#and automatically gives that one for himself and asks for a volunteer | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thewinter-eden · 18 days ago

Text

Blood Sugar Virus (39)

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Genre: Horror, zombies, strangers to lovers, angst, suspense, slow burn Pairing: Kang Yeosang x female!reader Warnings: based on the Wanteez Zombie episode, zombies, language, discussion of parasites, gore, angst, heavy topics, suggestive content

Story Summary: You (stage name Sugar) are the co-captain of a horror acting group. You and your guys are the ones the companies hire when they want to stage a zombie, ghost, or any vaguely horrific and dystopian episode. So when you get hired by Ateez to develop a zombie program, it's just another routine that you've done a million times. Everything's going exactly according to script--until suddenly it isn't, and it starts getting a little too real.

🏆 Esteemed Moot: @ramadiiiisme

⭐️ Reader Spotlight: @mrsminseochoi

< last chapter | masterlist | next chapter >

“Oh, they’re holding hands again.” Seonghwa announces as soon as the two of you return to 2-1, but where Wooyoung had called you out to tease you, the oldest of Ateez looks relieved. “I told you he’s stupid.”

“Thanks hyung.” Yeosang returns flatly. A glimpse of embarrassment flickers in between the lines of his unappreciative deadpan. Instead of dwelling on Seonghwa’s responding smirk, he looks to Rosé, his frown turning worried as she suffers pitifully.

Namjoon has three small boxes of matches in his hands, serious as he approaches you. “I’ve got Seonghwa helping Mingi, and Hongjoong and San are gonna carry Rosé down. If you two are good with taking the rear, I’ll lead us down to the others.”

He’s focused, but you know him well enough to see past the well trained concentration to spot his concern. He’s already lost most of his friends, and now Rosé is half eaten up from the inside and you’re all but chewed to pieces from the outside.

He’s one more catastrophe away from shattering.

But he’s your co-captain, and it’s not his job to deal with this by himself.

You have support. Yeosang’s hand is warm in yours, and the impact of your last conversation is still a powerful beat in your heart. You have someone else’s strength helping you stay on your feet.

Namjoon has you.

You glance over to Mingi, slouching slightly to sling his arm over Seonghwa’s shoulders. There’s enough of a height difference to make Mingi look somewhat uncomfortable, shuffling to put weight on his good leg. “Why don’t you help Mingi? You’re a little bit taller than Hwa, it might make movement a little smoother.”

Namjoon isn’t much taller than Seonghwa, but every little bit compared to Mingi’s 6’ counts.

“I’ll take the lead.” You offer. You feel more like the version of yourself that you used to be than ever, capable of taking on your responsibility, strong enough to shoulder some extra. You can share your co-captain’s load without feeling burdened by it.

He looks like he’s already considered this plan, but had decided to take the lead so you didn’t have to. “Are you sure? I wanted to give you a break if you need it.” He scans you once, making sure you can safely provide what you’re offering, and seems to conclude that you can.

You shake your head resolutely. “No, I’m good. Let’s get someone else on the rear.” The only reason you don’t automatically leave Yeosang in the position without you is his consistent insistence on staying next to you, supplemented by his hand firmly gripping yours, but he surprises you.

“I’ve got it,” Yeosang looks to you for acknowledgement. He’s not asking permission, but rather double checking that you don’t have an alternative job for him.

“Me too,” Seonghwa volunteers. “We’ll watch your backs.”

Satisfied with the new plan, Namjoon goes to swap places with the second oldest, slotting himself under Mingi’s arm and helping him position himself with as much stability as possible for the state that he’s in.

“You’re comfortable with this?” You ask Yeosang, more concerned that he’s feeling like he’s already been on duty for too much than that he can’t fill the role. “I wasn’t expecting you to volunteer.”

He lets go of your hand to collect his aluminum desk leg and comes back. “You need someone to bring up the rear so you don’t have to worry about it,” he says easily. “So I’ve got it. Would you prefer to have someone help you at the front?”

It’s an implicit offer to stay next to you in the case that your lack of confidence following nearly being swarmed to death is too far beyond your comfort zone.

You choose not to entertain the idea of confronting another hoard of insects, even though you know that’s what you’ve stepped up to face.

Based on the events you’ve watched Yeosang fight through and overcome already, he would be your choice to ensure your group’s safety where you can’t. Seonghwa has clearly survived his own dangerous situations, but you have first hand certainty of Yeosang’s competence.

So you shake your head confidently. “No, I think this plan makes the most sense.”

He nods and twirls the rod between his fingers. “Then we’ll take the rear.”

It reminds you of the usual situations you run into at work, where you shoulder half of the load and Namjoon shoulders the other half, and neither of you have any concern about the other bringing their pieces together to completion.

Nobody besides your co-captain has ever given you that sense of security. Even Jimin’s ability to overcome unexpected obstacles leaves you anxious, preferring to just handle any unforeseen circumstances yourself.

Apart from an average amount of fear for his safety that stays with you in this apocalyptic hellscape, Yeosang doesn’t give you that feeling.

Everyone’s role in this plan feels optimized for success.

“Okay. Then let’s rock this.”

With most, if not all, of the zombies and parasites on the upper floors already dealt with, yours and Yeosang’s positions are more formalities than precautions. You step out into the hall first, scoping your surroundings before San and Hongjoong emerge behind you with Rosé nestled carefully between them.

She’s shuddering in their arms, still wheezing and groaning with pain, but you’re not overly concerned about the noise. No one comes after you, no insects come running.

Namjoon and Mingi hobble out next, and then Yeosang and Seonghwa.

You take only a second to count faces and ensure that they’re still good to go, and then you turn your back on them and round the corner, descending the main stairs.

Keeping your pace slow enough to feel the set of three close behind you in case they need anything, you split your attention between watching your path and making sure their feet land solidly on each step without missing any.

“I’m sorry,” Rosé is whispering. “I’m trying to be quiet, I’m sorry. It just fucking hurts.”

“You’re okay,” San reassures you. “We’re okay.”

“Nothing gets past Sugar,” Hongjoong quips comfortingly. “I bet she could fist fight a zombie to death before it ever got to you.”

You’re too rigid with focus to let the silliness of his humor in. San nearly misses a step, and you just barely manage to lift a foot to his shin and push the trajectory of his movement back onto solid ground in time.

He lets out a shaky breath as he realizes the tumble he could have taken, dragging Hongjoong and Rosé down with him. “Thanks,” he breathes.

Rosé gasps. “Wait, wait, please—”

Your group freezes, but you don’t let yourself look back. Your job is to watch your path, and you have to trust the guys to take care of her. It’s easier than you had expected it to be, despite the ache in your heart at the agony in her voice.

“Someone’s pinching me,” she groans painfully.

“Let’s readjust.” Hongjoong whispers to San. “Carefully.”

You hear them shuffling, Rosé whining at the handling of her decimated body, and then someone’s sigh of relief.

“Is that better?” San asks her.

“Yes, thank you.”

Someone taps your shoulder. “We’re good.” San.

Heart pounding, you continue down the stairs.

When you reach the bottom without further incident, you put up a hand to stop the group. You and Yeosang had left a dormant hoard of zombies on the first floor west hall, and by now they’re almost certainly dead and free of their parasites.

“Wait here,” you whisper.

San and Hongjoong take the opportunity to try to get Rosé comfortable again, while Namjoon and Mingi descend the rest of the steps to stand beside them.

“What’s the hold up?” Namjoon asks you.

“I think there are parasites down here,” you murmur as Yeosang and Seonghwa come to a stop on the last few steps, their backs to you to keep an eye on the direction from which you’d come.

“Alright, I’m with you.” Namjoon helps Mingi lean against the wall to support his weight, and joins you in the lobby.

“Hwa, Yeo, you good?” You call up to them in barely more than a breath.

Seonghwa flashes you a thumbs up, but doesn’t turn away from his post.

Yeosang looks back, having heard your plan, and glances at Namjoon. He’s witnessed first hand your crippling fear towards the monstrous insects, and the idea of staying behind with the group while you carry on to deal with a swarm gives him visible pause. Hardly a second passes before he nods, but he doesn’t look excited about it.

You’re relieved that Namjoon is coming with you, so you don’t try to shuffle anybody’s roles any more than you already have. You can handle a swarm with him. In addition to working well together anyway, he’s never been afraid of bugs.

Moving around the corner into the south end of the west hall, the two of you head cautiously towards where you left the small hoard.

You can see the fallen bodies of the dead zombies, some of them piled on top of each other, some of them sprawled alone as though having collapsed mid-sprint. There are a couple of giant bluish-black wasps picking around the bodies, but not as many as there are zombies.

Namjoon touches your arm and points to an open doorway. You hear the tiny scraping of insect legs from inside the room, and you reflexively freeze. He makes a motion like closing the doors, and you know he wants to cordon off the hallway so you only have the two or three that you can see to contend with.

But you shake your head and pull at his arm, tugging his ear close to your face. “If we close one, we’ll alert the others. Let’s get as far as we can and try to trap the largest group first.” You breathe, barely discernible, but he nods.

You slide your socked feet along the floor silently, glancing into open doorways as you go. Stepping cautiously over a body, you grip the wall to keep your balance.

The parasites in the hall haven’t noticed you yet, but it’s only a matter of time before they hear Rosé moaning behind you, so you move as fast as you can.

You find three parasites in one classroom on your side, five in another. Namjoon peers into a doorway, and holds up six fingers.

The parasites in your path are now on the other side of the next pile of bodies, and as soon as you step over it, they’ll spot you.

You’re only three rooms away from the one that you’d sent the other half of your group to, so you pause to count the bodies.

Seventeen parasites accounted for, excluding the first room that you didn’t think to check, and twenty-one bodies.

It’s a good enough ratio for you.

You backtrack to where you’d seen the group of five, and Namjoon positions himself near the room that contains the six. Before you grasp your door handle, you lean into the room and carefully tug two textbooks off the shelf.

When you turn to catch Namjoon’s gaze again, you give a nod.

In tandem, you begin to slide your respective doors shut as quietly as you can. The scraping of wood against the metal tracks grabs the attention of the three parasites ahead of you, and they begin to squeak curiously, turning back towards you.

You both manage to get the doors shut before they spot you.

As they shriek excitedly, you hear the other ones in the rooms that you’ve already passed start to catch on too.

Gesturing for Namjoon to go back to his next door, you chuck one of the textbooks as far ahead of you as you can. It hits the floor with a crash, and the parasites instantly spin around and dash towards it frantically.

The impact of the book riles up the parasites behind you, as you expected. When you reach the next door, with the three insects, you hurl the other textbook back the way you came.

The sound draws the last of the insects from the first classroom that you’d passed away from you as you shut the doors on your three and Namjoon’s two.

The ones from 1-1 are out in the hallway now, but there are only two of them. With those two and the three that have caught on to the diversion and are doubling back, they amount to the final twenty-one.

While the two are still distracted by the thrown book, you charge towards them in a mad dash of panic mixed with determination, and crush your socked heel down on one, and then the other.

They squish beneath your foot with a disgusting smear of blue and black.

Exhilaration fills you at your success. Fuck your fear of bugs, and fuck these goddamn bugs. You wheel around to deal with the other three.

Namjoon has already managed to squash one of them, but the other two are rushing at him in a wretched clamor of screeching that sends your brain into a terror spiral.

You have to clamber over two bodies to get to them, but by the time you do, Namjoon has already stomped a second parasite.

The third is mid-air, leaping straight at Namjoon’s shin, and your panicked instincts launch your body into the most impressive home base slide you’ve ever (never) performed. Your paper and tape-wrapped shin intercepts the parasite mid flight, and it thumps against your armor ineffectively.

“Shit!” Namjoon hisses when he realizes you’re on the floor, the insect already recovering from its surprise and skittering up your leg.

All of your previously conquered fear comes screaming back. Swinging your arm frantically, your hand knocks against its head and flings it back, but it bounces back and scampers up your thigh all over again, screeching so loud you can’t hear anything else.

You see its stinger, its ovipositor, lifting with intent to sink into the muscle of your leg, and a gasp scrapes your lungs.

Before the stinger can land, Namjoon kicks the giant wasp off of you, kicking your thigh in the process, and bolts after it to squash it before it can recover again.

When it’s nothing more than a smeared pile of shell and goo on the floor, he stares at you. “Are you fucking insane?” His hands grip you under your arms, hauling you to your feet. “God, where did that come from? You don’t even play soccer—where did that block come from?”

You sag against the nearest wall, panting to get your breath back, clutching your thigh where you know a bruise is already forming. “Fuck—shit—did you have to kick it so hard? Goddammit, Joon.”

He shoots you a scowl. “Sorry for saving you from implantation, I didn’t know you’d rather be full of parasite eggs than catch a little collateral damage.” But he takes you by the arms to help stabilize you as your leg shakes beneath you. The levity in his expression disappears. “Okay, yeah, sorry, I fucking punted it. It was adrenaline, sorry.”

Tears of pain are pricking at your eyes, but the sting is already settling. It will be a dull ache in a matter of minutes. “Shit, Joon, how strong are your fucking legs?”

Your thigh already feels hardened where he kicked you. It’s nowhere near the worst thing you’ve endured tonight, and it’s a laughable injury by comparison, but you can’t help giving him a hard time over it.

Guilt splashes across his face. “Shit, sorry, Sugar, are you okay? Can you walk?”

You roll your eyes and push him off of you, hobbling back down the hall towards the others. “Dammit this hurts. I feel like I fell down the stairs.”

“You would know.”

“Shut the hell up—Tae pushed me.” You mutter, still bitter about the incident half a decade ago where you and Taehyung had been clowning around and you ended up rolling like a bowling ball down an entire flight of stairs.

Namjoon has witnessed far too many of your worst moments. If he ever decides to blackmail you, he’ll have all the embarrassing ammunition he needs.

His hand returns to your back as you make your way back to the main stairs. “Want me to carry you?”

“Hell no, get off me.”

The others are in view now, watching your staggered approach with wide eyes. “Are you okay?” Mingi asks as you get close enough to whisper. “What happened?”

Up the steps, Yeosang turns immediately at the hushed question. He’s two seconds away from leaping the remaining three steps when he sees you walking, standing, sans any new visible injuries.

You jab a thumb at Namjoon, managing a tight smile through your grimace. “This fucking jock kicked me in the thigh and nearly broke my damn leg. He’s a goddamn hazard, someone get him away from me.”

Namjoon is muttering a combination of insults and apologies as he positions himself under Mingi’s arm again.

“How are you guys doing?” You pause near San and Hongjoong, giving them a reassuring shrug when their stares turn concerned, and lay a hand on Rosé’s arm. “You still with us, Rosie?”

“Barely.” She wheezes. “I think I’m on fire.”

“We’re good,” Hongjoong tells you. “Is it safe?”

You nod and mount the steps to reach Seonghwa and Yeosang.

The latter is already watching you as you limp your way up, extending a hand for you to pull yourself with. “He kicked you?” He repeats in disbelief.

“There was a parasite on me. His methods of rescuing me were a little more insane than yours.” You take his hand and heave your throbbing leg up one last step.

“There are parasites down there?” Seonghwa asks. “There’s been nothing from behind us so far. We’re clear from this end.”

“No, we cleared them. Most of them are locked into classrooms, so don’t open any doors.” You report. “But we matched the number of parasites to the number of bodies down there, so we should be good to go. We’ll get moving if you guys are ready.”

They both nod.

“Okay.” You brace yourself for going back down the steps on one screaming hip and one pulsing thigh. “Fucking Namjoon, he’s always breaking shit.”

“Damn, how hard did he kick you?” Yeosang mutters, observing the way you stagger to lift your weight off your tenderized leg. “Can you walk?”

“Yeah, it’s fine, it’s just gonna bruise like hell. I’m good, thanks.”

Despite your claims, he walks you back down to the bottom, lending the strength of his arm when you feel like your leg might buckle. That damn kick had jarred your entire quad system.

When you’re back to the front of the group, Yeosang lets you go and returns to his position at the back.

“I said I was sorry.” Namjoon grumbles.

“Save it for the insurance claim.” You fire back, and then gesture for the group to follow you. “There are a ton of tripping hazards between us and the room. Go slow, I’ll guide you.” You tell San and Hongjoong, and then you’re traversing the west hall once again.

You help them step over bodies and avoid slippery piles of squashed bugs, and then you’re rapping your knuckles against the door of your classroom.

Before you can slide it back yourself, it’s open wide and Wooyoung is standing in front of you. He beholds you with a childish expression of startled delight, and pushes the door all the way open. “Guys, it’s them—it’s all of them—”

He breaks off when he sees Rosé, and behind her, Mingi. “Oh my god.”

“What is it?” Yunho’s voice comes from within the room. “What’s wrong?”

“Is it bugs?” Jongho. “Shut the door if it’s bugs.”

Stepping aside so everyone can enter ahead of you, you peer around Wooyoung to see Yunho hurrying towards the door, and Jongho and Jimin still sitting on the floor behind your makeshift barricade.

As soon as Hongjoong and San carry Rosé inside, the room goes quiet. Jongho and Jimin, who had been excitedly and somewhat uproariously celebrating your group’s return drift off in a series of soft curses. Yunho’s enthusiastic questions about your success cuts off with a sharp intake of breath.

Wooyoung clears a space on the floor, kicking books and broken furniture out of the way so they can set her down with slow, tedious movements. She’s sobbing now, her pain unbearable, her body ravaged grotesquely.

“Rosie, shit, no.” Jimin breathes mournfully, scooting himself closer to her side as she is laid flat on her back, threading his fingers through her hair and rubbing comfortingly at her scalp. She weeps into the crook of her elbow, convulsing with tremors.

Namjoon and Mingi cross the threshold next. He’s in far better shape than Rosé, but he’s pale and hobbling, gasping for air past the Residual duress of the shock the defibrillator inflicted on him.

“What happened to him?” Wooyoung demands, rushing to brace his body against Mingi’s over side, helping to lift his weight off his legs. “Oh my god, Mingi, are you okay?”

“He got stung and then electrocuted.” Namjoon responds, easing the taller man down to the floor next to Rosé. “We cleaned up their wounds, but they’re going to need help getting out of here.”

“I’m fine.” Mingi grunts, shifting himself until he’s pressed against Rosé, reaching out to grasp her free hand. “They used the AED on me almost immediately after I got stung. Rosie dealt with hers longer than I did.” His fear is written all over his face, expressive eyebrows pinched with helpless worry as he watches her cry.

“Why?” Jimin’s eyes snap up to find you where you’re still leaning against the doorframe, and then focusing on Mingi and San. “You said you’d stay with her. What happened? Why is she so bad? She’s worse than I am.”

San looks overwrought with guilt, scrubbing a shaking hand over his face. “We didn’t know they would let the zombies out—she told us to work on the cameras—she said we could get it done faster if we worked together—we didn’t know.” He kneels in front of her, but there’s nothing he can do to soothe her torment.

“You weren’t supposed to leave her alone.” Jimin snaps. “Look at her, look how fucked up she is.”

“I told them to go.” Rosé moans. “I told them to. They were in more danger out there alone than I was.” She lurches to the side, coughing up blood. It splatters her lips, splashing her clothes.

Mingi yanks off his sweatshirt, using a sleeve to dab at her face while Jimin supports her head until she can breathe again.

“They should have fucking stayed with you.” Jimin argues. “They could have prevented this—shit, what is it with you guys and leaving my team to fend for themselves?”

His words hit Yunho hard, and now San and Mingi are similarly impacted by the accusation.

“Jimin.” You hold his gaze, interrupted only by Seonghwa taking his turn to enter the room. “They did everything right. She told them to go, they got their assignment done even through the hoard of zombies, and they went back for her as soon as they could, even after Mingi got stung. There’s nothing more to be done. They didn’t abandon her.”

Mingi looks relieved by your defense, but San hides his face from you.

None of you can say you would have done differently, especially when Rosé herself was the one who had insisted they look out for each other as they worked. Especially after she was supposed to be safe in that classroom.

Yeosang is next, but he doesn’t go first, rather gesturing for you to cross the threshold before him. You don’t argue, finally letting yourself into the safety of the ransacked room and pausing to help him close the door once he follows.

“They were supposed to stay with her, not fucking leave her alone,” Jimin snaps, still rubbing his fingers through the younger girl’s hair, wincing as she shudders through an overwhelming wave of agony.

“They did the best they could.” Namjoon tells him softly. “All we can do now is make sure she gets out and to a hospital safely.”

You’re anxious at the thought of an official medical system, and you know she won’t be safe there. You’ll have to come up with something else, something more subversive to stay under the radar, but that’s a problem for later.

Right now you have to deal with the next step in the plan. Turning to Yeosang, you gesture to the corner of the room where most of the group is congregated. “Go sit down, get off your feet.”

He’s been working for hours now, powering through the highs and lows of adrenaline the same as you, and you know from your own exhaustion that he must be fading too.

At your directive, he begins looking for a good place to rest that’s still under the cover of the bookshelf and desk barricade.

“Rosé and Mingi need to rest for a bit before we try to go downstairs.” You continue, glancing to Namjoon for agreement. “We’ll wait a few minutes before we rally.”

Your co-captain takes your suggestion without question, picking his way through the sprawling legs to find a clear space to sit.

Yeosang does as well, but he brings a hand to your back to guide you with him, gesturing for you to sit against one of the shelves next to Jimin. When you’re settled on the floor, bunching your legs to your chest so you don’t jostle Rosé where she’s laying in front of you, he lowers himself by your side and leans heavily against the shelf.

A second later you’re all seated, Wooyoung and Yunho huddled on the floor next to Seonghwa, Hongjoong and Jongho taking the space next to Namjoon.

“So the parasites got out?” Jongho asks carefully. “They’re out there?”

“We killed most of them,” Namjoon says. “Some are locked into rooms, but they’re behind us. We should be clear from here.”

Jongho lets out a breath of relief. ��Ugh, thank god, I hate bugs.”

Yeosang nudges you. “I told you.”

You huff, meeting Jongho’s eyes. “Same. This is my nightmare come to life.”

“Yeah, the zombies she could jive with, it’s the bugs that finally turned her off.” Jimin mutters quietly, humor finally finding its way through his distress. He flashes you a teasing smirk, and you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, because I was having so much fun getting tackled and chewed up by zombies.” Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Yunho’s grimace, but he says nothing.

“Could have fooled me.” Yeosang quips. “Definitely seemed like you were the one doing the tackling.”

You knock your knees against his punishingly, but you’re too stuck on the reawakened guilt on Yunho’s face to respond properly. “Hey,” your soft interjection pulls the morose man’s attention to you, and you throw him a smile. “Sorry we left you with the annoying half of the group. You survived without clawing your own brain out?”

His responding smile is forced, while Wooyoung and Jimin utter indignant protests. “Yeah, it was touch and go there for a few minutes.”

“Fuck you, I am a delight.” Wooyoung mutters.

“Yeah, Yunho was the one bellyaching.” Jongho.

“Not a moment of peace, the whole time you were gone.” Jimin.

Yunho ducks his head, the same tortured frown sinking into his features again.

You can’t stand it, not when he’s carrying the lighter burden of guilt. “You wanna see what Joon did to me?” You hike your pink sweatpants leg up to your thigh, showcasing the swollen muscle that’s already splotched with red and blue, a thick lump of inflammation pushing against your skin.

“Holy shit.” Hongjoong croaks at the sight.

“Oh my god.” Namjoon drops his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry.”

“Goddamn, did he hit you with a car?” Wooyoung demands, crawling over Seonghwa’s lap to peer closer.

The oldest pushes him back into his own space. “Sugar, that looks awful.”

“What did Namjoon do to you?” Wooyoung.

“Hyung, it looks like you broke her leg.” Jongho.

“Sugar, please, cover it up.” Namjoon.

“You freaking wrecking ball, what did you do this time?” Jimin.

Yunho’s eyes are darting wildly, from your leg, to each person speaking, to Namjoon, to you, back to your leg. “Jesus, what happened?”

Before you can answer, Yeosang’s arm crosses your lap and he tugs the elastic ankle cuff of your pants back down to cover your leg. “Stop leering, you vultures.”

You’re chortling, happy to distribute responsibility for pain dealt over the course of the evening in equal measure before Yunho can drown under the weight of his.

“She was being mauled by a parasite.” Namjoon grumbles in self defense. “I was trying to help.”

“You were supposed to kick the wasp, not me.” You fire back, laughing harder as his face flushes red and his cheeks hollow, a sure sign that he’s starting to get pissed at this harassment. “I feel rescued.”

Yeosang knows what you’re doing, his own eyes on the flickering uncertainty on Yunho’s face. “In all fairness, you’re a very difficult person to rescue.”

“She lured the entire 2nd floor hoard to the other side of the school.” San adds. “Yeosang abandoned us to go after her.”

This is a side of the story you hadn’t heard before, your mirth fading a little at the traces of bitterness in his voice.

When the curious attention is riveted on him, San scrambles to amend his tone. “I mean, he had to. I wanted all of us to go, obviously, but we had to get back to Rosie.”

You glance at Yeosang, finding a hint of remorse in the blankness of his features. He feels your gaze, meeting your eyes, and shakes his head. “We divided forces. It was the best we could do after you ran off like a madwoman.”

“Look, I’m sorry, but I’m obviously the most delectable of all of us. You and San are all tough muscle and Mingi’s too bony. They wouldn’t have chased you.” You pat at the softness of your good thigh with a cheeky smile. “You gotta think it through.”

Yeosang grabs your hand off your thigh, pulling it to hold over his knee with a disapproving frown.

“I am not bony.” Mingi grumbles. “They thought I tasted just fine.”

“Dude, they took one bite out of you and starved to death before the AED even hit you.” You’re the last person to minimize anybody’s pain, but you have to keep the conversation light.

You have to keep up the camaraderie.

Yunho is crumbling, San is barely holding on, and your injured parties are scared out of their minds and in more pain than you can imagine.

Wooyoung cackles at the offended look on Mingi’s face. “Yeah, I bet they wish they got me.”

“Child, you are a supermodel. They would have starved to death the moment they were implanted.”

He beams at you. “Oh my god, you think I’m a supermodel?”

“Have you seen yourself?”

“She only has one of our albums, and it’s a Wooyoung version.” Hongjoong supplies helpfully.

Yeosang tenses against you.

“Really?” Wooyoung is elated, baring no fewer than a hundred teeth at you in a grin that would have rivaled Hobi’s.

A pang of sorrow echoes in your heart.

“No she doesn’t.” Yeosang argues. “She doesn’t have any of our albums.”

You snort.

“No, she has the one. Wooyoung’s face is on display in her living room.” Jimin refutes, shooting Yeosang a knowing smirk. “She loves that album.”

The man next to you gives a long suffering whine.

“This is so great,” Wooyoung leans back against the wall, one arm slung cockily over his knees. “Yeo, your girlfriend was in love with me first.”

“It was the only one in stock.” Yeosang throws back. “Tell him, Sugar, tell him you settled for him.” He turns pitiful eyes on you, foolishly handing you way too much power.

“The only one in stock?” You blink at him owlishly as Wooyoung cackles some more. “Was it? I just thought he looked so pretty on the cover.”

Yeosang’s head falls back against the shelf. “Sugar, he’s already so insufferable.”

“Betrayed by the wife.” Jimin muses from where he’s still cradling half of Rosé against him. “Now you know how I feel.”

Tightening his grip on your hand, Yeosang levels Jimin with a flat stare. “You do know you’re not actually married, right?”

Jimin matches your innocent stare. “No, we had contracts drawn up. Morticia and Gomez Dracula, bound in unholy matrimony.”

Yeosang gapes at you, and all you can do is shrug. “It was a prop for the program.” When he just closes his eyes with a groan as laughter ricochets through the room, you give his hand a squeeze. “There’s only so much I can do here, most of these guys are yours.”

Hilariously, your statement seems to wake him up. He points a finger at Wooyoung, and then at Jimin. “She’s selling your album as soon as she gets home, and that contract is getting burned.”

“Wow, that’s controlling.” Wooyoung.

“You’ll have to break into my house and unbolt it from the wall, but good luck to you.” Jimin.

“I already told him I’d hock the album for rent money. I’d get more for it if you signed it,” you flash Wooyoung your cutest smile and watch his face fall.

“What? No, you can’t sell it. I’m not signing it. I’ll sign it if you promise not to sell it.”

“Okay, I promise I won’t sell it.”

“You’re lying, I can see it in your face.”

“Oh my god, this is my life now.” Namjoon moans.

Still unable to rise with the spirit of the conversation, Yunho wraps his arms around his knees. “I’m really glad you’re okay. How did you escape them?”

Smile softening, you have to swallow past the memories of being cornered in that room, the fear of your certain death fading into mournful acceptance, the misery of thinking you’d never see these people again. “Yeosang.” His name all but chokes up your throat. Struggling to keep your brave face on, you glance around at the cautious expressions of your friends. “This lunatic used zombies as a step ladder and busted in through a window like Spider-Man.”

The room explodes into exclamations of awe.

“No way, that’s so cool!” Wooyoung is the first to say, followed quickly by San and Jongho.

“So cool, Hyung,” Jongho shakes his head. “We gotta put that scene in a music video or something.”

“He saved you like a superhero?” Seonghwa stares between the two of you, unbearably impressed. “Wow, that’s so romantic. Good job, Yeosang.”

He’s flushed next to you, covering his face with his free hand, groaning at the attention that’s half adoring and half teasing.

“So that’s why you left us,” San exclaims. “You ran off to steal your heroic moment. Damn, if he’d just waited a minute, I would have swooped in and saved you, Sugar.”

Rosé scoffs through a tormented moan. “You were crying the moment you walked into my classroom, you wouldn’t have been swooping in to save anybody.” She spares him a tortured grin as he frowns, and flings a hand out to bump his leg. “I’m kidding.”

“Then he saved me from getting swarmed to death by parasites, all without kicking the shit out of me.” You remark with hard trained levity.

“Oh my god, Sugar, please.” Namjoon groans. “We already know he’s perfect, you don’t have to eviscerate me to make your point.”

Yunho finally seems like he’s coming out of it. “A Spider-Man rescue is definitely the best way to go. Very romantic.”

“Yeah, that’s better than busting in like the Kool-Aid man, which is what I would have done.” Jongho says.

You let them handle the banter now, fading into silence as the atmosphere finally feels light and companionable again. Body aching, mind swirling with anxious anticipation for the rest of your certifiably insane plans for the night, it’s all you can do to keep a neutral expression on your face as you sink into your own thoughts.

They’re talking about daring rescues and making plans for when this is all over, shouting and ribbing each other at every turn. You should feel comforted by their persistent hope, bolstered by their rekindled optimism, but you’re still fighting the dread in your gut.

Part of you no longer thinks you can get them out of here alive. It’s not all on you, it’s not your responsibility alone, not with every single one of them proving their willingness and ability to step up and work as a cohesive unit to survive, but your job is to ensure their safety before your own.

And with the military looming outside, already having made moves against you to assure you that they won’t be letting anybody escape, you’re not seeing a sure way to evade or outsmart them.

None of you are trained to escape a military power. None of you know how to overpower an armed force, or cover your tracks if you get away from them.

As far as you know, the danger of actual, real life zombies and monstrous, enormous parasites has passed. Just hours ago, you’d thought that surviving a veritable zombie apocalypse would be the impossible feat of your life, but now it’s over.

It could be over.

And yet, life after tonight still seems beyond the grasp of everyone in this room.

You don’t have to survive it. You can give every bit of yourself to make sure they get out, that’s okay. You’ve already come to terms with that outcome, in your own way. You’re no longer capable of a normal life; you know yourself well enough to believe you’ve exceeded your ability to overcome the things you’ve seen and done tonight.

There’s no life for you out there without the friends that had become your family. There’s no peace with the knowledge of the things you’d done to try to survive.

You’re not worried for yourself.

Your stomach is cramping with debilitating fear that the eleven other people in the room won’t ever be free.

What if Rosé dies?

What if Ateez gets shot down by their own military, a military they were expected to serve in at some point, and never go back to their lives and livelihoods?

What if Jimin can’t make it on the run?

What if Namjoon falls too?

The danger hasn’t passed. The night isn’t over, even as it’s turning into the wee hours of the morning.

It will be daylight soon, and then there’s no chance that they can run and hide, even if they get past the first patrol.

Your name breaks you out of your panicking spiral, and you flinch to find Yeosang watching you.

“What is it?” He whispers, smoothing his thumb over the back of your hand.

“We need to get going.” You say, louder, silencing the roar of the room. “The sun’s going to be up in a few hours. We’ll never make it if we don’t have the cover of night.”

< last chapter | masterlist | next chapter >

tag list : @mysterysold @threevracha @igotajuicyass @velvetmoonlght @ramadiiiisme @mrsminseochoi @nightshadeblooming @furfoxsake22 @marvolos @lunaryoongie @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone @noukstmblr

#ateez #yeosang #kang yeosang #ateez x reader #kang yeosang x reader #yeosang x reader

33 notes · View notes

psy--conic · 5 months ago

Text

Reading the Iliad, Book 10 thoughts

This is my first time ever reading it and I know next to nothing abt greek mythology so if I interpret anything wrong by all means pls correct me

Im reading the Robert Fagles translation

This book is short but does not lack in the entertainment department

Agamemnon can't sleep bc how can he with the war going the way it is?

So he goes out to find Nestor but as he's doing that he runs into his brother Menelaus who also cannot sleep and is doing the same thing Agamemnon is abt to do

Menelaus pitches the idea that they should send someone to spy on the Trojans. However, he's almost sure that no one is going to want to do this job bc its super dangerous

Agamemnon agrees bc the very thought of Hector is making him sweat hard asf

So they split up to gather a council. Agamemnon says he'll get Nestor and tells Menelaus to grab Ajax (Greater), Idomeneus, Meriones, and Nestor's son.

I don't think they say the name of Nestor's son in book 10 or maybe they said it in an earlier book bc I don't know who tf Nestor's son is lol

But Menelaus asks "Um where tf am I supposed to meet you after I'm done??" I really like how NO ONE clears anything up unless asked too

They decide to meet back at Agamemnon's tent

Agamemnon ends up scaring the shit out of Nestor when he enters his tent.

Nestor's like 80 you can't be scaring him like that😭

Nestor suggests they grab Dio, Ody, Ajax (Lesser), and Phyleus for this meeting too

Then Nestor starts shit-talking Menelaus out of nowhere???? LMAO😭😭

"Ur brother's so fucking lazy lol, we still need to get Ajax and Idomeneus but they're on the other side of camp." -Nestor

Why is he acting like Menelaus hasn't been pulling his weight this WHOLE time? Hello?

Then Agamemnon says "You're right as always buuut Meneluas is doing that very thing as we speak so..."

Menelaus catching strays this book ig

Odysseus gets super pissy at Nestor for waking him up so I'm going to assume he's one of those ppl who are just in a bad mood after being woken up. He doesn't seem to be a morning person at all

Nestor shouts at Diomedes to "WAKE UP." A complete 180 from how he woke up Odysseus btw

"Why are u yelling at me?" - Diomedes

After everyone is rounded up in Agamemnon's tent Nestor presents their plan in a way that really told me a lot abt his character

He's like "Hmmmm I wonder who would be willing to spy on the Trojans for us? It has its risks ofc but think of the glory he'd receive upon his return, all the gifts? All the men will ask him to their feasts" (it's a feast not the fucking prom💀)

I really like the way Nestor says it. I can just imagine having been a young man himself at one point he knows how to play into the egos of the men around him

Diomedes is the first to jump at this opportunity

But Dio says he needs a partner and everyone stands up to volunteer

But he picks Ody

Jump to the Trojan camp: Guess who had the same plan as Menelaus? Hector, they have like, the exact same plan.

Dolon who is just some ugly guy decides he'll be the Trojan spy

Both teams of spies run into each other

And Dolon starts running for his life

Diomedes and Odysseus end up catching this guy and he automatically starts crying

Ody asks him a whole bunch of questions abt their camp

Dolon is the world's worst spy bc he tells them everything and by the end he asks "You guys are going to spare my life now, right?"

And Diomedes just goes "Nah.♥️" and CUT THIS MANS HEAD CLEAN OFF

They loot his body and give the armor to Athena

Anyways they get to the Thracians who are currently asleep and Ody and Dio see that the Thracians have some nice ass horses

Diomedes kills 13 of them while they sleep, one was a king.

Once it's time to go Athena has to come down and tell Diomedes that it is time to stop and go home. (they take to horses)

Apollo watches this whole mission happen and wakes up the Trojans

Dio and Ody make it back to camp, Nestor asks where those nice ass horses and that's the end of the book

#the iliad #reading the iliad #odysseus #diomedes #agamemnon #menelaus #tagamemnon

39 notes · View notes

sierra-r-a-e · 8 months ago

Note

hii love your work!

can you pleaseeeee make a fic about dom/rough!choso w fem reader giving him head?

(i need that shit im starving)

Thank you so much!! (Real I'm literally famished)

Sorry this took so long and please read the a/n at the end!!

nsfw ♡ mdni

Choso was desperately trying to hold himself back and not be too rough with you, but he almost lost it the second your pretty pink lips wrapped around his cock.

He tilted his head back and shut his eyes, despite wanting to look at you as your throat stretched to accommodate his size.

The hand he had threaded into your hair was trying not to push your head down further onto his cock, since he wanted you to set your own pace.

One of your hands was on his thigh, while the other was stroking whatever you couldn’t fit in your mouth. Your pretty e/c eyes peered up at him through your lashes as you sucked him off.

You could tell he was holding back due to the way his hand tightened in your hair and the other was bunched up in a fist, as well as the way his hips would twitch upward every time your tongue swirled around his sensitive tip.

You pulled off of him with a lewd ‘pop’, “Please, be rougher. Wanna feel you fuck my throat-” You begged, wanting to hear even more of his pretty noises.

“Shit,” he groaned, his length twitching at your words. “Are you sure, sweetheart? I don’t want to hurt you?” He asked, softly caressing your hair.

“Mhm, and if it gets too much, I’ll just tap your thigh.” You assured him, watching him nod his head before licking a stripe up his shaft and taking him back into your mouth.

He groaned at the sensation, his hips automatically thrusting up into you. “Fuck~” He moaned, finally beginning to let loose and be rougher. You did your best to relax your throat and breathe out of your nose, trying not to gag around him.

You moan around his length, the vibrations sending a shiver up his spine. He made your hair into a makeshift ponytail before chasing his high. Something about seeing tears flow down your cheeks as he fucked your throat really did it for him.

“Oh God-” He grunted, “Just a little more, can you take it?” He asked you, despite knowing you can’t respond. You did your best to hum out a quick “mhm”, bringing him closer to the edge.

“Fuck, you feel so good. You better swallow it all, understand?” He groaned right before shooting hot ropes of cum down your throat. He slowed his pace, eventually pulling out and panting as his chest heaved up and down.

You looked up into his eyes and swallowed everything he gave you, just like he told you to. You opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue as proof.

He grinned at the sight, “Good girl. You did so good for me, baby.” He said as he smoothed out your hair and wiped the remaining tears from your cheeks.

a/n: PLEASE READ!!

sorry that this one also took a month to write. basically i'm in east tennessee and my area has been completely destroyed by hurricane helene. i kid you not, it felt like we were about to become the next city of atlantis.

anyways, i've been busy with helping out as a volunteer working with donations and stuff. i should be able to write more considering i won't be having classes for awhile until the community rebuilds, unless i'm working to acquire the community service hours i need in order to graduate.

sorry this was so long, thank you for reading this and for listening to my ted talk! (I didn't realize the whole "writers always be going through the craziest shit" thing as true until i became one) anyhow, lmk what you thought of this!!

[divider credits: @/cafekitsune]

#jjk smut #choso kamo #jjk choso smut #jjk choso #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #choso kamo x reader #jjk headcanons #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk x fem!reader #choso kamo x female reader #mdni #jjk drabbles

55 notes · View notes

laughhardrunfastbekindsblog · 10 months ago

Text

Touched

Summer of Bad Batch 2024 | Week 13 | Prompt: "Stop touching me! / I'm not touching you!"

Summary: Tech has nerves of steel - well, most of the time. POV: Tech Rating: G (Word Count: 989)

Read on Ao3

Tech felt something brush across his neck before a weight settled on his shoulder, and he sighed in annoyance.

He and his squadmates were on their third assignment since graduating and being sent out to the field, and while all of them had gone through plenty of simulations to prepare them for survival in wilderness areas, this jungle planet in particular had made Wrecker more than a little jumpy – especially at night. And of course Wrecker somehow always ended up sleeping right next to Tech when not on watch duty, no matter how often Tech rearranged things when they set up camp for the night…

“Wrecker,” he hissed in an undertone, “would you kindly refrain from touching… Oh.”

Having turned his head to look at his shoulder, he cut himself off mid-sentence upon finding it was not the weight of Wrecker’s hand that he was feeling.

Wrecker snorted sleepily. “What’d I do now?” he whined softly, clearly only half awake.

Tech gingerly reached up to coax the creature onto his other hand before holding it up close to his goggled eyes for study. This must be what the natives called a tero spider, one of the species of Theraphosidae he had read about when researching the squad’s assignment. These in particular were non-venomous arachnids and by all accounts quite docile, though large and frightening enough in appearance that Tech knew Wrecker would never be able to sleep for the duration of the mission if he knew these could be scuttling around the campsite.

“Nothing, Wrecker,” Tech replied as he tapped his goggles to capture some recordings of the creature now sitting contentedly in his hand. “Go back to sleep.”

***

Tech, eyes narrowed in concentration as he studied his datapad while making his way along the path leading down to the shore, stopped when a hand gripped his arm, and gave a long-suffering sigh.

To help Shep and the engineers on Pabu plan out the rebuilding efforts, Tech, Hunter, Wrecker, and Omega had volunteered to scope out the extent of the damage the tidal wave had wrought on the docks and shoreline properties, with Phee opting to join them. Tech was well accustomed to the friendly punches on the shoulder Wrecker was wont to give him whenever Wrecker became overly enthusiastic or wanted to emphasize a point or draw Tech’s attention to something, and normally this didn’t bother Tech; but with all the recent excitement of being on Pabu and meeting so many new people, Wrecker had felt the need to emphasize and bring attention to so many things that Tech had just about reached his limit with his brother touching him.

“What is it now, Wrecker… Oh,” he broke off in confusion as he looked up to discover it was Phee who was resting her hand on his forearm.

He was suddenly grateful he hadn’t acted on the impulse to step back and shake off what he had thought was his brother’s grip, though it currently felt like his heart had leaped into his throat – a most peculiar sensation.

“What’d’cha say, Tech?” Wrecker now asked as he came up from behind with Omega and Hunter.

“Nothing,” Tech returned automatically as his siblings stepped around him to forge ahead on the path leading to the right. He now recognized he was feeling the same sudden rush of startled adrenaline he had felt forty-two hours ago when Phee had touched his shoulder while giving him the coordinates to Pabu; the fact that he had had the same reaction every time Phee had been in physical contact with him was a pattern lending to his current hypothesis that he felt more deeply about Phee than just as one of his family’s allies…

“Something wrong?” Phee queried, raising one brow at him.

“No,” he said, realizing he was in a quandary: he desperately wanted to move but instinctively knew that if he did, she would break contact, and so here he remained, frozen in place.

“Okay then, just wanted to let you know we’re supposed to be heading this way,” she said, gesturing with her other hand to indicate that Tech had been about to take the wrong path. “You’re gonna get yourself lost with your attention on that datapad all the time,” she added with a small smile.

His racing heart and the nervous heat building within him would soon manifest in a blush if he didn’t compose himself soon, and that would be humiliating. Research, constructing devices, and sharing his knowledge were the main non-combat areas in which he felt most comfortable; since there was nothing to engineer at the moment and Phee seemed to think he should put down the datapad for now, that left talking as his best option.

“Since this datapad is equipped with various navigation and positioning systems, it would be nearly impossible to get lost while using it. Besides, all clones have an excellent sense of direction – it is part of our bioengineering.”

Phee rolled her eyes at him but still smiled as she stepped away, letting her hand drop from his arm – to both his great relief and disappointment.

Well, at least he could move now… though he found himself wondering when, if ever, he would be daring enough to initiate physical contact with her outside of life-and-death situations like tidal waves…

“Are you suggesting I don’t know where we should be going?” Phee was saying lightly.

“Well,” he said, still desperately trying to recover from the feeling that he had just had his feet knocked out from under him, “given that you are much better acquainted with the layout of this island than I am, I am inclined to follow your lead.”

Phee chuckled now. “Let’s stick together, then, shall we?” she said, playfully shouldering him before starting back down the path.

He was finally feeling more settled, though he couldn’t hide a small smile as he matched her pace. “Indeed we shall.”

@summer-of-bad-batch

#the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb phee genoa #techphee #tbb fanfiction #summer of bad batch 2024 #week 13 #stop touching me / i'm not touching you

65 notes · View notes

maggstar · 2 years ago

Text

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞: 𝐔𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐈 𝐃𝐢𝐞

───────────────────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹────────────────────

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+, mni DNI!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: when Y/N is moving to a new place, she asks for some help. To her luck, the handsome officer living nearby picks up her call to lend her a "hand".

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut, sappy asf, cop!Hee, confession, kissing (tongue action yall know it), mutual touching, oral (f. and m.), 69.

𝐖𝐂: 3.2k

𝐀/𝐍: Hello my lovelies, I'm back (not for long). I have been promising a cop!Hee fic for so long that I've decided to feed yall with a prologue at least. Hope you like it!

Please leave any sort of feedback: reblogging and commenting is the best for me, so let me know!! ───────────────────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹────────────────────

Summer 2022

"Oh, come on now, we're not even halfway there!" the lilting tone emancipated from afar, shifting through the rooms of the empty apartment to place the piles of carton boxes in their assigned spot.

They were all different sizes, some possessing parts of old furniture or newly bought ones, decorations, and daily-life equipment, carefully packed and branded. It seemed as if the amount kept growing with each placement, countlessly checking the truck.

Moving shouldn't have been such a demanding process, yet Heeseung found himself sighing every minute, constantly puffing after successfully delivering a package. The sweat on his forehead kept amassing, bringing his gaze to the flaming orange star. As if the hot weather wasn't enough, the lack of clouds deprived him of cooling down a little.

He regretted dressing up for the occasion because he only wanted to rip the beige Hawaiian shirt off him. It went well with the iceberg-pleated shorts, but he would have been better without it. At least the brown aviator sunglasses were somewhat helpful, giving off the cool vibe he dearly lacked. It was all an attempt at impressing the female whom he decided to help, postponing everything on his calendar.

With a dramatic sigh, he looked back at the mentioned one, hopping from one leg to another, hips swinging to the sides at each jump.

There was a dazzling smile glowing amidst those moves, radiating bright energy, swaying her head from left to right. The wavy hair created a breathtaking shot in that lavender-colored jumpsuit, soaked in its splashy floral pattern. It all added to the sweet image, complemented by a charming personality.

Heeseung didn't know what about her turned his insides upside down. There were too many factors about that breathtaking beauty to pinpoint one. From her looks to her brains, she was a flawless 10 out of 10. A woman every man could only dream of.

He was one of those men, dreaming about her every night after hitting bed. At this rate, it was turning into a habit. His head would automatically wander to her curvy shape once he shut his eyelids. Her long and slender shoulders were a sight to see, and he imagined running his fingers on them. Sometimes he visualized her powerful thighs, hungering to feel them in his hands. His ultimate wish was to reach her back and squeeze her buttocks as much as possible. He was a pervert for fantasizing about her in such inappropriate ways. However, he couldn't help it.

She was incredibly attractive, and even if he tried to look away, his vision still ended on her. It was unavoidable. She was gorgeous.

"Lee Heeseung! Stop being a baby and help me!" the bundle of joy reprimanded, looking back with knitted eyebrows.

Nothing appeared better right then, content with the outcome of her decisions. It almost made the volunteer forget about the awaiting unboxing. He could sense the exhaustion steadily approaching from the corner, taunting the weary with its impact.

She crouched down to organize the pieces in the corner, not anticipating a figure approaching from behind.

"Oh, you did not just say that," he called out, hands stretching to the sides of her torso, ignoring the loud no's as he came closer to the desired location. At that moment, the secret weapon was released. The victim fought for air, their laughter overconsuming it all, hands trying to stop the intolerable torture.

"Yah! Stop!" they yelled, slapping the boy's arms, squirming in his imprisonment. The imbalance in the position caused them to fall over, bringing the perpetrator with them and landing on the floor together.

Heeseung stopped once his eyes locked with hers, staring into those beaming green orbs, casting rays of bliss.

It was as if he was looking at pure euphoria, smearing its gilt palms on him, like a warm blanket on a cold day, whispering sweet nonsenses. He couldn't cease admiring the view, the corner of his mouth lifting unknowingly. It was immaculate, its face round as an apple, light brown dots etched around its Grecian nose, forsaking their presence at the plump upper lip, overshadowing the bottom half, completing the perfection.

He hoped this moment could last forever, with her beside herself with joy, grinning and holding onto him, pledging its eternity. It didn't have to be authentic, just the thought calming his anxious soul, questioning the length of this point before disintegrating in his grasp.

Yet, staring into her almond-shaped eyes reassured the worried. His fingers ran through her silky hair, body slightly freezing in surprise, gasping at the unexpected gesture. The change in her breathing didn't miss his sight, caressing her head overfilled in worries and pang, hoping to divest them.

If only he could sweep away all of the trouble from her system and hold her close eternally to provide the oughted warmth and comfort. He appealed to the universe to provide her with the needed healing. To replace the bandages and plasters on her crushed soul with long-lasting stitches and disallow the wounds from ever opening up again.

The universe found it amusing that he kept asking for something already there from the beginning, fulfilling all his requests without his knowledge. It was as snug as a bug in a rug, watching over the little one and protecting her in its embrace. It was all there, slanting over her with doe eyes, creating temporary crow's feet.

"You won't go, right?" she asked, swallowing the sudden change of emotions, the numbness and fear heckling to emerge. The despair on her brows drew in, transmitting through as her jaw pulled in.

He shook his head, soothing away the dread with a peck on the rosy cheek, "No. I'll stay with you."

"Promise?" she held onto his collar, pulling him closer till their foreheads kissed. Oh, how much she wanted their lips to be the ones who connected and chafed against each other, devouring one another in ardor. She was foolishly hoping for the upcoming redness to evaporate, not embarrass her in front of the mighty male she so broadly adored.

Was it the bambi eyes blanketing her in love or the warm palm holding her petite hand that made the girl swoon? She couldn't ignore the effects of this fine man in front of her. Her true intentions have been bottled up for so long that they began opposing. They wanted to shout and express the overgrowing desire evolving into a blooming garden of affection.

"Promise," was all she needed to hear to pull him closer and make her dream come true without hesitating. To her surprise, nor did he.

It was like they'd both waited for this spectacular moment to happen, not getting enough of it. Their hands roamed on each others' backs, attempting to draw in the other as much as possible. They practically crushed their noses while doing so, forgetting about breathing for the upcoming seconds. The only thing they could focus on was the bliss it provided.

The ravenous act of love was so passionate that it almost made the woman collapse, holding on to Heeseung's T-shirt. He was in his world, experiencing the most pleasing kissing.

No previous connection could match the intensity and perfection of this moment. It was such an anticipated fantasy that he struggled to fathom her soft lips brushing against his. The way they collided with his was sensational, relinquishing every thought in his brain.

There was only this tingly feeling leading from his chest in between his legs. He was all over the place, but so was Y/N.

In her 21 years of living, she had never been French kissed before, and this was the first time she allowed someone to try it. Despite her strong resentment against the act due to finding it unhygienic, she let the man she dreamed of having for so long play with her tongue. For once, she ignored picturing bacteria transmitting through saliva and wrapped her arms around his neck.

And Heeseung made sure she wouldn't regret it.

As soon as he gained access, he tenderly slipped inside her mouth with his warm and wet tongue. He painted her walls in adore, cupping her cheeks to bring them in. That way, he could also pull her closer and deepen the kiss.

They both found the sounds of wet smacks bouncing off the empty room stimulating, letting out a few whimpers.

"Heeseung, I want you," she started sucking on his bottom lip, voicing her frustration by occasionally biting. It didn't hurt, but it was enough to bring him back from the dazed state she left him in.

"I want you too," his fingers lightly slid down her arms, sensing the change in her heartbeat. It continued grazing over lower, barely touching her skin.

The teasing threw her over the edge. She just wanted him to tear off her clothing and wander his veiny hands all over her chest. To squeeze her breasts and pinch her nipples until she couldn't handle it. She wanted to become an utter mess underneath him.

"Please, love me," She felt like an animal in heat, unable to think of anything else than the longing desire in her system. It repeatedly screamed his name in the most alluring way, gluing onto his mouth like it was the last time.

The combination of his lustful gaze and comforting smile was an unbeatable experience. His eyes were the key to his soul, expressing love and appreciation with one beguiling look.

"Can I?" he asked in her ear while playing with her earring, hooking onto the hems of the jumpsuit.

"Yes, quick," she appealed, the urge intensifying each minute. Without having to ask, she began unbuttoning his cotton T-shirt, having a compulsion to rip it apart.

His tongue was back trekking in her mouth, concealing her aching lips in the warmth of his saliva. Y/N couldn't properly focus on the cursed buttons when he delicately declared his delight in the kiss. It was impossible to do anything with him quietly moaning, stumbling over her consciousness.

"Fuck. Are all police officers this hot?" She exhaled at the mouthwatering view ahead. Her eyes rolled when her palms slid against his naked skin, the coldness causing them to flex. She knew about his exquisite physique before but never had the chance to see it up this close.

His muscles had always been visible through any piece of clothing, and Y/N found herself staring at every opportunity. Her hands couldn't stop touching his delicate skin, desperate to kiss and mark every spot. Just picturing him in purple love bites did wonders to her woman parts.

At this point, she was openly drooling over him.

"You should look at yourself," He blushed at the compliment, pulling the piece of clothing off her. His leg pressed against her core right after, adding a log into the fireplace. She closed her mouth to conceal her needs, shutting her eyelids when his knee rubbed her clit. Was she too blatant with her thigh squeezing? Fuck.

"You're fucking gorgeous," he leaned over, tracing her chest and torso with his nose. Seeing her in her undergarments and face scrunched in pleasure spurred his aching shaft even more. The addicting scent of shea butter absorbed every part of her, placing him under a spell with her features.

He placed delightful pecks on her stomach to ensure her comfort and safety, a feeling of happiness and contentment in his presence.

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," his moans wiped down her thighs, licking and kissing everywhere. Her insides began burning, and she found herself desperately gripping his hair. The compliment he just dropped on her head blasted through her ears, flushing her cheeks in a rosy pigment.

He had to have a lot of adorers in his past, and she didn't doubt it was the same in the present. His visuals were better than the models on magazines, a mixture of soft masculinity. Looking at him made her gasp consistently, habitually admiring his breathtaking assets. He was a work of art, and she couldn't stop admiring it.

"Heeseung," her breath lingered, staring at the savory growth behind his sweatpants. The outline, which appeared immensely luscious, provoked her intrusive thoughts to yearn for it. To lick and suck on it like candy until reaching a sugar crash.

"Please let me put it in my mouth," the desperation transferred, sitting up to flip sides. He stared at her in shock from the floor with hands above his head, having hers wrapped around his wrists. Her sudden revelation caught him off guard, sensing his friend wholly waking up at the lewd confession.

If it wasn't obvious how much he wanted her to have him her way, he wasn't sure about anything anymore. His heart was merely beating for her, picking up speed in pumping blood around his body. It was inevitable, particularly when she circled her tongue around his teats.

He would lie if he said he had experienced such a dirty act before, twitching and squirming from the kitten licks. He wasn't sure if it being his first time caused such a mercurial reaction or her being the one suckling on them.

Either way, Heeseung wasn't complaining one bit. He permitted her to play with them as she desired.

"You're all I've ever dreamt of," her breath skimmed lower and lower until it recoiled up on his crotch. Both sighed at the highly-awaited instant as if they had been waiting for it to happen forever.

Y/N took in the paradise and rested her face on it, massaging her cheek against it. She was roaming in a daze, omitting everything around and focusing on the growing element beside her.

All these lascivious acts made Heeseung think Y/N was an expert, not having a second to figure out his methods. They were thrown out the window the moment she pulled down his shorts and Calvin Klein boxers in one go, uncovering his nudity all to herself. He goggled at her from the uncatchable pace, leaning against his elbows for balance.

"God, Hee," she wrapped her hand around the leaking material, leisurely smearing the pre-cum on the head.

"Y/N," he hissed, watching his thick cock twitch in her small hand, throwing his head back. Once her thumb circled his tip, his testicles drove in. They uncontrollably pulsated with each hoop, losing control over their equipoise.

Her sparkly orbs, gazing at him from below while gingerly kissing the base, pushed the filthiest groans out of him. He could cum from her lips polishing his member, the delicate touch reminding him of a feather.

"No more teasing, please," his hips raised, pressing his thick cock against her rosy cheek. He couldn't hold his desire any longer, practically begging her to suck him dry.

"Oh? So what do you want me to do then?" her lips entangled around his tip, turning into a feisty smirk.

"Put your tongue on it," he pleaded, his knees turning numb from the ecstasy.

"Like this?" her eyes looked up at him between his legs, sticking out her tongue to draw perfect lines across his treasure. For an answer, she received a loud groan alongside a light thump into the ground. She was playing a dangerous game, but it was too amusing to miss.

"Look at how your cock twitches when I do this," she snickered, licking him from the top to all the way down to his balls. They were also in need of attention, and Y/N didn't forget to engage them in her playtime.

"Or barely lick your head," she demonstrated the act, causing Heeseung to shiver in her grasp.

"It makes me wonder how it'll react if I decide to put it in my mouth," her last word got nearly swallowed as she answered her question, leaving Heeseung in utter disarray. His brain resigned, incapable of handling the sheer amount of pleasure. If it stayed any longer, it would go insane.

"It's so soft," she furrowed her eyebrows upwards, her hands coming back to wander on his buttery skin.

"So tasty."

"So beautiful."

"So perfect."

It hit the back of her throat, face entirely buried into his crotch, satisfied blusters opposing as a reaction. She found it adorable how he desperately held onto her hair, trying to shove himself even deeper. It was so incredible that he struggled to contain his growing lust, prompting him to unravel his aggression.

He wanted to grab her silky hair into a ponytail and mercilessly guide his dick deep down her throat. To watch the lump in it growing and disappearing with each pulse while her eyes looked straight into his.

He couldn't hold it anymore.

He had to taste her.

"Turn around and sit on my face," he conveyed, seductively running his tongue over his lips.

"What?" the shyness transferred to the opposite side, goggling at the depicted request.

"Come on, don't be shy and sit on my face, princess."

Y/N hesitantly looked at the stripped man, who was calmly lying with his arms behind his head, lustfully eyeing her up.

"Ride it until you come down my throat," the nasty invite slipped out his mouth carelessly, putting on a smirk to secure its impact.

"You know I'll lick it all up."

The woman's jaw dropped at the proposition, heavily floundering with her senses. Her interiors thawed at his sensual words, screaming at her to turn around and do as he demanded.

"I don't want you to suffocate, dumbass," she lightly punched his arm, trying to dissipate the butterflies piling in her stomach. She didn't want to seem like a nuisance with her subtle shots at the getaway. However, her confidence wasn't the biggest one out there.

Being on top wasn't the issue, but being that exposed to Heeseung. She always found it uncomfortable to have guys looking at all of her. Relaxing in someone else's arms was a problematic obstacle.

Heeseung wasn't an ignorant person not to notice the modest hints, settling to act rather than unroll the tangle of unnecessary insecurities.

With that determination, he lifted her and placed her on his face without warning to get her raw reaction.

At the same time, he found it foolish to waste a minute arguing.

Instead, he could use it to eat her out and show her immortal magnificence.

"You have no idea how good you look from here," both ended up facing each other's genitals, admiring the glorious piece of art. She stared at him covered in her saliva mixed with precum, its size managing to develop more with each touch.

Heeseung was playfully running his finger around her slick hole. The amount she had produced was more than he could imagine, the sticky material creating squelching sounds. His index traveled upwards, smearing the juices on her swollen clit.

"I could just play with you all day without ever getting bored," his finger disappeared inside her, unweaving a beautiful whimper.

"Just run my finger up and down your pussy until you can't handle it," he smoothly pushed another in, her fluids substituting lube.

"So warm and tight. All just for me," his nose hit her clit, soaking up her scent in an instant.

"Heeseung," she sighed, holding onto his legs for support.

"I love you, Y/N."

"I love you more, Hee."

...to be continued...

───────────────────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹────────────────────

Taglist: @end-hyphen, @hee-pster, @jakeswifeyy, @gegeetime, @heerated, @jayked, @forjongseong, @enhastolemyheart

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧! ^^

───────────────────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹────────────────────

@maggstar

#minors: dni #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #heeseung smut #enhypen headcanons #enhypen imagines

267 notes · View notes

tennessoui · 9 months ago

Note

44. and 54. for the ship asks?

I hope you're having a good time ✨

ah thank you i am having a very good time (but also very busy) (but also very fun) (but also very stressful) (but also very - )

thank you for sending these in <3

[from this ask game]

44. Who would dance in the kitchen making dinner? Would the other join in or watch from the doorway?

i think neither of them are predisposed to dancing in the kitchen making dinner (because i just can't see either of them expressing joy through dance) but the image is cute and if i had to pick, i'd say anakin would be more likely to dance in a very silly fashion as he cooks dinner (most probably because he thinks he's alone in their quarters)

only for obi-wan to spy him and lean up against the doorway to watch and anakin is a bit embarrassed but covers it with a "what, old man, don't want to join in?"/"haven't you ever danced before?" to which obi-wan obviously replies that of course he's danced before but that sort of dancing is certainly not the kind of dancing he's done in the past. does anakin want a demonstration?

and anakin thinks he's about to get pulled into a formal dance like the sort that obi-wan does at fancy balls on fancy missions so of course he says a very eager yes - only for obi-wan to pull him in for more like dirty club dancing from his padawan days

54. Who’s more likely to carry the other to bed?

once a master, always a master:

Obi-Wan lets out a full-bodied sigh the moment the doors to his quarters close behind him. It'd been a long day, stacked on top of another, longer day, which in turn was stacked upon a longer week. A longer month. A long war.

He leans against the wall to slip off his boots, though he finds that he's too tired to line them up at the door where he likes to keep them. Instead, he leaves them as they've fallen.

The Council meeting had ended with the decision to send Obi-Wan and the 212th out to the Mid-Rim to rendezvous with Mace Windu's troops. It was an understandable command, and one Obi-Wan himself had volunteered for. But now, in the privacy of his own quarters, he allows the weight of the new orders to rest heavily on his shoulders as guilty dread pools up in his stomach. He'd told Anakin that they'd be able to share a week of leave together, once the other returned to the Temple tomorrow. Now, it turns out that they'd have only a few hours at most.

On his way from the door to his room, the Force gives him a kind, gentle nudge, just stubborn enough that it makes Obi-Wan turn his head to see--oh.

He hadn't even realized he wasn't alone in his quarters. Perhaps because the boy sleeping on his sofa with one shoe still loosely clinging to his foot feels as if he belongs there.

Obi-Wan's feet move him forward automatically to look over the couch's back at Anakin's sleeping form. His Force signature wraps around Anakin's gently, an instinctual hello. For a moment, he's regretful at it--thinking that perhaps it would be enough to wake Anakin from his sleep.

But Anakin's Force signature only nuzzles back at his in return, leaving the boy asleep, as if it is the most natural thing in the galaxy for them to be twined together.

"Alright," Obi-Wan mutters, letting his fingers trail over Anakin's curls before stepping around the couch to kneel at its edge. "Foolish boy," he chides though Anakin cannot hear him. Though he doesn't even mean the words, not truly. Not in the face of Anakin's presence. He must have pushed his ship to the edges of its capabilities to arrive earlier than planned. He must have wanted as much time with Obi-Wan as he could get. "My foolish boy," Obi-Wan says.

Anakin sleeps on, undisturbed.

Obi-Wan's hands find their way to his hair once more, stroking down a piece of it before lightly touching his cheek, the edges of the scar over his eye. The war has aged him. The war has taken so much from him. Of course he is tired. Hopefully, despite Obi-Wan's own absence, he will be able to get the rest he so desperately needs in the coming week. It would be good for him, for Ahsoka as well.

Against his will, his eyelids droop even as his knees protest the position on the ground. He could fall asleep as he is, he thinks. A worshipper at Anakin's altar.

But his padawan would be upset to find him like this in the morning. As much as he thinks that Anakin needs rest, Anakin returns the opinion tenfold. He will not be pleased at the upcoming mission. He would not be pleased to find Obi-Wan asleep on the ground beside him.

But their week together has been shortened only to a night, and Obi-Wan will be damned if he leaves him alone on the couch.

So, carefully, he stands and slides his arms beneath Anakin's back and legs, lifting him up with some hidden well of strength only exhausted masters who must care for their padawans possess.

"This was easier when you were younger," he mutters to Anakin's sleeping form, adjusting his arms around the other man so that his head doesn't loll uncomfortably to the side. "And about a hundred and fifty pounds lighter."

Anakin snores in response, Force signature radiating such a sense of safe contentment that even Obi-Wan's grumblings die down into nothing. They can, of course, wait for an appreciative, awake audience.

#asks #obikin #i was going to write that actually both carry each other to bed #because i think they absolutely do #but unfortunately these are supposed to be short lol #but to be clear anakin would jump at carrying a sleeping cozy obi-wan to (anakin's) bed #or like. anakin gets injured and obi-wan spend sthe night by his bedside and anakin wakes and then #uses the force to lift him up into his bed with him #it helps with the healing process healer che!!!#cuddles have been KNOWN to help

43 notes · View notes

blu3-ja3 · 3 months ago

Text

Jillian doesn't know much about this guy, she knows he's one of B grade Flash's villains or he at least has one of their tech. She knows he was hired by someone to go after Bruce, not Batman, Bruce Wayne. She knows this guy has caught them all unaware and is currently holding everyone hostage, including her family. Selina, Dick, and Tim have guns to their heads being held by this guy's goons and Jason's holding an unconscious Damian. Bruce is out of the room with this asshole. Jillian hasn't seen Duke, Steph or Cass for a while, Jillian herself is on her knees with a bunch of other of the gala attendees while these goons wave around automatic rifles and laugh about their paycheck.

Finally the main dude comes back, Bruce is with him... He has something strapped to his chest. It's a bomb, oh gods it's a bomb! Jillian nervously meets Selina's eyes because she can't see Bruce, nor can Dick and Tim. She looks up at the Flash villain as he grabs the mic and begins to talk.

"I need a volunteer! Someone who can run-" Jillian stood up quickly, she flinches as the barrel of a rifle is harshly shoved into her back.

"I'LL DO IT! I'll do it, I'll run," the villain smiles seemingly impressed.

"You can't slow down once you start, if you do-" Jillian cuts him off as she walks over to Tim.

"The bomb will blow up, yeah we know. Flash villain; whatever your name is," Jillian walks up to Tim and sits down. She ignores the offended sound that came from the stage.

"What are you doing?" Dick hisses as Jillian removes her heels

"I'm taking Tim's converse,"

"Do I get a say in you taking my shoes?" Tim asked but Jillian kept talking over him.

"because he has padding in them, they're the closest to my size, and I'm not running in heels," Jillian doesn't look up as she starts untying Tim's shoes, Tim just shrugs and lets her continue.

"No! What are you thinking! You can't run-" Jillian turns to glare at Dick, they have a glare off before Dick relents and drops his head.

"I can run, it's the only thing I can do. It's all I do is run, let me do this, let me do what I'm good at," Jillian whispers as she pulls off Tim's shoes and starts lacing up then onto her feet, they're a little tight but she'll survive... Wrong turn of phrase, she'll deal.

Jillian turns to meet Selina's gaze, who looks like she also wants to argue, to fight and convince Jillian to back down. But if there's one thing they've all learned; it's that all the Wayne's, regardless of blood ties or no, were all as stubborn and bull headed as Bruce himself. Selina doesn't say anything but she gives her a small nod and an encouraging smile.

Jillian meets Bruce's gaze, he's been beat pretty bad but Jillian knows he'll be okay. No what causes the pit anxiety and the slight dread is the look of horror on his face. There's panic in his eyes and she's sure that if he wasn't gagged he would be screaming and yelling, well he is but it's muffled. Jillian steals herself and takes a final deep breath.

While Jillian walks up the stage she reaches down and rips her dress so it's not nearly as long. Thankfully her hair was already tied mostly up in a half-do so she lets it down and ties it all up. Jillian is forever grateful to herself for constantly wearing biker shorts under her dresses, her thighs chafe when she's just standing and walking around. She doesn't want to know what they'd feel like after running for who knows how long. Finally she reaches the stage and holds out a gloved hand.

"Oh-hoho! Someone is determined, I like that!" As the villain yells he straps something to the teens wrist, she yelps in pain as something stabs into her wrist. A small trickle of blood begins lazily rolling down the sides of her wrist.

"Alrighty! When I press this button you don't stop until I get my money! Oh! One last thing," the man smiles slips into something more horrific as he speaks.

"If he goes, so do you! Are you ready? Get set! Go!" The man taps the button and Jillian begins to run.

Jillian is good at this, it's one of the few things she's confident about. She's not graceful or incredibly flexible like Dick or Cass, she's not a great fighter like Jason or Damian. She's not smart like Tim or Barbara or stealthy like Steph. She didn't have the same level of control over her meta abilities like Duke. But Jillian can run, she can push herself and her endurance. She can keep a steady pace and keep it for as long as physically possible. Jillian can run. Jillian can endure.

•°•°•

Jillian's first move was to get the fuck out of the small space that the gala was being held in. Moving quickly towards the door Jillian burst outside to the busy downtown Gotham streets. She kept a steady pace heading west towards the docks of Gotham.

Worse case scenario Jillian can throw herself into Gotham bay before the bomb goes. Minimal damage to the surrounding areas and the people. She holds confidence that someone will get to the bomb strapped to Bruce's chest soon, if all the police car whipping past her was anything to go by.

For now Jillian keeps running, not a sprint but an easy pace. Jillian's no speedster but she's curious about their endurance, she hasn't gotten much of a chance to go pace for pace with one. She's met Bart and while the boy is fast she wonders if he could keep up endurance wise? Jillian has trained for endurance most of her life, she's been in track for almost a decade at this point. Plus she actively partakes in marathons and endurance climbing...Who's she kidding there's very little chance Jillian could keep up with a speedster.

It's been about a good hour of running, Jillian's sweating and tired but she knows she can keep going. She's on 5th Street now, the longest road that stretches across all of Gotham right next to Gotham bay. Jillian's feet left the concrete and asphalt of Gotham's roads and the hollow thuds of Gotham's board walks and dock ring out under her feet.

There's a drone following her, it has been for the last five minutes, Jillian didn't want to assume it was following her but now she had confirmation. The teen figured it was probably Oracle, so she waved to Barbara hoping to reassure her. Yeah Jillian has a bomb strapped to her wrist but she'll be okay... Probably.

Honestly that was the main reason Jillian left the gala. If she fails, if Jillian can't run and everything blows, in the worst case scenario her family has to only watch Bruce. Though he's probably already out of the vest or figured out how to disarm it or something. That's besides the point, Jillian didn't want them to see her go up.

Jillian is a little shocked when another set of foot steps approaches her and Jillian sees Duke dressed in his typical Signal garb. She sees him smile at her and for a moment Jillian falters as her heart leaps and her stride slows. Jillian sees the consistently blink red light slow. Panic and dread rushed through her body as dawning horror spreads across Duke's face.

Jillian turns on a dime and sprints the short distance to get across the docks. She can hear Duke yelling and the screams of Stephanie as well but Jillian has a single minded focus. Get to the water, minimize damages both physical and mental. Maybe she can pray... Jillian's not particularly religious but maybe if she prayed just once she'd live this.

Jillian feels the cold rush of Gotham bays water make contact with her, when suddenly there's a rush of air. One moment she's submerged under water and the next she's standing on the docks again. Jillian is vaguely aware of a rapidly buzzing and blurring object next to her holding her arm with the bomb.

Eventually her brain catches up and Jillian realizes that there's a speedster next to her. Judging by the height Jillian is guessing it's the first Flash and not Impulse or the former Kid Flash. Jillian has a moment to look behind herself and see Duke and Stephanie running towards her both in vigilante garb.

"Sorrythisisgoingtohurt! HopefullyIdon'tbreakyourwristorarm! Don'twanttoexplainthattoBats," there's a rapid buzzing of what sounds like words before her wrist and arm starts shaking rapidly.

Jillian screams at the sudden intense stabbing around her wrist becomes more intense. As suddenly as it starts it stops and Jillian's arm is let go, there's a rush of air and a spray of water as a blur of red rushes out towards the middle of the bay between Metropolis and Gotham.

Jillian doesn't even process that her legs give out from underneath her until she's hitting the ground. Her breathing is labored and her mouth is tacky, she should probably drink some water. A shiver runs its course through Jillian's body as a breeze sweeps over her form.

There's a hand grabbing her wrist, dazed Jillian looks up to see Duke rummaging through his utility belt. He's not wearing his cowl, it's just his domino mask, it kinda looks like a bat itself. Everyone's masks have all changed, now covering more than just his eyes, it's almost like a cowl with how much it covers. Though unlike the cowl Jillian can see the faint glow of Duke's eye easier.

She's always found comfort in Duke's eyes, they're like little suns. When he looks at her Jillian feels like she's at the center of the sun itself, warm and fuzzy. There's a weight of something wrapping around her and Jillian looks up to see Steph removing her black Batgirl cape and draping it around her. Jillian's attention snaps back to Duke as there's a searing pain around her wrist causing her to hiss in pain.

"Sorry," Duke mumbles he glances up at Jillian and her breath catches in her throat. The warmth of light washes over her, it feels like it's gently caressing her soul. She'll never hate the feeling of Duke staring at her.

"Mi amores luz,"

The words fall from Jillian's lips like a prayer, it's barely a whisper. But Jillian knows what she says, she hears the words fall from her lips. She doesn't notice Duke's eyes widening slightly but he doesn't say anything. He can see plain as day the panic that washed over Jillian's face for a moment. It's only a moment but it's enough for Duke to pretend he never heard it.

Jillian's had a rough night, she's tired and exhausted. She's not in her right mind right now. She doesn't mean it. That's what Duke tells himself as he finishes wrapping her wrist. The rest of the night is kind of a blur for Jillian.

The Gotham police helped capture the gala crashers with assistance from Impulse and Flash. When Flash was informed that a civilian had the detonator strapped to their wrist he immediately went looking. Signal and Batgirl helped him look and Signal found the girl at the docs. Flash got the detonator off the civilian and left to help Impulse.

Duke, Steph, and Cass managed to slip out before being captured. They got into gear quickly but not before Jillian had volunteered herself. Oracle was the one to find her and Duke was the closest to the docks. Steph came quickly afterwards but not before Jillian managed to trigger the bomb.

When Jillian was escorted home by GCPD she was smothered by her family. Everyone was careful not to touch bare skin which Jillian was extremely grateful for. She really did need her powers flaring and giving her an identity crisis on top of the exhaustion she was currently feeling.

Jillian was laying in her bed when there was a knock at her door. Getting up and wrapping herself in the fluffy robe Cass gifted her Jillian approached her door. When she opened it she was greeted by a soft glow of light. Again Jillian's breath hitched in her throat at Duke's eyes met hers.

"Hey, can we talk?" Jillian snapped out of her daze and nodded not trusting her voice. She stepped aside opening her door more to allow Duke into her room.

Instantly he walked over to Jillian's desk and sat down in the chair there. Jillian closed her door and giggled quietly as Queenie immediately jumped into Duke's lap demanding attention from him. Sitting on her bed Jillian crossed her legs and watched quietly as Duke whispered to Queenie while petting her.

"Are you okay?" Jillian was a little shocked by Duke's sudden question, he didn't even look up from where he was currently petting Queenie. The large black fluff ball was absolutely loving the attention.

"Uh, yeah I think so?" Jillian was being honest, she's tired, her wrist hurts and her legs burn like they usually do after running for so long. Her knees are a little scraped up from her collapsing and she has a headache from slight dehydration but for the most part she's okay.

"I'm alive-" Jillian's words hitch as she says them. She hadn't really taken the time to dissect everything that happened to her and judging by the look Duke's giving her he knew that.

"You ran to jump into the water. After you slowed down..." Jillian wasn't entirely sure where this was going, in her mind she made the right call. If she was going to blow up then doing so in the water was the best place.

"I did it because it was the best option, less damage," She tilted her head back to stare at the glow in the dark stars above her bed.

"Why did you slow down when you saw me?" Jillian's head dropped quickly to look at Duke, she was immediately met with molten gold staring at her.

"I-" Jillian couldn't think of a good excuse, she didn't intend to slow down when she spotted Duke but she did.

"It almost killed you," Jillian's eyes widened as Duke continued, "I almost killed you,"

"But you didn't, I'm o-" Duke cut her off before Jillian could finish.

"If Flash was even a second later then you would have been pieces in the bay," Duke's words were sharp and angry.

"But he wasn't I'm fine Duke, honestly," Jillian began to stand from where she was sitting but hesitated when Duke stood up suddenly.

"I saw it, I watched you jump into that bay and never come back out," Jillian's movements stopped completely at that.

"Duke-" again Duke cuts Jillian off before she could talk.

"No, you don't get it. I couldn't do anything at that moment, I didn't even know I was seeing an alternate!" Duke raised his voice a bit but softened it again when Queenie let out a soft meow.

"I thought you died, Jill. I was so sure you died and I couldn't do anything to help you," Jillian stood up from where she was sitting on her bed and walked up to Duke.

She wasn't expecting the taller teen to grab her and pull her into a hug. One arm wrapped around her lower back and his other hand cradled her head, pressing it gently into his chest. Jillian could feel her cheeks heating up but decided to risk it and wrapped her arms around his hips.

"I was so scared," Jillian could feel the slight shake of Duke's body and hugged him tighter, silently praying her powers didn't flare up.

"I'm here Duke, I'm right here. Nothing happened, I promise I'm okay," Jillian whispered into his chest and just let Duke hold her.

She wasn't sure how long he held her but eventually he stopped shaking. Slowly Jillian pulled was and looked up, warm honey met her gaze and Jillian heard herself gasp. She felt she was imagining it when Duke's eyes flicked down to Jillian's lips for a moment before meeting hers again.

"Can I kiss you?" Jillian felt like she was going to faint, nodding dumbly. Before she could continue her brain caught up with her body.

"Wait!" Jillian gasped as Duke inched closer, as soon as the word left Jillian's mouth Duke pulled back completely.

"I'm sorry," Jillian could feel tears welling up as she continued speaking, "I don't know if I'll have control, I don't want you to see something horrible or for me to see something you don't want me to see,"

Jillian watched Duke's face morph from fear to concern to something soft. He closed his eyes and for a moment Jillian felt like she was set adrift in the void of Gotham again. She could feel the tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," Jillian whispered softly trying to keep her voice steady but failing, this caused Duke to open his eyes.

"It's okay," Duke smiled, Jillian's heart flutters at what Duke said next,

"I can endure the wait."

Cursed Gotham Masterpost

23 notes · View notes

loulou-land · 5 months ago

Text

Fuck it Friday

and also first lines of 2025

Thank you for the tag! ✨ @perfectlysunny02

This is a rockon fic I started recently, Deacon takes Rocker with him on one of his security jobs, things go very wrong and our boys need to keep each other alive while ignoring the elephant in the room (they haven’t gotten down and dirty yet in this fic) 👀 I was planning on it being a one shot but uh…I’m thinking it’s gonna turn into a multi-chapter 😮‍💨

Snippet

Deacon sighed, glancing around the room as if someone else might materialize and volunteer. No such luck. He already knew Hondo was busy, so no point asking him. He was about to give up when the door swung open, and Rocker strolled in whistling an off key tune, a towel hung around his shoulders.

“Everything all right?” Rocker asked, his tone casual but curious as he found himself the center of attention.

Deacon hesitated for a moment—not because he didn’t trust Rocker, he’d taken him with him on other jobs before. But, because something had been simmering between them lately, an unspoken tension in every interaction that he couldn't quite figure out. It had been driving him mad. Still, he pushed that aside and said, “Got a last-minute security detail. I need someone to ride shotgun. You interested?”

Rocker raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting into a familiar smirk. “High-profile client? Another heiress?”

“No,” Deacon answered vehemently. “I automatically veto those. One was enough, thanks.” He said, cringing at the memory of the entitled heiress who’d spent the whole drive to Vegas flirting with Rocker.

Of course, Rocker found that hilarious. He threw his head back and laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls. Deacon’s eyes were immediately drawn to the curve of Rocker’s throat, the way his neck stretched taut with the motion. It was ridiculous—he’d never thought of a neck as biteable before, but now the idea crept into his mind, unbidden and unwelcome. Before he could chase that thought, he slammed the mental door on it with a force that surprised even himself and quickly glanced away, clearing his throat.

“All right, chuckles,” he said, his voice a touch sharper than he intended. “What do you say?”

“Sounds like fun. Overnight job?” Rocker asked as he resumed shoving clothes into his backpack, still grinning like he knew exactly what had just crossed Deacon’s mind.

Uh I don’t know who to tag for this and I think a bunch of my mutuals have already done it. But if you see this and post something, feel free to tag me in it ☺️💕

#rockon #deacon kay #donovan rocker #swat #fuck it Friday #my writing #my fics: way down we go

22 notes · View notes

shokuto · 4 months ago

Text

Skipping Rocks

Ultimate Ms Marvel (ft Spider-Man)

Miles Morales never talks about himself. Not his childhood, not his family, and certainly not his late mother.

But as simply as one skips a rock, he’ll confess something from his deceptively elusive past that shakes her. He’ll make light of scornful, gnashing experiences that should have only just begun to scab over, and Kamala’ll tuck them away for later like she always does, because what else is there for her to do?

Her father’s like that; casually volunteering the awful things he pretends doesn’t haunt him over chai, while her and her brother are left to ponder the overwhelming implications. Meanwhile, he’s already moved onto something actually innocuous.

As she and Miles haggardly plod down dingy alleyways in scuffed up costumes, she has no idea she’ll be wondering if men are just like that. If it has something to do with them wanting to shield people from their sorrows, or a deeper desire to gloss over what they can’t confront themselves.

“Taskmaster totally kicked your ass,” Kamala comments tiredly.

Miles scoffs, readjusting his backpack and affecting an offended glower. “What? No way. They carried him out on a stretcher.”

“Yeah, after I punched him in the face really hard.”

“I feel that implies you don’t normally punch really hard.”

“Still.”

Eventually, they find a decent spot to change—a secluded section of brick and mortar, right behind a dispensary humorously dubbed “Aubrey’s Grams.” They automatically turn around at the wall, this time too tired to make a big show of warning the other not to look. As Kamala pulls her civvies out of her bag, she hears him clarify, “Hey, I walked out, he got carried out. He, by definition, did not kick my ass.”

She can’t help but snort as she pulls the oversized hoodie over her head, a neon owl now covering the lightning bolt of her burkini. “You got escorted out. By me. Because he hit you too hard.”

She teases him with ease, but there’s a residual heat that creeps up on her, the kind that always lingers at the thought of M—Spider-Man changing clothes behind her.

But then he absently comments “My uncle hits harder,” and it’s like a bucket of ice water, dumped right onto her and the inconvenient fluttering of her stomach. She should be thankful, but it makes her pause the unfurling of her scarf beneath her hood. There are a thousand images and implications that suddenly take root into her mind like gnats furrowing in dirt, and makes her stomach twist in a knot because what the fuck?

“…He better hope he doesn’t run into me, then,” she finally returns.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Miles chuckles, a light sound that makes her her wonder if perhaps they reconciled, if the nuke he’s just dropped on her is a dot in the rear view mirror...only for him to immediately follow up with, “He’s dead.”

If she weren’t pretty sure she’d be met with his bare back or God forbid his legs, she’d whirl around on him at that. “What?”

“Yeah, it was a long time ago. I was like, thirteen.”

Gobsmacked, Kamala rises to her feet, having finally swapped her Red Octobers for a nondescript pair of black vans in silence. She clutches the straps of her bag a little tighter than usual, having been left to ruminate on the nuke Miles just dropped on her all alone. On Miles having an abusive uncle that apparently isn’t around to hurt him anymore. An uncle she kinda, sorta wishes weren’t dead so she could properly avenge his nephew at least once.

But Miles moves on, so she guesses she has no choice but to do the same.

“So, is this the weekend I get that hoodie back?” he asks, tapping her shoulder to let her know the coast is clear. She flinches like she always does and reminds herself he has a way of sneaking up on her.

“Not a chance,” she laughs, burying it beneath the fun of hearing him whine.

“I should totally let you walk out of here with that mask on your face.”

“What?” Kamala’s hand flies to her face, searching for the navy blue strip of plastic that’d give her away and feeling none.

He lets out a peal of laughter so loud he might as well have yelled out “Sike!”

“Asshole.”

#kamiles #sorta #my writing #ultimate spiderman #ultimate ms marvel

12 notes · View notes

b-afterhours · 2 months ago

Text

Enter The Chronoheart

SYNOPSIS: Au!Bill | Timing is everything. Just before his big break, Bill met Paz, and with her in his life, everything seemed to fall into place. The timing felt right, until the weight of fame and notoriety became too much for Paz to handle, even from the sidelines. Despite their busy careers and distance, they always seemed to find each other through it all. Just when they decided to rekindle their relationship, and the timing felt right again. Paz disappears without a trace.

The aftermath of her disappearance sends Bill’s path spiraling off course. Then, on the third anniversary of her disappearance, he found himself drawn to the mystic shop where she was last seen. Sending him on an unexpected journey through time to find her.

NOTE: reminder that this is an AU! so certain dates do not align with our current TL! Also, I'll make a tag list so if you'd like to be included, please lmk! ty!

WARNINGS: 18+ Mature readers only!

Chapter Seven

1966

Bill was home from work gathering the ingredients around the kitchen to make dinner that evening. Paz skipped out on volunteering in the costuming department that day and instead, she went shopping. She knew Layne would expect her to come from her supposed trip to Joshua Tree with goods, especially after giving her money to blow.

The smell of automatics being sautéed lured Paz to the kitchen when she arrived. She sat on a cushioned bar stool at the kitchen island, with a glass of wine he poured for her. It was just what he always did when he made the pasta dish she liked so much. Excitedly, she watched as he cooked, she hadn’t eaten it in years.

“How was work?”

“Umm, I feel good about a lot of what we shot today, actually. I’m finally, like, shaking off the fact that I know Sigrid got his first Oscar nom’ for this movie. I just wonder… if that then makes it my first too or—“

“Sigrid had his first last year.”

Bill stopped stirring the wooden spoon in his hand and turned to her. “No?”

“Yes. It was last year,” Paz countered.

“I watched Anthro for the first time with my dad and he told me he did.”

Paz wanted to roll her eyes but refrained. “I was here, though. Layne throws an Oscar’s watch party every year. I saw him there with Marcia on the little ass TV.”

“For what movie?”

“The Callback. He lost.”

His brows pulled together. “I don’t think that’s right…” Paz looked at him in disbelief, that he was challenging her on this.

“Bill—“

“I don’t know…” he said quickly, not wanting to start an actual argument over something so little.

Paz sighed, letting it end there. “Could you maybe tell me about my friends today?” Paz asked, feeling that was an easy place to start.

“Okay. Yeah sure,” Bill nodded.

“What’s um, I guess, Cora? What’s she doing?”

Bill thought for a moment. “She moved to Berlin.”

“She finally went through with that?” Paz asked, happy for her. “With that old guy?”

Bill smirked. “She moved a little over a year after you-you…” For some reason at the moment, it didn’t feel right to say she disappeared. She was right there in front of him. “Uhm, if it was with the old guy, I don’t know.”

“Hmm.” Paz took a sip of her wine. That was an easy start. Bill and Cora were always friendly but not as familiar as… “Max?”

“He’s doing good. His podcast took off and he was actually interviewing guests at the Golden Globes last year.”

“Really! Oh my god! That’s like—”

“Exactly what he wanted to do, yeah,” Bill smiled. “He works some premieres, too. He asks really great questions and funny ones that go viral a lot.”

“Do you talk to him the most?” Paz guessed.

Bill cut off the burner underneath the boiling pot of pasta. “I’ve run into him the most. He lives in LA now and when I see him we talk for a long time. He invites me to stuff too sometimes but it’s not my scene.”

“Why? Is he inviting you to ‘Bears in Speedos’ pool parties or leather daddy clubs?”

Bill laughed, draining the boiling water out of the pot. “Nah—I wish. They’re mostly influencer events.”

“Like those fake Instagramable events?” She paused and let out a small, “Whoa.”

“What?” Bill turned, concerned by her tone.

“I haven’t said Instagram in so long,” she said at the realization.

“Right. How many times have you sent a telegram here, though?” He teased.

“Whatever,” she shook her head. “Since you’ve been here, I’ve never had such a normal conversation—well, as normal as it can be. But just to talk to someone else who knows the things I do is so amazing.”

Bill added the noodles into the deep saucepan to toss them in the red sauce he had simmering. “It is amazing,” he agreed for his own reasons. “I noticed something…”

“What?”

“You sound different here.”

Paz blinked, wondering what he meant. “I do?”

“Yeah, it’s a little higher. Really…”

“Really what?”

“Like stepford wives-ish.”

“Am I doing it now?”

“You sound like you when it’s just us. But, yeah, it changes around others. Especially around Layne, like when you were on the phone with him in the morning.”

They were in the study while she told Layne about her evening before. Lying about how she played bocce ball, a game she never played in her life, with hotel guests she made friends with that didn’t exist.

“And you went horseback riding,” Bill whispered, assisting her with lies.

Paz paused, giving him a confused glance.

“What was that, dear?” Layne asked.

“Oh, uhm—”

“Horseback riding,” he said again, pointing at his crotch with an amused grin at her annoyance with him.

“Uhm, I went horseback riding too,” she replied as she flipped Bill off while he silently laughed.

“I don’t think you mean to do it,” Bill continued. “I think it’s just this place. And maybe, it changes with me because… well, I think it’s the first time you’ve felt comfortable since you’ve been here.”

Paz nodded watching him plate their dinner. Even with her being absent for three years tomorrow, he could still read her so well. It was annoying but sometimes it was nice not having to explain everything to him. While watching her interact with people on set he could sense her general discomfort and slight stiffness in how she carried herself that was never there before.

He sat down next to her and she eagerly twisted a heap of noodles onto her fork. She took a bite and moaned in bliss.

“That good? Is it the same as you remember?”

She gripped his shoulder harshly and kissed the tips of her fingers. “Even better. You're a real Italiano for a Swede.”

Bill laughed, but fell silent. Absentmindedly, he twisted his fork over and over as he watched her take another bite. He made the dish when he wanted something easy but made it especially every year on her birthday since she’d been missing. He’d eat together with a full plate meant for her across from him. Watching the food clear off his, while her’s grew cold and untouched.

“I swear it’s good, babe!” Paz said when she felt his eyes stuck on her. “It’s so, so fucking delish!” She leaned over to kiss him. “Thank you. I make it sometimes, but it’s just never as good.”

…

They took a cruise in Paz’s station wagon later that night, the roads were mostly empty so they decided to drive with the windows down. Though it was night time, it was odd to see such little traffic in the city. They passed the old architecture, the bright neon lights casting shapes on the oil spills on the dark roads.

“It’s like being on a movie set or something,” Bill said, his eyes taking everything in. Even the morning paper he’d read felt like a prop.

“Yeah…” She looked over at him. “I thought that when I first got here too. It takes a while to get used to.”

She watched as he had one arm resting on the window ledge as he drove. The breeze pushed his hair back so nicely. With how the blue neon lights highlighted the high points of his face, he looked like a movie himself. Especially with how the car radio music played a soft folk song providing a soundtrack to the scene before her.

Drawn to him, Paz scooted closer to him on the bench seat, and his hands changed to steer so that he could put an arm around her. He placed a soft kiss on her temple and she leaned up to give him an affectionate kiss on the cheek.

“Take a left after this block,” Paz pointed as she rested her head on his shoulder. “Oh, another left, it’ll be on the right.”

He hit the break harder than he wanted to so that he wouldn’t miss the turn. “Sorry,” he chuckled. “You want to go here,” he slowed the car to a crawl. “Are you sure?”

Just ahead was a car hop style restaurant with a fat cheeked cherubic cowboy mascot standing on the roof. It was fairly busy with patrons when he pulled up.

“Here,” Paz passed him his black baseball cap. “Just park on the far end. It should be okay.” She silently hoped.

As soon as Bill put the car in park in the very last stall, he pulled his cap down further and slouched in his seat. But when he reached for the yellow tinted aviators Paz owned, she put her hand on top of his, stopping him.

“That’s too obvious. They’re quick here.” She assured him as she watched him begin to bite on his thumbnail.

Bill took in the scene, his mind could not escape how much everything looked like a well curated movie from the past. The old cars, the young girls in mini skirts he knew they weren’t allowed to wear outside their parents homes, the employee uniforms nicely pressed and still somehow clean, cultists in technicolored robes handing out pamphlets. The prices for fast food items for just pennies on the dollar even felt fake.

A waitress in jean capris, a tan button up tied at the waist, red cowboy boots, and a tiny cowboy shaped fascinator sitting askew on her head approached their car.

“I think I know her?” Paz said out loud, when she leaned out her window and waved the waitress over to the passenger side.

“Paz? Oh geez, hey!” The waitress greeted her looking slightly embarrassed.

“Stacy, how have you been?” She smiled.

“Good, thank you. Uhm, I’m just picking up some shifts here and there for some extra cash,” she sheepishly said, feeling the anxious need to explain out of embarrassment. They worked together before but since then Paz hadn’t seen her at the studio lot.

“It’s not a bad gig!”

Bill turned his attention away from their conversation, taking in the social scene again. He was relieved Paz took over ordering, but he was becoming amused with hearing the fake voice she unconsciously put on.

“I would like a coke,” Paz began while Stacy scrawled on her notepad. “And a cherry coke. Also an order of fries and onion rings. That’s all.”

“Perfect!”

“Would it be possible for you to bump the order up?”

“I can work something out for you. Total is .62 cents, I’ll grab it when I come back. So good to see you,” she said with a tiny fluttery wave of her hand.

“Jesus christ,” Bill said in disbelief but humor was behind it. “This is the most stereotypical Americana shit I’ve ever seen.”

Paz slowly began to laugh as she looked around at what he was seeing. He hadn’t been to very many places yet, and certainly not some place like this where it was more relaxed and less stuffy. She turned back to him as he laughed and just shrugged.

“.62 goddamn cents, my ass,” Bill put a fry in his mouth as they drove away. “Just take the whole damn dollar, miss.” Which is exactly what they gave Stacy.

“Their prices are actually a bit expensive,” Paz said, sipping on a small vanilla malt Stacy snuck into their order for free.

“Still, she got the rest of the .38. She can get 2 fries, a burger, a float, a haircut, and use the rest to pay the cab back home.” he laughed at his joke. “It’s just silly, I don’t know. It was fun to see though.”

“You keep paying people out like that, you're going to go broke here fast,” she teased.

“You know, I learned Marcia and I have three accountants but it made me think of actors of this time just getting robbed blind. People were really so reliant on honesty and integrity they just didn’t notice.”

Paz passed him an onion ring to have. “Yeah, I remember watching E! True Hollywood Stories growing up and there were a lot of stories like that. You should probably audit your accountants.”

Bill nodded as he chewed. “I can’t remember if anything like that happened to Marcia or Sigrid but I probably should, just to know what the hell is up.”

“Don’t be surprised when you realize Marcia is what the hell is up,” Paz laughed.

…

It was early in the morning, the sun still shy to rise over the horizon. Bill turned in his sleep, expecting to feel Paz’s warm naked body against his but as he felt around, his eyes peaked open. Even with his bleary vision he could see that her side was empty and he was laying there alone.

He could feel his heart race quicken, today marked the third year of Paz’s disappearance and he couldn’t help but feel dread wash over him as it did in the past. Was she gone again? Had she left him behind? Was any of this actually real? In a panic, he sat up and at the same moment Paz's hands cupped his face, soothing him. She had been on the balcony in reflection when she saw he woke up in a panic.

“Hey,” she said, staring into his wide green eyes apologetically. “I’m here. Sorry, I just… I had a hard time sleeping.”

Bill exhaled through his flared nose, wrapping his arms around her and pulled her back into bed with her laying on top of him. To feel the pressure of her body made his heart settle. He buried his nose into her neck, taking in her scent as he ran his hands over her nightgown.

When he pulled away he noticed her eyes were puffy and her nose was rosy. “You’ve been crying?”

Paz gave him a small sad smile. “Yeah… I'm just thinking about my family, you know. Uhm… do you think yours have noticed that you’re gone by now?”

Bill’s heart sank. They would have probably found out sometime last week by now. When one sibling asked the other if they’d heard from him and then checked in with another one and so on and so forth until the reality of his absence slowly spread and became an awful blow.

“Yeah…” he said shifting as they both sat up. “Yeah they probably know now.”

“What do you think, they think happened to you?” She asked as he rubbed his sleepy eyes.

He frowned a bit, looking out towards the balcony, debating on what he should say. “I don’t know…” he said, looking distant while still in thought. “They probably think I off’d myself or something. I don’t know.” He shook his head with a light scoff.

When he turned to look at Paz she was staring at him with shock and horror at that confession. “Bill…”

“I-I never… I never but I got in a bad way. How could I not?”

“I’m so sorry…” Paz's voice shook.

“Stop. And don’t start saying all of this is your fault either. It’s not. How could you fucking know something like this could happen?”

“But for them to think you’d really do something like that—”

“It’s not only that. I haven’t been doing well in my career either,” he finally revealed. “It’s just—it fucking sucks. I’m not really doing anything I want to do. I just need a check. Everything’s just soulless and empty.”

“What?” Paz blinked.

Bill exhaled loudly, rubbing his forehead. “I need a cigarette.”

They reconvened on the balcony, Bill now wearing the navy pajama pants he found near the foot of the bed and a white shirt.

“I don’t know how much to say without upsetting you…” he said as leaned on the railing, crossing his arms.

Paz thought for a moment. He had been considerate while waiting for her to ask the questions but even when he answered she could sense he held back a lot of information. And she had been right.

“I guess let's just get on with it,” she fidgeted with the ends of her hair nervously but she was a grown woman it was time to know. “Where did you think I went? Did you think that I died?”

“No,” he said firmly. “Never. I couldn’t… I didn’t believe you did for a second. And I think… A few people thought I was crazy for that. I thought I might have scared you. That when,” he paused a moment in thought. “That when I asked you to marry me, you ran off. I thought when we got back together I was going at it too fast again. I know that’s not what happened,” he said quickly, when it looked like she was going to speak. “But before I just blamed myself. I had nothing else to go off of.”

Paz nodded. “You said people thought you were crazy? Everyone else thinks I’m dead don’t they?” Her lip quivered. “Fuck. I guess… well I might as well be,” she said looking out towards the city. A sliver of gold peeking from the horizon lightening the skies. “You were the last person to see me? Did people think… I don’t know, I'm sure everyone found out about us for real. Did they think I… Gone Girl’d you?”

After taking a deep drag of his cigarette, Bill sat on a chair at the small table in front of her. “Well, people thought a lot of things, baby. Gone Girl came up but that’s not real life... There are some stupid conspiracies, I think would make you laugh, honestly,” he said, trying to bring some lightness but it did little. “Organ harvesting, kidnapped by some shadowy Hollywood cabal, human trafficking, human sacrifice. There were inexplicable sightings of you in several places in South America, Turkey—”

“Turkey?” She repeated.

“Some fishing lodge in Alaska, too. Yeah, just weird shit like that.”

“For fuck’s sake,” she grimaced. “That all sounds so boring compared to what really happened.”

“Mhmm. But yeah… of course some psychos think I had something to do with it. I’m in the cabal, apparently. Illuminati. But bullshit aside, it’s made getting jobs a bit harder. It’s dumb to believe but people can’t fucking help themselves, I guess.” He stubbed out his cigarette and leaned back in his chair, chewing on his lip. “About a year after you disappeared,” he began again after some thought, “a month after the day in 2022 there was a pandemic.”

“A pandemic?” her brows pulled together. “Like, what, the flu or?”

“It was a bit more than that. Everything shut down, travel was restricted, and everyone was forced to stay in. It affected older people, elderly, young children, people with autoimmune deficiencies, pre existing conditions. Before the vaccine, a lot of people died.”

“Oh my god… Is my family okay?” She was concerned for all her family members but her mind went straight to her little sister Juliana.

“Yes,” he nodded. “They are. Mine too. But not so many people were lucky, like some families were decimated leaving only one or two members left.”

“Oh my god!” Was all Paz could muster to say again as she felt a tad frightened at what she was learning.

“It was a weird time, you didn't really know how things would pan out and it seemed to go on forever. I was cast in two movies and they just never happened because of it. Everything shut down, the whole world stopped quite literally.”

Paz sat there silently for a moment, her hands dragging down her face. “Let’s have some coffee…” she sighed, she needed a break to process.

“Yeah. Okay,” Bill nodded, watching her rise from her seat. He followed her, and took her wrist stopping before she began to descend down the stairs. “We can leave it for later if you want. If it’s too much, I understand.”

“It’s fine,” she assured him, lacing her fingers through his. “Once I know everything I can finally move on.”

He caught a slight doleful flash in her eyes but led the way to the kitchen instead of calling attention to it. Her words told him a lot though. It seemed to him that over the last three years she had been living in a state of limbo. She acclimated to this new timeline but never fully embraced it. She would never belong and neither would he but they just had no other choice. They were the only people in the world who knew there was a way to the past but was there anyway forward?

Paz smiled up at him when he handed her a latte and joined her on a built-in bench in the courtyard with a much needed black coffee for himself. They sat silently for a moment watching the morning birds splash about in the tiered garden fountain pulling focus to the center.

Paz rubbed her arm nervously before breaking the silence. “Do you talk to my family at all?”

“From time to time.”

“How are my parents? Do they think I’m dead?” She frowned.

“No. They hold out hope that you’ll be back. They never sold the house, so that you still knew where to come home to if you came back. I don’t think they’ve ever had a doubt you wouldn’t. Juliana, too. I speak with her the most.”

“Is she doing well? Healthwise?”

“She’s been using a cane to help her get around lately. It's glittery and has all these chrome heart charms on it.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Juju,” Paz lightly laughed.

“But she’s been okay, yeah. We talk every year on your birthday. And we’ll shoot texts back and forth on holidays and stuff. She just moved in with her boyfriend, his name is Daniel.”

“Daniel?”

“Did you ever know about him? I think she said they met in school.”

“No… that’s nice though. I love that for her.”

Paz bit her lip feeling emotion rise in her. She missed her sister so much and her brother. To have siblings to suddenly become an only child made her heart ache.

“Is Daniel cute?” She asked.

Bill lightly laughed as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Uh, yeah. He’s a handsome guy. Short, brown curly hair, wears glasses, I think he lifts weights—well, he does, I can tell in the pictures she posts of them together.”

Paz smiled. “Alicia? She had her baby…”

“She did,” he nodded. “A boy she named Augustino.”

“What the hell. Really?” She twisted her face a bit.

“Is there something wrong with it?”

“She always named her Sims husbands that!” She burst out laughing. “She would kill them and name the new husband the same every time.”

“The hell… That’s black widow shit.” he laughed. “Well, he’s a cute, chubby kid. He was only a few months old when I met him but he's almost three now.”

They fell silent for a moment thinking about that baby's age and what that meant to them. But listening to Bill speak about Alicia and her family, she noticed he didn’t mention Franco. That could only mean that he didn’t not feel the same as the rest of them, he had given up hope of her ever returning. He had chosen to believe she was dead.

“Frankie?” She turned to look at Bill who noticeably frowned. “He found out about us too…”

Bill nodded, pausing to take a sip of his coffee.

“Was he mad?” She tilted her head, feeling a bit annoyed that he would be. She was missing, there were better things to focus on even if there was no way to find her.

Bill scratched his stubbly jaw. “He was for a while, yeah.”

“I’m sorry… he can be such an ass!”

“Well… yeah,” he agreed. “He iced me out, like arctic fuckin’ freeze for about a year. In the beginning, I wanted to explain everything to him but I couldn’t. He fucking blocked me on everything and then at some point unblocked me to invite me to…” he paused. “Well, your family does like a vigil type thing every year that you’ve been gone. I went to the first one. Lourdes and Juliana invited me so I was going to show up anyway but then your brother reached out surprisingly. That's what we spoke again. But it wasn’t all that productive…”

“You argued?” Paz lifted her brows.

“Sorta.”

~~~

Bill felt nerves clenching his stomach the whole journey to Chicago for the first anniversary of the worst day of his life. He stood outside of the event center facing his back to the wind while smoking a cigarette down to the filter in what felt like ages in the chilly February breeze. He patted down the cream colored polo he wore under a navy corduroy jacket and took a deep breath to settle himself before entering but the air just froze his chest.

Lourdes was the first to spot him and greet him. “Oh!” Her nicely penciled brows raised with surprise. “I’m so happy you made it.” She said, giving him a long warm hug. “How have you been?”

He tilted his head. “Okay, enough.”

Lourdes rubbed his shoulder sympathetically. “Yes. Me too.”

It was then that Saul, Paz’s father, turned his attention to him after speaking with other guests by the door. “Thank you for coming,” he said, giving Bill a firm handshake.

Saul liked Bill from what he had learned or knew about him through his daughter or his wife. It wasn’t until he read the statement he put out in which he spoke about his daughter with so much respect and love that really made him like him. In private he even teared up over the fact that his daughter had someone special like that in her life. As a father it’s all he could hope for. But this was also his first time meeting him. It was upsetting but only due to the circumstances of their meeting.

“Yes, of course. It’s good to meet you.”

Saul nodded, returning the sentiment. “If you’d like to sit near the front with us, please do.” He offered, gesturing towards the row of chairs decorated with deep red lace bows, the color of velvety rose petals. Paz’s favorite color.

Bill moved on, admiring an expressive style portrait commissioned and donated by Cora and looked at collages pasted to several framed mirrors along a wall that a close grade school friend had made. It told stories of a young life that ended in a mysterious ellipsis…

He spotted Franco speaking with Loch and a bassist from a band he liked but didn’t approach. Instead he encountered Max and then Cora who offered him a seat next to them. But Juliana cut in and had him follow her to the row reserved for family that Saul pointed out to him before. He sat on the very end next to her. Meanwhile, Franco gave him a curt nod in recognition before choosing the seat on the opposite end of the same row inside the aisle.

After a word from her parents, the lights went down, and a slide show began. One made by Franco compiled of old VHS footage of her as a baby, and pictures and clips sourced from colleagues, friends and family. Even Bill sent some to Juliana when she asked if he had anything to share. Of course he did. He had quite a lot when he looked through the more family friendly album he had dedicated to her on his phone.

He sent photos he’d taken of her when she wasn’t looking. Pensive and absorbed in a script, stretched out on a hotel bed ordering room service, wearing a hydrating face mask on a plane ride just because she found it in her carryon, perched on a window sill during a trip to Stockholm, gazing out over the city. He shared only one short video, a clip she had taken sitting behind him while he drove an ATV along one of the hundreds of beaches in Antigua. He loved how that clip ended with her cheek resting against the center of his back, a dopey smile on her face, and the wind swirling her dark hair back. He remembered that shortly after that, they hit a small dune and nearly got stuck.

A clip shared by Loch showed her helping him find the right lighting on set. She sat casually on a stool in plain clothes as he adjusted the setup, but she was so effortlessly beautiful that every angle the hues of blue and pink light hit her turned the footage into something that looked like an artistic, aesthetic video.

It wasn’t long before he felt himself becoming moved during the slide show's conclusion. A clip of Paz at 17 performing a rendition of Moonlight Sonata at her senior recital. It was then that he began to hear the soft sobs through the room and his mood shifted. The somber mood that had been looming over the event had fully settled in. The vigil began to feel more like a memorial. That upset him. Despite Paz’s case stalling with no new developments, it still had only been a year. A year, in the grand scheme of things, was no time at all. She could walk through the door of the event center at any moment even.

Grief was a tricky thing. People navigated the stages in their own ways and at their own pace. And sometimes it could even take weird turns. He understood that but none of this felt right. He ruminated between the five stages but couldn’t bring himself to the stage of acceptance. He refused.

Juliana, glanced towards Bill’s anxiously bouncing knee, that quickened in rhythm as he sat next to her. Her misty eyes blinked, registering the sobs through the room now. Shifting slightly in her seat she caught a glimpse of Cora behind them holding Max as he wept into her bosom.

She surmised Bill’s agitation then and she felt just the same as he did. Her sister was not dead. She flexed her stiff hand. Her joints had been giving her more trouble from skipping out on her physical therapy appointments due to her depression over her sister. She had started going again knowing Paz would be upset about that but it would take some work to get back to a comfortable baseline again.

Though she couldn’t bend her fingers all too well, she reached for Bill’s hand and sat her hand in his. She glanced up at him judging if he was okay with the comforting gesture.

He gave her a simple nod, then mouthed, “Thanks,” as he gently patted her hand with his free one.

The event moved to the Villanueva’s residence where they’d be serving immediate family and close friends food and refreshments. That really didn’t mean that there’d be far less people though. After offering Juliana an arm to assist her up the porch steps, she showed Bill to the kitchen where aunts were serving up plates.

“Do you think you’ll like this?” An aunt asked, pointing at a pot of mole.

“Yeah! It all looks good. I’ll have as much of anything you’ll give me.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have been so complimentary and because of who he was they loaded his plate up with impressive precision. Generous portions of mole and chile verde, rice, mashed pinto beans, and a roasted jalapeno on the side and warm corn tortillas. It didn’t seem like he would be able to eat it all but he did.

“Hey,” someone called out to him as he sat eating with Max and Cora in the backyard, where a tent outfitted with heaters had been set up and turned into a warm, tidy space for dinner.

He turned to see Alicia, holding her baby. “It’s nice to see you, Bill.” She smiled at him.

“You too. You had your baby,” he smiled at the little dark, curly haired boy. Bill was with Paz when she learned Alicia was pregnant. Single and pregnant at that.

“Yeah! Augustino,” she introduced.

“I like that. He looks like one.”

“Thank you! I picked it all by myself when I was 14 in math class,” she laughed. “He’s seven months next week. Do you want to hold him?”

Bill looked surprised. “Uh, yeah sure…”

“Thank you. I need to use the bathroom—bad!” She said passing her son over and began hustling back into the house. “I’ll bring you back a beer!”

He held the little chubby boy and gave a light shrug to Paz’s friends but they were just cooing at the child affectionately. He didn’t seem all that interested in them, instead he just looked at Bill with curious heavy eyes while he held onto his finger. He felt his heart twinge a bit but swallowed that feeling away. The baby's grip began to slowly loosen and soon his eyes closed completely, sleeping contently in his arms.

“How the hell did you do that?” Alicia asked him, sitting down a Modelo with a lime wedge in front of him.

“Just on his own,” Bill chuckled. “I must have bored him.”

“Nah, he just didn’t sense any fear in you.” She winked. “If he did, he’d be pulling your hair.” She said gently, taking Augustino out of his arms. “Thanks. It’s not my house but whatever, come by any time, okay? I really liked the pictures you shared of Paz. You two really did a lot of shit, huh!”

“Yeah,” Bill softly smiled. “We did.”

“She was really happy with you. Don’t forget that.”

“Yeah,” Bill nodded, slightly feeling awkward but he appreciated it. “Thank you.”

Franco had been watching his cousin Alicia speaking with Bill while he sat with Mia, Loch and Enrique at a table on the other side of the tent. He was actively avoiding Bill but he was becoming increasingly irritated, feeling left out again over how everyone knew of his sister's relationship but him. In his heart he knew he went about the issue the wrong way but he was hurt over the betrayal and was grieving. Those feelings washed over him again as the wound opened afresh on the anniversary.

He slouched in his seat when he spotted Juliana wave Bill over from the deck and he excused himself from the table to join her inside. His girlfriend, Mia, gave him a concerned look and then took his hand to settle him.

“I can see her room?” Bill asked when Juliana offered. “Are you sure? Is it okay with…” he searched the room for Paz’s parents but only found Lourdes. Saul had retreated to his bedroom overtaken by the emotional toll of the day. That feeling he failed as a father eating at him.

“Just go up and it’s the sec-second room on the left,” she said while they stood at the base of the stairs. “Don’t wait for me, it-it takes me a second.”

“I can go at your pace.”

“Just go!” She tapped his calf with her cane, getting slightly annoyed by his politeness.

He walked down the second level hallway and slowly twisted the knob to Paz’s room. A faint scent of laundry and sweet perfume hit him along with the smell of dust. His anxious heart slowed, feeling a peace he hadn’t felt in sometime.

After shutting the door behind him, he walked around, tapping the keys on her keyboard by her closet but no sound emitted. Turning the power button on, he pressed a single key and a deep, rich tone rang out. Next to him, his hand brushed over the floral duvet covering her bed before taking a seat. Shrugging off his jacket, he sat there taking the room in just how she left it. Over the years, Paz had been home less and less but it was still a place she found immense comfort at. Being there, he felt it too.

He caught himself laying down, holding onto a fluffy pillow. “Where are you?” he asked out loud and then a forlorn sigh escaped him.

While he laid there he could hear the dull roar of the guests down below but it was otherwise quiet. So he was startled a bit when he heard a tinny tapping noise coming from the window in her room. Sitting up, he stared at it, as it tapped, tinked, tapped, tinked, fearing the window was on the verge of splintering into pieces when suddenly the bedroom door opened and a flood of distant voices followed in.

Franco stood at the threshold, giving Bill a strange look when he saw the perplexed look on his face. Bill fixed the pillow back in place and stood up to his full height.

“Uh, hey,” he said, clasping his hands in front of him.

“Yo.” Franco said, stepping in.

An awkward air settled around them neither knowing where the conversation would lead.

“I trusted you.” Franco finally spoke up. “How long? Since the trip we all took to the cabin?”

Bill ran his hand through his hair, feeling stressed. “Before. A year before when I stayed at your place.” He pointed.

Franco’s brows shot up. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Yeah, man. Look, I get why you’re upset. Paz told me about what happened with that creep when she was young. I get she’s your little sister but she was a grown adult when we met. Obviously. I didn’t force it either, it just happened. She liked me, just as much as I did when we first met at that café.”

Franco thought about how he’d basically been the one to set them up on a meet-cute coffee date, but he shook his head stubbornly instead. “You know it was wrong to hide it, though.”

“I wanted to tell you. But then you said something that upset Paz,” he gave him a knowing look. “She didn’t want to tell you after that. It wasn’t exactly the reason we broke up but it didn’t fucking help… we stayed connected, though. And then we were together before she—”

“‘Stayed connected?’ Even when she was with Dade? Or you with Brigitta? Or Dylann?”

Bill tucked his chin, pressing his lips together at what he was accusing them of. The overlap between their separate relationships was murky at best. “That doesn't fucking matter,” he glowered. “Dade was a dickhead. You know that. I mean he’s not even here—I am. I bet he wasn’t even invited. I was. By you and Juliana, your parents were happy to see me, your cousin even. You might not care to be my friend but you still know I was important to your sister so much you can’t ignore me even if you desperately want to.”

Franco’s face hardened with disdain but he had nothing to say. At least nothing appropriate to say right then because he had been connecting some dots and realized the big favor he did for his sister saved his friend's ass too. With the way Bill spoke to him he knew he hadn’t a clue about it because if he did he wouldn’t be taking this tone with him. Though despite how much it irked him, in this moment Bill was right.

“What’s going on?” Juliana asked, peeking into the room and just seeing the men there staring each other down with clenched jaws.

“Nothing,” Franco scoffed and left the room in a huff.

Juliana looked after her brother disapprovingly and then it shifted to concern when she turned towards Bill. “Are you okay?”

Bill just bit his bottom lip and shrugged unbothered in reply. What did being okay mean anyway?

“Whatever he says, don’t lis-listen to him. He’s sad, everyone is, but he doesn’t need to-to be an asshole... She’ll be back, Bill. We both know it,” she smiled.

Bill nodded. Juliana offered to give him more time alone if he wanted but he picked his jacket off the foot of the bed and put it on. His time there felt complete, all he wanted was to go back to the hotel, have a few drinks at the bar and sleep in late.

“What is it?” Juliana asked him when noticing the strange glances he was giving to the window. It was still intact, not a single strayation of a crack or a split on any of the panes.

“Ah, just thought I heard something.” He dismissed.

~~~

“You told Frankie that?” Paz fought the pleased smile that wanted to spread across her face. She could imagine how hot he looked during that confrontation. So confident and sure of himself.

“I mean, yeah! It was true,” he said, crossing his legs and sitting his empty coffee cup on the ledge behind them. “I know he's your brother and that he misses you but don't talk to me like that at my girlfriend's vigil. Shit.”

“Sorry, he talked to you like that. I’m sorry about every—”

He interrupted her with a kiss to remind her to stop saying sorry for any of it. He cradled her head in his hands as they stared deep and lovingly into each other's eyes.

“Everything’s okay,” he said, straightening up and putting an arm around her shoulders. “We would run into each other after that and things were fine between us. We actually bumped into each other the night I was sent here and we buried the hatchet with all of that. At least… it felt like that.” He lightly chuckled. “He’s just your typical big brother you know. He might be discouraged but he tried everything to find you, too.”

Paz nodded. She knew how her brother could be but it still didn’t feel too great knowing he had somewhat given up. That wasn’t like him. “It just sucks,” her voice slightly cracked. “I’m not dead. I’m… still here.”

“I know, baby.”

“But then it’s such a mindfuck because they don’t exist to know that…”

Bill leaned back, biting his bottom lip in thought. “Well, I mean, time isn’t linear. The time from where we’re from is happening right now too.”

“Yeah… it’s just so hard to make any of this make sense sometimes.”

“Mhmm. And then throw in parallel universes, other dimensions, and a witch capable of time travel... Yeah… it’s all fucking convoluted.”

Paz lightly laughed. “I hate that fuckin’ witch!”

“She sucks,” he laughed. “But then—I don’t know—she also did me a favor by bringing me to you. Silver lining, I guess.”

Paz embraced him tightly, resting her head against chest, and melted into him. They were silent as they held each other for a while and it wasn’t until she lightly trembled in his arms that he realized that she was crying. He looked down and she looked back with thick tears falling from her reddened eyes. It made his heart ache seeing her so hopelessly despondent. All he could do was hold her tighter, pulling her onto his lap while she clung to him.

Rubbing her back to settle her he was trying to make out what she was softly blubbering. She sniffled and swallowed thickly when he finally heard what she was saying. “I’m still here.”

“I know,” he turned his head, to kiss her wet cheek. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you are. And that I can have you again,” his adam's apple bobbed prominently when trying to swallow the lump in his throat. “I’ve been so lonely…”

Paz let out a sob with his admission knowing exactly what he meant.

“Shhh,” he shushed to soothe the both of them now as he blinked back his tears.

Shortly, Paz wiped at her nose and his thumbs wiped the tears from her cheeks. One thumb lingered on the beauty mark below her eye.

She in turn wiped the dampness at the corner of his creased eye with the back of her knuckle. “I love you.”

A small smile appeared on his face before kissing her. “We’ll figure this all out okay,” he said determinedly. “It’s not ideal but we're going to make this work for us. I promise.”

#bill skarsgard #my bill writings #enter the chronoheart #etc #au!billskarsgard

6 notes · View notes

differentsublimephantom · 6 months ago

Text

Hey y’all! I thought I should make a post explaining my AU and what’s happened to Ezra/Scribblecop in it, just because why not? So here is a messy timeline of events! This is a weird hodgepodge of info dumping, and fanfiction, so you have been warned.

PS!! This is heavily based on an amazing ((and sadly unfinished)) gcbc fanfic I’ve read, and I would’ve asked the og writer permission to use this storyline in my AU, but they have , since deleted their socials (other than discord), and when I looked them up on discord they had fully disappeared. Here is the fic in question, I encourage that you read it before you read this!

So full credit for the basic plot goes to them, and I’ve made a few tweaks and fleshed out the story more here and there, but I felt I had to give explicit credit to them for the ideas. (and Ezra as a name for scribble cop!)

So. Takos Tuesday has happened. Gc and bc are still recovering, and trying to make amends for the trouble they caused. They are no longer switching using the two faces, instead they now have clip-on sunglasses to switch between GC and bc. Emmet and the other masterbuilders crew have assembled a team of volunteers (including gc and bc) to help rebuild and repair the city!

Emmet has even gotten them out of trouble with the law a bit- giving them a deal that says they won’t have to go to jail, if they get mandated therapy, and 18 or so months of volunteering/service. They still have to go to court, but they both agree it’s better than being arrested. Gc and bc agree happily, and keep going to the volunteer meetings.

(Btw, president business has the same deal given to him. Emmet says it’s in the name of fairness. Baby boy has good intentions, but he is kinda naïve.)

Things are going great! Until they aren’t.

(Btw in my AU president business is an AWFUL person. I know that in canon he has a bit of a redemption arc, and in some rp blogs on here he is not the worst person, but in this universe he feels no real remorse for the things he did. *yet*.)

President business also attends the volunteer meetings, although he is always late by half an hour or more, and doesn’t seem to care. And one day he sits right next to GcBc.

(Okay, another side tangent! In the og fic I was inspired by, gcbc and ez have DID. I do not have DID. So I am very nervous to write a character with DID, because I’d hate to offend someone. That being said, I’m going to face my fears of hurting someone’s feelings, and try my best, so if I get anything horribly wrong IM SO SORRY, PLEASE CORRECT ME.)

At this point in time Ezra has not fully made himself know to gcbc. He didn’t really exist before takos Tuesday (because as I understand it, personalities/alters can sorta just appear after a traumatic enough experience? It’s just that DID can only start in people younger than 9ish?) so gcbc have no idea he’s now sharing a body with them.

Ezra was “created” (or whatever youd call it) by the traumatic event where Gc got his face erased, and essentially got put into a coma.

Because of this, president business is a trigger for Ezra, and when he sees him, he automatically comes to the front/is in control.

But GCBC DONT KNOW THAT YET. So, when business comes into a meeting (late as per usual) and sits down right next to gcbc, Ezra (who everyone thinks is GC btw!!) starts giving him a death glare. This prompts business to start teasing and messing with “GC”, and causes “GC” to lash out verbally back.

Lucy is having none of their sh*t, so she breaks them up, but when the actual GC comes into a meeting the next week, he gets pulled aside and asked by Metalbeard to either grow up and stop messing with business, or leave the meetings, and GC says that he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Metalbeard doesn’t believe him, but let’s him off with a harsh warning.

(yeah, I know that sounds harsh, but the masterbuilders are kinda mean at the start, and get a redemption later.).

Time skip because after that nothing seems to happen, business isn’t sitting right next to the cops, so the problem seems to be solved! Gcbc visit their parents, who are recovering in the hospital (pa copp had his leg amputated btw) (inspo for that from this fic.)

Poor GC and bc seem to be disassociating more often, and things seem to be moving around their house that the both swear they didn’t move, but they just brush it off, because they’re both doing too well at the moment to worry about it.

Ezra is, of course, the one moving stuff, and the one who was fighting with business, but after the warning from Metalbeard, he quiets down. The next time he takes over, he finds a journal in their apartment. It’s an old one, before Vitruvius’ prophecy kinda old, and it just has some back-and-fourth messages from GC and bc when they were fronting alone, years before they worked for octan.

He decides to write something in it, and a day later GC and bc find it, and are UNDERSTANDABLY VERY CONFUSED. But they don’t know what else to do, so they just write back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hello. Is anyone reading this?”

“Yep! who is this??”

Two days later they get a reply:

“I don’t know.”

“Well who is writing this then?”

“I don’t know. Someone.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And that was that. They tried to get more of a response, but the mysterious writer stopped replying.

Ezra, I’m reality, was having an existential crisis, (You would to if you didn’t know who you were!), and was very worried when, two days to the court date he found out that they had to appear in court.

Why was he worried? 1. The poor guy doesn’t know why he has to go to court/what he did, 2. Business is going to be there, 3. He’s worried that the mandatory therapist will try to “cure him” by getting rid of him. Ezra is going through it in this fic.

Anyways, one more meeting happens before the court date, and as per usual, business is being an asshat. He decides to cause trouble. One more time he decides to mess with “GC” Ezra, and surprisingly, ez doesn’t react. Doesn’t respond. He’s too busy planning Business’ death.

Not kidding! Ezra tried to kill business. Just like the masterbuilders though, he has his redemption arc too. But for now… Ezra goes to business’ new, much smaller, office, the night before the court date. The old octan tower is mostly dismantled, and in ruins. Slowly being cleaned up, and taken away, piece by piece.

Ezra, pretending to be GC, gets business to come down to the front desk, where he explains to at he’s “tired of being a goody two shoes” and wants to run off with business. He doesn’t though, but business doesn’t know that. So he eagerly says yes.

Cut to the abandoned octan tower. “GC” says he wants to pick some stuff up before they flee the country, and business agrees, foolishly following him inside. Here’s where Ezra’s plan gets a bit.. not thought out on his part (ah yes, phantom, blame it on your characters not your writing!👍🏾)

Once business is inside, Ezra goes up to the buildings controls centre, it’s a very high tech place, so he can just press a button and lock all the doors in the building. No exit means no where to run. He finds an old blaster that still works, and sets fire to a few things with it: the emergency exit, the car they used to get there (through the emergency exits door, before he shoots that), and the controls centre itself.

Business may be a bad guy, but he’s certainly not stupid. He very quickly and correctly deduces what’s going on, and tries desperately to find a way out. (During all this, the masterbuilders have heard that business is apparently missing, and so is gcbc, so they visit the office building, and some other places to try and figure out what’s going on.)

This all culminates in Business disarming Ezra, and shooting him in the left leg. Ezra manages to outrun business long enough to make him temporarily loose his trail, and hides in the relic room. Business finds him, and Ezra admits defeat. Relics all around them, and Ezra backed into the desk at the back wall, sitting on the floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Just kill me.”

“What?”

“Just kill me! I know you want to, and you know there’s no way out of this anyways, so what’s the point?”

“…”

Business shrugs and picks up the sceptre.

“NO!- NO. Please. Not with that. Not with THAT! Use the blaster!!”

Ezra pleads. Business is in total shock. After all those years of working with GC and bc, business learned a little bit about how they work, and while pondering the situation, something clicks in his mind.

“…I’m… not.. talking to good cop, OR bad cop, right now… am I?”

“Took you long enough.” Ezra spits.

“Well who are you?”

“I’d rather you just kill me.”

“I’d rather know who I’m killing first.”

“….. I’m not fully sure who I am.” Ezra chokes on a stifled sob.

“Well what’s your name?”

“…I wanted it to be “Ezra” but now I’m not so sure about that..”

“Why not?..”

“It means protector.. and I dunno if you’ve noticed, but so far I’ve done a sh*t job o’ that.”

Business chuckles.

“Well, I think Ezra suits you.”

“Thanks.”

Silence. Then Business speaks again.

“This- All of this. It’s my fault isn’t it?”

“No kidding.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Okay? Why should I care? Am I supposed to forgive you?

“Well… isn’t that how it works?”

Ezra laughs tiredly. This psycho doesn’t even know how an apology works? Yeah, that tracks.

“No! No! That’s- of course that’s not how it works. You think that just because you say a few words, shake a few hands, and “pinkie swear you won’t do it ever again” that’s supposed to make things BETTER?!” Ezra screams. Business doesn’t reply, only snaps his head up to look at him, in response.

“You destroyed hundreds- no, THOUSANDS of lives, FORCED US to kill hundreds of innocent people, put my brother or whoever he is- IN A COMA. And after all that, you just say “sorry”? You are a sociopath. A crazy, irresponsible, cruel, evil, sociopath.”

Business simply stands there for a moment, Taking in Ezra’s words.

“….I’m not gonna kill you y’know.”

“Why not? It’d be better than jail for attempted murder.”

“Well…… you deserve better than this. I’m not killing you.”

“Fine! Let the fire and smoke kill us then.”

“Well we could try and get out of here?”

“Nope, I blocked the exits.”

“A window might work.”

“You shot my leg, I couldn’t land.”

“Well-“

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Masterbuilders to the rescue!!!!!! They finally figured out what was happening, and where they formerly evil pair (trio?) were. One spaceship building sequence later (thanks Benny) and they were off to the hospital for gcbc’s leg and to give business a check up.

On the very awkward ride over, business explained the very little info he had figured out, about Ezra and everything. The builders were confused, but nodded and smiled, thinking that business was talking crazy. Ezra had passed out due to the blood loss.

At the hospital, when gc and bc wake up, they are quite confused. Why was there a gunsh*t in their leg? And why were they here? And why were all the masterbuilders here? And why was Business here? A lot of understandable questions. Unfortunately for gcbc, Lucy didn’t think so.

Lucy is (like everyone except Business) going to get her redemption arc, but you can’t write a story without something driving the plot so..

Lucy thinks that gcbc were completely faking when they told Metalbeard they didn’t confront Business at the meeting, and that this is the same situation. As far as she knows, the only people in gcbcs body are GC and bc, and she’s not even sure if they are really two different people and not one who acts differently sometimes (go easy on her, she’s just very uneducated on personality disorders and stuff)

Lucy very loudly voices this, that she thinks they are faking and using the “we’re not the same person” thing as an excuse to do dumb stuff, just as Gcbc’s parents walk in.

Gc takes over, and (as calmly as he can) explains why Lucy is VERY WRONG and gives a 3ish minute crash course on DID to the builders. Then asks them to get the hell out of their hospital room. After a talk with their parents, they go home with them. (ma and pa live fairly close to gcbc, and are now both discharged from the hospital.).

The copp family happily goes home, and gcbc are sitting on their old bed, in their childhood room. After some conversation between GC and bc, they hear another voice in their head. Ezra says he’s sorry, and admits he definitely didn’t think that through, and GC and bc comfort him a bit.

Later in the morning (it’s morning now, because the incident that just happened, happened at night), Ma cop says she made some breakfast, and the boys leave their room. Pa is sitting at the dining table with a laminated piece of paper, a blank piece of paper, and an old mug filled with pens and pencils.

Ezra, Good Cop, and Bad Cop (who are all co-fronting at this point, aka their are all sharing control), sit down, and GC and bc instantly recognize the laminated paper.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gc: “Oh my goodness. Is that?-“

“Yes it is! Found it in my office.”

Bc: “Good lord, dad, you had that thing laminated?”

“For to the memories! Besides, it’s comin in handy now isn’t it?”

Ez: “Um…. What is that?”

“Oh- it’s just something the boys did when they were younger.”

At that moment, Ma (who had been listening to the conversation), walked in and answered the question Pa technically hadn’t.

“When the boys were younger, me an’ Pa were both very busy working all the time. And while Daniel was only ever alone for about 10 minutes before one of us came home from a shift- ten minutes was all my awful sister, their aunt, needed to call cps on me. They got put in a very awful foster home while me and Pa fought tooth-and-nail to get them back, and that’s when they got Dissociative Identity Disorder.. The poor dears were only seven at the time..” Ma paused to let him catch up, then continued.

“When they got back home to us, and after their diagnosis, they decided in order to get to know each other, they would both write down questions for one another, and us, on that piece of paper, and then we’d reply to them. Daniel uses the black pen, Danny blue, Pa green, and me red.“

Ezra nodded, taking in the information.

“So that’s when they split?”

“Yep. Went into the situation with one son, came out of it with two!” Pa joked.

“And although the ordeal was unfortunate, we are a bit thankful for it. I couldn’t imagine not having Danny here today!”

Ezra thought some more.

“So, Daniel came first then? Like- he was the host so to speak?”

“Yep!” The parents replied in unison.

“Er… and, who is Daniel again?”

Ezra got his answer in the form of four answers, all at the same time.

“Me. I’m Daniel.”

Gc: “You’ll have probably heard him be called Bad Cop. He’s very nice though buddy!”

Ma: “One of our sons. The “Bad One”.”

Pa: “That’s Bad Cop, lad. Danny is Good Cop.”

“Ah. Okay..” Everything was quiet for a moment, and then Ma spoke up.

“So, er, whom do we have the pleasure of speaking to?”

“…Ezra.”

“Well, welcome to the copp family Ezra.” Pa said.

“Thank you… uh, not to sound rude or anything but.. you guys don’t… hate me..Y’know, for the attempted murder thing..?” Ezra said cautiously. Both cops glanced at each other, and then back at Ezra. They looked like they had just seen a puppy get killed.

“Oh heavens no, dear!! We both know it’s hard to deal with. Poor Danny was very mixed up when he first “woke up”.” Ma looked very reassuring, and suddenly Ezra got the urge to hug her. But he didn’t.

“So…” pa starts.

“D’you want to do the questions thing?”

Ezra, Danny, and Daniel respond with an enthusiastic yes, with Ezra assigning himself an orange pen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As promised, this story has a happy ending. After Lucy’s mistake in the hospital, Benny (who has hyper fixated on different disorders including did, and knows a bunch about it) was very disappointed in the group, and gave them all a big infodump about it.

After the whole ordeal came out to the judge, the court date got pushed back. So, two weeks of recovering, and family bonding later, the cops entered the court room.

(I’ve written all of this in ONE DAY and am getting kinda tired of writing, so imma make the rest of the story pretty quick)

Good cop, bad cop, and Ezra thankfully don’t get in trouble for trying to kill business. The court figured that because Ezra didn’t actually SUCCEED in killing him, they’d just call it a lesson in karma for lord business and leave it at that.

(Yes I know that’s very inaccurate to what would happen irl, but this is a fanfiction based on a ten year old movie about LEGOS so I’m not exactly going for accuracy here.)

Lord/President Business is sent to jail instead of mandated therapy, partly because he agreed to run away with gcbc (the masterbuilders got video evidence from the office’s security camera) and partly because idk man I’m tired and because I said so.

After they get their sentences or whatever, the masterbuilders all come to apologize to gcbcsc, Lucy and Metalbeard especially. Benny invites the cops out for lunch with the masterbuilders (slight coppernaughts??) and they say yes. More apologies are said at lunch, for takos Tuesday, and for not being more supportive of the cops during the meetings and stuff like that, and all of them agree to start over as friends, and both parties agree to try and make amends for the past.

The end!

See? I told you this had a happy ending! Sorry this got rushed at the end, and I’m also sorry if this is hard to read/unclear? I tried. Also, if you made it this far: HOLY CRAP THANK YOU FOR READING ALL OF THIS. I DEFINITELY WROTE TOO MUCH. But who cares!!!

Anyways, I’m gonna take a nap now. Bye!

11 notes · View notes

brucethegirl · 7 months ago

Note

Fave season of ouat. And y. Go. (Mine is 3 bc that’s when you see hooks softer/ but still flirtier side and the relationship growing). Although 5-6 come very close bc they are stronger and the proposal and wedding. Ahhhh. But omg when he asked for David’s blessing. That ep had me. But all the kissing in season 3. Oh wait, there’s other people other than hook and Emma in ouat? Nah.

Oh gosh.... (edit: i wrote like two paragraphs of this before realizing you just asked general favorite season, not favorite CS season, but I still turned this into a CS post.)

Season 2 is not bad. There's so much there for background to understand where emma was coming from, versus season 1 which was mostly us as viewers learning who everyone was in the enchanted forest and how the story we know was being reinterpreted. Now it was learning where Emma was coming from, where Killian comes into the picture and some of his background, where Cora comes from which lays the groundwork for how she raised Regina and where she is coming from. How they became the people they became today, the steps of their recent history. The continuous choices and situations that led them to where they were when they all came together. I love straight up evil Killian. It's fun. Him trusting her immediately, him being sassy flirty, him saying "just a I'm done with you" (pssh, okay my guy). but at the end, despite it being good writing, I'm just okay about it. I mean yea its got Tallahassee.... but I also am not a fan of how they handled the neal/emma relationship when they were young. Michael Raymond-James is NOTICEABLY an older man well into his 30s, and I could buy him being a rough 20 something, but Emma is VERY MUCH meant to be late teens and that entire casting situation and its implications followed by the pushing in later seasons for her to be with Neal by her family just makes me so very uncomfortable.

Three is honestly such a fair choice. I love season 3 with Hook starting to realize he needs to change and wants to change. But also still actively having to purge his villain tendencies. Rolling his eyes while volunteering to help Belle research. His snarky comments constantly that no one laughs at cause they're a little on the meaner side. But also the way he and Emma so automatically can read each other. She just has to tilt her head or nod and he knows what she wants him to do. The longing looks, the declarations. Nothing beats "when I win your heart, and I will win it. It will be because you want me" NOTHING. "I'm in this for the long haul" after saying he'll back off to give Henry the chance at a family, and won't inject himself into that. But also knows Neal will mess it up, knows he'll be on the sidelines for the second of an oppertunity. Knows that he DOES stand a valid chance if he wanted to fight. Like, just fuck me up. The shift in Regina's character and how she learns to become good, how that is different from Hook's journey but they both recognize it being the same journey. Her teaming up with Rumple to fnd Henry and it markedly NOT being villains teaming up, but her willing to do anything to save her son and the second she realizes its no good, she's gone. Learning more about the emotional backstory and early character moments in their lives, Hook, Emma, and Regina especially. Learning the complicate pasts, and seeing the steps they took to get here. I feel like actual writing wise- its the strongest season for them. Its also go the best lines. Like Regina and Robin also is SO GOOD in the flashbacks and I forever regret not getting more of them in that weird flirty hate each other stage but what we did get was SO GOOD. "Where you come from, they bath in the river and use pine cones for money" Lana... ma'am.... that is THE BEST LINE in the entire show for me. This season had all the potential, and for that it gets a lot of points. A lot of what was built didn't get delivered on as well as it should have, but that's not the foundations fault. And this season was the foundation.

Season 4 is prime them in love. I love the relationship part of most shows when they handle it well, and I think THAT aspect was handled well. Him obviously in love, her coming to terms with what that means. So much angst in a good way of him being the reason for some of the problems she has. Of him not having his heart. Of him realizing he can't keep making the same villain mistakes if he's going to be with her, if he's going to change. If he's going to be a better man. This is a great season just like... FOR him. You see the realizations that he's made these mistakes and he can't even blame his past self. His current self did this to himself. You see the beginnings of his self-loathing and how that builds the reasoning for the choices he makes. He's had his hook for centuries, he's learned how to work with it and around it. But for the date, the internalized ableism got the better of him, and he thought in order to be a better man, and the man she deserved, he needed to be 'whole.' Which is IMMeDIATELY disproved when she doesn't even realize he had his hand until its pointed out, and also doesn't notice its a hook again later because she loves HIM she sees HIM. Those outward shifts and changes are not important. She notices his clothing change because it represents so much more about him embracing this weird strange land and showing he's sticking around. But his hook? Well thats just part of him that she accepts because its part of him so when he changes it its not something she notices. (sorry, i have a LOT of feelings about this episode) And then the whole darkness inside him and the hand and him being a villain and being afraid of losing his happy ending. 4b is weak we all know that, but the emotions of it are so strong. "Don't you know Emma? It's you." MY GUYYYYYY. The kisses we got this season, the emotional leaps and bounds. Him admitting having her in his life is what keeps him on the side of the heroes. Him saying he hopes its his job to protect her heart even when no one is actively trying to steal it. Her discovering more about her past and really starting to share her history with someone, showing her past and being vulnerable with someone and allowing them to scale the fortress she's put up to protect herself. Learning that someone is there begging to be let in, and isn't going away, and even when she ignores him he says basically that he's not deterred so easily, she's worth it, he recognizes that, and he'll just wait patiently for her to be ready. He will always put her first. Will put her family first. Often at the expense of himself.

Now season 5. Look. Do I think its strong? No. It's some of the saddest writing (season 6 is the worst in my opinion) in that it had SO MUCH POTENTIAL. But it Never delivers it. Season 4 was their love story, so there's no need to focus so heavily on them in season 5, sometimes having them not even interact in scenes that make NO SENSE for them to not interact. Despite the fact that she's just told him she loved him before being taken over by the darkness and saying she trusts him to be able to reach her and save her. Despite the entire ARC being ABOUT THEM for BOTH HALVES, the actual day to day episode to episode is not about them at all. So little focused on them, on them interacting, on their story. It was such a mess. So much promise with so little delivery. Nothing was allowed to breath, nothing was allowed to sit, no one was allowed to have a single thought to work through what they were going through. He's evil for what? a single episode? and in the middle of it there's this entire hour about a character we don't know, with no one we care about, about something never mentioned again that holds zero bering on ANYTHING that happens or has happened. So much wasted time. I LOVE what 5 could have been. I LOVE the implications, and the shifts in narrative and expectation. I LOVE the discovery and acceptance of their relationship and the confirmations we get. I HATE nothing is ever discussed on screen. Everything is implied to happen off screen "like I told you" Did you tell her when the cameras were off? We're given nothing we should have. Everyone else is just set dressing, and yet have all the focus. Its disjointed and just lazy, and its only saving grace is whoever had the initial idea on the brain storm board and then the acting itself. But damn if this season doesn't give me inspiration.

Finally, season 6.... I'll leave at saying when its good, its great. All three singular scenes that are good. There's no follow through from whats already happened to these characters. There's no acknowledgment of their past selves, their past experiences. Hook is GENUINELY shocked that Emma understands why he didn't toss the shears knowing she'd hate him for doing 'the one thing that could save her' WHEN THAT WAS THE ENTIRE CLIMAX OF 5A!

All of this to say, I guess 3?

#ouat #captain swan #other characters i guess too #ask me #cs meta #ouat meta

9 notes · View notes