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#they would not know how to pronounce lab coat

arttsuka · 7 months

Note

ok but what if: spock was the marine biologist and mccoy and kirk were the mermen 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

They'd be goldfish (normal mermaid species idk)

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starneteyam · 1 year

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i absolutely love your writing so much, i always enjoy reading your works 🫶🏻. do you think you could do an established relationship!neteyam x reader drabble where the reader gets kidnapped bu quaritch and his men and neteyam gets on protective bf mode when he finds out and saves the reader (like that one scene with neteyam and his bow and arrow). and when him and the reader reunite neteyam's frantic to make sure reader's okay and they just shut him up by tightly clinging onto him to which he holds them just as tight, just a fluffy and intimate ending 💗💗 thank you!!

KIDNAPPED ★

🖇️ char. Neteyam x Omaticayan! Fem! Reader

🖇️ warn. Mental torture, kidnapping, angst

🎥 In which you get kidnapped by Quatrich, and Neteyam is desperate to get you back

A/N I literally wrote this whole thing but when I saved it as a draft, it got deleted 😭😭 It’s a little angsty tbh, hope you like it!!

Everything happened so quickly. One minute, you were roaming the forest with Lo’ak, Kiri, Tuk, and Spider, and the next, you were being suffocated in the arms of an avatar. When you woke up, you were in a room you didn’t recognize, the white walls and white lights blinding you. You tried to get up, but realized you were bounded to a metal chair, with green panels surrounding you. “You’re awake.” You heard, the female voice echoing throughout the room.

You looked around as you eyes adjusted to the lighting, and was able to now see the Sky People surrounding you, all in lab coats or military clothing. As you had started to recall the events, you grit your teeth, trying to force yourself out of the metal binds. You hissed at them, baring your teeth and showing zero compliance. “Hey, hey now.” Quatrich said, walking over to you. Your free tail whipped towards him and smacked him, and he stepped back.

“Don’t make this hard, girlie. It’s either you tell us where Jake Sully is, and take the easy way, or you don’t, and you die.” He said menacingly, but you didn’t waver, hissing at him once more. For Neteyam, you would die in this chair, and so would your secrets.

Neteyam felt the same about you. Though, he was able to save his siblings, he couldn’t help but notice that Spider and you were gone. He grabbed Lo’ak by the shoulders. “Where’s my mate, Lo’ak?” He asked desperately, and Lo’ak ears pressed flat against his head. “They took her.” Kiri answered for him, her voice cracking as she said so. She looked at her dad with tear filled eyes. “Spider, too. They took them!” She weeped, and Neteyam could hear his heart breaking in his ears.

His breaths became patterned, his tail swinging wildly, ears flickering to show that he was currently in a spin of emotions. He was alarmed and confused, and scared. Just a few days ago, you had become his mate officially, and yet, here you were, out of reach and in the hands of danger. Neytiri hugged her son tightly, reassuring him. “She is the next Tsahik, she is closer to Eywa than any of us. She will be protected.” She tried to comfort him, but all Neteyam could think about was you.

The Sullys had moved to Awa’atlu, and Neteyam didn’t know what to do. He was opposed to leaving the forest, at first; of leaving you, but he had no choice. He didn’t know if you were dead or alive, or if he would ever see you again. He so desperately missed your touch, and the way you would look at him with nothing but love, or how you would mumble his name and pronounce each syllable properly.

Ne-te-yam.

Calmly and with that soft voice of yours. He missed you.

You had been on the ship with the Sky People, locked in a room and only taken out for interrogation because you opposed to complying at all. Spider, as you heard was kidnapped with you, was complying with them. You didn’t know the full story because you were in a cell the whole time, but you couldn’t help but feel disappointed of him.

Weeks had passed, and you didn’t know if it was because you were starving, but the air had started to smell like saltwater. You face was covered in dried blood from constant nosebleeds during interrogation. The machine they used on you worked very slowly because you were Na’vi, and had a different brain structure — you were too advanced for the machine to figure you out. You had bruises from low iron deficiency, you would constantly throw up from the little food they fed you, and you could barely stand from how drained you were, both mentally and physically.

You begged them to let you go, that they were just wasting their time and that Spider would help them anyways — but they didn’t. You just wanted to be back in Neteyam’s safe arms, but you knew that the only ticket out of this hellhole was by leaking everything; and you would rather die than do that, so you stayed silent and shoved your selfishness down.

You knew something was happening the second the ship you were in rocked heavily, as if it had run into something. Then, gunfire. You didn’t know wether to feel relieved or horrified. Were you being attacked or rescued? Staying silent as you listened to the muffled screams and gunfire, being swayed violently, and then, metal cracking apart.

You heart dropped to the bottom of your stomach as you realized that the ship was sinking. Every nerve in your body was panicking as you slammed your shoulder against the heavy metal door, banging on it and begging somebody to open. “Please! Somebody!” Your heart only started pounding harder when the tiny vent on the floor started flooding with water, rising quickly.

Neteyam jumped out of the sea, his eyes locked on Lo’ak, Tuk, and Tsireya, who were tied up on the ship. “Neteyam!” Tuk called, relieved to see her brother. “Ma Neteyam,” Tsireya called as he started cutting Tuk’s binds, “The dreamwalkers were talking about a Na’vi girl, saying she is locked downstairs.” Neteyam’s ears pressed flat against his head as he immediately recognized who she was talking about. “Thank you. Get Tuk out of here.” He ordered.

“Bro, hurry up!” Lo’ak ushered. “You go get Spider.” He told his little brother as he cut his binds, before rushing towards the stairs. “Bro! Where’re you going?” Lo’ak yelled. “To get her!” His heart was pounding in his ears, and every nerve was spiraling through his body. Knowing that you were there, alive, made his throat tighten. He missed you, and all these months, knowing that you were stuck in that small room made him want to beat himself up.

He ran through the halls, water at ankle level as the red lights from the alarms nearly blinded him. Water splashed violently as he ran from door to door, opening each one but not being able to find you. He entered an open space, seeing multiple electrical instruments and a chair with metal binds, and his heart dropped when he saw dried blood on it. He entered a different hallway, and his ears perched when he heard faint echoed bangs of a metal door.

His breaths were heavy as he arrived at the door, seeing that there was no handle and only an electrical panel that seemed to be a lock for the door. He grabbed his bow with both hands, before smashing the end of it on the electrical panel, continuously bashing it until it popped and sizzled, eventually falling off. The door cracked open, a body falling on the floor as if it had been leaning against it. His pupils dilated as he looked at you for the first time in forever.

You looked up at him, your lips parting open as you gasped. “Ma Neteyam.” You whispered.

Ne-te-yam.

It was really you. He fell on his knees as he took no time embracing you, a hand cupping the back of your head as he closed his eyes, breathing heavily as he felt you fit into his body like the puzzle piece that had been missing. You barely had the strength to hug him back, body limp against him as you leaned into him. He pulled away, both hands cupping your face as he quickly scanned you.

His eyebrows furrowed after seeing the dried blood covering your face, along with the tiny cuts and bruises. “What have they done to you, my love?” He mumbled, voice wavering. “Neteyam.” You could only say, tears welling your eyes. You only now realized how much you had longed to see him. “Are you alright? What- What did they do?” He frantically asked, searching your body. He was taken aback when you suddenly hugged him once more.

“I missed you, Neteyam.” You ignored his questions, and he dismissed his own, burying his face into your shoulder. “I missed you more. Don’t ever leave my side.” He whispered.

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starlitmark · 3 months

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Summary: You work at an alien intelligence subset of the government. You were asking to get abducted… you’re just getting an in-depth look at extraterrestrial life. Pairing: Alien!Keven x fem human!reader Tropes: supernatural au Genre: smut Rating: R 18+ Warnings: aliens, nonhuman Kevin Smut Warnings: fingering but with a tentacle, clitoral stimulation, breast play Word Count: 1,605 Host Tags: @sanjoongie @thelargefrye Before You Interact February Filth Masterlist

Listen to ♡ E.T. by Katy Perry

“There’s no way we just made contact…” Your coworker gasps.

You snap your head around, “We what?”

“We made contact! That UFO we spotted out by Saturn, we made contact!”

He starts scrambling around the room to scribble down wherever he can and runs out the door. He doesn’t even tell you where he’s going. You can only assume that he’s going to find your superiors to report the finding. You’re left with no answers as your coworker makes a mad dash for the door. Furrowing your eyebrows together, you walk towards the monitor that he had left open. The screen shows a rather blurry photo of the ship. From what you can tell, it’s enormous. Almost as if it could house an entire community. Just as you go to pull up the transmission you got from the ship. A bright beam of light blue surrounds you. Your heart rate spikes out of fear. You don’t know what’s happening or why. One moment, you’re standing in the lab, then next, you’re standing in what seems to be a command center. You stand out like a sore thumb in the space. Your messy bun, with safety goggles on the top of your head, your stark white lab coat, and blue gloves stand out in the dark space.

“Welcome to space,” a voice calls, “We’re orbiting Saturn right now. Of course, you already knew that.”

“Who are you?” You question.

The creature turns around. His upper half looks human-esque. His hair is split horizontally. The top half of it is a stark white color, and the underneath is entirely the opposite. The color is so dark it nearly rivals the void outside the ship. His eyes are a golden color you’ve never seen before. It’s almost as if the color swirls around his wide pupils. As your eyes take in his form fully, you notice that his lower half is tentacles. It almost reminds you of the half-human, half-sea creature beings that you were told about in fairytales as a child. He stalks closer to you. The tentacles move as if they’re human legs but also move like an octopus’s tentacles as well. He doesn't have suction cups like a sea creature typically has, but you’re still fascinated by the deep purple appendages.

He stops not but a foot from you. One of his tentacles barely touches your boot as he analyzes you. You feel small under his gaze, but you still love every moment of the feeling. It takes everything in you not to reach out and figure out exactly what he’s like. Your mind’s scientific nature begs you to analyze him just the way he’s analyzing you. Before you can reach out to get a feel of his physical form, he reaches out to touch you first. His hand is the same as a human's. His hand comes up under your chin, tipping your chin up. He has his chin tilted up, looking down his nose at you. Turning your head side to side, he lets out a slight hum.

“Maybe I should be asking you that.” He says, “Your lab is the one who sent us a transmission first.”

You let out a shaky breath, “It wasn’t me specifically.”

“Still your lab, no?”

“Yes.”

He hums again, “You would never be able to pronounce my name. How about I find a human name for you to call me.”

“Which would be?”

The alien drops his hand from your chin. He moves and crosses his arms across his body as he thinks. He looks around the otherwise empty space. His golden eyes glow under the lights of the room.

“How about Kevin?” He finally says.

You try to stifle a giggle, “Of all human names you could’ve chosen, you chose Kevin?” A snarl-like sound escapes his throat, “Is there an issue with that?”

A fire burns beneath his eyes as he questions you. You feel a shiver run through your body and center in your core.

“Nothing’s funny! I like it. I was just shocked you chose that over a more unique one!”

Kevin smirked, “You want to analyze my species so badly. Why don’t we both get a nice close encounter with each other, hmm?”

All you can do is nod and let him walk around you. You assume he wants you to follow, so you do. You take in your surroundings. The ship is nearly entirely composed of dark silver metal. There are bright white strips of light that follow down the pathway. You can’t be sure if they’re lights like at home or if there is some sort of other technology humans have yet to discover.

Kevin guides you further down this seemingly never-ending hall until you stop in front of what seems to be just part of the wall. The alien knocks a unique pattern, and a doorknob appears. Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head with the notion of his species’ technological advances. Humans could never come close to what they’ve accomplished already. Pushing the door open, Keven gestures for you to step inside before him. Once you’re inside the room, Kevin pulls the door shut again. You watch as the door disappears and becomes nothing more than the wall again. Taking in this new environment, you notice it’s similar to a bedroom you’d see on Earth. It feels like a safe space for someone to relax and be themselves. There’s some sort of digital pad with a three-dimensional hologram half-drawn floating above it. Kevin moves toward it and taps a few things before the device goes black and sinks into a space on the surface.

“On the bed.” He states, “I want a close look at what you human women look like.”

You turn to locate the bed before sitting down on it, “Most women aren’t in my career field, and I’m not exactly dressed how I’d wish to be for this kind of encounter.”

He nods, “You humans put such a president on appearance… it’s a shame.”

“Well, humans are naturally drawn toward pretty things. Pretty is subjective.”

Kevin nods again and undoes his outfit, letting it fall away from his body. You just mentioned that humans are naturally drawn to aesthetics. Now, you couldn’t be more right. Kevin’s human-like upper half is well-sculpted. He’s toned but not too bulky in any way. He’s like a walking wet dream. You subtly rub your thighs together, hoping Kevin doesn’t notice. His golden eyes immediately dart to the movement, though.

“Do humans get pleasure from that? Rubbing the upper portions of their legs together?”

“Not well, but, um, it does help a little sometimes.”

“Is it helping now?” The alien questions further.

You shake your head, “Not at all.”

Kevin’s golden eyes swirl with some unknown green flecks. He stares at you for a few moments. Then, your body feels bare. Not a single bit of clothing is on your body. You look around the room, and the clothing is nowhere to be seen. Kevin steps closer and notices the sheen of arousal coating your lower lips. Your eyes are blown wide with desperation as you notice his tentacles shifting as he calculates his next move.

“Is this how humans show their arousal? Do all humans’ genitalia grow wet? Is it always this wet? And these,” he brings a tentacle to toy with your nipple, causing you to moan, “These feed your young. Why are they erect?”

“C-can’t I answer your questions later? I need something inside me!”

Kevin brings another dark purple tentacle to wrap around your thigh and push it so that your cunt is exposed to him properly. Another moves to gently rub along the edge of your entrance. His eyes are fixated on your wet core. The appendage pushes into you, and you let out a loud moan. You deduce that he must have some sort of telepathic knowledge of what you want next, or it’s simple curiosity, but he starts thrusting the tentacle into you while a third, much smaller one, fixates on your clit. The first one continues to play with your chest. The entire experience is too much to process at once.

You fall back against the bed and spread your legs further apart as he starts to thrust the tentacle into you harder and faster. The smaller one focused on your clit starts to rub the bud quicker and harder as well. Just as you go to warn him of your impending orgasm, it shocks its way through your system. You shake and convulse on the bed as he continues to toy with your body. His eyes are full of perverted fascination as you moan nonsense in any language known to either of you.

When you pant, catching your breath, as you come down from your high, Kevin pulls his tentacles off of your body and comes closer to your sensitive core. His breath puffs against your wet folds, making you both desperate for more, and you hope he lets you have a small break to recuperate.

“I’ve done some research on you humans.” He starts, “What I found was that nearly 60% of females don’t find true pleasure in these activities. Even more, don’t react the way your body just did. Did I do something special, or are you one of the rare females that can react this way?”

You gasp when he runs his finger through some of your arousal, “You definitely worked some magic with those tentacles.”

“Wanna see what else these tentacles can do?” He asks with a suggestive lilt, “You haven’t finished your close encounter yet?”

Networks: @deoboyznet @monsterfvckersunited @cultofdionysusnet @kwritersworld @k-vanity

Tag List: @bratty-tingz @yeosangiess @minjaeluver @abbietwilight @wooyoungmybelovedhusband

#the boyz kevin smut #kevin smut #deoboyznet #mfu net #cultofdionysusnet #kwritersworldnet #kvanity #joongfryefff24 #the boyz fanfic #the boyz x reader #the boyz smut #kevin fanfic #kevin x reader #the boyz kevin fanfic #the boyz kevin x reader #kevin moon fanfic #kevin moon x reader #kevin moon smut

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perfectprofessorloverapricot · 7 months

Text

•|A not so stolen youth|•

Stranger things / Prologue

Summary: Everything in life seemed limited to walls of whites and rainbows. Caged within the confines of the lab. But an accident that involved a group of teenagers and the upside down world finally let him free. In a funny turn of events he found himself hiding in a step sibling's shed. A redhead that loves video games and a blond that spends his time making sure to keep his good looks.

Character: Male child OC

Warnings: Possible to descriptive scenes, child abuse, use of drugs and bad language.

A/N: I ask you to take into account that I lack experience writing in English and there'll be some grammatical mistakes.

Masterlist - Next part

Tic

Tac

Tic

Tac

Tic

Tac

Sounded the clock in the wall. The most pronounced sound in the room of four withe walls.

The breath of the little boy seating in the chair came erratic. His whole attention was directed to the can in the table in front of him. Nothing more.

He didn’t pay attention to the man in a lab coat in the corner or how his nose stared to bleed due to the exertion. All he wanted to do was crush the empty can in front of him. Maybe move it an inch at least, but nothing happened.

Giving up, the boy let out a breath he has been holding since an amount of time he can’t deduce.

His eyes opened wide while fear stared crawling in all his body. The can didn’t change nor move an inch. That wasn’t good news.

He looked at the man in the corner, his arms were crossed and an expressionless façade was kept in his face. Oh, but that disappointment and annoyance was more than evident in his eyes.

The result of his failure was being dragged by the arms by two guards while he screamed for his father.

“Papa. No please.” He begged in distress. He knew what was about to come and he didn’t like it. “Please. I can do it.” Pleaded the 7 years old boy. Tears cascading from his beautiful blue eyes with pain. Not physical pain.

At the end of the corridor he was, almost, through inside a dark room. Instantly backing up until his back was against a wall. His knees lifted to his chest.

A shiver ran down his spine at the sight before him. The man he knows as his father holding the door at the entrance, looking at him with disappointment. “P-Papa.” He whispered.

The man’s expression changed to one of pain. Real or fake, he didn’t know. “This is for your own good thirteen.” Said the man. “I promise this will change.” The man grabbed the heavy door with force closing it even when the boys cries grew louder.

“No papa. Please. Don’t leave me.”

His pleads were futile. The man didn’t listen. He would never.

The darkness grew and grew until finally.

Clank.

The boy woke up startled and panting.

It happened again. He’s been out of the lab for almost a year now but the memories of what happens in there kept coming every night. Almost like a reminder that he’ll never be actually free.

He checked his surroundings, making sure that everything was in its place.

After running away from the lab during the chaos he found himself living in the junkyard of the city. Too afraid to go to far but staying in a place secluded enough to not be found. He has had to hide in other places sometimes because the teens of the neighborhood decide it’s a good place to hang out.

But luck is in his side.

At the moment.

He hasn’t been disturbed in almost a month and had manage to steal food without being noticed.

Talking about it. The kid of now 10 years old got out of the least wreaked car that has worked as his hiding place, patting the dust of his oversized hoodie. One that he may or may not have stolen. Just like his pants.

And shoes.

Either way.

He was ready to start another day.

He sat crisscross and happily munching on a bag of cereal at the back side of one of the stores in the town. One of his favorites.

The guy at the counter spends most of his time with weird things covering his ears and that seemed to nullify any sound on his surroundings. His eyes were occupied by a weird book with drawings in it.

It was so easy to stay outside and use his psychokinetic powers to sneak products out the store. The guy still haven’t found out.

He sniffed the boogers produced by the cold weather and passed the back side of his hand under his nose, cleaning the almost dried blood that he forgot to clean. It was getting colder and colder each day and the thin material of his hoodie wasn’t enough any more. And he has a slight idea of where he could hide.

Satisfied with his meal he rolled the wrap to save the remaining for later. It could be his dinner, because he woke up late it became his brunch.

He stud up ready for the journey. He made sure to stay away from de preying eyes of the curious people. Always keeping himself between the trees to make it easy to hide.

It took him some hours, already in the afternoon, to reach the neighborhood he was looking for, but finally his efforts weren’t in vain.

He let out a sigh once he identified the house. The house that has been unused for the months he’s been out of the lab. But the main house wasn’t his goal. His attention was in the small house on the back. The shed.

He doesn’t understand the purpose of a smaller house behind the big house but he wasn’t complaining. It was small and made of wood. Perfect refuge for the cold weather, just like last year.

He grabbed the handle of the door and pulled. He froze. It wasn’t empty like last year. It was loaded with boxes filled to the brim. This wasn’t part of his plans.

He took cautious steps inside, ready to use his powers in case. But when he entered, walking around some boxes to avoid falling he found nothing more.

He let his shoulders relax and decided to inspect the content of the boxes.

Curiously, most of it were metal scraps or what looked like metal scraps for him, some wooden furnitures and clothing fabrics. Not something he would expect to find in a place like that but he could put it to good use.

He turned, ready to go back to the junkyard and eliminate all evidence of his stay in the place, but he end up tripping with a metal pole which caused him and some boxes to fall and creat a ruckus in the small place.

A certain redhead that was formerly enjoying the peace and quiet on her new house, no parents, no annoying brother nor his noisy music coming from his bedroom, it was disturbed when she heard the commotion coming from behind the house.

“Ugh, not again.” Grunted the teenage.

She and her family have been in the house for only 3 days and that was the second time she has to take care of the raccoon.

She left her skate board, that she was formerly painting, and took the bat in the closet. Ready to kick some raccoons ass.

She frowned when she got close to the shed and the noise increased. It must be something really big to cause that noise. She tightened her hold in the bat, just in case.

The door was slightly ajar, letting the light of the outside enter.

The teen grabbed the door with caution and with a quick move, she opened it.

She froze in her place when she saw someone squeak in fright and crawl backwards until their back was against the wall.

“What the-“ she exclaimed.

It was a kid.

A really frightened kid. She could see it clear as the sky those big eyes looking at her like expecting to be beaten to death or something like that.

“Ammm” she started, unsure of what she should say. “Hello?”

The boy kept quiet, the only evident movement was the blinking. He even seemed like holding his breath.

Feeling bad for scaring him like that she lowered the bat and left it leaning in the door frame to show that she didn’t mean harm.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” She reassured, but the kids demeanor didn’t change. “What’s your name?”

Once again the kid kept quiet. Obviously she wasn’t doing a good at appearing not threatening or the kid was to distrustful.

“Are you lost? I could… call someone if you like.” she recommended, but the fright in his eyes rose considerably.

“No, please. No.” He begged, stopping her before she could go back to the house. “Bad people can hear.”

The teenage blinked a few times. Bad people? Was the kid just playing hide and seek?

“Bad people?” She asked for confirmation.

Thirteen nodded once. “Papa.”

The redhead opened her eyes wide. She prays she misunderstood. Did that mean the kid was hurt by his dad? It’s not that imposible since she sees it happen in front of her every once in a a while in her own house so she could understand the fear.

“It’s okay. I’m not going to call anyone.” She reassured squatting in front of him to make herself look less threatening. And for a moment, she saw something other than fear in his eyes. “I’m max. What’s your name?”

The boy opened and closed his mouth, still doubting if he should give more information. But if she actually planed to hurt him she would have already done it, no?

“I’m thirteen.” He said in a small voice.

Max tilted her head. That wasn’t something she was expecting. “Thirteen? Like the number?” She asked again for confirmation, getting another nod from the kid. She bit her bottom lip in doubt. She needed more information to know what to do, but she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. “Thirteen…” she got his attention. “Are you hiding from your father?”

The kid lowered his head in slight embarrassment. That sound like he was a bad kid. But he end up nodding too while playing with his fingers and the sleeves of the oversized hoodie in an attempt to make himself less nervous.

Max noticed the discomfort in the kid and tried to better change the subject. Unconsciously she made a decision. She’ll help the kid the way no one helped her brother. “Hey, do you like comics?” She asked lightheartedly.

The kid looked up at her, not knowing what a comic was. “Comics?” He said.

Max nodded. “Yeah, like books with drawings that help tell the story.” She noticed the way the kids expression was filled with more confusion instead of the contrary. “You don’t know what a comic is?” The boy shook his head.

She stood up, kind of exited to show her new comics. “Okay. Wait here. I’ll be back.” She walked slowly backwards but once she was outside she ran to her room, leaving the kid blinking at her.

He has been worried for a whole year that the bad people might find him, the first posibilite that always came to his mind once he made contact with someone was that he was going to be sent back to the lab straightaway. Not this.

But she looked kind, unlike the people in the lab. Her long read hair and her smile with crooked teeth made a comforting combination. Maybe the reason he didn’t disappear once she left him in there was because he believed her. Or maybe it was just because he was tired of hiding.

Whatever it was. He didn’t expect what this meeting would unleash for the future.

#x male reader #x male oc #x child reader #stranger things x male reader #stranger things #billy hargrove #max mayfield #eleven hopper #jim hopper #hawkins #steve harrington

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cheeriecherrymain · 1 year

Note

Here’s my request for headcanons: Viktor during Halloween!

I'm very sorry it gets a little bit saucy at the end

---

Viktor x Reader - Halloween Edition

---

-Halloween is different between Piltover and its undercity. Topside is where you’ll find fancy costume balls, exquisite clothing and intricate masks, and little groups of children wandering around between shops in search of free candy.

-Zaun is where you’ll find…creepier things, in a sense. The traditions are kind of similar, but with such a distinct gap in wealth, they’re bound to be executed differently.

-The costumes are all handmade, for those who can afford it. Hand-painted paper mache masks, often made by the kids who wear them, brightly coloured and worn above some kind of dark cloak. Like some kind of strange floating head.

-But you’ll only find children looking for candy in the better parts of the city. Most of the people outside those areas couldn’t afford to be giving things away for free, anyways.

-Keeping all this in mind, you know that your beloved boyfriend had never really experienced the true joy of getting dressed up in a fancy costume, and wandering around until he had more sweets than he knew what to do with.

-You sincerely doubt he’d find joy in doing such a thing now: his work kept him busy, and his lack of inclination towards crowds would mean he wasn’t interested in attending a party. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t try.

-You head over to the lab at an obscene time of day - so early that the sun wouldn’t be up for another couple of hours. You weren’t a morning person in the slightest, but you knew that this was the only time of day where you could guarantee Viktor wouldn’t be present.

-And so you spend another couple hours decorating. It’s nothing fancy; mostly little strings of festive shapes that you’ve cut out of paper, tiny hanging lanterns that flicker with faux candles in them.

-You even take the time to hand-paint designs all over the window glass, so the sun casts interesting shadows across the room.

-And of course, you make sure to do everything in such a way so that the lab is still entirely usable. Nothing in the way of experiments or tools, nothing blocking doorways or the lamps on the desks.

-Proud of your work, you decide to reward yourself by curling up on the old couch shoved into the corner of the lab, for occasions where either Jayce or Viktor decide that going home isn’t worth the trouble (a less common occurrence nowadays, thankfully)

-What you don’t expect is to wake up many hours later than intended. What had been planned as a quick nap had apparently quickly become a longer snooze, leaving you frazzled and confused when you open your eyes.

-The couch has left imprints in your skin, wrinkles which dictate how well you actually managed to sleep. Even more lovely is Viktor’s coat, thick wool with a soft lining, laid comfortably over your upper body to keep you warm.

-Neither scientist notices you wake up, too engrossed in their own tasks. It gives you a moment to look around the room and observe them for a bit.

-Well, you mostly observe your boyfriend.

-Watching quietly while he writes his messy notes, his lips pressed together in a thin, pensive line. The little crease at the corner of his eye, more pronounced when he squints while he thinks, undoubtedly going over one of the problems the duo have been facing throughout the week.

-It warms your heart.

-And then, with a little thrill, do you notice that thing.

-The thing you had mostly bought as a joke. That you would have worn all day, had Viktor refused.

-A cat-eared headband.

-It’s subtle, made of black felt and wire, but it’s there. Set perfectly on top of his head.

-You can’t help the mirthful giggle that bubbles past your lips, alerting your boyfriend to your status. He glances over to you with a smile, slowly rising out of his seat to come over to you, stretching along the way.

- “You’ve nearly missed lunch,” he says, finding a seat beside you on the couch. You roll into a sitting position, pressed right up against him, and quickly lean towards him to steal a kiss.

- “I didn’t expect to sleep so long,” you admit. “I guess I was more tired than I thought I was.”

- “Yes, sneaking into the lab in the wee hours of the morning just to decorate would probably do that,” he chastises you, though there’s no real malice or disapproval in his tone.

-You smile at him, stealing one last kiss before reaching up to nudge the ears atop his head. “I didn’t think you’d even consider wearing these,” you tell him, straightening them by a fraction. “I thought for sure they’d be too childish for you.”

-He presses his lips to your cheek a couple of times, until you snort and try to squirm away. “I never got to wear such a thing growing up. I figured I might as well try it out now.”

-You stare up at him, fondly going over each of his features, your heart growing warmer with each you pass. Until your gaze inevitably ends up back at the ears.

- “They suit you, in any case,” you smile.

-And then, all at once, your boyfriend’s expression goes from light and happy, to troublesome and mischievous. Something you’ve seen him wear far too many times, almost always preceding some kind of nonsense prank. Usually at Jayce’s expense.

-Or yours.

-He tilts his face down, his lips brushing against the curve of your jaw, all the way to the spot just below your ear.

- “They’ll suit you even better,” he murmurs lowly, his breath tickling your skin. “If you’ll wear them for me tonight, micinka?”

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader #viktor headcanons #arcane headcanons #requests are open!

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microwave-core · 1 year

Text

Unravel

Geeta x Fem!Reader

Both you and Geeta are incredibly busy people, and so you have to cherish all of your time together. Even a simple car ride to a fancy restaurant can mean the world when spending it with someone you cherish.

A fancy dinner date was still just a dinner date, right? You’ve gone to obnoxiously expensive restaurants, the kind where you can barely pronounce anything on the menu, on several occasions, but you still always feel nervous when getting ready for them.

You’ve done and undone your makeup a few times, afraid that your lipstick might be a bit too smudged or your eyeliner was obviously uneven. You’ve wrestled with your hair to fix into the fanciest yet easiest style you could get away with. You’ve pulled out nearly half of your wardrobe just to find the perfect outfit. And you were doing it knowing it was an overreaction, but appearances are important to keep up, especially when you’re going out with La Primera.

Not to say that you were a completely unknown figure yourself. On the contrary. Being a professor means at least an entire region will know your face and your work. And unlike certain professors, one’s that just so happen to work for your dearly beloved wife, you make sure you're always presentable.

An ironic thing, truly. Everyone seems to look up to professors like they’re incredibly professional and serious figures. But many, including yourself, tend to unravel behind closed doors. When your pristine lab coat is hung up, you’ll be sporting loose and comfy clothes. Not to mention that you’re all just a bunch of nerds in general.

(Lab coats themselves have always been a chore for you. You work with wild Pokemon on a daily basis, and so your clothes are bound to get ripped and dirtied. Not a month has gone by where you haven’t needed to buy a new one.)

Regardless, you spend an incredible amount of time looking as sleek and elegant as possible before walking out the door to meet with Geeta. She’s waiting for you in her own car out front. Typically she’ll send you a taxi to meet up with her, or she’ll be in said taxi to ride with you, but sometimes she opts to drive herself. She deals with countless people on a daily basis, sometimes she just needs a little time to herself, and sometimes she needs a little time with you alone.

“There you are, tesoro, I thought you would never come out.”

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting… I just wanted to look good for you.” Your statement, and the small laugh that followed, come out much more sheepish than intended.

“Nonsense, you could never keep me waiting for too long, especially if it means you’ll look so stunning.” Her smile is full of admiration, but she’s obviously tired. Undoubtedly, her day has been long, but she would never drop your date nights because of that, not when they already get canceled so often due to her busy schedule.

“So… where are we going?”

“That would spoil the surprise, dear. You’ll see when we get there.”

“You say that like I would recognize the place to begin with...” She laughs.

You’ll never understand how people can look at Geeta and think she’s cold or brutal. She’s a hard worker, and she expects her employees (mainly the gym leaders) to work just as hard as her, but she’s no evil CEO trying to ruin the lives of those around her for her own gain.

Geeta is the most supportive person in your life. She’s been there every step of the way, always there when you were going through school to become a professor. And while she often can’t be there physically, she’ll always be supporting you from afar, making sure your research is coming along well and making sure you have the most up-to-date equipment and keeping your closet full of fresh and clean lab coats.

And when she thinks you're working too hard-an ironic statement coming from her-she’ll make you appointments at the local spa and send you gifts to help you unwind after a long day. And when you complain about her hypocrisy, making sure you don’t strain yourself because of work while never taking breaks herself, she’ll simply tell you that your relaxation alone gives her peace of mind.

You're brought back to reality when you hear your name rolling off her tongue. You weren’t even aware that you spaced out to begin with.

“You seem lost in thought. What ever could be distracting you?”

“You, actually.”

“Why aren’t you sweet? And here I was thinking about work.”

“Come on, Geeta. I thought we agreed to not think about work on dates.”

“Oh, trust me, tesoro. I don’t want to be thinking about it.” Her tone is suddenly bitter. Geeta is always careful with her public appearance. She has to be. But if allowed to openly complain, without filters, she will not hold back.

“Aww, bad day? We can stay at home if you're not feeling up to tonight.”

“No, no. There is no need for that. I simply wish that my… co-workers were better at their jobs.” She’s holding herself back, obviously. She takes a deep breath before continuing.

“It’s just… have you seen my receptionist?”

“Rika, right?”

“Yes. Her. She is strong and takes her job as an Elite four member seriously, more so than most, but when it comes to business... My emails are not getting forwarded.” Her voice doesn’t raise, but her tone is agitated. “I appreciate the work she does for the elite four, of course and-roll you window up, would you?- but what I would give, Arceus above, for her to take her other work as seriously.”

“I’m guessing she’s not the only one getting on your nerves…”

“Oh, don’t get me started. Don’t think I’m ungrateful for them, quite the opposite. I believe all of them, both elite four and gym leaders, are incredibly talented and do their best to guide young trainers to the top, but that doesn’t mean I do not have gripes with them at times.” Her grip on the steering wheel tightens as she goes on, but begins to lessen as a smile graces her face, as her shoulders relax.

“Yes, but it was not all bad. After all, I had some free time today and went ahead and got you a cute little number. It should be there by the time we get back home. Some may think it is unbecoming of someone of my stature to be searching for such things during working hours, but I just couldn’t help myself.”

“Oh? And what, may I ask, did you get?”

“Ah, ah, ah. I can’t spoil your surprise, now can I?”

You both know what she’s talking about, and you both know that nothing will come of it for a while. While you are incredibly grateful to get to go out still, considering that many married couples never seem to find the time to do so, you know that it is more of an intermission more than anything. When you get back from dinner, you’ll go back to work for at least a few more hours.

And neither of you are against it, because this time you’ll be basking in each other’s presence. Geeta will finish up her paperwork after getting to unwind, having gone through countless meetings and been up on her feet for an uncomfortable amount of time, and you’ll complete your lab reports, the ones that you started nearly a week ago now,

But dinner comes first. And once that’s finished, you’ll have a wonderful little surprise waiting for you.

#pokemon x reader #geeta x reader #fem reader #I think about “look at my receptionist my emails are not getting forwarded” geeta all the time #also her theme slaps #10/10 champion you cant change my mind

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dragonofthestone · 11 months

Text

What's in a Name

In a lab one doesn't need a name, even under the best care and proper conditions it's simply how things are. Even if they were the only one being put through that specific set of test in a large building there will be many many other different tests going on as well so to keep things separate and easy a few letters and numbers to identify them is generally satisfactory.

Now and again someone may come along and use a fun little nickname, pulled usually from some unique trait of the animal or chimera involved but it's nothing official by any capacity.

Of course it also helps to create something of a divide and hopefully prevent any attachment, far less personal.

And that had been Tim's life for as long as they'd known it, sure they heard those refer to each other in different ways but was hardly worth thinking about - especially with bigger problems to grab their attention. As such the mere idea that there could be anything more behind what was heard or there being any difference between how they addressed each other and that which they used for him would never have occurred.

It would be quite awhile before the thought truly set in, after arriving in Wonderland slowly they came to gain different 'names' from different people, at first rather indifferent to it. The names themselves didn't matter so much as the tone of voice that got used and the context which made hearing them far more preferable then what had been in the past.

Of course that does make it hard to respond when asked, not having a preference as to what to be called leaving it up to others to decide what they want to call.

They'll likely never fully grasp or understand exactly what it is others find so important about names.

So what was it that changed, that made them want something they previously held little desire for?

Not even they know, though likely a collection of piling reasons- Chimera or simply You/Hey you are still the most common and easiest ways to address them,

Vihreä (*Vee-ray-ah/uh): Although not immediately accepted as a name, at first feeling no different much else they'd been called it grows on them and makes them feel different.

Used almost exclusively by Kumo, although likely in part due to his own inability to properly pronounce it so doesn't tend to share it with others. A small part of them kind of likes it just between them. Being also from Misterica he'd for sure share it with and happily allow Sielu use of it if they so chose- really anyone they consider part of their close group of Friends-Family.

Anyone else? Well he won't get upset over it or stop anyone else from using it perse but something about it always sounds a bit odd.

Ryu;

Given by twins and the one more easily and likely to get picked up and used by others around. They do like how short it is and easy for even them to pronounce. Sort of fun and a playfulness to it, should they meet any other kids they may choose that and basically anytime he's around them just kinda lets them introduce him as such (Even after being given the name Timaeus)

Timaeus (Tim);

A name not just given but the name wanted and in a way chosen by him.

The others had been given out of want or necessity, the intentions were good but at the end of the day he'd accepted them without argument as had done so many times before when captive.

They are good names, with Ryu and Vihreä being of the few that would still be allowed use after being named by Kain but there's something missing.

Although the importance of a name may elude them one thing that does come to stick is how they are often (if not always) given by one who is family, or otherwise someone with meaning in their life. Something that they weren't, at least at the time leaving it no different then if one of the White Coats had done the same.

In truth the name itself matters little, Kain could have called him anything. What's really important is what it represents, the meaning it holds. A name not given because it was needed, nor asked for because someone else wanted them to have one. No. For the first time they'd made an active choice for themselves, a first step to finding their own identity, a sense of self and not just following what every one else wants.

It's a bit of an odd name but then their an odd fellow so it's a good fit- more often then not most tend to use Tim and being easier for him to say as well is frequently what he'll introduce himself as anyway.

Other nicknames are still acceptable and he won't exactly stop others if they end up calling them something else because really it doesn't matter now. Because they are Timaeus and nothing can change that no matter what other name gets used from there on out.

----------

[*After listening to the audio clip I was given several times that's the best way I can describe/explain to pronounce it and at this point how I can remember it- at minimum it's probably how anyone else not familiar with Misterican language may end up pronouncing it]

#lab report || about tim #chimera in wonderland (ffu)#lab!life tim #(will try to update should any future names/nicknames occure)#Chimera care #double trouble; the twins #a kindered spirit [kain]

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breadqueen95 · 2 years

Text

Reflections - Chapter 7: Soft Metal

Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

10.9k (wut)

Chapter Summary: How can you possibly say goodbye?

Content warnings: PTSD, flashbacks, panic, general trauma, physical pain

a/n: here's some food for ya sorry i can't make a commitment to a schedule. also i will not lie this is not proofread sorry

Chapter 6

***

The rest of the night passed in a blur.

Despite having thought you’d need every single nighttime hour to make a decision, one conversation with Natasha Romanoff had you agreeing to their proposal before 11pm. Definitely not something you’d expected.

Even now, as the anxious roiling of your stomach begs you to back out and stay right where you are, you can’t say that you think you made the wrong choice. You won’t know that for sure until you get there, and even then, you already decided to give this a try.

Besides…Hydra would come for you no matter what. Natasha said as much. It’s far safer to buy yourself time by being around other people, especially people who were actually capable of keeping you safe.

…Even still, it’s hard to turn off the sheer heartbreak you feel.

Admirably, Wanda came out of your bathroom after showering and didn’t even flinch at all of the new developments. She simply nodded, smiled at you kindly, and asked if you wanted to start packing.

So that led you to where you are now. Staring at the small stack of books in your trembling hands, you try in vain to get your mind to just focus. You’ve been compartmentalizing for years now. All you need to do is flip that switch, right?

A voice says your name softly nearby, but it only registers as white noise in your brain. You just keep staring down at your books, but you don’t really see them. All you see are the white walls. The white lab coats. The—

Then there’s your name again, more insistently than the first time. It drags you out of your head, causing you to look up.

There’s Wanda, dark red tresses still a little damp from her shower. She’s looking at you with a frustrating mix of kindness and pity. For as much as her expression makes you unreasonably mad, it also gives you a weird sense of comfort.

You’re not sure what to do with that.

“Natasha stepped outside to call Tony,” she explains. She looks down to your shaking hands holding your books, which you’d grabbed while Natasha quickly updated Wanda on what she’d missed. You’d thought you should get started on gathering your meager belongings, only to end up frozen.

“I should, um…” you start, only to have your voice fade away as you struggle to find the words. Your mouth remains slightly ajar as you try to wrestle yourself into the efficient survival mode you’d perfected over these years.

But you can’t. That mode, that prey animal’s instinct, it doesn’t fit anymore. Not like it used to.

The shaking gets more pronounced. Harder to control.

“Are these the books you’d like to bring?”

Wanda’s soothing lilt yanks you back from the precipice again. Looking up, you find that same kind patience.

“Y-yes,” you choke out, “they’re the only ones here that are m-mine—”

“Okay, so they’re coming,” Wanda interrupts you kindly but forcefully. She reaches out to take the stack from you, but without thinking, you only hold them tighter and jerk them closer to you.

To her credit, she doesn’t flinch or take offense. She just says your name again, lightly, nothing but understanding in her tone.

“Would you like to set them on the table over here? Or maybe tell me where your bag is so we can pack them?”

The words bounce around in your head like an echo chamber. You’re not used to this, this collaborative thing that’s been added to your process.

Usually, when you leave, you throw your shit in a bag and go. You never give yourself time to think about the particulars of what you’re doing or why. Never really perceived yourself having a choice in leaving – it was always the only choice.

Everything about this time was deliberate. Thought through. Emotional.

How the fuck are you supposed to navigate that?

“I don’t know how to do this,” you whisper, unaware you’ve spoken the words aloud until you hear them in your own ears.

A beat of silence passes. You’re scared Wanda has finally lost her patience with you, done with this bullshit of a day and done with you.

But she hasn’t. And she isn’t.

“You don’t have to know. None of us do. But we’ll help you, I promise.”

Looking at her, you see that she is holding her hands out, palms up. There’s no expectation there, just an offer.

Slowly, deliberately, you place your books in her hands. Your heart stutters as you let go of their worn and well-loved pages, but even still, you release them. Wanda’s elegant fingers close around them, holding them as reverently as you had.

“I’ll grab my duffle,” you mutter, finally able to turn and purposefully walk to your bedroom. Grabbing the canvas bag from your closet, you march right back out to where Wanda is waiting and set the duffle on the floor.

“You know,” Wanda says as she sets your books down on the table, “we have a lot of books at the compound.”

You don’t say anything, just sort of look at her, so she continues.

“You could read some of them. If you wanted.”

Blinking, you try to think about how many books could be available at the fucking Avengers Compound. With such limited resources and almost zero access to a good library, it’s hard for you to picture.

“Any of them?”

“Any of them,” she grins.

You watch her as she glides over to where you keep your shoes by the door. She bends and picks up your old pair of hiking boots that double as snow boots in the winter, bringing them over and carefully arranging them at the bottom of your bag. You notice she’s left your beat up pair of sneakers by the door, somehow knowing you’ll want to wear them tomorrow.

“I could put a list of recommendations together if you’re interested,” she offers, “the choices can be overwhelming, and I’ve read through a lot of them.”

It’s then, for the first time in the hour since you’ve decided to leave, you feel an emotion other than devastation.

“Sure,” you reply, “I would like that.”

***

It’s that very same night that Tony Stark decides he hates moths. Despises them. Loathes them.

Okay, so he knows they’re important. Pollinators and all that. But the violence in which these massive mountain motherfuckers are going after the dim light on his phone really isn’t all that groovy of them.

A little while after they’d arrived back at the jet, after he’d given Bruce the lowdown and conferred with Hill and Fury about next steps, Nat’s name had lit up his phone screen with an incoming call.

He just didn’t think he needed a shield to step outside and answer a call.

Normally, Tony would answer inside with the others. Put the damn thing on speaker and play Candy Crush or some shit during the conversation. But with the way Rogers was seething in the corner like a little broccoli floret, he didn’t really wanna invite his opinion on whatever was happening right away.

“Hello hello, my lovely little bowl of borscht,” Tony greets as he answers the call, “what’s new?”

“Fucking hell, Stark,” Natasha barks, “you know I hate the food thing. Especially since I hate borscht.”

“So sorry, what would you prefer sweet blini of mine?”

He knows this is important. Tony feels the weight of it, and had felt it since Nat and Steve approached him about Firebug the very first time. But goddamn it, he hates this feeling. He hates that everyone, including the new pal they were trying to recruit, felt it.

Hence…the nicknames. It’s like a compulsion. He has to.

“I don’t know, maybe my name?”

“Don’t you wanna spice up your life?”

“Ugh, fine,” she relents, talking in this quick way that says she’s beyond ready to move on from this, “at least ditch the borscht.”

“Sounds swell you delightful handle of vodka,” he quips back without missing a beat, “now stop wasting time and give me that update I know you called with.”

“I hate you so fucking much, you know that?”

“Clock’s a tickin’.”

“Fine,” she huffs, “anyways, she agreed. She’s coming back with us.”

Tony’s taken aback. He quickly checks his watch, seeing 11pm illuminated on the screen before having to swat away another dusty abomination.

“Damn, you guys work fast. I was convinced I wasn’t gonna hear anything until tomorrow morning. What did you say to her?”

“I can explain more when we get back,” she sighs, “let’s just say it was an emotional decision. She’s not gonna be okay for a long time, and this adjustment will be hard. Everyone’s gotta find some patience.”

“We’ll take care of her. Make sure you tell her that.”

“I will,” Natasha responds, voice far softer than it had been mere seconds ago, “Wanda’s in there with her now, I think she’s helping her pack.”

“Perfect. We can get outta here first thing in the morning.”

“Did Fury plant the false info for Hydra?”

“He’s getting it started,” Tony explains, “when I asked him for more details he told me to fuck off.”

“That tracks.”

“We’ll be fine,” Tony reassures her, “we’ll get her outta here and get her to safety, no problem.”

“Sure thing,” Nat sighs, then adds, “keep an eye on Rogers, would you?”

“Already ahead of you, I’ll make sure he keeps his shit together. At least until we get her back to the Compound.”

A lull in their conversation begins. Tony usually doesn’t pay attention to these sorts of things; he’s usually thinking too fast to notice anything beyond his own thoughts. Even so, he can feel the tension from the other side of the phone.

Natasha is worried. And more shocking than that, she’s letting it show.

“He’ll come around,” Tony says in what he hopes is a soothing, casual tone.

“What if he doesn’t?” She whispers back hoarsely.

“He’ll have to. Until she gives us a good reason to mistrust her or her intentions, we gotta lead with a little faith here.”

She huffs a laugh on the other line, retorting, “Thought you didn’t go by things like faith.”

“Yeah, well…��

It’s him who pauses this time, mind distracted by that poor girl’s terrified face. Distracted by all the awful things that were done to her. What could still be done to her if they didn’t get her to trust them.

But to get her to trust them, they needed to show that they trust her.

“Not always.”

***

It hadn’t taken long for you to pack up your meager belongings. Even less time than you thought once Natasha had come back inside and began helping. You told both of them they didn’t have to, but they insisted.

Nice of them. Still kind of wish they hadn’t so you could waste more time, but whatever. Win some, lose some.

By the time your books were settled on top of the last of your clothes, it was nearing 12am. You’d dragged your feet a little, but everything still hadn’t taken more than an hour. While you still felt wired, you could tell that Natasha and Wanda were exhausted. They tried to explain away their sleepy faces and yawns, but eventually you convinced them to try and get some sleep. They only listened if you promised you’d do the same.

As if that would happen.

You’re a chronic insomniac on your best nights. It didn’t take a genius to figure that tonight wouldn’t even come close to even being considered restful.

So you didn’t even try. You just curled up on top of the bed and stared at the wall, begging time to go by just a little faster.

And you’re still there. You check the clock on the bedside table, convinced it would be at least 3am or something, only to find—

12:30am.

Well fuck.

Releasing a heavy sigh, you roll onto your back to change views. Maybe staring at the dark ceiling would be more entertaining.

…definitely not the case. Not in the slightest. Because the more you stare, the more hyperaware you become of the fact that you might never see this ceiling again. Or these walls. Or this room. Or this house.

Before you know it, you’re sitting upright at the edge of the bed, fingers curled into the comforter as you try to ground yourself.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Who’s to say you’re making the right choice?

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Who’s to say Hydra would even find you way out here? Maybe they wouldn’t.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Even worse, what if they find you no matter where you run?

Breathe—

You go to take a deep breath, but your lungs constrict. They stutter. Your airway closes in on itself. No matter how hard you work, you can’t get that breath. The very nature of your respiratory system failing you feels symbolic, representative of the pitiful state of your life falling around you.

Suddenly, those walls flash white in your mind, erasing the darkness with the threat of a memory far worse.

Then you’re on your feet.

As quietly and quickly as you can, you flit to the door and slowly twist it open. Hoping beyond hope that your guests don’t hear you, you leave it cracked behind you and make your way to the backdoor and slip outside. You usually wouldn’t risk closing yourself off from safety by closing the door completely, but tonight you do.

It’s not lost on you that the presence of the Avengers makes you feel a little safer than usual.

Just like every other night before, the first inhale of fresh air helps your lungs expand. You feel clean again. You feel alive.

Taking your seat on the steps of the back porch, you lean back until your back rests against the worn wood.

Nothing in front of you but open sky. Millions of stars. The moon an old friend in the distance, providing the faintest light through the darkness.

Then you’re crying. You don’t even remember starting.

But the tears stream endlessly down your cheeks. Sobs rip themselves from your chest. You press both hands over your mouth to try and keep yourself from making any noise, knowing there’s actually people who could hear you this time.

It’s kind of like your reaction with the books earlier tonight. This forceful acknowledgement of the thing you’re giving up; this illusion of safety and home you’ve crafted for yourself.

For the first time since before you can really remember, you’re being allowed time to mourn something you’ve lost.

You don’t like it. You don’t want it.

You can’t take it.

This emptiness, this heaviness weighing down every part of you…it’s torment. It’s anguish.

Just from understanding what this feeling was, this grief, it’s cracked open the door you closed to everything else you’d lost. The endless list of things you can’t let yourself remember.

But if you open that door wider, if you actually let yourself remember…

You think you’d actually shatter.

So you focus on the stars, knowing tonight is your last night with this particular stretch of sky.

***

Bucky can feel his heart break as he watches her from the tree line. He sees the way her body crumples in on itself, her small hands trying in vain to keep her pain quiet.

It was his turn for patrol. Stark had assigned them all shifts after talking to Natasha, and this happened to be his hour.

There wasn’t much for him to do, not with all the other steps Stark, Fury, and the others had taken to keep Hydra at bay. Just walk around in the dark and try to keep from tripping. He was way too used to sidewalks now.

City boy. Old habits die hard.

Of course he wasn’t going to sleep anyway. He’s way too amped up and distracted, and that was before knowing she had decided to come back with them tomorrow. Now he can’t quite seem to settle that fluttering feeling in his stomach whenever he thinks about it, which was…every second.

He’d been hanging around the area by the cabin when she came outside, trying to listen for anyone else hanging around who shouldn’t be. She’d actually given him quite a scare when that back door opened.

Bucky actually thought about going over to talk to her when she first sat down. Get to know her more, whatever. It’s kind of pathetic, this weird pull he feels toward her.

But the second he heard the first sob, he knew he couldn’t. Not now. Not tonight.

He understands that she’s trying to fall apart quietly because of the people in her home.

It’s easy for him to understand that this, all of it, is pain beyond pain for her.

That she maybe doesn’t even know how to understand it herself just yet.

He remembers vividly those first few weeks away from Hydra. First in Romania, then in Wakanda, then finally at the Compound. Bouts of extreme emotion like this was all too common. He still has them, even now, though they’re far less frequent.

But because of that intimate experience he has with this brand of breakdown, he leaves her be, no matter how much he doesn’t want to.

So Bucky retreats further into the trees, taking extra care as not to alert her to someone witnessing this.

His heart breaks more with every step he takes away from her, as though he’s fighting instinct itself.

***

Wanda hadn’t slept well.

This isn’t anything new for her; she’s used to running on very little sleep. It had been that way ever since that bomb fell on her home in Romania. Ever since her parents died. Ever since Pietro.

Instead of sleeping through the approaching dawn, she found herself sitting up on the soft leather couch where she’d settled in for the night. Angling her eyes just so, she watched the sky gradually lighten in the morning hours.

It’s easy to see what Firebug saw in this place – why she’s so deeply attached to it. There’s a certain magic in every soft breeze, the quietness that coexists with the racket from nature itself. It reminds Wanda of early mornings in her village as a child. Those early hours where she listened to people rising early to begin their days, the crickets chirping and the frogs croaking.

It pulls at her heart. She knows it must pull at Firebug’s.

No…that isn’t her real name. Wanda silently but firmly reminds herself of it in her head.

This girl might like the nickname Stark had so easily assigned to her. Might even find a certain comfort in the affectionate way in which they all seemed to say it now. But she doesn’t know, not for certain anyway.

And besides, there’s a certain humanity that comes with using someone’s real name. She’s gone so, so long without hearing hers. Maybe she doesn’t want to, but until she says otherwise, Wanda wants her to know that it’s okay to step back into herself. If she wants to.

Late last night, she’d heard the quick stumbling of someone rushing to get outside. Having felt that sort of claustrophobic panic before herself, Wanda left her alone. The familiar sights and sounds around her would comfort the young woman better than she could.

Sighing deeply, the redhead peeks over Natasha, curled tightly in on herself on the laid back recliner. It seems as though she’s sleeping, at least a little. Her friend is way too good at pretending, so she hopes that’s not the case. Nat sleeps even less than she does.

Checking the time on her phone, Wanda sees that it’s nearly 5:30am. Stark and the others would want to get moving soon.

It would be better for everyone, especially her. The longer they linger, the worse it’ll be.

So she picks herself up from the sofa, stretching languidly in the weak morning light. She opens the curtains a little more, allowing the rising sun to rest on Natasha. She stirs a little, and Wanda continues over to the small kitchenette. She makes the decision to start a pot of coffee, hoping it doesn’t irritate their host. Wanda’s honestly just hoping that if she and Nat can keep things purposeful and efficient, it’ll make things easier for everyone.

As soon as the coffee maker starts groaning (how is that thing still functioning?) she pads over to Natasha to start waking her up.

Taking extra care not to touch her or get too close, Wanda murmurs her name to rouse her. Everyone on the team knew better than to try and wake each other up with loud noises or unexpected physical contact. There’s nothing worse than having slept badly then jumping awake because your trauma is telling you than someone’s trying to kill you.

It only takes two more verbal pokes for Nat to start stirring. She grumpily cracks open one eye to glare at her, but she doesn’t scare Wanda. This is the only time she can say that the ex-assassin is all bark and no bite.

“Coffee’s starting,” she smirks, knowing that’ll help speed up the process.

And it does. Natasha begrudgingly opens both eyes and starts to sit up, the old chair creaking at the movement.

“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbles.

As soon as Wanda’s convinced Nat is up for good, she heads back over to the kitchen and looks around for some mugs. After opening a few cabinets, she locates a few. She pulls out two for herself and Natasha, and then grabs the clean mug she saw sitting by the sink for the third member of their temporary trio. It’s probably the one she likes using most.

As Natasha gets up to start her morning stretches, she looks around before looking back at where Wanda leans against the counter.

“Where is she?” She asks.

“Back porch,” Wanda offers, glancing in that direction, “I heard her slip outside a few hours ago.”

Natasha nods and returns to her stretching, completely unbothered. And despite not having seen her for hours now, Wanda is fairly certain that when she walks outside in a few minutes, she’ll find her exactly where she expects she’ll be. The patrols would’ve seen if she’d tried to run, but more than that…Wanda just thinks she’s tired of running.

A glance at the clock reminds her of the time, and Wanda sighs.

Efficiency will make this easier she reminds herself again as she pushes off from the counter. As she walks down the hallway to get to the back, Wanda purposefully makes a little noise instead of her usual silent steps, not wanting to sneak up on her. Scaring her wouldn’t exactly be a great start to the day.

Wanda makes an entire process out of grabbing loudly (but not too aggressively she hopes) at the door handle and creaking it open. Maybe she was laying it on a little thick, but with these sorts of things, it’s so hard to know what the right thing is.

…and if she’s being honest, she wants this girl to like her. Be her friend.

Wanda loves the team; they’re the family she’s needed every since losing Pietro. Nat is like an older sister, and every single one of the guys act like her big brother. And she appreciates that. Loves it, even. But what she really wants is a friendship with someone that doesn’t feel like she’s being taken care of all the time. Something more equal.

Peeking her head out into the crisp morning air, Wanda sees her sitting on the porch steps. She’s sitting up, but her body seems to droop in on itself. Like every single limb is weighed down.

It’s impossible not to ache for her. She’s far too young to have been through as much as she has.

With a wry, humorless smile to herself, Wanda reminds herself that she’s cut from that exact same cloth.

“Good morning,” she murmurs.

To her credit, she doesn’t even flinch. But now that Wanda thinks about it, all of the noise she made probably helped. She makes a note to high five herself later.

Peter had explained about self-high fives to her. Said they were good for morale and self-confidence, which she has to agree with.

“Hello,” she whispers back hoarsely.

“Is it alright if I sit?”

A single nod. Wanda walks over to the steps and takes a seat next to Firebug.

No. Y/n.

After settling in, she takes a deep breath and looks around at the view. That magic she felt from inside? It’s even more potent out here. It’s not muted or dampened by walls or ceilings – nothing between her and the sky.

A sense of bittersweet euphoria rushes over her. She remembers the walls during her time as a Hydra experiment. She remembers how addictive the open sky became to her after getting out of there. It’s hard not to think of Pietro in times like this, and how much he would’ve loved this place.

It’s then, with the image of her brother fresh in her mind, that Wanda turns to look at her.

Her breath catches at how truly haggard she looks. Did she sleep at all?

It’s not even the physical things that worry Wanda the most. It’s the desperate, broken look so apparent in her eyes. She looks out at the grass and trees with a hunger that only comes hand in hand with grief; knowing that something or someone is here for the last time.

“I can feel you staring,” she bites out quietly, a hard glint a new addition to her expression.

Wanda fights the urge to look away and apologize. She knows that would be the polite, even kind, thing to do, but that doesn’t feel right.

“Not many people wear their expressions so openly.”

She’s not sure what made her say it, or even that she should’ve. But she does.

“Not many people get stared at on their back porch before 6am, yet here you are.”

Instead of being offended, all Wanda can do is chuckle to herself. She looks back out toward the mountainside. Neither of them speak for another minute or two, just breathing together.

“I’m sorry,” Y/n finally whispers, “I don’t…I’m not—”

“It’s okay,” Wanda reassures, “you don’t need to apologize for anything.”

More quiet. More thinking. Wanda feels pulled toward more peaceful emotions, but the torment and anguish from the young woman beside her is palpable. It’s hard to ignore, and despite what she might want, Wanda doesn’t want to pretend like her hurt isn’t happening.

She takes a breath before turning back to her, then says, “You could come back someday.”

Because she could. It might take some time, but it’s obvious to anyone how much she loves it here. How happy she would be if she could stay.

Wanda thought that might bring her some measure of comfort.

Instead, she shakes her head, pressing her mouth into a hard line. There’s something painfully hopeless about it.

“No,” she finally whispers, “I can’t put the people here at risk like that.”

“Maybe not while Hydra is still a threat, but they might not always be. Once they’re gone, then—”

Her words die in her throat as Y/n meets her eyes for the first time this morning. There’s nothing but despondency in her expression. She lifts one corner of her mouth in a humorless half smile.

“Not gonna bank on the impossible.”

Wanda’s heart breaks. It’s obvious that she believes that the threat of Hydra will never go away, and even worse, that she’ll never be safe on her own.

“You don’t know that,” she tries to say, even though she’s not sure she believes it herself.

Y/n scoffs. It’s a cold, sad sound, filled with an emotion that Wanda knows all too well. She looks away from her and back out to other mountains in the distance, the desperation reappearing on her exhausted features.

“It’s easier this way,” she mumbles, trying to shrug nonchalantly to hide the heaviness she feels, “it’s easier to forget.”

***

At this point, you’re shocked you haven’t burned a hole straight through your esophagus. It’s probably only due to your…abilities…that you hadn’t.

Because in trying (and failing) to ignore the churning of your stomach and all-consuming nervousness, you’re chugging your third hot cup of coffee. It gives you something to do with your hands, and the repetitive movements are kind of soothing.

But let’s be honest. It’s not working. For as high as your caffeine tolerance is, the jitteriness that comes with it for well adjusted people is starting to come on at full force.

…and you’re not exactly well adjusted.

You feel Wanda and Natasha’s eyes on you as your shaky hands lift the mug for another scalding sip, but you actively avoid acknowledging them. You’re not sure you can stand the expressions you might find there.

You’d finally made your way inside after those tension filled moments with Wanda outside. She was trying to help, you know that. And on some level you appreciate it. But after everything, especially after a sleepless night alone with your thoughts, every bit of it felt hollow.

Even your own optimism from yesterday feels naïve. It doesn’t make you change your mind about going with them; you’re not stupid, realistically it’s still the safest option.

At least that’s what you keep telling yourself as you washed your face, brushed your teeth, and went about getting ready to do something instinct was begging you not to.

As you were getting ready in your room, Wanda and Natasha got dressed in the living room and called Stark. When you came back out, they explained that he and the others wanted to wait for the all clear from someone named Fury (coolest name ever?). You asked why he thought you’d get jumped in an empty field, but they both just kind of looked at you like it was the stupidest thing you’d ever said.

Now that you think about it, that reaction is actually valid as fuck.

So you gulp your coffee and work on emptying your head of any and all conscious thought.

It’s not going well.

A sudden and shrill beeping sound breaks the silence. It startles you, and you only just manage not to pour the remains of your hot coffee all down your front. You look around in alarm, fully anticipating a bomb or some shit, but Natasha just pulls out her fancy looking smartphone.

In your defense, your flip phone has different sounds.

After reading the message on the screen, she looks up at you as she slides it back into her pocket.

“We’re clear. You ready?”

Your stomach falls out of your ass. You keep thinking this can’t feel more real than it’s already gotten, but here you are. You’re leaving.

With still trembling hands, you turn toward the sink and pour out the remainder of the coffee. It isn’t helping anyway. After washing out the mug, your favorite mug, you take care of the pot next. You’re thorough; every single thing in this cabin will be left immaculate.

The soft yet insistence utterance of your real name behind you can’t even pull you from this.

It comes again, pushier this time, followed by, “We can clean up if you—”

“I’ve got it.”

Your tone is clipped and final. Natasha and Wanda take the hint, and they hang back while you do these last few menial tasks.

Once the pot is back with the coffee maker, and the mug is lovingly set back in its place in the cabinet, you turn immediately and head to the couch. You’d already slipped on your shoes awhile ago. Now you focus every ounce of brain power into slipping your hands into the sleeves of your worn jacket, trying to ignore the warmth seeping into your bloodstream.

Now is not the fucking time.

As you sling your bag across your shoulder, you fight the urge to take one last look around the space.

This needs to feel casual.

Even though your heart is breaking.

“Did you want a minute?” Wanda asks kindly.

All you can do is shake your head fiercely, almost as if you’re trying to convince yourself, as you make your way across the floor as quickly as you can. Before you know it, you’re pulling the door open and stepping into the brightness of the morning, leading the way outside.

Thank god the sight of their ship and all the Avengers in the field is as jarring as it is, or you would’ve had no choice but to look at the mountains.

Everyone turns as you clomp down the creaky stairs, the silent steps of the women behind you an embarrassing contrast. Though you feel the intensity from Captain Rodgers’ stare, you choose to not acknowledge it. Instead, you focus on a new figure you didn’t get the chance to meet last night.

Despite the particular abilities he had, Dr. Banner is very slight in person. He wrings his hands together in an all-too-familiar gesture as he glances around the area. The compulsive gesture seems to talk to the stabbing warmth under your skin. You try to ignore the urge to mirror his movements.

You don’t bother him in his nervousness, you just step forward to meet Stark, the warmth in his lined face so different from the painful heat under your skin. Turning your wince into a rueful smile, you stop in front of him.

“Ready to go?”

You nod, very grateful that he’s chosen to get to the point quickly for what you imagine is the first time in his life.

“Sounds good.”

He looks around and sets his focus on Dr. Banner, who jumps a little at the attention. Somehow, though you can’t know for sure, he looks like he knew this was coming. And he hates it.

“Step right up, you supersized kale smoothie,” Stark quips as he beckons Banner forward.

You’ve seen footage of the Hulk. It’s one of the first things that come up when searching for information on the Avengers. The shuffled gait and hunched shoulders Banner adopts right now is so vastly different from his alternate persona, it’s a wonder they come from the same place.

“Kid, this is Dr. Bruce Banner,” Stark introduces as the slightly shorter man comes up to stand next to him. Then you’re introduced by your full name, something you’ve heard more in the last 24 hours than you had in a decade. You can’t help but flinch a little at the sound of it, but you’re hoping you mask it well enough.

“Nice to meet you,” you mumble politely, the rageful pinpricks rearing in terror at the syllables that make up your government name.

It really was nice to meet him. Based on his history (what you know of it anyway) and his mannerisms, he seems like someone who could understand. Maybe could even talk to eventually.

“Did you plan on using Dr. Banner’s abilities against me, Stark?” You ask your question in what you hope is a teasing manner. But you are honestly curious; how far were they willing to go?

Banner, who had looked like he was bracing for something, relaxes a little as he realizes you won’t use the name of his other persona. For as much as the world has come to accept him, it seems like he’d rather ignore it all together.

Truly a trauma twin. Besides Bucky, that is.

You chance a glance at the imposing figure standing off to the side, leather glinting in the sunlight. You feel your cheeks warm in a not unpleasant way when you find he’s already gazing at you. He lifts his mouth in a comforting smile, his eyes soft as he looks at you. The fire under your skin wanes a little, dwindling to a soft flicker that matches the heat on your cheeks.

You smile back, trying to match the softness he gives you so openly, when Stark begins talking again. The moment ends with his sharp and assertive tone, pulling your attention back to him without issue.

But you wish you could’ve stayed in that moment with Bucky.

“Nah, we never intended to unleash the Jolly Green Giant—”

“--please don’t call him that—”

“—on you. And yes Bruce I will call him that it’s my favorite nickname I’ve ever come up with.”

Stark, weirdly enough, stops speaking for a minute to take a breath. It honestly seems like he forgets to breathe sometimes, working overtime to get all his thoughts out.

“Banner here ended up coming because—”

Stark’s voice falls away, his brows furrowing as his hand goes to his earpiece. He presses it further into his ear, cocking his head as he listens.

“Vis, wanna repeat that?”

The heat becomes scalding as nervous brown eyes flit to meet yours. You clench your hands together, trying not to be reactionary, but it’s becoming harder with each millisecond.

The air around you shifts as everyone tenses for whatever threat Stark is being warned about. You find your head turning slightly to the left, finding blue eyes staring back at you. Bucky’s mouth is set in a hard line as he searches your face. You slightly toward him, feeling the need to be closer to his imposing figure, when Stark’s harsh and grating command somehow pulls your attention back.

“I don’t care that Hydra wouldn’t drive an old blue pickup, because they would if it meant they wouldn’t get caught. Engage the target or we’re fucked.”

Sheer panic fills your stomach and before you know it you’re waving to get his attention.

“Tell him to stop,” you exclaim, and he responds to the urgency in your voice.

Because maybe Hydra would drive that kind of car. But you know someone else who would too.

“I know who it is,” you explain in a rush, “they’re not Hydra.”

How could you forget? How could you not call her?

“You don’t know shit, kid—”

“It’s my boss and my landlord and she comes to get me for work every morning and I forgot.”

Stark raises his brows to the point you’re convinced they’ll disappear into his hairline. While you can still see the tension in his jaw, he also lets out a breath and allows his shoulders to fall a little. The familiar weight of guilt settles over your shoulders. Looking down at your worn shoes, you wish with your whole heart that you could fall right into the earth.

“Didn’t think we needed a warning for that?”

A cold, cutting voice slices straight through your wallowing. As much as you want to ignore him, you make yourself pick your head up and look over toward Captain Rodgers.

“I’m sorry,” you say, and you genuinely mean it, “with everything going on—”

“Vision almost attacked this woman because we weren’t warned,” he continues, biting over your explanation with ferocity.

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. You have no idea what to say to make this better, help him understand that your brain is just like this sometimes. Everyone has to have these moments, right?

But with the way his gaze cuts you down to size, you’re halfway convinced you’re the only person on the planet who’s ever forgotten something. You can’t help but shrink and look down again. Captain America is excellent at guilt tripping people.

“C’mon Steve, nothing happened,” a mellow voice you recognize as Sam Wilson’s cuts through the heavy silence.

Even with Sam’s calm reassurance, it’s like a trigger for Rogers to keep coming at you.

“Sure,” he scoffs coldly, “nothing happened this time.”

He fixes that ice cold gaze on you again, and despite the warm sun on your skin, you freeze under the weight of it. As much as you’d love to look anywhere else, you can’t. He stalks closer to you. His stance is that of a trained killer – the only thing keeping you from cowering away from him is what remains of your pride.

“If you’re coming with us,” he bites out, “you can’t be so narrow minded and selfish. You can’t just think of yourself anymore. Got that?”

Oh, this is unfair. He’s being so unfair.

You felt small before, guilt rising inside of you. Now you’re furious at Rogers’ reaction, feeling targeted and singled out.

What the fuck is his problem?

You allow your eyes to finally reflect the harsh frustration and anger you feel at him to show as you glare at him, mouth pressing into a hard line as your nostrils flair. Righteous heat prickles at your fingertips as the long buried need to fight back rears up

“How dare you,” you force out through gritted teeth, “you have no idea—”

Your aggression was all the reason that Rogers needed. He stalked up to you, standing mere inches from your face as he loomed over your shorter frame. You felt like you should be scared, but you weren’t.

You just burned.

“Really? I have ‘no idea’? You’re the one who seems in the dark here—”

Your humorless snort of laughter cuts him off, an incredulous look on his features.

“Jokes on you,” you sneer, “they never let me turn the lights off in that room. Didn’t see that in your reports?”

That finally silences him. The heaviness settles over your group again, the rumble of Debbie’s truck engine growing ever closer.

Palms white hot, you roll your shoulders back and look Captain America straight in the face, refusing the shrink under his anger. You’re proud of the glimmer of doubt that’s now appeared in that expression. The words that came from such a bad memory had the desired effect.

Hey, you hadn’t lied.

“You came to me. I might not understand how all of this works, that’s fine. Whatever. But I’ve been living second to second trying to stay hidden for years. So fuck right off with your self-righteous attitude. I stand by what I said; you have no fucking idea what it’s been like.”

As your words settle in, you fight to control the fire longing to sputter to life as it rages beneath your skin with your volatile emotions. You hate saying the truth aloud, the truth about your life from the past decade. You hate how it legitimizes it all.

But it’s the truth. For as much as Rogers’ has probably looked into your life, he hasn’t been through this. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t have a fucking leg to stand on.

You won’t let him demean and judge you for what you’ve had to do to survive.

“Take a breather, Steve,” Natasha’s soothing voice cuts through the oppressive silence. It’s accompanied by the roar of the ancient engine of Debbie’s truck as it rounds the bend by the trees, finally coming into view. You turn your back to the imposing man behind you, trying to calm yourself so you can speak to your unexpected guest.

The group behind you retreats a little; you can hear them stepping away as you step forward. As you watch the truck, you see it stop for a second. You can’t help but grin a little to yourself as you imagine Debbie behind the wheel, absolutely shocked at what she’s seeing.

You’re pulled back into the confrontation behind you as the angry sound of Rogers’ muttering drifts over to you. Clenching your fists, you fight to ignore the prickling of heat stabbing into your nerve endings.

“Doin’ okay?”

A friendly voice asking a friendly question. The sound of it a soothing balm to your nerves, something you didn’t know you needed until you heard it.

Looking over to your right, you see Bucky standing next to you. He’s respecting your personal space, but he’s still close enough so that every single cell in your body is aware of it. His blue eyes, so different from Captain Rogers, look down at you. He brings his softness with him, so welcome after the confrontation you just had.

You consider his question. Are you okay? Like, actually okay?

“I don’t really know how to answer that,” you admit quietly, noticing Debbie’s truck finally moving forward again.

“Fair enough,” he admits, a wry grin pulling at his mouth as he looks away. You find yourself staring it the curl of it, fascinated in a way you can’t explain. As he turns back to you, you notice how the pain of fighting your power ebbs away.

He makes it better.

You acknowledge the realization in your head, not quite sure what to do with it. Why? Why is he so different from the others?

“How about this,” he says, “are you still functioning? Able to put one foot in front of the other?”

You tilt your head at him, considering the question. You love how he phrased it; it’s exactly what you’ve been doing for as long as you can remember.

“Yeah. Guess you could say that.”

Bucky nods, glancing away again. Even as he looks away, you notice how he shifts slightly closer to you. If he were anyone else, you’d feel threatened.

But…it’s him. You like him close.

“Listen, I’m—”

His words are cut off as you both notice the pale blue truck pulling to a stop in front of you. Debbie’s eyes are wide as saucers as she looks from you to the Bucky to the entire situation behind you. As she looks back at you, brows raised in apprehensive question, you nod to let her know it’s okay.

“I’ll give you some space,” Bucky mumbles as Debbie starts to step out of the truck, “I’ll be right back there, okay?”

Meeting his eyes once again, you give him a rare smile, hoping he can feel the gratitude there.

“Thank you.”

It’s simple, but he smiles back. As much as you’d like to stay in this moment with him, despite your confusion around him in general, you pull yourself back to the present. You turn forward and focus on Debbie, walking forward to meet her.

It’s hard, knowing you can’t be the person she knows. It’s even harder seeing the knowing look on her face as she looks at you, like she’s had a feeling about you this entire time that’s been proven correct.

“I’m guessin’ you’re not workin’ your shift this morning.”

You shake your head, smiling apologetically.

“And your name’s not really Allie?”

Damn. She doesn’t waste any time, does she.

Sighing, you take a moment before admitting, “No, it’s not.”

“Do I get to know what it really is?”

You frown, thinking about it for a minute. The frown continues to pull at your mouth as you realize the answer.

“No. Not right now, anyway. The less you know, the safer you’ll be.”

Debbie comes closer to you, settling in next to you as she takes in the insanity of the scene behind you. The Avengers and their ship, just casually sitting in front of her father’s old cabin.

“Hope they’re not flattening the grass,” she mutters grumpily.

“I’ll get them moving in a minute, maybe Stark has some weird invention that can fix it,” you force a laugh.

“I got just one question for you,” she mumbles, turning to pin you with her sharp eyes, “are you safe? Are they making you go?”

“I’m safer with them than I would be alone,” you answer honestly, “so I do need to go with them. But it’s my decision to make, so don’t worry about that.”

She makes a sound of acknowledgement, but then goes quiet again. You just keep looking at her, anxious about her reaction to everything. Debbie is protective to a fault; she’s the reason you were able to find a place here. She took you under her wing, gave you a chance to remember what home meant. You can tell that she wants to know more. She wants to understand who you are, what all this is.

It makes you sadder than you can explain, knowing you can’t tell her.

“I always wondered if you were runnin’ from something,” she mutters, “you never wanted to talk about it, but I suspected.”

“You were right on that one,” you admit, “right on quite a bit of it, I imagine.”

“Well, I’m guessin’ since Iron Man himself is here that somethin’ big is after you.”

“Debbie, I wish I could—”

“Now hold on,” she interrupts, not unkindly, and continues, “I know you can’t tell me. Makes sense. As much as I wish you could, I understand.”

It’s her trademark, simple kindness that makes your eyes prickle with tears again. You should’ve known she wouldn’t push. It’s just not who she is. Even now, after months of you living here and working for her, she’s never pushed you for more information than you’re willing to give.

She looks back at you, and noticing the tears gathering in your eyes, surprises you by reaching out and taking your hands.

You normally hate when people touch you, having not let anyone do so in years. But the motherly way in which Debbie holds your hands, so gentle and soft, it releases a torrent of emotion you didn’t know you still had.

You’re just thankful your skin isn’t heating up.

“C’mon now, don’t cry,” she says gruffly, her own emotion coming into it, “you’ll be okay, these guys will keep you safe.”

Your throat closes with the effort of keeping yourself from crying. Debbie has been the only consistent, kind presence in your life that you allow yourself to acknowledge.

You’re sure the Before has some people like that. But Debbie comes from the After, where the safe memories live.

“I don’t know how to thank you for everything you’ve done,” you choke out, all the words you wish you could say getting lost before you could get them out.

But Debbie knows. She always knows.

She just pats your hands, and says, “Would it be okay if I hugged you?”

The fact that she asks, not an ounce of judgement on her lined face, makes you feel lighter than you have in a long time.

All you can do is nod, and then she’s pulling you in for the most comforting hug you can imagine. You briefly let yourself press your face into her shoulder, the familiar scent of woodsmoke and tobacco filling your nostrils.

She smells just like her dad. You wonder if she knows.

“You’re a good kid,” she murmurs, “you’re tough. You’ll be okay no matter what happens, you hear me?”

You nod again, letting yourself relax into her embrace. The feeling is familiar, causing memories to start pulling at your mind.

Where’s my goodnight hug?

A woman’s voice. A voice you feel tugging at the deepest strings of your heart, causing the tears to finally spill over your lashes.

And all at once, you’re not just hugging Debbie. You’re hugging her too, whoever she is.

As you pull away, frantically brushing away your tears, you can’t help but smile at Debbie. Then the smile fades a little, as you remember the severity of the situation.

“People might come looking for me,” you warn, “dangerous people. You need to tell them as little as possible, even nothing at all if you can help it.”

“Of course, we’ve got your back.”

You grip Debbie hands again, tighter than before, trying to impart how serious this is.

“Not for me. For you. For the town. For anyone here who I’ve ever spoken to. They will not hesitate to hurt you, or even kill you, if they think they can get a little more information.”

Debbie’s mouth hangs open as she looks at you in shock, fear finally entering her eyes.

Good. She needs to be scared.

“If they come, if anyone comes and asks questions, you have to lie. You need to tell everyone to lie. Do you understand?”

A brief moment passes as she looks at you, a newfound hesitation that you’ve never seen her wear before settling in. Guilt begins to prickle at your conscious again as you remember how it’s your fault.

Finally, she nods in understanding.

“Will they come? Do you know for sure?” She asks, her voice trembling slightly.

“I don’t know. I know Stark has people planting false trails, hopefully that helps.”

Your oh-so-casual use of Iron Man’s government last name hits her along with the rest of this insane situation, and she looks behind you to the superheroes, shaking her head in awe.

“…Stark’s laying…false trail…you gotta be shittin’ me…”

It’s then you get a glimpse of how she might look at you differently if she knew who, or what, you were. With the Allie persona practically dead and gone, things feel strangely tenuous with the woman. It could be even worse if she knew just how dangerous you could be for them.

You find yourself glancing back at the team along with Debbie. As you catch Stark’s eye, he raises an eyebrow at you and briefly lifts his watch-clad wrist, indicating that you needed to finish up.

It’s hard to begrudge the guy when goodbyes feel so foreign now. The raging emotion accompanying this one is too uncomfortable to bear, and you feel yourself needing to be done with it all.

…but Debbie, after everything she’s done for you, you have to make this count. You can’t just throw it away like every other time before.

Turning back, you find the older woman already looking at you. While there’s this undercurrent of awe that hadn’t been present before, there’s that all-knowing wisdom about her that’s always been there. Like she knows all your secrets before you do.

You both kind of just look at each other for a minute or two. She might just be enjoying the moment, but beneath your own silence, you’re frantically trying to grab at the right words to convey how much her generosity means to you.

You open and close your mouth several times, thinking you’ve thought of something just to forget it or get shy right at the last minute.

Another minute of you very clearly struggling, and Debbie’s chiming in, gruffly saying, “Kid, we don’t have to do the thing.”

“I—what?”

You’d been just about to force something out when her words settle over you. It sounded so Debbie yet so unlike Debbie all at the same time. The woman herself seems a little surprised at herself.

“Ethel’s daughter got her a boxed set of Grey’s Anatomy, and we—oh foot, we’re getting off subject here,” she rushes out gruffly. You bite back a laugh at the reference she never meant to make. It would only make her more embarrassed.

“The point is,” she continues, trying very hard to move past her little fan moment, “you don’t have to say anything. We don’t have to make this a big moment. Neither of us are big gesture kind of gals – no need to torture ourselves.”

“I just—I don’t know how—”

“I mean it,” she cuts off your stuttering again, any progress you make toward a heartfelt and eloquent goodbye monologue shut down once again by your landlord.

…your friend.

“C’mon,” you whine a little, “can’t I say—”

“Nope,” she huffs gruffly, trying to hide the faint shimmering in her eyes by turning away from you toward the peaks, “this ain’t forever, kid. I’m still expecting to see your ass here again.”

“I don’t know when that’ll be.”

You’re taken aback at how small and childlike your voice sounds. So scared. So unsure of herself. When was the last time you sounded like that?

“Good. Gives you plenty of time to plan out a better script for our next ‘see ya later’.”

She smooths over the grumpiness of her tone by giving you a small half smile, the laugh lines around her eyes crinkling as she looks at you. You smile back at her, hoping beyond hope that it conveys everything you couldn’t bring yourself to say this time around.

Before you know it, Debbie’s turning quickly back toward her old pickup, and the moment is over.

“Better hurry back or that Dorito is gonna shit himself.”

Debbie’s definitely thrown some weird sentences out there in the past, but this was at a whole new level. What the fuck?

When you don’t respond right away, she adds over her should, “The tall blonde man with the constipated, pinched face. Never seen shoulders so broad with such a skinny waist. Man must think he’s a god, but he’s just a corn chip.”

Genuine laughter bubbles up from your throat. Only Debbie could somehow pick out the Avenger’s biggest asshole and deliver the most scorching of burns, all for shits and giggles.

By the time you get a hold of yourself, Debbie’s too far away for you to really say anything else to her. Not without screaming it, anyway. And the things you want to say aren’t for the entirety of Superhero Monthly. For someone who complains so often about her creaky joints, Debbie scuttles faster than any person you’d ever met.

You settle for just watching contentedly until she finally makes it to her truck, waving when she settles herself in the driver’s seat once again. Your throat seizes with emotion as she waves back.

Despite wanting to watch her drive down the winding road back toward town, you make yourself turn and walk back toward the main group. You don’t even let yourself look at the cabin again as you pass it, knowing it would just be another burst of painful emotion if you did.

If there’s one thing the past 24 hours have taught you, it’s that emotions are fucking annoying as shit.

As you shuffle to a halt in front of the waiting Avengers, Tony Stark claps his hands and says, “Did the diner accept your resignation?”

“I uh, I guess so?”

“Love it,” he says, “then let’s rock and roll.”

“It’s a good thing Parker isn’t here right now,” Sam mutters from a little ways away, “he’d be roasting your ass for that.”

“Fuck off Woodstock.”

Sam and Bucky snort with giggles, only quieting down when Stark turns around and fixes them with what you know is the coldest of Dad Stares he has in his arsenal.

“Okay, moving on,” Stark turns back to face you, “how’s that fire of yours react to small spaces?”

The small smile you’d had with Sam and Bucky’s antics falls away.

“Probably not the biggest fan in the world, if I’m being honest,” you mutter.

“Let me put it this way; is there a chance the jet turns into an open flame grill if things go wrong?”

You don’t want to admit it, but yeah, probably. Controlling it is hard even on a good day, and that’s when you don’t have to worry about walls or anything. There’s a very good chance this goes badly within the first five minutes of taking flight.

Your fingers start to heat up like the fire knows it’s being talked about. Bitch.

“Honesty is the best policy here, kid,” Stark’s addition interrupts your panicked thoughts, “not gonna toss you out over the Mississippi or anything. You gonna light it up?”

“Good chance of it, yeah,” you admit begrudgingly, stubbornly ignoring the stabbing pinpricks of heat arching over your shoulders.

“Lucky for us, I plan ahead sometimes,” he turns back toward the open ramp to the ship, calling, “You’re up, Banner.”

Dr. Banner comes forward again, his face already apologetic as you meet his gaze.

“We have two options here to keep you and everyone on board safe,” he says, his voice surprisingly authoritative compared to his demeanor.

“O-okay,” you stutter, then release a shaky breath to try and ease some tension.

“Number one, Tony and I developed some fireproof restraints that would cover your hands completely. Even if your powers start getting out of control, everything will be contained.”

The clamp of cold metal, so at odds against the white hot of your skin. Sparks sputter out intermittently, wanting to fight a battle you were barely conscious of.

“What’s the other option?” You ask, jaw clenched against the unwanted memory. The other option has to be better. There’s no way you would let someone restrain you again.

Banner gives you an understanding nod, then continues, “Working with enhanced folks over the years, we’ve been able to concoct a short-term sedative that would put you under for the duration of the flight.”

More needles. More restraints. More drugs. The options weren’t great, no matter how you slice it. You squeeze your eyes shut, fighting the endless flashes of the sensations and the terror and the cold—

“Hey, you’re safe. You’re okay.”

There’s that softness again, coming to rest over your senses. It’s different enough from the rest that you can’t help but focus on it.

Focus on him.

You manage to open your eyes again. Looking to your right, you see Bucky. He’s looking down at you with nothing but reassurance and calm.

“This isn’t like it was with them. You’re safe with us.”

“I-I ju-just—”

Your voice seems to vibrate as panic takes hold. The heat is there again, centering around your spine this time, making you want to curve in on yourself.

“Look at me, focus on me,” he murmurs.

Turning so that you face him head on, you try to hone in on the different shades of blue in his eyes. You vaguely notice that the rest of the group has stepped away, giving you a minute.

“I know neither option is great,” he says quietly, “but neither is the pressure you would put on yourself trying to keep it in.”

You nod along with what he says, the logic making sense to you even through the fog.

“Which one seems like the least amount of stress for you?”

Thinking, you try to compare the two in your mind. If you were to choose the restraints, you’d be conscious of it the entire time. Somehow, knowing you were trapped, being painfully aware of being so enclosed…the idea alone is enough to make you shatter.

“I need to be out,” you whisper, “I’m not—I just don’t think I can—”

“It’s okay, you don’t need to explain it,” he whispers, stepping closer. You let him, choosing to allow that softness to be your primary sensation rather than the fire burning you from the inside.

“I know this is the better option,” you choke out, “but I still hate needles. I had being drugged like this.”

“I do too.”

Looking up at him, you see nothing but genuine pain and honesty. He understands. For his sake, you wish he didn’t.

“I’ll stay right next to you the entire time,” he promises, “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

All you can do is nod, every minute more overwhelming than the next since you walked back down from the mountain yesterday.

You allow Bucky to lead you back toward the ship, Dr. Banner and Stark standing outside as the rest start to file in.

“Ready to go, lava lamp?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, wringing your hands together, “could…could you guys just sedate me? I know it might be a hassle, but—”

“Not a hassle at all kiddo, promise,” Stark gently cuts you off, “and besides, as a rule we like to not be set on fire. Kind of a comfort thing.”

Banner looks at Stark in shock at his joke about the threat you pose, but you let out a little giggle. It’s nice for it to be the subject of something funny, rather than every other bad thing it is.

The two scientists lead you onto the ship, your legs trembling with every step against the metallic floor. The only thing keeping you steady is Bucky trailing behind you.

They lead you to some seats near the back of the jet, a little separate from the rest. Good; some space from the others might help.

You get your things stowed away with Bucky’s help before sitting down. Natasha’s intelligent green eyes meet yours from across the ship, and her kind smile only adds to your feeling of safety.

She’s the one who convinced you to do this. She’s what made you believe they can be trusted. You can do this.

After getting yourself strapped in, Dr. Banner steps in front of you. You can tell he’s trying to make himself as nonthreatening as possible. Even so, it’s kind of hard not to feel terrified as he holds up the glinting needle in the shadows.

Your breath catches. Hazy flashes explode from behind your eyes, erupting in a storm of pure panic as your body tries to remind you why you stay away from them.

“You’re safe, I promise.”

Bucky’s warm words break through the fear as the needle pierces your arm. You feel a prick for the briefest of seconds before it’s out again, Dr. Banner already having plunged the sedative into your veins.

“Damn, you’re good at that,” you mumble, words slurring a little as the drug starts to take effect.

“Years of practice,” he chuckles.

The last thing you hear is Bucky, murmuring something again to you, so quiet only you can hear.

“You’re safe with me.”

***

tags: @obsidianvibranium @dreamwritesimagines @valhalla-kristin

thanks for being here y'all this thing is my baby and it means so much to me

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #jenna writes #reflections series

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friedchickenlover01 · 2 years

Text

Light Yagami meets… DOKJA KIM?!?! (Oh no how will this go…)

L, you poor fool…

I chuckle lightly to myself as I lean back in my chair, hair gathering around my neck while I stare at the ceiling. Clasping my hands loosely together, I grin, a sordid smile plastered upon my lips.

“Hyuk hyuk… well, now this is going to get boring, now that you’ve killed my only source of enjoyment, Light!”

I turn towards Ryuk, munching contentedly on his apple in the corner of my room. He glances up at me, and I ignore the all too familiar amused yet sinister expression reflected in his uncanny maniac smirk. Yes. That’s right. I’d done the impossible. I’d killed the vexatious bastard. And I’d done it by my hand. Or rather, Rem’s… but that’s not important.

Ignoring the provocative glint in his inhuman eyes, I turn back to my desk. Swiftly, I return to scrawling the names of the criminals being broadcasted live on the telly. Kunihiko Katsuta, pronounced dead from a heart attack. Yoshio Yoda; heart attack. Yoko Urakami… Fumiko Toba… dead, dead, dead…

I wipe a bead of sweat from my forehead - my other hand writing criminal, after criminal, after criminal in the notebook from another world.

A visceral laugh begins to form, an almost guttural feeling, bubbling until I can’t help but let it take its course in the room. My grand, ideal world is finally being realised. And I, Light Yagami, am the God of this profound creation!-

The bellowing roar of glass shattering engulfs the air around me, and my laugh ceases instantaneously. Flinching, my eyes widen of their own accord as I locate the source - a horrendous, almost vomit-inducing figure crouching in the other corner of my room, clutching his side. Blood pours out in buckets, it seems, from his torso, as he glances up towards my wall. His eyes seem to penetrate the wall itself, as if he’s staring into a whole other world.

He apparently is.

“AHAHAHA! TAKE THAT, CONSTELLATIONS!” The curiously gag-worthy man curses, throwing his other hand in a gesture that could only be a middle finger - yet it seems his intellect could only manage a measly upwards-thrust hand. I observe his jet black hair, white lab-coat of sorts, his fiercely defiant expression… oh, and the source of my disgust… his hideously average face. I gag internally for good measure.

After a pause or two, the man finally notices my glare and rights himself. “I’m Dokja. Dokja Kim. And you are…?”

…This little…

“Light Yagami. Care to explain yourself?” I ask with a smile, examining my room for any hint of what just happened. It looks spotless, as always. Aside from the absurd amount of blood pooling underneath ‘Dokja’.

“I-” The man keels over, hacking out another gallon or so. Another pause. I stare at him. After a little while, he musters up the strength to wave his hands in front of his face. Another pause. He gazes blankly for some moments, then shakes his head and addresses me once again. “Don’t you know who I am? I’m Dokja Kim… your saviour? Hm? Ring a be-”

“You said your name was Dokja Kim?” “Uh, yes, but-”

“Ryuk, just write his name down for me…” I turn back to my notebook. Ryuk casts me a look of barely contained laughter as he takes another pen and advances towards me. “Eh?! Hey, wait! … Light, I sincerely request your aid in the matters concerning MY STOMACH WOUND… uh… write my name down…?”

“I don’t know who you are, but would you like to know why I said that?”

“…Yes?”

“It’s ‘cause I’m Kira,”

“Huh?! … Who’s Kira?”

And two seconds later, the disgusting abomination named Dokja Kim fell to the floor. Then we all lived happily ever after, rid of his extraordinarily ordinary face.

(Author’s note: If you couldn’t already tell I hate Dokja so just ignore how sloppily and rushed I made the ending ‘cause I just want him dead)

#submission #friedchickenlover01 #duck…#nandoslover028 #godduckcult #anime #fanfic #death note #light yagami #yagamilight #webtoon #kim dokja #dokja #cross over

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death-wish-heros · 1 month

Text

Let's introduce the main character for most of the series: Eaqli Curio, a 23 year old superhero who just began his journey.

Eaqli, pronounced Ah-Klee, is a young man who just began his 'career', so to speak, as a up and coming super hero. He's best described as optimistic and caring with a bit of a unique humor. He is normally sense in a black "lab" coat and a more edgy sort of style. He usually wears a mask covoring his mouth made for him by his adopted brother, which features a screen that changes the mouth expression depending on what eaqli feels.

His ability, which is fittingly called empathy, does exactly as you expect it to: allows him to feel the pain, bith emotionally and physically, of people nearby. This ability comes with quite a few drawbacks that are difficult to combat, a main one being that he can hardly tell when HE is the one injured. It also causes him to get overwhelmed in crowded spaces, so despite his outgoing attitude, he tends to avoid them as much as possible. This can also cause issues when fighting, seeing as any blow he lands on the villian, he himself feels.

The wound on his mouth is evidence of how this affects him in his day to day life.

To those who know the arab language, Eaqli is a strange choice in name. From what I've been told its a Adjective that means "the mind," and while i didn't know this when the charecter was named, it had already stuck.

Eaqli was an orphan that was later adopted. He was named at the orphanage with not much thought given. His parents were unknown, so the caretakes picked what they assumed would be an interesting name.

His backstory and why he's been orphaned will be revealed at a later date.

Ether way his name being as it is is one of the reasons he found interest in learning different languages and cultures. The other being a childhood friend he had at the orphanage who will be explained in a later post.

Side note: i know im typing this out all formally, but it's the best way I've thought of to get info out and explain. I feel like if i explain it all silly as i normally do, it'll be a jumble of thoughts, lol.

Once again, any criticism would be greatly appreciated. I'd just prefer if it was given in a constructive manner.

Eaqli was made with the help of a very close friend of mine.

The picture used was drawn for me by autistic.space.ace on Instagram

Death wish as the story, and eaqli the charecter both belong to me

-Bunny

#death wish books #death wish stories #Eaqli Curio #EaqliCurio #super heros #superhero #orginal character #original story #ocs #oc #oc art #poc characters

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kyuuppi · 3 years

Text

Laws of Motion (NSFW)

Pairing: Albedo x Reader (f)

Contents: oh dear...established relationship; modern college AU; smut; thigh riding; fingering; dirty talk; heavy breeding kink; pregnancy mention; slight degradation; Albedo is a pervert but reader is horny af so it all works out ig; mentioned exhibitionism; semi-public sex; Albedo talking about science during bc ofc he does; prob ooc; physics :(

A/N: I...got carried away...

Word Count: 2.5k

...kinematics for rotational motion is completely analogous to translational kinematics, as defined by quantities such as displacement—

You can’t help the groan that tears from your throat as you sink forward in your chair, burying your throbbing head in your arms. You had been reading the same chapter of the textbook for what felt like hours and yet you understood no more than you did two days ago when the topic was first introduced. If it weren’t for the fact it was a required course for your major you would have given up long ago.

Forcing yourself to sit back up, your eyes lazily sweep over the room, eager to find a distraction—not that there are many particularly interesting things around, to be honest. You are in Albedo’s lab, as per usual after classes. The walls around you are covered with tall shelves lined with glass vials, beakers, and funnels. Plastic bottles with sloppily jotted labels of names you didn’t dare even attempt to pronounce border machines you are positive cost more than your life is probably worth on the black market. In short, it is the typical laboratory scene you had grown familiar with over the course of your relationship with Albedo.

Albedo…

You chance another quick glance at your homework before making up your mind and gathering the loose papers in your arms.

Padding over to the next room you find your boyfriend seated at a back table, working diligently on jotting down notes on a titration system of some sort. As you approach you begin to feel slightly guilty, knowing you don’t deserve to interrupt his important research with your stupid homework question but he’s turning toward you before you can even think to back out. He offers you a small smile that makes your heart skip a beat and politely asks if you need something, seemingly unbothered by your interruption.

When you explain your struggles with an assignment, Albedo is quick to offer his help, assuring you that he isn’t working on anything particularly time sensitive as he moves his own notebook and flasks out of the way to make room.

You’ve always been at least slightly perturbed by just how attractive your boyfriend is—effortlessly charming blue eyes that hold a visible intelligence only further enhanced by the fitted white coat resting on his shoulders. You have spent more time than you’d like to admit thinking about Albedo’s blue latex gloves on various parts of your body, undivided attention on you as he gazes down at you with that intense expression he gives his experiments, taking note of your every reaction while your overstimulated body trembles beneath him-

“Y/n?”

You startle at the sound of his soft question, flustering at where your thoughts had strayed while he eyes you curiously.

“S-sorry, what?”

Albedo only offers another achingly sweet smile, ever patient with you as he repeats himself.

“I said, unfortunately I don’t think there are any other chairs so you’ll have to sit in my lap—if you don’t mind.”

Your brain nearly short-circuits.

He looks at you so earnestly, unaware of your inappropriate thoughts as he offers his open lap to you. You know for a fact here is another chair in the next room you had just been sitting on five minutes ago. It was only a few meters away, you could easily roll it into the room and beside him—but when will you ever get this chance again? Could you really turn down such an opportunity?

The answer is no.

Eagerly, you perch yourself on one of his thighs, careful not to rest all of your weight on him for fear of making your usually reserved boyfriend uncomfortable—but it seems the effort was for nought as he wordlessly wraps his hands around your hips and maneuvers you more firmly into his lap as if you weigh nothing.

The casual show of strength sends a flash of heat straight through your gut and you find yourself forgetting how to breathe as Albedo takes the papers from your hands and sets them on the table in front of you two.

He takes only a few moments to read over your notes, scanning the words you hardly understand with ease while you try not to notice how his hot breath fans over your neck when he softly exhales.

Albedo seems to comprehend the assignment quickly, the concepts familiar to him despite never taking your course and he begins to explain the assignment in detail. In the beginning you tried to pay attention—you made an honest to Barbatos effort to listen—but the way his chest softly rumbles against your back every time he speaks along with his natural minty scent invading your nose proves too great of a distraction and his words quickly become background noise.

Truthfully, studying physics becomes the last thing on your mind. Instead, you find yourself studying Albedo’s features from the side, watching the way his half-lidded cerulean eyes flit across the paper before your gaze hones in on his lips that look temptingly soft as they curve to form words in that calming tone you’ve always loved.

It’s shameful how quickly your thoughts shift as you imagine what else you know those pretty lips are capable of. Where those lips had been...

You shift uncomfortably in his lap as the dampness between your thighs becomes apparent.

“Do you understand?”

Huh?

Albedo looks down at you expectantly, expression impassive as he patiently awaits your answer. Beneath his fingertips lay your scattered physics notes, hastily copied from the whiteboard in lecture despite you not even knowing what the hell you were writing down. In the margins you spot Albedo’s own tiny, messy but pretty handwriting as he had meticulously explained your professor’s lesson in his own words in the hopes that you would better understand.

You try to school your features into something you hope resembles confidence as you nod.

Albedo returns his attention to the papers with a hum and you sag in relief, thinking he bought your white lie—but his next words quickly prove otherwise.

“I don’t think you’ve been paying attention at all.”

You freeze, feeling like a child caught with their hands in the cookie jar. You open your mouth—whether to defend yourself or apologize you aren’t sure, but Albedo beats you to it anyway, his hands returning to your waist with a firm grip as he speaks.

“In fact,” he drawls, “you’re squirming so much—I think you’ve been thinking about other things.”

He presses you more firmly into his lap, completely thwarting all potential chance of escape as his eyes slide back over to you, trapping you in his unreadable gaze.

“Tell me,’ he orders, “what exactly were you thinking about?”

Your throat suddenly feels bone dry, incapable of making a sound as your thoughts become little more than radio static. At your silence, Albedo seems to grow impatient and his grip on you tightens before he forces you into a rocking motion that sends you gasping and scrambling to find something to hold on to. Your hands brace you on the edge of the table in front of you as every muscle in your body tenses, the sensations of your clothed crotch brushing against his firm thigh sending shockwaves through your body.

“Hm? I need an answer, Y/n.”

“Y-you,” you manage to choke out, tongue feeling heavier than usual.

Albedo hums thoughtfully continuing to roll your hips into his own in pace that is almost infuriatingly slow. However, the moment you begin to consider taking matter into your own hand, he abruptly halts, a hand on your back pushing you forward so suddenly that you’re forced to splay your hands out on the table in front of you to prevent yourself from face-planting. Albedo pays your surprised squeak no mind as his hands find purchase on your ass in his lap, shamelessly lifting your skirt so the fabric gathers over your hips, exposing your cotton panties to his analytical gaze.

You nearly choke on your own spit when you feel him press a finger into the rapidly dampening fabric, pressing right over your hole that flutters needily upon contact. The sensation makes you squirm, involuntarily pressing your clit over the hardness in his crotch that makes his breath audibly hitch.

“Hn...’Bedo,” you slur, pressing back into the rhythmic stroking of his fingers.

“I believe it may be easier for you to understand if I showed you the laws of motion firsthand, no?”

You shiver at the implication before startling with a high pitched mewl as his finger stealthily slips past the side of your underwear to enter your cunt without warning.

You’re soaking—the squelching sounds making it apparent along with how easily his long index finger slides in and out of you. When he presses a second finger alongside the first you clench down instinctively before your gummy walls accept the intrusion, sucking his digits in in a way that makes both of you slightly lightheaded.

“You’re already drenched,” Albedo comments coolly, as if making a casual observation on an experiment. It only serves to make you whimper and rock your hips into him impatiently.

After only a few more moments he removes his fingers and you whine at the loss, ready to verbally complain until you feel him shift beneath you and you hear the familiar sound of a zipper.

You use what little strength you have left in your arms to lift your upper body and sneak a peak over your shoulder as he pushes his pants down enough to release himself. The familiar sight of his cock, not particularly girthy but long and flushed with desire makes you clench around nothing, nearly losing your breath when a dribble of precum catches in the fluorescent lights. Albedo’s cock, like the rest of him, is achingly pretty.

Your silent admiration is cut short when he grabs your hips again, pushing you up just high enough to perch directly above his length, the head brushing against your opening. Your breath hitches in anticipation as you gaze unsteadily down at the table, your forgotten homework staring back mockingly.

“Are you ready?” he asks softly.

Without turning around you can feel how his gaze lingers on the back of your head, patiently awaiting your permission regardless of how apparent your arousal is.

The tenderness makes your chest clench.

“Yes,” you whisper, and it is enough to have Albedo steadily easing you down, breaching your walls even as they spasm at the intrusion.

It stings even more so than usual due to the limited preparation, Albedo undoubtedly mindful of how the two of you are still in his lab where other students or professors could walk in at any moment. Even so, the moment he bottoms out, his tip brushing against something deep deep inside of you, you can process little more than pleasure as you call out for him to please just move already.

Ever attentive, Albedo follows your instructions, using his grip on your waist to rock your body into him, forcing you to follow his pace even as your legs begin to tingle from their unconventional position trapped between his thighs and the armrests of the chair.

Albedo steadily picks up the pace, the force of his thrusts threatening to knock the wind out of you as your whole body shakes with the momentum. The slick slaps of your skin against one another echo around the laboratory walls but your mind is too preoccupied with the sensation of him battering your insides to even consider keeping the noise down.

You squeal when he suddenly pulls you towards him. Your back meets his chest, warm even with layers of clothing between you two and his right hand snakes around to pull your skirt higher, offering you the perfect view of his cock moving inside of you when you look down, spearing your pussy open repeatedly while your arousal clings to you thighs and the dark fabric of his pants in cloudy strands.

“You’re more responsive than usual—perhaps you’ve always wanted to be defiled in my lab,” Albedo muses, lips nearly brushing your ear with how close he is.

You want to deny it. You want to look away. You want to disappear from the shame—but instead you clench harder around him, tearing a stuttered moan from his lips as you babble out something you hope resembles a denial.

“If you keep that up I might not be able to hold back,” Albedo warns, breathless.

The hand holding up your skirt shifts downward to apply pressure to your swollen clit, circling the nub relentlessly until you’re jerking around in his lap, unsure if you want to be closer or further away.

“P-please,” you whimper helplessly.

“Hm? You don’t want me to hold back?”

If he was hoping for an answer you don’t provide one, merely shaking uselessly in his arms as he bounces you on his cock like a ragdoll. Your stomach tightens while your thoughts scatter.

“Do you want me to breed you?”

The moan his suggestion rips from your throat borders on pornographic and he shudders when he feels the way you gush around him, sullying his slacks beyond repair. It only encourages him to fuck into your willing body faster, rutting into you with a force that would knock you off his lap if it weren’t for the firm hold he has on your body. You swear you can almost feel the tip of his cock brushing your cervix on a particularly hard thrust.

“Ah,” he huffs out, “of course you do—it’s the natural biological response. Your body craves to be bred, filled with my seed until you’re nice and swollen, fulfilling your duty to repopulate the species."

You can barely understand what he’s saying anymore but your body seems to respond anyway, heating to the point you fear you’ll burn from the inside out, your walls rhythmically clenching around his pistoning length, urging him to release deep inside of you, to leave his mark.

Abruptly, he pinches your clit, urging you to yelp as the tension in your body snaps, spasming until he’s stuttering your name and spilling inside of you, painting you walls with his own hot release. His hips stutter for a few thrusts before he resorts to just gently grinding into you, fingers releasing your clit to avoid overstimulating you.

The two of you take a few moments to catch your breaths, limbs feeling like jelly as you lie against him, your own heartbeat loud in your ears.

At some point, you eyes flutter closed and your exhausted body threatens to fall asleep until you feel him shift beneath you, softening length still lodged firmly inside of you.

“Y/n,” Albedo starts, voice entirely too steady to have just fucked your brains out thirty seconds ago.

You murmur noncommittally, secretly hoping he’ll just let the two of you rest for an hour or two.

“You still need to finish your homework.”

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #albedo x reader #genshin impact albedo #gi albedo #genshin impact smut #albedo smut #requested #anon #gensin albedo #genshin smut

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heauxplesslydevoted · 3 years

Text

Coming Down (Ethan x MC)

Summary: They break up. Dassit

A/N: I’ve been tired of this imposter Ethan, and the back of forth nature of his romance route for the entirety of book 3, so I wrote this.

Warnings: None

Title Inspo

~v~

Naomi’s fingernails tap impatiently against her leg as the shrill ring of her cell phone rings at her ear. It rings 5 long times before she’s sent to voicemail.

“Hello, you’ve reached Dr. Ethan Ramsey. I’m sorry for not answering your phone call, but leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you.”

“Ethan, it’s me...again. I haven’t heard from you in,” lifting her wrist, Naomi checks the time on her watch, “wow, in over 24 hours. I’ve been calling and calling, to no avail, and you just aren’t responding.”

The news of Ethan getting hit with a malpractice lawsuit hit her like a freight train. As soon as things started to feel good again, as soon as the diagnostics team started to find its rhythm with two new physicians, this torpedoes any chance of normalcy she could ever experience.

“If you could give me a call back and let me hear the sound of your voice, that’d be great. Bye.”

There’s a lot more that she wants to say, but she’s been given a limited window of time so Naomi hangs up.

Switching tactics, Naomi opens up her messages, and scrolls to her thread with Ethan.

Naomi: Hi

Naomi: Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you in a while.

Naomi: Can you at least reply, telling me to leave you alone?

Naomi: At this point, I’d settle for at least knowing if you’re alive.

She waits a few minutes, and when she gets no response, she shoves her phone into the pocket of her white coat. Anxiousness and worry pools in the pit of her stomach, and the only thing she can think about is Ethan’s well being. And this situation doesn’t bode well because Naomi is still in the middle of her shift.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of quiet chatter as the door to the diagnostics team’s office opens and in walks Tobias and Harper. Their conversation is cut short once they notice the youngest member of the team.

“Hi, Naomi,” Tobias greets, an easygoing smile adorning his face. “What’s up?”

She wishes she could feel as casual as he looks, because every part of her body is twisted inside out and turned upside down.

“Have either of you talked to Ethan today?” Naomi asks, skipping the pleasantries.

“I spoke to him yesterday just to gauge how he was handling the malpractice suit,” Tobias answers. “Obviously, the conversation didn’t last long because he and I rarely interact outside of these four walls, but he seems…” he trails off when he notices Naomi’s face fall. “What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”

Any other time, Naomi would be ecstatic to hear about Tobias extending an olive branch, and Ethan actually accepting the support, but today isn’t that day. She’s been trying to get in touch with him all day with no success, but he answers a phone call from his sworn enemy?

“I haven’t heard from Ethan today, so I’m at least glad to know he’s breathing,” Naomi says, her voice tight.

Too caught up in her own pity party, Naomi misses the way Tobias and Harper exchange worried glances. The team has been through enough the past few months, the last thing they need is romantic friction between Ethan and Naomi seeping into the office.

“Maybe he’s turned his phone off since then?” Tobias suggests. “Times like this can force you into an introspective mood, and he’s probably going technology free.”

Naomi chuckles humorlessly. She appreciates Tobias’s effort to satiate her foul mood, but she can’t think of a single excuse short of death that could justify Ethan’s behavior.

She stands, dusting off her coat and straightening it out. “Thanks. I’m going to get some lab work done on our patient, page me if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

Without another word, Naomi exits the office.

Working helps slightly. For an hour or so, Naomi is successful in turning off her brain and focusing diligently on work. She manages to not think about Ethan at all.

Until she hears his name brought up in conversation. She’s strolling towards the nurse's station when she sees Sarah and another nurse, Ronnie huddled in a corner.

“Sounds like Dr. Ramsey’s not as perfect as everyone thinks, huh?”

“Screwing up a standard tracheotomy that way? Frankly, I’m just surprised it took the patient this long to sue!”

Naomi slows her steps before she stops walking all together. The nurses are so engrossed in their conversation, they don’t even notice her.

“I heard from Marlene that the patient wouldn’t have even needed a trach if they hadn’t dosed her wrong in the first place,” Sarah adds in an excited whisper.

“Seriously? That’s next level…”

Her first instinct is to stop this, to tell them to stop talking, the urge to protect Ethan still as strong as it’s always been.

But she stops herself from doing that. Because why should she? Why should she put forth the effort to defend the honor and reputation of a man that doesn’t even have the decency to answer her phone calls?

And just like that, she’s plunged back into her flurry of conflicting emotions: worry, fear, annoyance, and most of all, anger. The emotions war inside her, all fighting for dominance, and she hasn’t felt like this since her intern year when he left to go to South America without any sort of goodbye or correspondence.

That wasn’t a good period in her life. Naomi can still feel the cold grip of anxiety that plagued her chest when she came into work one day and he was nowhere to be seen. She heard through a LVN that he left before confirming it with Naveen. She can still taste the saltiness of the tears she shed after leaving her 5th unanswered voicemail. Experiencing such a high of beating her ethics trial and getting picked for the diagnostic team, and the low of him leaving in that short amount of time left her spiraling and isolated, and it took entirely too much time clawing herself out of that dark place.

Turning on her heel, Naomi speed walks in the other direction, her original plan long forgotten. The hospital passes her by in a blur as her legs move, the rest of her body and brain moving on autopilot.

She doesn’t stop moving until she’s in front of the residents’ lounge. She spots Aurora, Bryce, and Sienna sitting at a table.

“Naomi, come join us!” Sienna exclaims. “We’re going to make cappuccinos with this fancy machine.”

“I’ll have to take a raincheck on that,” Naomi says. She turns to Bryce. “Can I borrow your car keys please?”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just have a couple errands to run and I don’t feel like taking the train. I’ll bring it back with a full tank of gas and everything.”

“I’m not gonna nitpick you about gas, Omi.” Bryce’s warm gaze sweeps across Naomi’s face, studying her. If he notices anything wrong with her, which he probably does because Bryce is a lot more perceptive than he gives himself credit for, he thankfully doesn’t mention it. He reaches into the pocket of his mint green scrub pants and pulls out his keys. He tosses the keys to Naomi with a wink, and she catches them mid air.

“I keep a shovel in the trunk in case you need to bury a body.”

Whether he realizes what is going on with her, or if he just cracked a joke to lighten the mood, Naomi is grateful either way.

~v~

Naomi spends an hour driving around Boston, people watching and attempting to collect her thoughts before she ends up in Back Bay at Ethan’s apartment complex. She didn’t want to go to his house in her previous state, guns blazing and emotions all over her place.

Even on the ride on the elevator up to his unit, her stomach is in knots and her heart beats faster than normal. She hasn’t been this nervous about seeing Ethan in a long time, and it dawns on her just how fucked this entire situation is. Why should she be nervous to talk to the man who claims to want to be with her?

Steeling her nerves, Naomi issues three sharp knocks to Ethan’s front door. Approximately 45 seconds pass before the door opens.

“Naomi!” Ethan’s eyes widen when he sees her standing there. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you going to let me in, or should we have this conversation in the hallway?” Naomi asks. Ethan steps aside, widening the door so Naomi can enter. “Thank you.”

The apartment is stale, like Ethan hasn’t opened the windows in a few days. He looks disheveled, the bags under his eyes are extremely pronounced like he hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep.

For lack of a better word, Ethan is a mess. And she wants nothing more than to just...wrap her arms around him and make everything better. But she doesn’t. She keeps her distance.

Ethan shuts the door before turning back to her. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No.”

“Well let’s sit down.”

“No, I think I’d rather stand because I don’t plan on being here long.”

The coldness stuns Ethan. Naomi almost seems indifferent towards him, something he’s never experienced before. It doesn’t go unnoticed that she didn’t bother greeting him warmly, no hug or kiss, no excitement in her voice, nothing.

“I needed to see with my own two eyes that you were alive and well,” Naomi starts. “Because you’ve gone radio silent on me. I know you’ve seen me calling and texting. Your phone works just fine because you picked up a call from Tobias of all people.”

He averts his gaze, ashamed of himself. “I’m sorry, I–”

She holds up a hand, stopping him mid-sentence. Naomi doesn’t believe for one second that he’s apologizing due to actual remorse. “I have spent the entire day wracked with intense worry. I feel like I’ve been turned upside down, and I could barely focus on work. Every time I thought I could be productive, something or someone was there to remind me of you. And then I’d spend more time ruminating over you and your situation, and the fact that you’re ignoring me, and then I’d feel like absolute shit. And earlier today, as I listened to the nurses gossip about you, I realized that this feels so much like your two month sabbatical to the Amazon, and our relationship hasn’t changed at all since then.”

“That’s not true,” Ethan argues.

“It is,” Naomi insists. “One step forward doesn’t mean anything if we end up taking two steps back immediately afterwards. A year and a half later, you’re still holding me at arms length, keeping yourself closed off, ignoring my calls.”

“I don’t mean to do this, to be this way.”

“But you continue to do it, so at this point you have to see it’s a pattern. You won’t even open up and talk to me about this lawsuit that’s being waged against you.”

“I just don’t want you getting needlessly involved.”

“While it’s a noble excuse, it’s complete and utter bullshit. If you think you’re doing something to save my reputation, remember nothing you do will ever top me almost losing my medical license my intern year, and then having a resident face a malpractice lawsuit a few months later. So come on, give me another excuse.”

“I’m doing this for you!”

“How? How could this possibly be for me?”

“Everything I touch becomes tainted!” Ethan snaps. “Because there is something wrong, in which everyone arounds me leaves or dies, or everything falls apart. I don’t have control or autonomy over anything, so yes, the one precious thing in my life, I’m too scared to touch.”

“But I have been right here with you! I was right here in this exact same spot when we worked on Naveen’s case. I sat by your side while we watched over Dolores’s son. I was there when they wheeled your mother into the hospital, and when you took her to rehab. Time and time again, I’ve proven to you that my loyalty is steadfast, and not once have I ever wavered, so you don’t get to stand here and punish me for some unrealized fear. You don’t get to treat me like I’m a passenger in this relationship, if you can even call it that.”

That’s what gives him pause. “Of course this is a relationship.”

“This isn’t a relationship, I am just a woman you sleep with. Occasionally you open up to me, we share a cute moment and promises, and then you clam up and up goes the barriers, and it starts all over again. And every single time, we’re a little bit deeper into this thing we’re in. I’ve shared more, I’ve let myself be more vulnerable with you, emotionally and physically, I’ve deluded myself into thinking ‘This time it’s the real thing,’. And I’m afraid that this is going to be our reality. One day I wake up, 3 years in, tentatively living with you, trying to settle into the pieces of a life I’ve scrounged up with you, and you do this again.”

“I don’t speak on it, and I don’t like to because I try to keep it all together, but you don’t understand the toll it takes on me every time we do this back and forth. I was a train wreck when you quit. I had the trial looming over my head, Landry, a guy I considered one of my closest friends betrayed me in the worst possible way, you weren’t the only person scared of losing Naveen, and I couldn’t even verbalize any of it to you because you slammed a door in my face when I tried to bring it up, and then you left me. And then you did it again, and I spent two months worried that you might not even come home because you could contract the deadly disease you were off fighting. And then you go on national television declaring your relationship status, and you made promises to me on my deathbed that led nowhere, and then finally we make some headway in Hawaii and establish what we have going on, and then I come home to this. So while you say one thing to me, time and time again, your actions say otherwise. It’s clear I’m not a priority.”

This conversation triggers Ethan’s fight or flight response. He doesn’t know where this conversation is headed, but he’s smart enough to know it’s nowhere good.

“Naomi, what are you saying? Spell it out to me like I’m a preschooler.”

“I think we need a break,” Naomi says in one breath, afraid she’ll break if she prolongs this any further. The six words leave a sour taste in her mouth that she has to choke back.

“No,” Ethan’s tone is gruff, and the seriousness almost startled Naomi. “No, we’re not breaking up.”

“From where I’m standing, we already have,” Naomi retorts. “I’m just confirming it.”

Ethan takes one long stride towards Naomi, but she takes a step back. “Look, I am a daft asshole to put it mildly, and I know I have a lot of work to do, but this is by no means a reason for us to break up.” He takes another step forward, and now Naomi is backed up against the door. He tugs her forward, wrapping his arms around her. “I am sorry. I know the words probably sound hollow, but trust me when I say I mean it. I’ll fix this, I’ll do whatever it takes. You’re the only person I want, the only one I’ll ever want, and I’m not losing you. Not now, not ever.”

Through this right embrace, Naomi can feel just how rapidly his heart is beating. He’s scared.

A tear slips from the corner of her eye, and she’s too drained to even wipe it away. “This is reactionary. You’re saying all of this because you’re panicked, but if you meant any of what you just said, it wouldn’t take the threat of a breakup in order to want to change things.”

“It shouldn’t have taken me this long to realize what a fool I’ve been,” Ethan says. He refuses to let go of her, his arms still wrapped so tightly around her petite frame, he almost worries about crushing her.

“I agree.” What does that even mean? She gives him nothing more than that, and Ethan is left to stew in his own doubt and worry. Naomi breaks free of his embrace and presses a palm to his chest, signaling him to give her some space. “But I still think we need some space.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Trust me, I do.”

It becomes hard to breathe. When Ethan woke up this morning, the last thing he expected was Naomi to dump him. “What can I do? Tell me how to fix this. Do you want consistency? Done, I’ll talk to you every single day, multiple times a day. Transparency? Sit down right now, and I’ll explain this entire lawsuit top to bottom. You want proof that I’m never going to up and leave again, you can take my fucking passport. Naomi, I don’t care what I have to do, I will do it, but I will not accept you walking out of that door.”

Naomi inhales deeply, trying to stop a full son from bursting out of her chest. He’s saying all the right things, but at the wrong time. It’s too late now. “I’ve warred with myself all day about this decision. You’re clearly not in the right space to sustain a healthy relationship, and that’s fine. I just need to remove myself from the situation, for my own health and well-being. And I think you need to do the same.”

“So...what? This is it? It’s over?”

“Let’s be honest Ethan, you never gave us the opportunity to begin.” She wants to touch him so badly, reach out a run her hand through his hair or stroke his beard one more time. It takes everything in her to not. “You’re a great doctor, one of the best ones I know, so I really hope you beat this entire lawsuit and I get to see you back at Edenbrook. Take care of yourself, Ethan.

Ethan shakes his head in denial. He refuses to let things end like this, and for her to give him the same cool professionalism she extends to every other coworker.

“Naomi, wait–”

She’s out of his apartment before he can convince her to stay. It doesn’t register until he hears the soft click of her door shutting that she’s actually gone. And another minute passes before the gravity of the situation finally dawns on him.

For the first time in a long time, he’s truly alone.

~v~

Tags: @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @aka-calliope @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @uneravine @choicest @schnitzelbutterfingers @missmiimiie @stateofgracious @mooons-isabelle @doilooklikeiknow

#playchoices #choices: stories you play #open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #dr. ethan ramsey

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notsuchacleverboyq · 3 years

Text

00Q Prompt

James' Lover.

I've read tons of Fanfictions / oneshots in which Q is stuck in an abusive relationship. I really like the idea (because ✨drama✨), but what if it was James who's stuck in such a situation?

His head was aching when he got to the MI6, not exactly knowing why he had walked there.

It had been a rough night for James, despite how he didn't want to admit such, and the chills and pain in his body were the ultimate proof.

The agent stared at the entrance, regretting the long walk he had gone through to get there. He just wanted to disappear, to be nowhere, to just get it to end; but James had been fighting against his breath for a whole hour, struggling to keep it steady and calm.

For the first time in years, he had lost control over himself.

The oxygen seemed to completely miss his lungs as the thought about just getting back home convinced him to finally enter the building.

Despite the time, the corridors weren't completely empty as he had hoped, and James straightened the neck of his coat, trying to cover as much skin as possible when a man stared at his bruises with an usual awe.

Among all of those familiar faces, James was searching for Q's, being hopeful of finding him buried in his office, or in the lab.

The walk downstairs felt infinite and the agent eventually lost control over his breath, trying to not show how he was fighting to get air into his lungs.

When he entered the lab, throwing the doors open, Q turned around with a quick movement, holding something that James' mind paid no attention to.

Q looked at him with a confused expression, quickly approaching the agent.

- 007, you haven't been assigned any mission. What have you gotten yourself into? - the quartermaster asked.

There was a small fraction of silence in which James tried to reply with something, his breath hitching suddenly and leaving him to ridiculously sob for air.

- For heaven's sake, 007! - Q blurted out, visibly worried as he grabbed the agent's hand.

James didn't even try to put up resistance and just let himself being lead to the absurd sofa that had been placed in corner of the room, his other hand resting on his own throat as his sobs seemed to suffocate him.

Q got him to sit with no ceremonies and James hid his face in the palms of his hands once he had noticed he was crying out of panic and fear.

- Bond? - Q called, but the agent didn't move, not wanting the quartermaster to notice the fright in his eyes.

Q seemed to move to his side, but not walking away.

- James? - Q called again, with so much softness in his voice that Bond shivered in surprise.

Feeling the quartermaster's gentle touch around his hands, James surrendered to him, turning his head away as his face got uncovered.

There was an exasperated sigh from Q, who had sat down next to James, before the quartermaster's hand cupped the man's cheek, forcing him to turn his head back.

- Please, shelve your pride for a moment and breath - Q murdered and James leaned in the touch with another sob.

The agent nodded absently and hated how he sounded like a beaten dog when he grumbled in response.

The first breath was the hardest, leaving him to try several times before he could manage a long, shaky breathing without sobbing.

- Good job. Keep it like that - Q hummed with a so sweet smile that James' heart hitched at the sight.

The agent nodded obediently, managing a few more breaths before the sobs were gone and left only cold chills in James' body.

- Better? - Q asked, still caressing James' cheek and analysing the straight cuts that ran over the skin.

The agent immediately shook his head, feeling really far from being fine.

Q groaned in response, his eyes still locked on the cuts and James hoped that their shape wasn't making understand what had happened.

- My I ask you what you how you've gotten these? - Q asked, grazing James' cheek with his fingertips.

The agent didn't reply, he just tried to find an excuse as soon as possible.

- Lucy - Q snapped and it wasn't a question.

He had pronounced that woman's name with an amount of hate and rage that James had never heard from him before.

- Those are nails, right? - the quartermaster asked.

- Yes - James answered, his voice still trembling in panic, and looked away in shame.

Without a word, Q got up from the sofa, almost causing James to flinch due to the quickness of his movements; still not looking up, the agent heard the quartermaster tinkering with something a few steps away.

Bond raised his gaze only when Q came back with a glass of water.

- You need it - the quartermaster explain, after seeing the other's questioning expression.

James took the glass, sipping from it absentmindedly.

- What happened? - Q asked softly, sitting back next to the agent.

Noticing the young man's gaze wandering over his bruised neck, James sighed and was overwhelmed by shame.

- I've been bloody stupid: that's what happened - he mumbled, hiding his face in the glass.

Q hummed in response, not talking for a moment.

- I must disagree - the quartermaster responded and James puffed, knowing Q was expecting a real explanation of the events.

- I broke a glass - the agent eventually spilled out, his eyes lost in the water.

Q frowned immediately at James' answer.

- And she did this only because of a broken glass? - he snapped.

The agent nodded, before sighing.

- No...actually it's because...well let's say that I keep coming home late, I'm always abroad and sleep with other people - he stuttered.

- Well, that doesn't sound like a justification to me - Q bursted out.

James shrugged, the quartermaster's tone causing his breath to go uneven.

- That's what she said - Bond explained.

Of course, Q knew that James wasn't allowed (fortunately) to reveal his job to a partner unless said partner was long lasting and worth such a trust. Clearly, Lucy wasn't neither of those.

- I...she attacked me and I did nothing - the agent muttered, more tears forming in his eyes.

He felt how Q shifted, probably noticing the tears, and not being able to act as stoic and untouchable as always was driving him crazy.

- I'm a bloody double-0: how am I supposed to survive in the field if I let a civilian to this to me...without even reacting? - James snapped, his hands shaking in anger.

With an exhale, Q moved closer and took the glass away from James' hands.

- If you put a frog into boiling water, it will jump out immediately; but if you gradually warm up the water, the frog will notice something is wrong only when it's too late - he said and James immediately looked up at him, almost annoyed by the laughable typology of anedoct.

- What is that supposed to mean? - the agent asked, trying to not sound harsh.

- You survive in the field because you're expecting to be hurt, so you notice the bad behaviours first. Lucy has showed to you as a sweet person, because a lover isn't supposed to hurt you, and gradually started hurting you - Q explained.

James grumbled sceptically, finding easier to just blame it on himself than trying to convince his brain to do otherwise.

- Also, I know that you'd rather die than hurt someone you love - Q added, lowering his voice.

The agent found himself nodding in response, since he wasn't able to argue with that.

- Do you need medical assistance? - the quartermaster asked.

James' eyes went wide at the question and, quickly shaking his head, he grabbed Q's wrist as if the young man was going to go and call a doctor in a few seconds.

- Hell no - the agent snapped.

Q flinched when his wrist was grabbed all of a sudden, but didn't try to break free.

- Why not? - he questioned.

- I don't want them to know - James admitted, thinking about what others would think about 007 getting beaten up like that.

With an heavy sigh and a nodded, Q seemed to agree.

- Alright - was the answer, while the quartermaster kept scanning James' skin, visibly searching for other injuries.

As Q moved the collar of his coat in order to expose James' neck, the agent found himself flinching and fearing of moving back at the same moment. The quartermaster quickly stopped what he was doing as a result of Bond's reaction.

- I'm sorry: I was looking for wounds - Q explained and James nodded.

- There are only bruises - the agent assured him, noticing Q's sceptical expression, but was grateful that the young man didn't ask further.

With a sniff, James returned to look absently at the ground, stiffing in reproach about how weak he had been.

- I might need to alert M: this could be an hostility against MI6 and they could pay her a visit - Q eventually said.

James' head quickly raised at those words, but then he noticed Q's smart smile and smirked.

- Are you being protective? - James jested and the quartermaster chuckled.

- I'm just making sure she regrets your relationship as much as you do - Q explained and James' chest warmed up at the thought, causing him to smile sincerely.

The warm grew more as the quartermaster placed his hand on the agent's cheek, looking at him with a soft expression.

- That's the smile I want to see - Q murmured.

Part two here.

#007 #00q #james bond #00q fanfiction #00q fic #ship #q james bond #writing inspiration #headcanons #abusive relationship #that's the 007 I'd like to see

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another-fantasy-world · 4 years

Text

Strings Pt. 2

Pairing: Rosalie Hale x Fem!OC

Summary: in which the true queen of vampires found love when she least expected.

Warnings: ...Light Angst? Slowburn and mentions of death,trauma and depression

Timeline: Breaking Dawn - Post-Twilight

Word count: 4, 200 words

!Extra long chapter!

GIF isn’t mine

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The witch couple somehow got Rosalie to agree to their terms, much to her distaste. She still doesn’t know what it is that irks her about the couple, she does not trust them, at all but, she trusts Carlisle. Plus, right now, they have more important matters to attend to.

Various thoughts run through Rosalie’s head, as she stands in the vast snow covered field. She may not show it, but she worries for her adoptive sister as Alice strides through the field handing Aro her hand for him to go through her thoughts and visions.

“Now you know. That’s your future, unless you decide on another course.” Alice states when Aro dropped her hand in shock

Rosalie stands rigid, observing silently as she glares and snarls at their “Royalty”, eyes pitch black. She knows in herself that she would do everything for her family, even if it costs her, her life. She stands there, watching as another hybrid walks into the field, she watches as they question him, She watches as Bella sags slightly in relief knowing that Renesmee is immortal and finally, she smiles knowing that they’ve won as the red-coated vampires blurs into the distance.

Joyous screams of victory rips through the air as she joins her family as they rejoice, happy that they did not have to fight the Volturi today. Together, they walk back to their house where their witnesses say their farewells and leaving.

“We won!” Maggie squeals are she rushed into Rosalie’s arms with Emmett trailing behind her

“Yeah, Yeah. Now I have to suffer an immortal life with the smell of wet dog wafting through the air.” Rosalie smirks

“Hey! I heard that!” Jacob complains

“Tsk. You were supposed to.” She retorts as she walks to Carlisle who was holding Esme in his arms.

But as she was walking, she was suddenly thrown into a void, cold, dark, and starry? She was confused as she looks around, panicking when she couldn’t move.

“What the fuck is going on?!” She tries to move her body but she couldn't, she then feels her body get thrown around like a rag doll.

“This is worse than being forced to ride that death machine. What was is called? Rollie? Roller coaster?” She grumbles in her head as she wills herself to not puke. She didn't even think vampires could still be nauseous.

That went on for what seemed to be hours before she was finally dropped into the ground. Opening her golden eyes, her orbs seemed to hyper focus on the gigantic trees and the creatures that live in it. Her ears then pick up the sound of groaning, turning her head, she sees the rest of her family sprawled all over the forest floor.

“Oh my God! Amore! You didn't have to paralyze them that hard!” Veronica thumps Amore in the head.

“I sincerely apologize for what she has done. We needed to take you far away from Forks, The Volturi Coven changed their minds and decided to ambush you and your witnesses. Fear not, your witnesses have been teleported to their homes safe and sound.” Veronica explains while still glaring at the pouting Amore.

“What was that anyways?” Edward groans as he sits up'

“Teleportation. I needed to paralyze you, that lowers the chance of you losing a limb.” Amore explains while Veronica cast a cloud of blue upon them, seemingly healing their “injuries”

“Cooooool. Can we do it again?” Emmett brightens like a child getting a puppy for the first time.

“No.” They all deadpanned at him making Veronica and Amore chuckle.

“Well, I suggest we get going now, even with our speed, it's still a long way to run.” Veronica dusts herself off as she and Amore help the family up and the still dazed shifters.

“Long way to run where?” Jacob asks, utterly confused.

“To the palace of course.” Veronica smiles

“It's high time you guys meet the Queen.” Amore smirks and winks as she speeds off, followed by Veronica then the Cullens and then the Black Pack.

Anastasia pinched her temples in pure stress, the Cullens were coming to visit and everything was in utter chaos. Mud was smeared all over the walls, broken dishes and glass cluttered the floor as little children run past her, screaming her ears off.

“Lance, darling. Clean this up before I rip someone's head off. Make sure this place is spotless before the guests arrive. Get the pups back to their mothers, the children back to the village and contact Maxine, there's a few shifters accompanying the Cullens. I'll be in my lab.” She orders her personal butler who scrambles around trying to get people to help him.

Anastasia ventures down, down until she reaches her own personal laboratory where she herself develops her own type of blood. She's repulsed by the thought of drinking from a clueless human no matter how annoying they are and disgusted at the thought of killing an innocent animal just so she could satiate her desire of drinking blood. And because of this artificial blood, her eyes slowly turn into the rich dark violet that it is now.

As she works, combining different substances and powders that vary colors, her mind drifts to a certain blonde girl. Anastasia for the life of her, cannot even think of what she would do where she faces the blonde beauty, not when her heart if filled with guilt.

1932 Rochester, New York

Anastasia roamed the streets as she keeps her eyes trained on the single glowing golden string attached to her, amongst the other colors. She was born this way, even when she was just a little human, she could always see strings. Of course her feeble mind at that time didn't understand what it was, but now she could. As a vampire, she practiced and willed her strings to be more color coded, since the mere chaos of tangled strings give her a headache. The strings connected each creature in this world, once you make an acquaintance, a blue string connects the two of you and that soon escalates into different colors, However, one color lets her see soulmates, and that's green, which is why she's now following this glowing gold string to wherever it may go. She was tempted to just yank the string as hard as she could and let the creature on the other side find her but somehow, something was holding her back.

As she walked the streets of New York, head held high, she also ignored the stares that she got while walking. She knew why of course, her Italian clothing much different from the posh American clothing everyone around her has, not to mention she was wearing clothes meant for “men” but she never was the one to abide to gender constructs. She also couldn't, for the life of her, think about what she would do when she meets the creature on the other end of the string. Should she kill it? Should she keep it? Should she protect it? Should she-

Her thoughts were then interrupted when her eyes suddenly tunnel visioned. There 'it' was, the 'creature' on the other end of her string, 'it' was actually a woman. An insanely attractive human, being fawned over by boys as she walks by and she was smiling at the small group girls crowding her. Anastasia could suddenly feel the emotions of the said woman: Happiness, Pride, and a little twinge of loneliness and sadness. Anastasia's heart (despite being half-dead) tightened in her chest, she wanted to do everything and anything to make the woman happy. She didn't even care that she just saw her mere minutes ago, she wanted her and only her. And that's when she realized, this woman, no, this angel was meant to be hers. But then again, Anastasia knew that the woman was too good for her, she doesn't deserve this life of pain and eternal suffering, seeing the people you once loved grow old and eventually die, yet she also knew that she cannot live without her, so she settled with being her protector.

“Mr. Lombardi? Did I pronounce that right?” Mr. Hale questioned her, she had managed to manipulate her looks to make her look like a man.

“Yes sir.” Anastasia answered, she named herself Gioele for the sake of her facade.

“And why should I let you protect my daughter?” Mr. Hale raised his eyebrows, staring at the 'guy' infront of him.

“With The Great Depression still happening, I believe your daughter might be in danger. You and your success may make you a target for those who are below you, poor unfortunate...” She trailed off, her moral compass preventing her from saying derogatory words but she knew she had to play by his personality and rules

“We do not talk about them.” Mr. Hale deadpanned

“Yes sir.” 'Gioele' agreed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

“Very well then. You have piqued my interest. One wrong move and you'll find yourself hanging on a rope by your neck.” He threatened just as someone entered.

“Father? Mother requested your presence.” Anastasia's eyes widen when she hears the soft, melodic voice right behind her.

“Rosalie! Perfect timing. This is Gioele Lombardi, he will be protecting you from those awful lowlifes scattered around the streets.” Mr. Hale introduces Anastasia to Rosalie who in turn looked at her.

“Rosalie. Rosalie Hale.” She introduces her self while Anastasia promply goes down on one knee and kisses her hand.

“My Pleasure.” She smiled, seeing the faint blush on Rosalie's cheeks.

Anastasia stood up, offering her arm to Rosalie who accepted and they both followed Mr. Hale outside, Anastasia holding up an umbrella to shield Rosalie and herself from the sun. She didn't sparkle as much as other vampires do but it would have been really suspicious when people see her faint sparkle as her marble like skin hits the rays of the sun.

And in that afternoon alone, Rosalie Hale became more popular, people talked about the attractive guard and of course Rosalie's beauty. Anastasia was annoyed at how people spoke about her and her mate, while they were walking around the city. Rosalie noticed and distracted her by asking her questions and answering questions directed to her as well.

Anastasia just felt herself fall even more as days pass by, She would sit by Rosalie's side while she reads her books, She would accompany her on walks and would help her pick flowers as well. She knew all about Rosalie but Rosalie only knew things Anastasia want her to, that doesn't include the fact that she's a woman and not a man and also the fact that she's an actual vampire. And that proved to be in her disadvantage later on.

A year pass by quickly with Anastasia enjoying every single second she spends with her soulmate, she could feel Rosalie radiating happiness whenever she's around, but of course, Rosalie was getting suspicious as well. It may be because of that one time where they were caught in the rain and their umbrella was much too small for 2 persons so Anastasia insist on Rosalie using it, leaving her wet, making her clothes stick to her body, and even under the dim light, Rosalie could make out a feminine body, toned but still feminine and that left her thinking if she truly knew her guard as well as she thought she did.

One day, Rosalie was sent on an errand to deliver her father's 'forgotten' lunch, and Anastasia knew it was a bunch of shit. She heard the couple discussing their plans to hopefully attract the attention of Royce King II and they succeeded, she had to watch as Rosalie and Royce flirt with each other, with her silently seething, forgotten. She had to hide her growls and snarls whenever flowers would be delivered at the Hale Household, but she couldn't do anything, Rosalie deserved someone who could grow old with her, and not a half-ling abomination like her. So she accepted the fate she wished upon herself and made the hardest decision of her life.

The day Rosalie was engaged, she packed her bags and set to leave but unfortunately, Rosalie caught her. And what she did that day, she still regrets up until now.

“Gioele? You are leaving.” Rosalie states, stunned.

“Don't. Don't stop me Ms. Hale. Or should I say Mrs. King?” Anastasia spat out, and she internally flinched when she saw the pain in Rosalie's eyes.

“Where did this come from Gio?” Gio, Rosalie's nickname for her alter ego. She couldn't handle it anymore and looked around before gently dragging Rosalie into an empty room in their house.

“Look, my name's not Gioele.” Anastasia removes the glamour she placed on herself and watched as Rosalie stare at her in shock.

“It's Anastasia. And yes. I am leaving. You are to be married to Royce King II and I cannot get in between that.” She stares at Rosalie's eyes, hoping to relay her feelings, but Rosalie was still much too hurt from her best friend lying to her.

“You lied. You broke two of your promises Lombardi. Is that even your real surname? It is not, is it? God. Why must I be so stupid! Go! Leave! Find some other woman to lie to!” Rosalie walks away from her

“Rosalie! Wait!” She tried to chase after her but Rosalie just turned around and slapped her, she was shocked, not only because the love of her life slapped her, it's also because Rosalie managed to crack the base of her neck. She lifted her hand to cover the cracks that were covering the base of her marble like neck.

“Rose...” She stared at Rosalie.

“Leave.” Rosalie glared, and Anastasia knew that this was her chance... to let go of her soulmate... in the most painful way possible.

“Fine...” She growled out “...I never liked you anyways, You self-centered, smug woman who only lives to please her father and the people around you. I hope you and your cold heart enjoy your loveless marriage!” She grabs her bags and walks away, not bothering to turn back, knowing that if she sees Rosalie's face and the raw emotions in her eyes, she'll just turn back and beg for forgiveness.

But of course, she couldn't stay away, no matter how hard she tried, she just can't so she lingered, hiding herself in the shadows, watching as Rosalie walked the paths they used to walk on, with Royce accompanying her, his arm hooked on hers as they chatted happily. It took everything in Anastasia to not rip off Royce's head whenever she knew he was making Rosalie uncomfortable and It took everything in her to not steal Rosalie away from him.

She was lingering around Vera's house, Rosalie was in there, cradling the baby boy in her arms as she cooed at him. Anastasia smiled as she saw her mate being all cute, she longed to have that with her, but alas she couldn't.

She was just enjoying herself when suddenly a body slammed into her, they fought for the upper hand as they kept tumbling around. Anastasia would straddle the man and he would flip her as well, she knew he was a vampire and didn't bother to pull her punches, cracking his marble like skin while he, in turn would also punch her face. The only difference they had was, Anastasia is actually bleeding. After what went on like hours, something snapped, Anastasia knew something was wrong with her mate so her eyes glowed a bright red, she threw the man off her and tied him with her strings. She growled at him before speeding off, following the slowly fading golden string. She ran as fast as she could, but she was too late.

“Rose?” she stared in horror as the body of her beloved, sprawled on the sidewalk, bleeding out.

“Stasia?” She turned her head and saw Carlisle standing behind her.

“Carlisle! I beg of you, Please save her. Turn her Carlisle please!” Anastasia begged Carlisle

“What happened? I smelt the blood.” Carlisle knelt beside the barely alive Rosalie.

“Turn her first then I'll explain.” Anastasia choked out as she closed her eyes just in time for Carlisle's teeth sinking into Rosalie's skin

She shook with anger and decided that she'll chase after whoever did this to her, her ears hyper focused, trying to find whoever did it. And that's when she heard it: Royce King II.

“I need to find a new fiancee now.” He laughed as his friends expressed their joy in letting them-

Anastasia let out a loud guttural growl as she prepared to speed away but Carlisle held her back.

“Don't. She needs you first.” Carlisle motioned to Rosalie who's writhing in pain. She immediately scooped her mate into her arms and followed Carlisle's mate string, which led her to a two floor house, she barged in with Carlisle hot on her heels.

“Lay her here.” He instructed the distressed Queen.

“Will she be okay Carlisle?” She asked the doctor as he kissed his mate in her forehead.

“Yes. Give it a couple of days, Your Highness.” Carlisle reassured her as she swallowed back her sobs.

“Very well. Uh. My apologies, I barged in without your permission. My name is Anastasia. You must be Carlisle's lover?” She offered her hand to the older woman who in turn just gave her a hug.

“It's fine. Really. You are welcome here. Carlisle told me all about you.” Esme smiled and Anastasia just smirked at Carlisle.

“Still thinking about me Cullen?” Anastasia teased, taking Rosalie's hand into hers and gripping it, calming her nerves.

“He talks about you everyday.” Esme smiled at her.

Anastasia was about to reply when the doors opened and in came...

“You.” Anastasia growled and lunged at the man. He dodged but she caught his arm and used her momentum to flip him over, throwing him through the wall and into the backyard, making him land flat on his back. The man coughed as Anastasia straddled him, planting her foot to the ground, her strings glowing a bright red as they wrap around him as she slowly ripped his head off.

“Anastasia! He's my son!” Carlisle cried out as Anastasia snapped at him, eyes widening in surprise.

“He's yours?” Anastasia's eyes glowed a bright red and Carlisle felt his entire body shiver.

“Y-Yes.” Carlisle stuttered, the murderous aura surrounding Anastasia triggering his fight or flight.

“He is the reason why I didn't get to my mate fast enough. He lunged at me for no reason, leaving my mate in a vulnerable position AND LOOK WHERE SHE IS RIGHT NOW! SHE'S FIGHTING FOR HER LIFE CARLISLE!” Anastasia's body shook in anger

Carlisle could see the cracks growing on Edward's skin, and he slowly approached the furious queen. He managed to calm Anastasia down by sending calming waves into his strings, decades of working alongside the queen was proven to be useful in this moment. The ropes that were once wrapped around Edward slowly loosened until they retreated back into her body.

Edward wheezed as he moved away from her while Anastasia composed herself.

“Teach your son better manner s, Carlisle or the next time we meet, you'll see his decapitated head decorating the Volturi Walls.” Anastasia threatened as she walks calmly back into the house through the wall that she made and sat beside her unconscious mate. She noticed the golden string slowly go back to it's natural glow, which made her sigh in relief.

A couple of hours pass by and Anastasia was feeling hungry, she asked for Carlisle's help in looking for food in the forest and he told her where the majority of the animals lived and she set off. While she was hunting, she couldn't help but feel like she failed Rosalie. She let her become something that she protected her from. A Vampire.

Once she had her fill, she slowly walked back to where Carlisle lives, delaying her arrival as much as possible, dreading the fact that she knew Rosalie was awake. She could feel it. She took a deep breath and opened the door, making everyone's head snap towards her. Her eyes caught Rosalie's and instantly, they connected, more so than before, which means that Anastasia feels what Rosalie feels 100 times more than before. Pain, Sadness, Longing and Hatred. And that's when she knew, she knew that Rosalie hated her. Her soulmate hated her. The thought weighed on top of her, slowly crushing her heart, she physically gasped for breath as she could feel Rosalie's anger increased tenfold.

“Rose. Let me-”

“Don't Anastasia. Do what you do best, leave.” Rosalie answered her, putting emphasis on her real name. She tried to move closer but Rosalie only moved and sped out of the house, with Carlisle trailing after the newborn.

She was about to follow as well when Edward stopped her.

“I apologize for my actions earlier, I truly believed that you were preying on them, that's why I attacked you, but you should really trust me when I say that you shouldn't follow her. She's angry.” Edward quickly explained

“And how do you know that?” She asked.

“I can read minds.” Edward simply states, nodding at her.

Anastasia nodded, defeated and sat on a chair with Esme right beside her.

“Give her some time.” Esme advises, rubbing the girl's back.

She gritted her teeth when she felt Rosalie's pain. Not physical, emotional. And she has the power to take it away. But with a great price. A price she was willing to take.

When the Cullen family was complete, with Rosalie, Anastasia quickly worked her gift. Wrapping her strings around them and re-writing their memories, without her in it. Except for Carlisle's, she left some memories of him working alongside her while in the Volturi. Once she finished, she quickly speeds away and forces herself to leave the memories and pain she just took into the back of her mind as she wiped her bleeding nose, her body collapsing under a big tree due to the exhaustion.

She was pulled back into reality when the beaker she was holding in her hand exploded, drenching her in artificial blood. She gritted her teeth, there were two things that could've happened. One, she mixed the wrong chemicals while day dreaming or two, Amore decided to switch the labels again.

She checked everything, and then found out the second one was the truth, she stormed out of her lab, blood dripping from every inch of her body. Her annoyance clouded her brain, forgetting that she sent Amore to pick up the Cullens and if she was here, then so were The Cullens.

She spotted Amore from afar and sped towards her, slamming her against the brick walls of her “castle” . She hated that term.

“What did I tell you about switching my labels Lewis?! Look at me! Blood is in every crevice in my body! There's blood in parts that I didn't even knew were exposed!” She growled out

“Well, to be f-fair, You aren't wearing your usual lab attire so that's partially your fault.” Amore choked out. Anastasia just growls in response.

“Stasia, calm yourself. First impressions are important.” Veronica waves her hand and Anastasia's clothes were back to normal, dry and there was no trace of blood anywhere.

First Impressions? Anastasia then mentally facepalmed herself. She had forgotten the Cullen Family. She releases Amore, then turned to the family, recalling her speech, she started to talk.

“Hello. Sorry you had to see that, but you should really get used to it. My name is Anastasia...” She drifted off as her violet orbs met golden ones. In her brief moment of surprise, she unknowingly let down her guard, causing her previously cast spell break. She knew that her mate would be there and she mentally prepared herself but turns out, she wasn’t prepared at all. When she recovered from her shock, she could feel that her spell had been broken. The entire coven looked at her with various emotions: Happiness, Confusion, Longing and Familiarity. She may or may not have met all the members before and also wiped their memories.

“Gio...” Rosalie whispered.

“Shit...” Anastasia cursed, she somehow knew this would happen, just not this soon.

“Rose...” She stared at her mate for what seemed like years before Rosalie glared at her with so much anger she didn't know it was possible, and stormed off. Again.

'She always does that.' Anastasia sighs.

“Well, that secret's out. I'll escort you to you ro-”

“We'll do it. Chase after her.” Veronica pats her back before escorting the Family to their respective chambers, but Carlisle stayed behind.

“That... was messed up Anastasiarine.” Carlisle expressed his disappointment before pulling the girl in a brief hug.

“I missed you too Cullen.” She whispered before letting go to chase after her mate.

“I'm sorry. Please forgive me.” She sent that thought to the Cullen Family, including Rosalie and went back to what she did 75 years ago.

She was once again, chasing the glowing gold string.

#rosalie hale #rosalie hale x oc #jasper hale x alice cullen #edward cullen x bella swan #carlisle x esme #olympic coven #cullen clan #the cullens #cullen family #the volturi #rosalie cullen #rosalie hale x fem oc #platonic carlisle x oc #The Cullens x OC #The Volturi x OC #rosalie twilight #rosalie #rosalie hale x reader #rosalie lillian hale

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johnsamericano · 3 years

Text

“Corruption pt. 5” w.y.h

Pairing: college teacher!Lucas x student!reader.

Genre: fluff, angst, smut.

Summary: Lucas never thought of falling for a student, but from the first day you walked into de classroom you had him wrapped around your finger.

Warnings: none

a/n: This is the last chapter BUT I’m gonna write an epilogue. Hope you like it.

Taglist: @ncteaxhoe @junglewoos

corruption m.list.

“Dude, you need to get out of bed.” Chenle slightly pushed your body. “You’re starting to smell.”

“What’s the point, Chenle?” You whined against your pillow, still a little wet from your mental breakdown an hour ago.

“You still need to go to classes.” He tried pulling your arm, but you didn’t budge.

“I don’t want to see him.”

“You don’t even have classes with him, for god’s sake.” He sighed, desperate to get you out of bed.

“Just leave me alone.” Your phone started buzzing, announcing Lucas’ fifth call of the day. It was barely 9:00 a.m.

“Okay, I’m done with this little attitude of yours.” He grabbed the device and handed it to you. “You’re gonna answer the phone and solve your problems like the goddamn adult you are, or else I might call your parents and tell them you’ve been sleeping with our professor.” You sat straight, eyes wide open.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

You groaned and snatched the phone from his hands, pressing the green button with shaky hands.

“Hello?” Your voice came out weaker than expected.

“Y/n? Thank god. Are you alright? You haven’t been answering any of my calls or messages so I was worried something might have happened.” You hummed. “Can we meet?”

“Okay.”

“I can pick you up and then we can go to my apartment-”

“Don’t worry, I’ll ask Chenle to drive me.”

“Alright. See you then.” A soft murmur stopped you from hanging up. “I love you.” You couldn’t bring yourself to reply, instead ending the call.

“You were such a brave girl.” Your friend cooed while wrapping his arms around you.

“Shut up.”

Chenle helped you pick an outfit to ‘show him what he lost’ and drove you all the way to his apartment complex.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” You released your body from the seatbelt.

“It’s okay, lele. Thank you for driving me.” He nodded before you went out.

You took a deep breath, rehearsing the things you wanted to say to Lucas. But as soon as you saw him, your mind went blank. He looked bad, maybe even worse than you.

“Y/n.” He wanted so bad to hug you, to beg you not to leave him. But that would be selfish.

“Lucas.” He let you in, there were two cups of tea right above the coffee table in his living room.

You sat at a safe distance from him.

“I am deeply sorry, y/n. I should’ve told you earlier what was going on, but I was a coward. I knew this would be over the moment you found out.”

“So what is going on Lucas?” Your voice was calm as you picked up the teacup and brought it to your lips. Those soft, sweet lips.

“There are some things you don’t know about me.” He licked his lips nervously. “For instance, my parents come from wealthy families, and I’m their only child, therefore I’m...”

“The heir.” You completed, feeling a knot forming in your stomach.

“Yes.” He feared so much that you’d see him with different eyes. “My parents wanted me to have someone to guide me and support me for when I take over the family company. The woman you saw last Friday was one of their friends’ daughter.”

He waited for a reply that never came. How could you even answer to that?

“Say something, please.” He finally scooted closer to you, taking your hand between his. His heart broke at the sight of your teary eyes. “Anything, I’m begging you.”

“I understand your decision.” He expected anything but that. “They’re your parents after all, you want to make them proud. I just wish you’d told me earlier, it would’ve been easier to end things between us.”

“I’ll leave them.”

“What?”

“Just ask me to stay with you and I’ll abandon everything.” By the look in his eyes, you knew he meant it. “Ask me to stay with you.” It sounded more like a plead.

“No.” It took all of your inner strength to get that single word out.

“Y/n, I-”

“Lucas, don’t ask me to decide on your life when I barely know what to do with my own.” Yes, your words were hurtful, but you weren’t wrong. “I don’t want to be the girl who made you drift away from your family.”

At some point, you both had started crying, knowing that there was no way you could fix your relationship.

“I’m so sorry, y/n.” He apologized for the millionth time. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know you didn’t.” You held no grudge against him, after all, you would’ve probably done the same if you were in his situation. “Just promise me one thing. You’ll do what’s best for yourself, not for me or for your parents.” He nodded, eyes watering. “I should probably leave now.”

“Wait.” He held onto your wrist, his lost puppy eyes looking directly into your own. “If it isn’t too much to ask, can I have one last kiss?”

It was indeed to much to ask, but you didn’t care. You wanted to feel the warmth of his lips against yours one last time, so you went for it.

Straddling his lap, you grabbed the back of his head to pull him even closer. It was a kiss filled with passion and love, it was your own way of saying goodbye. It took a while for you to pull away.

“Thank you.” He murmured, hands caressing your hips. “I love you so much, y/n. I promise I’ll be back, okay?”

“I love you too, Lucas.” With that being said, you stood up. Avoiding to look back, you made your way out.

Chenle was still outside when you came down, leaning against his car with his arms wide open for you.

You didn’t hesitate to crash your body against his, crying your eyes out as he combed your hair with his fingers.

“I’m here for you. Always.”

(...)

3 years later...

“Where are you?”

“I’m picking up my luggage, see you at the parking lot?”

“Okay.”

A few minutes later, the tall, dark haired man walked out of the airport. A sports bag hanging from his left shoulder while the opposite hand dragged the suitcase.

“Kun!”

“Hey, man.” They greeted each other with a big hug. “I missed you.”

“Sorry, I wanted to visit earlier but work has been a bitch.” Specially when he didn’t even like what he was doing.

“Same here, it seems like the students get more unbearable with every semester.” He helped Lucas load his belongings into the truck. “So how’s Mrs. Wong been? Are you getting along well?”

“Shut up.” He rolled his eyes while getting inside the car. “Last week, my mom asked us about our sex life. She was like ‘I expect to have grandkids by the end of next year’, the last time we kissed was in our wedding.”

“So you’re gonna be a dad?” He mocked, starting the engine.

“Not from her kids at least.” Kun knew exactly what that meant.

“Lucas, you should really get over her. You’re a married man.”

“Not for much longer.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve been seeing a lawyer, none of us is happy with our relationship and we’ve already wasted three years of our life in it. It’s time to end it.”

“And what do your parents think about this?”

“They don’t have a say in this matter. I’m and adult and it’s my future we’re talking about.”

“And why couldn’t you come to this conclusion three years ago? You would’ve saved me all the suffering from listening to you ranting about how much you missed y/n.” Lucas hit his arm playfully, a big smile on his face as the thought of you crossed his mind.

He unlocked his phone, your picture was still his wallpaper.

“Has she graduated yet?”

“She’s actually doing her master’s degree. She’s an exceptional student, a lot of important labs already have their eyes on her.”

“Of course they do, they’d be stupid if they didn’t.” His finger traced your figure, smiling proudly at the image.

“Oh look at you, you haven’t stopped loving her one bit.”

“Stop it.”

“Oh, by the way, we need to stop by the campus. I have to pick up exams to check them at home.” Lucas’ eyes lit up at the possibility of meeting you.

“Do you think she’ll be there?”

“Probably, she’s usually devouring a book at the library or at the lab. Sometimes she stops by at my office for tutoring or my opinion on something.”

“You better not have tried something with her.”

“Actually...”

“What?”

“Just kidding, she’s my student, nothing more.”

“She better be.”

The campus was thankfully near the airport. Lucas almost fell as he exited the vehicle, eager to see you once again after all those years.

“Careful, give me a call when you’re done looking for her.”

“Sure.” He replied, already running away from the car towards the library.

He met a lot of his old students on the way, briefly greeting them before resuming his search. You weren’t there, so he decided to try at the labs.

You weren’t there either, but your ID and belongings were. You looked different in your picture, you looked so mature now, but your innocent aura was still intact.

“Are you looking for y/n?” One of the students asked as soon as he saw Lucas eyeing her ID. “She just left.”

“Oh, thank you.” He replied, still not taking his eyes off your mesmerizing face.

His phone vibrated.

‘She’s in my office.’ His heart sped up and his legs automatically started moving.

On his way to Kun’s office he tried to think of ways to greet you. Would a simple ‘hello’ be okay? Or would it be appropriate to tell you how much he missed you?

His mind was so busy he didn’t realized he was already in front of the office. He took a deep breath before opening the door. Your back was facing him while you passionately explained Kun the results of your experiment, not even realizing who just made an appearance.

“Y/n.” Lucas called from the door frame, causing you to interrupt your explanation.

“Yes?” You finally turned around. “Lucas?”

Your hair was tied up in a messy hair bun, a pair of safety glasses covering your eyes and a stained lab coat around your body. You looked like a mad scientist, a cute mad scientist.

“Hi.” Was the only thing he could pronounce. ‘How pathetic’ he thought.

“Long time no see.” You smiled so warmly, as if he hadn’t abandoned you to marry another woman. “Have you been well?”

“Y-yes, I mean, as well as I can be.” Your eyes wandered to his hand, taking notice of the golden ring around his finger.

“I’m glad.” You dedicated him another smile before turning back to face your professor. “I’ll send you the draft of my report as soon as I finish it. Excuse me.” You grabbed your laptop from the desk and went out, murmuring a small ‘bye’ to Lucas on your way out. The scent of your perfume striking him with a wave of nostalgia.

“Well, I don’t know what I was expecting but this was definitely not it.”

“I don’t know why I thought we would both burst into tears and say how much we missed each other.” He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck.

“She’s probably going back to the lab, in case you want to talk to her again.” He nodded. “I’ll wait for you so we can head to my house.”

“Alright, I’ll try to be quick.” He went out again, this time at a slower pace.

He went back to the labs, your voice receiving him as soon as he crossed the entrance. Most of the students had already left, it was already getting dark.

“Zhong Chenle, get out of here, you’re distracting me.”

“But, y/n, I’m hungry and I don’t want to go alone to the cafeteria.”

“Not my problem.” You were focused on writing your report, the safety glasses still on your face.

“Uhm, are you busy?” Lucas knocked on the door, catching yours and Chenle’s attention.

“You’re back.” His eyes were wide open. “You know what? I’ll go get our food, see you.”

“Coward.” You muttered. “Come in, Lucas.” Even though there was no hint of anger in your voice, the fact that you were calling him Lucas and not Xuxi meant something bad.

“What are you working on, huh?” He says on the stool beside yours, taking a look at your screen.

“Just trying to find a cure for AIDS, nothing special.” You typed a few more words before saving the file. “What did you want to talk about Mr. Wong?”

“I think you know what.”

“I think so.” You removed the glasses, red marks over the area where they used to be.

“Cute.” He though out loud, causing you to touch your face, the color of your cheeks becoming pinker with every second. It was amazing how much of an effect his words still had on you.

“S-sorry, I wore these for more than five hours.”

“Don’t worry, I know what it’s like.” He tapped his fingers against the table. “Three years huh?”

“Yeah, seems like it was yesterday when we...” You chose not to finish the sentence, knowing that it would probably make you cry.

“I missed you.” His hand reached out for yours, the golden band around his finger burning your skin. “There hasn’t been a single day where I haven’t thought about you. You managed to take over my mind in a way that no one else could ever do.”

“We can’t do this.” With your free hand, you gently removed his hand from yours. “You’re married.”

“I’m getting divorced soon.” Your heart thumped so loudly against your chest that you were afraid he’d hear it. “We just need to fix some things and this whole thing will be over.”

You pulled out your notebook from your bag, tearing a piece of paper to write in it. You handed it to him with a genuine smile.

“Here’s my new number. Give me a call when you finish fixing those things, I’ve already waited for three years, so what’s a few more months?”

#nct au #nct imagines #nct ot21 #nct smut #nct x reader #nct #nct 127 #nct scenarios #wayv #wayv smut

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