The rat that had cost her four years of their life.

“I’m sorry, Annabeth,” he sadly smiled. Then he pointed his gun at her.

A shot.

Annabeth had closed her eyes. The bullet didn’t hit her. It had hit him as Luke Castellan had fired a warning shot into the abdomen. The detectives moved to him.

“Call an ambulance!” yelled Annabeth to the cops that flooded the place. He laughed on the floor as he bled.

Jason Grace. Secret son of Zacharias Olympianidikis also known as Zeus. He not only wanted to act in revenge as Percy’s brother Sciron had killed his older sister Thalia. He wanted to spite him and take over his businesses as well. The money and the gold. The cars and fame. In his twisted mind he was able to run the syndicate and destroy it at the same time. It was over.

Annabeth saw as the ambulance drove off. Percy scratching his temples as an indication for the glasses and his talk about colors to point to the gallery would be his ticket to freedom. Hopefully.

ix.

It was the first time that Percy had seen the sun as a free man again. He left prison with the clothes he entered. The deal with the district attorney went smoothly although the old man would have rather wrung the half-Greek’s neck.

A black car drove up to the prison. Two people exited the car.

“Mom? Dad?”

Sally and Poseidon hugged their free son tightly.

“You are stupid!” cried Sally. “Both of you!”

Father and son winced. That was Sally Jackson for them.

Quitting her job had been freeing. She had made the decision about half a year ago. Annabeth wanted to see something new. Experience something new. She was on the way to the small airport. The day was sunny and warm. A new day to start a new chapter in her life.

Annabeth arrived. “You can stop hiding, we aren’t being followed,” she laughed.

Percy yawned in the backseat. “I was sleeping,” he excused himself.

“Of course, you were.” She rolled her eyes and smiled into his reflection in the rearview mirror.

Her colleagues were upset, especially Luke, but it had to be. She had to quit for her own sanity. Beckendorf would check up on her and then see who she was with and connect the dots. But he would be wise enough not to contact her, not to rat her out. He would be happy about the fact that she had found love.

They would live with Sally and her little family for a while before they would buy their own house. The private jet that Zeus had given them would bring them to Hawaii undetected. A small sorry as the son of Zeus had caused a lot of trouble in the family. At least Jason was still alive.

Annabeth stopped the car and turned to Percy.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you too,” she grinned. A delicate kiss was shared.

A golden age was truly upon them.

The End

Ummm... I... I think this might be a poppin feature fic? I have still many ideas and many things could be fleshed out...? Help?

BUT THANK YOU AGAIN FOR THE SUGGESTION DIL OMFG ILY!

All Cookout Fics

Cute/Cursed Cookout Writing Prompts

#pjo #Percy Jackson #annabeth chase #mel's little cookout #percabeth #percabeth fanfiction #pjo fanfic #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson and the olympians #tw: police #tw: violence #mel writes #the golden age

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eloarei · 3 years

Text

Hiatus’d WIPs: “Touch” (bnha)

I recently had a conversation with a friend/reader about how many unfinished fics I have lying around, and it made me decide to finally make a post for each one; under the assumption that I never write any of them again, I can at least link these posts at the end of the AO3 WIPs for people who are curious how the rest of the story goes. So here we have: WIP and notes for Dekumight fic series “Touch” (including unfinished next chapter) My thoughts: This was really one of my favorites for a while. There was something really fun about writing the sort of non-verbal communication they had going on, and the deep love and also awkwardness. However, the actual story of the fic doesn’t differ much from the canon plot, which makes it a little less interesting to write, and also difficult to pick up, because frankly I don’t remember shit anymore about canon. Under the cut: (8,300 words total) 3,000 words of what would be the next chapter (ending about halfway through), then a rough draft of the second half of the chapter. After that, there’s a super-rough draft/ outline of the next several chapters, followed by a bunch of notes from when I was initially planning. NOTE: Tumblr completely destroyed all formatting, so this should be full of italics, which implies thinking, but instead you’ll just have to puzzle it out. Similarly, my notes have a bunch of bolding and some strikethrough, which probably doesn’t work either. Sorry.

Takes place directly after “Retouch” (chapter 2) :

Chapter 3

It was just a few minutes later that Toshinori was hit with a spike of pleasure that he really shouldn't have been surprised by. He was finishing up some paperwork for UA though and wouldn't be getting ready for bed for a while, so instead of following through with the echo of Izuku's intense sensation, he just took a deep calming breath and willed himself to leave it alone. However, he did take a moment to send Izuku a well-timed text saying simply, | Sleep tight |. He still wasn't sure if the boy was aware of what he was doing to him, but he figured he'd just tip him off a little bit instead of asking outright. Not yet.

Izuku responded with a cute, embarrassed | ^^; you too |, and Toshinori laughed. So he hadn't expected to be called out on it, huh? Well, they could talk about it later; maybe over the weekend, if Suzuki's papers didn't scare him off. (And even then they'd probably still want to talk about at least a few things. Even if Izuku suddenly wanted nothing to do with him, even if they never saw each other again (a chilling thought), they'd still be affecting each other like this for the rest of their lives. It warranted at least a short conversation.)

Most likely, though... Most likely it would be a long conversation they'd be having, if Toshinori's impression of Inko was anything to go by. If it were just him and Izuku, who knew if they'd ever do much serious talking. It was far too tempting to just sit side by side with their hands tangled together and feel. So, it was probably good that Izuku's mother had such a strong hand in the situation-- and it was definitely good for both of them that she was such a reasonable woman. He knew she would probably bring up all the right topics (the things he still hadn't really researched; Suzuki wasn't going to be pleased with his ignorance), and ask all the right questions, and be super tactful about the whole thing, so he didn't fret about it, focusing instead on just getting through the week.

Easier said than done, he'd have told you, if you asked him at any point during those next few days, but eventually it was done, and he was standing outside the Midoriyas' apartment door with a briefcase in one hand and the other poised to knock. But before he could make a sound, the door opened, and Izuku was standing there, looking up at him with the brightest eyes.

“Hi,” he said, the simple word both enthusiastic and shy. His smile was impossibly wide, sending his freckles up into his eyes. “I, um, I could tell you were there,” he answered, before Toshinori could even ask how he'd known to open the door. Without further ado, Izuku reached out and took his hand, leading him into the apartment. They both breathed deep, relieved sighs as soon as they touched. Three days had just been too much.

Inside, Inko was doing dishes. “Oh, Toshinori, hi,” she said, looking over her shoulder. “I'll be done here in just a minute. Izuku said you have some papers for us to look at?”

“At my manager's insistence,” he explained. Guided by Izuku, he took a seat next to him at the kitchen table, their hands still joined, and set the briefcase up where his other hand could find what he needed. He pulled the stack of papers out and set them in the middle of the table.

“How's your week been?” Izuku asked quietly, as they waited for Inko to join them.

“It's been fine,” Toshinori answered, though the emotion rolling around in his chest said 'I missed you', and he was fairly sure Izuku could feel it.

The boy squeezed his hand at the feeling and replied, “Me too,” in response to the unspoken sentiment.

Drying her hands off on a dishtowel, Inko sat down across from them and gave the pair of them an appraising (but ultimately approving) look, before she slid the stack of papers over to her. “What have we got here?” she asked, apparently rhetorically, as she didn't wait for Toshinori to attempt to explain. She read through each page carefully and then passed it over to Izuku, who seemed mildly surprised but also read each one before sliding it over to Toshinori. (He skimmed them again for familiarity's sake, but he'd already read through them in detail with Suzuki a day or two before.)

Other than a 'hmm' here and there, Inko didn't make any comments until they were through the entire stack, which took about an hour. (Although she did stop to tell Toshinori to make himself at home, when she realized he might be thirsty or something.) It was a very quiet hour, and it would have been unnerving for Toshinori if he hadn't still had Izuku latched onto him, feeding him wisps of emotion as he read.

Once they'd gone through the whole stack, Inko started over from the beginning, and began to point out little details here and there and ask questions.

“I think most of it is reasonable enough,” she said. “We're not entitled to any of your income or royalties; that's fine. And we can't talk to the media about you. I'm alright with that. Izuku?”

Izuku nodded. “That's okay. I wasn't going to.”

“But this part here--” She pointed at it. “--says we're not allowed to tell anyone about the situation at all unless we have express written permission. That seems sort of... broad.”

Toshinori looked at the passage that Inko had indicated. “Uh, right. I told Suzuki I didn't think it was necessary, but he claims it's a safety precaution.”

“For you,” Inko said, and she did sound accusatory, but not overly much. “What happens if we break the contract? Suing us won't get you very much.”

“I wouldn't do that,” Toshinori tried to say, but Inko continued on.

“What if we need to tell someone and you're not around to give us permission? Like, Izuku's doctors? It just seems unreasonable. Dangerous, even. I get that you want to protect your status, but--”

Toshinori could feel Izuku begin to speak before he could hear the sound. “It's fine, mom,” he said. “It's not just for him. It's to protect us too. Remember that story a couple years ago? There was that lady who was kidnapped by villains because they thought they could use her to get to her husband?”

Inko pursed her lips, a slightly sour face. She clearly remembered the story, and how the woman had been tortured just to hurt her husband. Toshinori remembered it too; it had made him sick. It would have made anyone sick, especially anyone who was close to their soulmate.

“That's probably what Mr. Suzuki was thinking of,” Izuku added softly, and Toshinori could tell that he didn't quite believe in Suzuki's altruism (hard for him to, when he could feel Toshinori's own skepticism about the man), but that he did still believe the reasoning was fair.

A bit subdued, Inko nodded. “Well of course we won't go around telling everyone. I... just think it's a little silly to have to get it in writing like this.”

“You're right,” Toshinori said, shaking his head. “Leave that one, then. I'll get Suzuki to take it out.”

It went like that for another hour or so, Inko pointing out things she wasn't sure about and Toshinori mostly telling her to just cross them out, because honestly, Suzuki was going to be pissed, but who cared? There was no one in the world who mattered more right now than Izuku, and that necessarily made his mother pretty important too. Toshinori would do whatever it took to make them comfortable, and his manager could just deal with it.

By the time they were done, they'd tossed out about half of the papers and scratched through parts of most of the rest of them, and were left with a reasonable list of promises that read roughly like this:

The Midoriyas could not talk to the media about All Might, and they couldn't knowingly do anything that would jeopardize his career, and Izuku couldn't act in any way that would hinder All Might's ability to do his job as a hero. That was pretty much it, though the basic meaning was hidden in so many superfluous details that it had their heads spinning.

As for Toshinori, he would not infringe upon the Midoriyas' anonymity, or use his status to coerce or extort them in any way, and he would be responsible for any financial issues that resulted from their connection (including, but not limited to, doctor's bills and lawyer's fees).

Honestly though, they all knew that these were pretty moot points. If Izuku or his family broke any of these rules, there was really nothing that All Might's lawyers could do about it. And if All Might failed to uphold his end of the bargain, the Midoriyas could take him to court for it, but it would be inviting far more trouble than it was worth.

More than anything, though, they trusted each other enough for this whole paper-signing situation to be mostly just laughable. Getting the papers to Suzuki was not a high priority (well, he might have thought so, but he was a failure of a manager if he actually expected such a quick turnaround, after all these years), so Toshinori didn’t hurry off, instead offering to take the two out for lunch. “Oh, thank you, Toshinori,” Inko said sweetly, “but I’ve got some work to finish up. Why don’t you two go out and take advantage of the nice day?” At his elbow, Toshinori could feel Izuku’s slight surprise echoing against his own. Although Inko had only been supportive so far, they still couldn’t help expecting that she was going to try to keep them apart-- though maybe they were just projecting their reasonable fears about society onto the only other person who knew just yet. But whether or not she might be more strict about them seeing each other in the future, she seemed fine with it just now, and they were grateful. “Thanks,” Izuku told her with a sunny grin, while Toshinori nodded in agreement. “Want us to bring you anything?” Inko shook her head. “Just be back before it’s late! And stay safe!” They promised they’d be careful (in every possible way), and left the apartment together, walking close by but with their hands in their respective pockets-- the safest place for them, when they would have wandered if left to their own devices, gravitated naturally toward each other and the fulfilling feeling they provided. “So what did you think of the papers?” Toshinori asked, a relevant icebreaker to start conversation once they were on their way. “I hope they didn’t seem too strict.” Izuku grinned, and drifted close enough to bump their arms together. “They seemed fine,” he said, apparently unbothered by them. “Honestly, I’d sign whatever I had to. It’s already crazy that I even got to meet you. So, whatever I have to do now… I’ll do it.” That smile was an absolute slice of sunshine, and if Toshinori wasn’t warm just by their proximity, it would have done the job.

They wandered for some time, down towards the city center where they might find something for lunch (maybe something other than ramen, so they could expand the list of foods they knew they both liked), chatting a little. The topics were never anything consequential; Toshinori thought Izuku was still a little nervous around him and wasn’t sure what to say. He understood the feeling, even without a physical link, rather feeling that way himself. But Izuku also had the natural anxiousness of the young and quirkless (he remembered feeling that way), so Toshinori tried to guide the conversation in comfortable directions. Heroes were always a safe topic, and one with no end of iterations. They’d walked a few casual miles, keeping their attention slightly on their surroundings in case a good restaurant caught their eye, and were in the middle of discussing Kamui Woods when something else caught their attention. In the distance a block or so, there was a crowd gathered, their exclamations and worried murmurs rising to a concerning pitch just as an explosion shook the area. Many of the citizens shrieked and ran for cover, but plenty of them were still huddled around in a nervous fashion, like people observing either a train wreck or a predator from which prey could have no hope of escaping. Toshinori became aware of Izuku latching on to his arm more than he strictly felt it, the young man’s concern bleeding over into him and mixing with his own. He could feel Izuku’s natural empathy coming strong through the connection, something he’d only glimpsed the times before. There was something happening nearby, something that frightened and worried everyone; should he help? What could he even do? Should he stay out of the way? After all, they’d only just found each other, and to lose Toshinori now would be devastating; to be found out might be even worse! Izuku would hate himself if he ruined All Might’s career by causing a scandal, but he couldn’t just sit back if someone was in danger and, ahh, if only he had powers, if only he could do more than cling and be a burden to his soulmate and-- Oh, Toshinori thought. These were not his fears; they were Izuku’s. It was Izuku’s desire to help whoever might be in trouble, his desire and his desire and that was right, he wanted to help too. Of course he did. He was a hero, wasn’t he? There was only so worried he could be for his own safety and his reputation and Izuku shouldn’t worry either because it would be okay and I am here and it was amazing-- he really was the right one for him. The perfect soulmate, and maybe something more, but that was something he could think of later. The screams were louder now, and the worried murmurs too, and as an explosion shook the windows of a building half a block down they agreed they couldn’t turn away, not when there was a chance they could do something, anything. Even if there was no power left, it was still his duty, and he didn’t have to do this but yes he did. “You’re at your limit?” Izuku asked, glancing up at him through his fluffy bangs, concern bleeding out of him through more than just their physical connection. It couldn’t have been much more than a guess, but from his expression Toshinori could see that Izuku somehow knew it, like an intuition.

He nodded. “Essentially,” he replied. He wasn’t sure how to explain it in detail, but hoped a more nuanced understanding of it would flow through their bond. “I always have a reserve amount, but it’s… not much.” Izuku seemed to get it. “Maybe we can just… go see, if there’s something we can do.” That seemed fair; that seemed like the least they could do. Maybe there was something, some way to help. Inspired by each other, they jogged over to the scene and the crowd surrounding whatever trainwreck was keeping their attention so strongly. Toshinori froze down to his veins when they saw what was the cause of the commotion. It was a mutant; the same mutant he was sure he’d captured just the other day. Yes, he’d been distracted by Izuku’s presence, but he distinctly remembered turning the water bottle full of sludge over to the police before absconding with his new soulmate up to the rooftop. Izuku’s arm brushed Toshinori’s as he stepped closer in a subconscious bid at safety. How had the mutant escaped? Was it perhaps a different man after all? A twin, or someone with the same quirk? Had Izuku done something wrong? Distracted All Might from his task and caused the villain to escape? Was it the police’s fault? He glanced down at Izuku, who glanced up at him, and Toshinori shook his head. It’s not your fault, he said wordlessly, or Don’t worry about all that. And Izuku nodded, back on track after a momentary lapse of focus. How and why the mutant was here was of little concern. They both turned back to the scene at hand. “Okay, stand back and I’ll try to handle this,” Toshinori said, looking down at Izuku in a way he hoped was reassuring, and knowing anyway that he didn’t have to; Izuku could feel his determination, and every little ounce of worry that things might not go as planned. It was a nuance that Toshinori had learned to deal with in his life, and it was something Izuku was going to have to deal with as well. (Though given the boy’s penchant for overthinking, perhaps it wouldn’t be that much of a trial after all.) “Do you have enough energy?” Izuku asked nervously, obviously not wanting… well, all the things that could go wrong if Toshinori ran out at the wrong time. Toshinori laughed in soft self-depreciation. “Probably not,” he admitted. “But I’ll do what I can. That’s what it means to be a hero, right?” With Izuku’s arm still brushing his, he could feel the boy’s admiration, and it doubled in him and gave rise to a heroic rush he didn’t think he’d felt for years. Still, he waited for the right moment. That was another thing about being a hero; you couldn’t rush in blindly (not with his level of experience, anyway). He watched as the mutant swung his head around, like a cornered animal watching viciously for its enemies, and he could just about guess when it was going to let its guard down. Almost… he thought, his muscles tensing in anticipation. But just as he was about to spring forward, he felt a twinge of panic from Izuku’s side of the connection. It was a spike of recognition. Kacchan!

The roughest of drafts:

Izuku freaks out and runs to try to rescue him and they're all surprised when he actually manages to do some slight damage to the mutant; it's not enough to defeat him, but enough to stun him into dropping Bakugo, at which point Toshi transforms and rushes to finish him off. Tl;dr, turns out that a very tiny amount of Toshi’s power has become available to Izuku. (Make some note of the pain aspect, Toshi feeling Izuku’s pain from using OfA.)

Afterward, when Toshi is talking to reporters (and Izuku has managed to avoid at least a little of the reprimanding from canon, due to appearing to have some power) Izuku can feel the discomfort, Toshi’s power draining. Perhaps he plays the fan, comes to shake his hand as thanks for saving him and they're both a little surprised that it eases the discomfort, seems to give Toshi back a little strength. Izuku had just done it as an instinct, but in light of what had just happened with the power sharing, they're both very curious how this whole soulmate thing is going to work.

Toshi excuses himself from the crowd before too long and goes to find Izuku. He finds him being confronted by Bakugo, who knows that something is strange but doesn't know what (and is upset like in canon about Izuku trying to help him). Toshi tries to stay out of sight until Bakugo runs off, feeling that Izuku is confident enough in his ability to handle this. When they rejoin, Izuku explains who Bakugo is.

“[But enough about that.] Are you okay?”

They join hands. Toshi can feel that Izuku is fine but still he says, “It's you I'm concerned about. Do you know what you did back there?”

“That was your quirk,” he said, and Toshi nodded.

“Some of it, at least. Is your arm okay?”

Izuku stretched his arm out, wiggling his fingers. “It aches a little, but I'm okay. I'm just… I've never done anything like that before. It felt… kind of amazing.”

Toshi could tell that it was a little more than an ache, but that Izuku wasn't lying. It really wasn't hurting him much, and he was really feeling exhilarated. He remembered feeling like that when he first took the quirk himself.

Izuku’s side of the connection was curious and Toshi realized he could feel him thinking about his past. He debated with himself for a minute. Was this the right time to tell Izuku about his past? He would have to tell him some time, and there was no reason to wait. “I felt the same way the first time I used it,” he said. “When my mentor gave it to me. I was about your age.”

The feeling of surprise that Izuku emanated was not as much of a shock as he expected, more of a warm melting feeling, a soft realization. “You were ...quirkless? Someone gave you your quirk? But how?”

Toshi tells the story as they head back to the apartment, but they take a detour to sit somewhere and finish talking. (Way before this, Izuku texts his mom to tell her what happened and that they're fine and they'll be home in a while.) It's gotten dark by the time Toshi has finished telling of Nana and AfO and needing to pass OfA on, and they're sitting on a bench in a corner of a park or something.

“It was just an idea before,” Toshi says, “but now I'm pretty sure it's the right one. Would you be willing to take it? One for All?”

The surprise this time really is a shock, and it nearly knocks the breath out of him. “...Really?”

“You can tell I'm serious,” Toshi says with a smirk, and then he nods. “Yes. Really. It's the only thing that makes sense.”

He thinks of the reasons: he needs to pass it on, and Izuku wants a quirk, needs one to get into UA. And he's defenseless without one, a real danger with them together now. And he's already shown that he can handle it, at least a little.

“Should I think about it?” Izuku asks, looking unsure. He's probably thinking about all the things they talked about with his mother earlier, trying to be careful. But Toshi can tell he really wants it, and that's enough for him.

“If you want,” he says. “Take your time.” He knows that Izuku will say yes. (He's less sure if Inko will agree, but he knows that between the two of them, they can convince her.)

He can feel Izuku trembling, and it's with excitement he thinks. “Thank you,” Izuku says, almost breathlessly, and he leans forward and kisses Toshi, softly and quickly, and then looks him in the eyes for a short moment, twists his body in his direction more and leans in for another kiss. This one is a little deeper, lingering, not obscene but less than entirely chaste and Toshi can feel so so much through it, especially as he allows himself to kiss back. They don't take it far; Toshi can feel that Izuku knows there are boundaries, though Toshi is nervous about himself, unsure if he would be able to keep himself from crossing them, to stop when it was time. He's a bit anxious, but he's glad Izuku is reasonable, and he's excited and he's happy and they're melting into each other even though they've stopped kissing and it is finally Izuku who speaks up to interrupt them getting stuck in their twofold thoughts.

“I should get home. I have to tell my mom about all this. Am I… Can I tell her? About OfA?”

Toshi nods. “It's a big part of all of this. I guess she should know. And that'll give you a chance to talk it over with her. Decide if you want it.”

‘I do want it,’ he could tell Izuku was thinking, although maybe not in so many words. Izuku was trying to be patient and make smart decisions. He was doing his best to be worthy of being Toshi’s soulmate, and Toshi was overcome with affection for him. He hugged him close, and even more than the kissing, that was the most they'd ever felt, the most contact they'd ever made. It was less electric than kissing, but like an overblown, overexposed photo. They stayed there like that for a little while before they silently agreed to get up and go back.

The end of chapter 3, more or less.

Chapter four.

Izuku took a week to act like he was thinking about it, but in truth he'd decided almost immediately, and convinced his mom that it was a good idea (or that she should let him do it at least) on that first night, after Toshi had walked him home and said goodbye.

“Izuku! I saw on the news about that mutant attack! You're really alright? And Toshinori, and Katsuki?”

“We're fine mom! Toshinori saved us. But…” A pause. “With dad, have you ever… accidentally used his quirk before?”

She raised an eyebrow at him, looking a little worried. “I can feel when he's using it, but i've never breathed fire myself.”

Yeah, it wasn't anything he'd ever heard of before. Maybe it was because most people's quirks weren't that strong. Maybe it was because he was quirkless. Maybe… well there were a lot of reasons it could be. It didn't matter that much why; it had happened, and they'd both felt it.

“I used it. All Might’s power. Just a little bit of it.”

“Are you okay?”

He said he was fine, he thought, but Inko was skeptical. She remembered some times when he was younger, when he thought an injury was less serious than it was. She convinced him to go to the doctor tomorrow and he agreed, dismissively as he was so invested in telling her about Toshinori’s offer. She's a bit nervous about the idea but it doesn't take long for her to give in.

At the doctor's tomorrow (maybe only mentioned, not a scene) it turns out that Izuku did in fact fracture a bone in his arm. (Is a cast needed for that? Probably not.)

Later that afternoon, Toshinori texted him and asked if he was okay; his arm felt a little off. Izuku responds casually that it was just a fracture and he's fine, and Toshi fusses over him a little, apologizes for putting him in that situation. Izuku really is not bothered by it. Toshi doesn't ask if Izuku has decided and Izuku wonders if he's changed his mind. A week later, he says that he's decided to take OfA, if he's still offering it, and Toshi says that he'd be happy to give it to him, if he's really sure. But! There's no way Izuku is going to be able to handle it in his current state. They begin to train (though not until Izuku’s fracture heals). In the meantime, Izuku continues school, and Toshi continues work, and they see each roughly every weekend. Sometimes they'll meet out for lunch or sometimes Inko invites Toshi over for dinner.

(Cover some catch up. Mention Suzuki being annoyed about the edits to the paperwork etc)

It's a few weeks before they start to train, but of course it's much less covert than in canon. Inko knows exactly where they're going; Toshi has discussed it with them over dinners and such. He doesn't tell them that his plan is for Izuku to clean up the trash on the beach until they get there though.

The next several months are a more efficient training than canon. After Toshi is pretty sure Izuku has grown strong enough, they try the power-share again, and Izuku is able to start using the very tiny percentage of OfA, sometimes. It works if he's recently been in physical contact with Toshi, and fades after a minute or two. It's not enough to do anything very heroic, but it is a significant boost to Izuku’s natural strength, allowing him to move items several times his normal weight limit.

(They also find that Izuku can actually use a version of OfA that is more than twice as powerful as his tiny version, only if Toshi is currently in contact with him. However, Izuku hurt himself the first time they did that, so they avoid it until much later.)

They still don't have a perfect grasp on Izuku’s ability to handle it by the time they transfer it to him, but it's better than canon, and they do it earlier so he has more chance to practice. He has at least some ability to use it at half-power before the entrance exam (chapter 5). The only reason he hurts himself so badly there is because he freaked out and wasn't careful.

Training is pretty fun for them. It's more like play than in canon, with Izuku showing off, carrying Toshi around, silly stuff like that. He's moderately less concerned about being a hero, mostly because Toshi is so constantly encouraging so he doesn't worry about it. And he knows that even if he doesn't make it somehow, he's still got Toshi and nothing can take that away.

Aside from training, they still spend a good amount of time together. Events and holidays and such. Izuku meets Suzuki. Toshi invites Izuku (and probably Inko) to his place once or twice, though they still spend most of their time out or at the Midoriyas’ apartment. Inko politely requests that they not stay at Toshi’s place. (She isn't /too concerned, but she just wants them to know that she has some kind of expectations about how they'll handle their relationship. She half expects Izuku to go behind her back in some of those regards.)

Izuku has his 15th birthday not long after they start training (might have to look this one up) or thereabouts. He has mixed emotions about this, and about inviting Toshi to his ‘party’ (probably just a fancy-ish dinner with his mother (maybe dad too?) Since he doesn't have any friends). He wants Toshi there, of course, but he's somewhat embarrassed about still being only 15, and doesn't want to draw attention to it. On the other hand, he's also excited to be getting older, closer and closer to the age that it would be appropriate for he and Toshi to act however they liked. (This birthday scene goes in early middle of chapter.)

More holidays: Christmas, new years, Valentine's day. Maybe just slight mentions of those.

Chapter ends when Toshi wishes Izuku luck at the entrance exam. He kisses him and Izuku is a little shocked because Toshi is rarely if ever the one to initiate that sort of thing. He heads to the exam, excited and confident.

Chapter 5.

Toshi heads to UA (potentially along with Izuku), and goes to watch the exam with his fellow teachers. He's met them several times and they know about his injury and resting form, but only Nedzu knows that Izuku is his soul mate. Most of the others are familiar enough with him to know that he doesn't have one, and many assume that he's one of the few who will never have one.

When the exam starts though, they might be able to tell that he is on edge, excited but nervous. However, they are all focused as well. It's not until Izuku smashes the robot (and everyone is shocked) and Toshi reacts to the pain that they notice the connection between them. He's not incapacitated (like Izuku is) but he is distressed and in pain and having to deal with the commotion from the other teachers. (Choose one teacher to perhaps help him out.)

As soon as he's able, he goes to Izuku. (At some point he calls Inko to let her know what's happened, and she's worried and upset and he has to talk her down until she realizes that he's upset too.) In the infirmary, Izuku is knocked out, which Toshi already knew, could tell because the pain subsided very quickly. Chiyo looks up when he comes in, obviously connecting the dots.

“He made quite a mess of himself,” she tells him, pulling up a chair next to Izuku’s bed for him. She tells him the details of what Izuku broke. “But he'll recover.”

“Thank you,” Toshi says, reaching out to carefully run his hands over Izuku’s arm, laying his hand on the side of his face, thinking about if this was a good idea, etc.

Eventually, Izuku wakes up and they talk. A few people might come by in the meantime. Izuku is eventually clear to go home. Toshi takes him. Izuku asks if he passed, knowing that Toshi was there, and all Toshi can say is that he thought he did a good job, but he doesn't know for sure. (He later finds out that Izuku scored quite well, but refrains from telling him, letting Izuku get the letter from the school.)

He gets a phone call from Izuku after the letters have gone out, and he can feel a sense of excitement even before he picks up. Izuku is crying on the other end. “Why didn't you tell me I made it?!” But he is obviously extremely happy.

Out on patrol or something, Toshi can't stop grinning for the rest of the day. When someone asks him, he just says that he's excited for new opportunities.

Chapter 6

Izuku and Toshi both begin at UA. Izuku has already made friends with a few people from the exam, and of course he knows Bakugo. Bakugo is extra suspicious of him, confused about how he's got a quirk suddenly, and knowing that he's been acting strange the whole past year. He might even suspect that they're both related to izuku’s soul mate, considering the timing.

School is, of course, plenty for them to focus on, but izuku and Toshi are still very focused on each other as well. Toshi treats izuku much the same as in canon, inviting him for lunch and etc, “playing favorites”. But since the other teachers know they're soulmates (at least, some do?) they don't criticize him quite as much for it.

Toshi and izuku continue to progress in their relationship, lightly, balancing their personal and professional relationships. They act very casual around each other and have to be careful not to be too casual in front of the class.

Izuku makes friends, which is sort of new for him. He loves them and wants to be open with them about his situation, but he can't. He's thought about telling, but he knows he can't break the rules they set. It's harder when perhaps the rumor (true rumor? What do you call that?) goes around about how he was affected by the soul link pain when he was little. He can easily tell his friends that it's not bad anymore, but it's hard having to pretend he doesn't know who it is. (Also may have to decide about sub-pairings? Otherwise it will be very hard for any of the other students to talk about their experiences. If they had mates in the class (like most ships) they would likely find out very quickly.)

Most people won't immediately assume it's All Might, even if they spend a lot of time together.

Key point: they hone their energy sharing, as Toshi becomes a bit exhausted some days. Simply being in contact for a while (lunch or something) acts as a recharge for him. When the other staff figure this out, they're much more accepting of izuku hanging out in the staff lounge.

(Need to rewatch to see what the first few weeks are like.)

Maybe include some scenes with Inko.

Chapter 7

This is the USJ incident. Toshi gets caught up in work and is late to help at USJ, but less late than in canon because he feels/hears Izuku crying out for him. Don't have to describe most of the USJ events because it's from Toshi POV, but have to decide when he gets there and if it all goes more smoothly.

The way that Toshi and izuku act towards each other (calling by their first names, extreme familiarity and working together) is what starts to tip off some of the students, though it's not relevant at the time.

The encounter is a little easier this time, with the power-share (this is probably the first time they try it out seriously) and the desperation to save each other (and the others) echoing between them.

Any character who takes notice of their bond and quirk in canon is likely to notice the soul link instead.

After the incident, emotions are running high. This was the first time they were honestly scared of losing each other. They want to hold each other for a very long time. Perhaps they are seen by some of the students (who maybe chalk it up to generic relief over the situation, but would definitely file it away for later). Later, they still don't want to let each other go, and perhaps spend their first night together (not necessarily sexual or anything), Inko having not allowed them to do so before.

Emotional wrap-up; they're scared but calmed by each other's presence. They know they can handle the future together.

END? (of this particular story, probably) Brainstorming, notes, and ideas for further fics in the series

And the notes below: (my shorthand for the characters is IM = Izuku Midoriya, AM= All Might, IMmom = Inko (not shorthand in that case I know lol, I think I didn’t want people reading over my shoulder)) >>>"Touch" sequel

A lot of people actually expressed an interest in this, so let me jot down my ideas-- as well as their ideas.

AM and IM have met, and now keep in touch. How has this changed their lives? Well now whenever they feel a strange pain, they'll call or text each other to make sure they're okay. They're both aware of what their relationship would be, if IM was older, and so is his mom, and so is pretty much everyone else that knows. In fact, most people assume that they're 'together' anyway, and it causes some tension. They try to keep it mostly under wraps, but it's nearly impossible. IM's friends and classmates are sure to notice, and AM's manager thinks maybe they should just come out with it. For their part, IM and AM just want to enjoy each others' presence and keep their moral concerns personal. IM is of course more brave (between the two of them), while AM knows he's 'supposed' to refrain. In public, they're both very good about it.

Some time in the future, after they've really adjusted to each other, and the drama (at least from their friends and family) has died down, they take to being heroes together, as they at some point realize how much more receptive they are when they're together/touching.

Questions! :

--Does IM still get OfA? (I'm leaning towards yes? Most of the rest of the story wouldn’t make sense if he didn’t.)

--How do friends/family react? Some people are jealous? BK particularly? IMmom is as supportive as possible, but she still worries for IM. As time goes on, if IM get OfA, she worries for AM too. (What about AM's cop friend?? I dunno, haven't thought about him much.)

--How do media/people react? Manager wants to tell, because he knows people will find out and it's better to come out with it before they do. But AMIM want to stay private. Perhaps at the tournament, it is no longer possible to avoid media attention. Someone notices AM's discomfort when IM fights TS, notices IM look to the stands for AM before doing something reckless. When they find out, it's all anyone wants to talk about. AM's thin form becomes very useful for avoiding the media.

--Perhaps around then, IM is kidnapped to be used against AM?

--When things are calm, AMIM often text each other just to talk-- sometimes in the night. "I miss you" IM texts. "Is that what you were thinking of?" AM asks, aware that IM is awake and wound up, and winding him up too. This is before they've really worked out how things are supposed to go between them. IM is bold; AM is holding himself back.

-- IM goes to UA, begins to use quirk. -- AMIM work harder at managing IM’s abilities than in canon, because its effects are more obvious on them. -- AM starts at UA as a teacher; AMIM have to hide their link. IM has not told anyone. AM had to tell the staff. -- When the villains attack, AM gets there sooner, as he’s tipped off by their link. Things happen about the same. -- (Should I bother to include that part if nothing is significantly different? Leaning towards no. Maybe just touch on it.) -- At the tournament, that’s when people take notice of AMIM’s link. (IM’s friends have already begun to notice.) -- After that, it’s all anybody wants to talk about. AMIM are in the spotlight, though UA tries to protect them. -- The media begins to gossip about them, some piecing the puzzle together about their quirks. Some guess that IM is AM’s son (and has inherited his quirk). (It’s not unheard of for family to be platonic soulmates.) -- Manager makes them come out with an official statement finally, despite their reluctance. -- IM receives many invitations to intern with heroes. For safety’s sake, they turn them all down, except Torino. -- IM goes to train with Torino, covertly, while AM stays behind to deal with the PR mess. -- Things happen about as usual. Maybe only touch on this part as well? Not super relevant to the AU. -- IM thinks about AM during the fight with HK, and AM wants to get to him, knowing something is wrong, but knows he won’t make it in time. (Remember, “Touch” was 3rd person limited-omniscient. POV can be from IM, AM, and other relevant characters.) -- Would AM be allowed to test IM during the midterms? Maybe gloss over that part. Especially towards the end of Season 2, go more vaguely into the ending, to avoid making it obvious that you have no idea what happens after that. XD; Isolate the emotional core of the story (the emotional drama or problem) to solve in the final scenes, even if it avoids canon entirely. That’s preferable, in fact. Points to write, unrelated to canon occurrences: : -- AMIM want to spend a lot of time together, but they must balance their responsibilities. IMmom is pretty understanding and allows them a lot of freedom. -- Manager (needs name) is less understanding, hounds them to release a press statement. -- Most of their time together is spent in private or secluded places. Obvs, they frequent the beach for training. -- They often text and talk to each other on the phone, nightly if they haven’t seen each other. -- AM is still struggling a little bit with the fact that IM is so young, but he’s impressed by IM’s emotional maturity. -- IM is over the moon about AM, not enduring nearly the moral struggle AM is. He’s not an idiot, and he’s not oblivious, but he doesn’t think that there’s anything particularly wrong with them messing around a little. He’s considerate enough not to wind AM up when he’s busy or they’re in public, although sometimes he can’t help how he feels. (Being ‘turned on’ isn’t really strong enough of a feeling to cross the link; only acting on it is.) -- For his part, AM (at first, at least) tries not to touch himself, or at least only when he thinks IM is sleeping. Eventually they come to the conclusion that that’s not working out well-- and the most logical way to handle it, so as not to inconvenience either of them, is to go at the same time/ at set times. -- That is the most AM allows them to do (hugging/cuddling is totally fine, limited kissing is okay), and even that seems like too much to him, but he compromises with himself because he knows it would be worse if he didn’t. (It’s not as if he’s going to convince a 16-year-old to stop touching himself for 2+ years, and though his own urges are less frequent, it’s been uncomfortable trying to hold back entirely.) He doesn’t allow them to touch each other, and IM is actually pretty okay with this. Well, he respects it, at least. He’s just happy to have AM in whatever capacity he can. Some notes regarding the universe: -- laws regarding consent ages are a bit more lax, given the soulmate thing. AMIM would be more-or-less within their right to do whatever they want with each other, as long as IMmom is okay with it. And even if she weren’t, they could apply to be married, even at IM’s young age, by passing a test that proves they’re soulmates.(I don't think they'll do this. Manager would have a heart attack. ...then again, maybe he'd like the idea…) -- however, there is still certainly a stigma about age-difference relationships, particularly where one party is underage.

Story 1 plot points to mention our resolve:

-- telling IM that his mom already knew

-- AM coming to terms with IM being a fan

-- AM telling IM his real name

-- AM telling manager about IM immediately. (Might be a good point to start with.)

To time skip or not to time skip? I'm leaning towards not. New outline, after I've written a bit.

1. AM talks to manager, Suzuki, and tells him about the whole situation, almost entirely honest. They decide to keep it a secret until AM has a successor. (AM POV)

2. AMIM go on a date, where they talk about both applying to UA. IM wonders what AM is not telling him. They hold hands. AM brings up the paperwork Suzuki wants them to sign, and IM agrees. (IM POV)

3. AM sees something that convinces him to offer OFA to IM. (AM POV)

4. IM begins to train for OfA. (IM POV)

5. IM goes to UA entrance exam. (AM POV)

6. They begin at UA, and try to figure out how to act around each other, after they've had so much private time over the past months. (IM POV)

7. The villains attack UA, AMIM touch-team to beat them, and people start to really put their relationship together. (AM POV)

END S1. Ugh how did this get so long that I have to separate it by season?!

Touch2 titles:

Some related words: Touch, feel, sense, sensation, emotion, Touch, touched, touching, touches, touchstone, touch-tone, aftertouch, finishing touch, retouch, out of touch, in touch, untouched, Touched can mean: physically touched (he touched my arm), lightly mentioned (he touched upon the issue), emotionally moved (he was touched by the story), brought together metaphorically (their lives touched), affected (his life was touched by his decisions) Touch, taste, smell, see, hear

Leaning towards using other ‘touch’ words for different parts of overall story.

Touch - original story

Retouch(ed) - this story

Touch-up - maybe the next part

Finishing touch - the last story (though there might be another in between)

Untouchable - first nsfw side story, before izuku is of age, on the phone with each other, feeling the echoes of their actions.

Untouched - second nsfw side story, when izuku comes of age and they finally get together physically.

Aftertouch - epilogue (years in future, maybe, working together)

In touch - side stories taking place in the timeline of the story

Out of touch - side stories taking place before or after story, or from different character's point of view or about different characters.

Chapter quotes: Every action of our lives touches on some chord that will vibrate in eternity.

-Edwin Hubbell Chapin (Chapter 1, Retouch) The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched - they must be felt with the heart.

-Helen Keller The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: a human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive. To him, a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create - so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating.

-Pearl Buck Aim for your star, no matter how far, you must reach high above and touch your life with love, you must never look back, but charge on! Attack! See your goal your star of desire, see it red hot, feel it burning, you must be obsessed with it to make it your true yearning, be ready my friends for when you truly believe it, you will certainly achieve it and by all of God’s universal laws you will always receive it!

-Bob Smith We do not do well except when we know where the best is and when we are assured that we have touched it and hold its power within us. (lol god this one is awfully literal)

-Joseph Joubert If you can learn from hard knocks, you can also learn from soft touches.

-Carolyn Kenmore, Mannequin: My Life as a Model When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.

-Henri Nouwen And that’s everything I’ve got about Touch/Retouch! I might clean up that third chapter and post it some day, but *shrug*.

#elo fics #Dekumight #long post

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