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growingking · 1 year

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Growing Profits

Our story begins with two orc friends, Iron Tuskar, the warrior, armed with his trusty sword, Talon, and his companion, Marduk, the mage, an uncommon profession for the orc kind, but a noble one nonetheless. Together they’ve received a mission, retrieve an mysterious chest from the Damp Cave, a location famous for being the lair of many slime creatures, not many adventurers go in there due to the lack of treasure, or any danger whatsoever, unless of course a group of slimes ambush you, now there’s some danger.

— Are we there yet? — Asked Tuskar, fidgeting with his sword, while he closely followed Marduk.

— Almost, I can already see the entrance. — Answered Marduk, the sun has begun to settle, should they retrieve the chest soon, they’ll be back in town shortly after nightfall.

Arriving at the entrance, Marduk walked side by side with his companion, the magic blue light shining above his head. Tuskar's choice of clothing was… Eccentric, to say. Wearing pauldrons held together only by rope, his muscular and hairy, deep green chest and belly was always showing, the same with his muscular legs, with only a loincloth covering his crotch and back, and leather to protect his feet, “A display of strength!” Tuskar says. Marduk always admired Tuskar’s body, his dedication in training and getting stronger, although lately he's been getting a little softer on the belly and… Well, the whole body. At least a month ago, one could clearly Tuskar's six pack, but now it is hidden beneath a visible amount of pudge. Tuskar’s always said something like "I'm just bulking! It takes a lot of energy and food to keep growing strong! You wouldn't understand!" And maybe Marduk really wouldn’t understand. How does gaining weight helps muscles grow?

Marduk on the other hand has always been slim, he wasn’t as strong as his companion, and his clothing choice was the common wizard robes, and under that a leather vest in case some enemy got close enough, luckily it never happened. While Tuskar had a deep green skin, Marduk was a very light green shade, his long hair was always tied in a ponytail, while Tuskar chose a warrior braid with shaved sides. Marduk could easily go weeks without needing to shave his beard while Tuskar had to trim at least once a day. The same with his body hair, he was as smooth as peach, Tuskar jokes about him.

— Damn, this place is bigger than I expected, where could that bloody chest be? — Marduk’s thoughts have been interrupted by his partner.

— You’re right, besides we’ve been walking here for a while now, and I haven’t seen any slime yet. That 's odd… — Marduk walked slower, paying attention to his surroundings.

— I think I saw something buried there! — Tuskar hastily ran to a darker section of the cave, without paying attention to his friend.

— Hey wait up! Pea brain! — Marduk wasn’t as fast as his partner, so he made his magic light follow Tuskar.

As Marduk was casting another light spell, he felt a droplet of something on his shoulder, it was sticky and… Blue. He knew exactly what it was, and it was too late, as he looked up, with the dim light of the other magic light, he saw a huge blue blob ambushing him, swallowing his entire body. It was translucent and he saw his friend paying more attention to the buried chest than to him unable to breathe inside the blue orb of goo, he tried to scream for help, a horrible mistake, he felt like a huge tentacle penetrated his mouth, he could feel that thing bombarding itself inside his stomach. He also felt a small burning sensation on his body, and soon his robes were dissolved, and after a little while, his leather armor, he was naked inside a blob of goo, what a shameful way of dying.

But as soon as his clothes were dissolved, the burning sensation stopped, something worse happened, he felt his stomach beginning to grow, he also felt a pressure in his ass, something, and he knew what, was looking for another way in, and it found. He felt his hole stretching as the creature invaded him, his belly was growing faster as well, and his limbs started to swell, looking he gained more weight than he could lose, he could see his tits growing softer and round, his belly was so big that he couldn’t see his cock anymore, and as much as situation looked, and was, awful, he couldn’t help but feel horny about it, his cock grew hard, and the slime found yet another entrance.

It felt like he was cumming, but in reverse, as a tinier tentacle invaded his privates, making his balls swell and his cock grow larger, he felt like he could cum at any moment now from such sensation.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, all the slime was “gone”and Marduk could grasp his breath. He was lying on the floor with his belly up, naked, in a size that he never imagined he could achieve, his much heavier body was hard to move, judging by the circumference of his gut, the softness of his limbs, and the size of his tits, he estimated that he would be weighing at least 150kg, if not more. He could feel the slime sloshing around his huge gut as he tried to get up, a task that has proven much harder now.

—Urrp… Shit, Tuskar, little help? I’ve got a big problem here! — Marduk burped again after that.

— What? Are you back there? I thought you were here with me! What’s wro- What the fuck happened?! You are huge! — Tuskar approached quickly, he couldn’t believe his eyes. A few moments ago his friend was just a scrawny tiny nerd mage, and now he was a massive fat blob.

— I got ambushed by a huge slime, urgh, could you help me get up? —

— Oh big boy, I will help you out soon. I’ve always wanted to fuck a fatty, guess this is your lucky day. — Tuskar said in a playful tone, and Marduk raised his head quickly to see what was wrong, only to see a growing bulge on his friend’s loincloth.

Marduk always admired Tuskar’s strength and looks, but he never thought about having an affair with him. But now, in a vulnerable position, and having the chance, why not enjoy Tuskar’s muscular frame against him?

— Oh… Well, since you asked so nicely. — Even though nice wasn’t the best word, it was good enough for Marduk to spread his legs with a bit of difficulty.

Tuskar ran his big hands throughout Marduk’s body, feeling his now wide calves and grabbing his thighs. He kissed his friend’s huge, soft gut, and sucked his big tits, Tuskar then lifted Marduk’s heavy legs and spread his buttcheeks, making space for his rock hard cock, the slime had already done the difficult part of opening and lubing up the backdoor for him, but his insides were still a little tight and warm.

— Oh, holy shit, your ass is so fucking perfect, i’m going to fuck you raw, mage boy. — Tuskar panted, as his cock was being swallowed by Marduk’s fat, soft ass. He grabbed his friend’s swollen tits and gut and began thrusting faster and faster.

— Oh fuck, you are so fucking hot, please, fuck me harder! Harder! — He moaned as his tits and belly jiggled more and more as Tuskar fucked him harder, he was enjoying it very much, but he noticed that he wasn’t close to cumming, Tuskar on the other hand…

— Shit, oh fuck, here it comes! I’m almost there! — Tuskar hugged Marduk’s swollen body with a lot of strength as his cum filled his friend’s ass.

— Woah, damn, that was amazing… Holy shit, your ass is delicious! — He said as he slapped Marduk’s ass after pulling his cock out, only then noticing that his friend did not came.

— Huh, that's weird, need a little help with that? — Tuskar asked.

— I think some of the slime got inside my cock as well, see? — Now that Marduk mentioned, Tuskar did notice that his friend’s cock was indeed bigger and thicker, his balls were the size of a tennis ball, and his cock were the size and thickness of a wine bottle. Tuskar felt his butthole send him a sign.

— Well friend, you are in such a need, I would never leave you like that. — Tuskar first started by licking his friend's swollen dick, it was somewhat hard to find space in his mouth, but once he managed, he started to suck him off, grabbing his own cock as his friend moaned with pleasure. Then he climbed up his fat body and began riding him, it was hard since Marduk’s cock was now supersized, but Tuskar managed.

— Oh fuck, that’s much more than i had before, shit, that feels so good. — Tuskar moaned, as he slid up and down and grabbed his friend’s new fat. Murdak still was having some trouble with his new size but was starting to get used to it and fucking harder.

— Fuck, Tuskar, i’m almost there! — As he moaned that, he grabbed Tuskar’s thighs and thrusted one final, deep time, cumming inside his friend’s ass, and being welcomed by a white load on his face.

— Oh fuck, that was great, big boy, holy shit! — Tuskar moaned and got off his friend, both tired and sweaty.

— Damn, it really was… Hey, your belly looks bigger, guess I came a lot. — Murdak noticed Tuskar's swollen belly, but something was wrong, it was growing.

— Shit, Tuskar, I think the slime in my cock is inside you! — As he said he felt his belly grow as well, did the slime use their cum to breed inside them?!

Tuskar rubbed his growing gut, it was expanding fast, and spreading to his limbs as well, will he grow as big as his friend?

— Well fuck big boy, guess we are both pregnant now… I already got the goods that we had to retrieve. What do you say if we have a good night of rest and solve this tomorrow? — Tuskar said that and slapped his bulging gut, then he approached Marduk once more and hugged him, feeling the comfort of his fat body.

— Since you mentioned that, I really am tired. I think we should indeed have a good rest. — He felt Tuskar’s embrace, his rapidly expanding gut and ran his chubby hands throughout his partner’s body.

#gaining fiction #weight gain #gainer fiction #weight gaining #slime inflation #fat #chubby #orc smut #orcs #orc

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neon-junkie · 2 years

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I’m posting a few thoughts and feelings here about my abuser, and the healing process.

It’s a slow process, far slower than I thought it’d be. Even now, 3 years free of him, I’m still healing. I have days when I feel incredible, where I feel fully healed and ready to take on another relationship. And then there are days when even the thought of someone having an interest in me can break me down to tears.

The first year was nothing but fear. I barely socialised. Thankfully, that year was spent during lockdown, and I honestly loved spending that time alone. I had all the time and space to heal, however I needed, whenever I needed. I spent that time watching films, gaming, crying, reorganising my living space; I did anything and everything to erase my abusers fingerprints from my apartment - my safe space.

Now, whilst I do feel ‘healed’ most of the time, I have moments where I see him. It’s weird, like a flashback, but in the moment. I could have a random person, a coworker, a friend, say or do something that was similar to what he would do, and in that moment, I’ll see him. My coworker once said a phrase that he often used, and I could picture him there, right in front of me, saying that crap to my face.

I know not everybody will agree with this, but out of all the healing methods that I’ve tried, spite has done the most to help me. It’s okay to hate someone, to loathe them, to despise them. Again, not everybody will agree with this, but I wish death on my abuser. How could you spend years on end abusing, harassing, manipulating someone, and expect to get off scot-free? Why is it acceptable for him to almost push me to the brink of suicide, but I can’t simply say “I wish that guy would drop dead”?

Spite has fuelled me. Spite is the thing that helps me heal. My abuser took everything from me, he broke me down until I was nothing but an empty void - no personality, no feelings, no interests, just a shell - and I have chosen to put myself back together, purely through spite.

I hope he loathes that I’m still here, existing, rebuilding, thriving without him. My grudge against him, my anger, my hatred, will be taken to the grave with me. I will never forgive him for the years of torture that he dumped on me, and why should I? I understand that some people do forgive those who wronged them, but people also need to understand that it’s okay NOT to do that. It’s okay to say, “no, fuck you. You did so much shit to me, and I’m never going to forgive you for it!”

Forgiveness is not a key for everyone. It’s not always going to take the weight off your shoulders, or heal the crack in your heart. For some people, it might make things worse. It’s best to do what YOU want. I remember doing a lot of digging on how to heal from an abusive relationship, and so many people suggested forgiveness. To this day, the thought makes me sick. If you can forgive your abuser, that’s fine! But I can’t. I won’t. I don’t want to.

Another thing that’s really helped me is removing every single part of him from my life. And I don’t just mean deleting photos of us, we’re talking everything.

I have gone through my entire apartment, over and over, and removed every item that reminds me of him. Sure, I’ve had to remove a lot of nice items, but that’s because there are too many negative emotions tied in with them.

Some of my clothes, for example, are gorgeous, but as nice as they are, every time I even look at them, all I can think about is abusive memories from when I was wearing them. I wore a gorgeous dress for my 20th birthday, and I had to scrap that because that’s the night he first made me break down into tears, on my own fucking birthday! Another pair of heels I had to scrap because I struggled to run in them when I was trying to catch up to him after he stormed away from me over nothing. Stupid shit. STUPID, abusive shit, and I’m having to get rid of nice items because of his crap.

But not all is lost. I’ve taken this opportunity to rebuild my wardrobe, to pick things out that I know he’d hate, but I’ve always loved. I remember when I was getting ready for my 21st birthday, and I picked out a very skimpy dress. I was SO nervous (but excited) to wear it, and as soon as I showed him, his face dropped, and he said something along the lines of, “you’re really going out in that? you look like a cheap and desperate whore.”

So, I got changed into a turtleneck dress with long sleeves, and all he said to that was “much better.” I actually liked that dress too, but I also had to scrap that because of the memories attached to it.

And now I can dress however the fuck I want!! I love being revealing. Why would I not flex the body I was born with? I love (most of) myself, and my body confidence has especially grown over the years. Fuck, I deserve to look good, to dress good, to be happy in my own skin!!!!

I am totally rambling now, and hey, I deserve to. It’s been 3 years, three fucking years without that shitbag, and I will only continue to grow and heal. I refuse to take a step back. I refuse to fall back into his little traps. Through spite, I will flourish. I WILL come out on top of this, and one day, I’ll look into where he is, and I’ll thrive in knowing that he’s suffering. Karma comes to all, it balances everything out; whilst he is enjoying life right now, the scales will tip in my favour, and he’ll end up sad and miserable. All his years of being a piece of shit will come back to bite him in the ass, and I can’t wait to sit back and enjoy the show!

#tw abuse #abuse tw #abuse mention #milestone #vent

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ekourege · 7 years

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Teru, because he was made for gifs.

#this is my legacy #shitty teru gifs #also... tell me if im doing this gif thing right #a lot of people usually put filters and shit on these #i just kinda made these loop #i really should have made these slower but tis a thought for another day #teruki nishizawa #teru #mp100 #mob psycho 100 #big dramatic gay

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seijorhi · 4 years

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Pretty Young Thing

A yandere Erasermic commission for an anon, I hope you like it bby!!

Aizawa Shouta x reader x Hizashi Yamada

TW non-con, breeding kink, pregnancy, surrogacy, pregnant sex, smut, age-gap, nsfw

“Don’t you think she’s a little young, ‘Zashi?”

“It’s up to you both how involved you are during the first stages and the overall pregnancy. Normally we suggest an initial meeting with the potential surrogate for all three of you to get a feel for one another and decide if you want to proceed with the arrangement, but should you wish, we can–”

“No,” he interrupts, sparing Hizashi a fleeting glance. “We want to meet her.”

Beneath the desk, his husband squeezes his hand.

Hizashi quirks an eyebrow, pausing midway through fixing his hair in the mirror. “Whaddya mean, babe? She’s in her twenties ain’t she?”

He’s not wrong, but that’s not the issue. They picked you, they both picked you, but there’s this lingering unease that he can’t seem to shake. It’s not so much your age specifically, he knows that you’re only a few years younger than the majority of the other women whose profiles they’d seen – you’re old enough to understand what you’re getting yourself into and agree to it, at any rate – it’s just that he doesn’t quite understand why somebody your age would want to do this.

And there’s something different about you, it’s just a feeling of course – he hasn’t yet had a chance to confirm his suspicions, but he wants to meet you and decide for himself.

“We do have a number of potential surrogates with promising Quirks if you’re considering pursuing that option for your child,” the Doctor told them, smiling as they flipped through page after page of profiles.

Hisako, 35, Quirk: Sun-flare

Nozumi, 26, Quirk: Mimic

Koharu, 28, Quirk: Seismic Wave

Chiyoko, 33, Quirk: Golden Whip

Yuzuki, 32, Quirk: Silencer

There’s dozens of them – which is more than he expected.

Aizawa knew coming in that this wasn’t normally the process, that this agency catered specifically to Heroes – was recommended by the Hero commission – but it still feels strange, just browsing through pages upon pages of potential candidates to carry their baby.

Was he supposed to be feeling some kind of emotion looking at these profiles? The women were all healthy, each of them attractive, in their own ways (nothing but the very best, the Doctor had reassured them with a smile). This woman, whoever they picked, she’d be carrying their baby, yes, but that was the extent of it. She wasn’t going to be a part of their lives beyond that, so what did it matter if she was nice or liked to cook or play tennis?

There were stats, of course. Their education and IQ’s and little snippets of history, but they were all impressive, otherwise they wouldn’t have been included. Were they supposed to choose based on their Quirk? One that might compliment his or Zashi’s? Quirks were troublesome things to begin with, and–

“Wait-wait, Shou, hold up,” Hizashi’s voice cut through his musings, long fingers wrapping around his wrist midway through turning the page. “Go back one.”

He does as he’s told, flicking the page back.

Y/N, 23, Quirk: N/A.

A lone eyebrow lifts. Quirkless, huh? A blank slate.

But that’s not what caught Hizashi’s eye.

“She’s kinda cute, don’tcha think, baby?”

It feels weirdly like a first date, nervous jitters and all – though he’d like to believe he’s better at suppressing that now then back when he was a teenager. Aizawa hasn’t bothered to shave, but his hair’s tied back in a loose bun and he’s pulled out a suit for the occasion – he’s even wearing a tie for fuck’s sake. Beside him, Hizashi’s ditched his usual leather jacket and ripped jeans for, well, nicer jeans and a button up floral shirt.

And then there’s you. Standing in the doorway of the cafe glancing around like a little lost lamb, he recognises you instantly from the picture on your profile, but the moment your eyes meet his he’s struck with the realisation that the picture didn’t truly do you justice.

Because you do look young (at least compared to their thirty odd years) and it might just be the hesitant smile adorning your face as you start to make your way over, or the charming little summer dress falling to your mid-thigh, swishing hypnotically with every step, but Shouta feels something catch in his chest the more he stares. You really are… what was the word ‘Zashi had used? Cute?

Yeah. You were cute.

The agency had offered to host this little meetup at their clinic, and while he hadn’t particularly cared one way or the other, Hizashi’d been insistent. He’d wanted this to feel ‘natural’.

‘I don’t really wanna meet our potential baby mama for the first time in some boring, sterile office, d’you?”

He’d only bitten back a sigh at the time, shaking his head. It wouldn’t have been worth upsetting him by reminding him that the girl was technically a glorified incubator. He had every intention of being involved in this process, but this initial meeting was to establish two things. Firstly, that after meeting them, you still felt comfortable with carrying their baby, and secondly, he wanted to make absolutely certain that you weren’t trying to get anything out of this.

Oh, he knew you were getting paid, handsomely, he’s sure, but the thought that you, or any of the women the agency had fobbed their way might not all be in this for altruistic reasons had crossed his mind.

You were just so young.

But he was more than happy to determine those two things in a ten minute meeting at the agency.

Hizashi was not, and so here they are.

Ten minutes in, and he finds himself glad of his husband’s insistence. Hands wrapped around your mug of coffee (you should enjoy it while you can) you chatter away with Hizashi, beaming and blushing, tripping over your own words in your nervousness.

You’re about as dangerous as a kitten, and he allows himself to relax enough in his seat to enjoy watching the blonde charm you.

“So why don’t ya tell us a little about yourself, songbird?”

“There’s really not all that much to tell,” you say with a sheepish laugh, but they listen as you talk anyway. It’s nothing the profile hadn’t already told them, nothing spectacular that would make you stand out in the crowd.

And yet, an hour and a half later, you’re trying in vain to distract him and Hizashi both so that you can slip your card in with the bill to pay for lunch, and Shouta finds himself oddly amused.

There were other candidates – ones with impressive Quirks, smarter than you, more accomplished than you, older than you–

“Ya sure you don’t want a lift, sweetheart? It’s no trouble.”

You smile again, demure little thing, and shake your head. “Oh no, really it’s okay. It’s not far and… I like the walk. Thank you, though.”

– but none nearly so endearing, he thinks.

And when they watch you disappear into the crowd, one final wave thrown over your shoulder, Hizashi’s fingers lace with his once more.

“So she’s our baby mama, huh?

He’s silent for a moment. “I suppose so.”

—

The agency recommended, at least in the initial stages before the implantation procedure took place, that any communication between the three of you should go through them.

Hizashi had your number programmed into his phone before you’d even left the cafe, and he’s been texting you every day since – to the point where it wasn’t unusual for Shouta to come downstairs and find Mic chuckling to himself, fingers dancing across the keyboard on his phone as he replies to whatever message you’ve sent.

Shouta, for his part, tends to message only to check in.

How are you feeling? Any side effects from the meds?

Your response comes a little slower than usual, and it’s almost an hour before finally he receives it.

Sorry they’re cracking down on us using our phones at work :(

Everything’s good so far! The doc said i should be on track for our appointment next week!

… is it weird that I’m a little excited haha?

His brow furrows at that. You hadn’t mentioned a job – at least not to him, he’d have to ask Hizashi later whether you'd said anything to him.

Why on earth were you still working? He’d seen the contracts, he knew exactly how much you were getting paid for this little venture, wasn’t that enough to support you?

He makes a brief mental note to make sure that whatever job you were working at, you stopped long before the baby was due. You might just be a surrogate, but he’d be damned if his baby was put in jeopardy because you were needlessly exerting yourself.

Nevertheless, his expression softens somewhat as he reads the second part of your message. You were excited, hm?

Well, that made three of you.

Both he and Hizashi’d been willing to come along to the clinic with you – he’d even submitted a formal leave request to take the day off from UA, but the Doctor had assured him that it wasn’t necessary.

“The procedure is quick and relatively painless. She’ll be home within a few hours, and so long as she remains off her feet and doesn’t undertake any strenuous activity, she will be perfectly fine.”

It hadn’t sat particularly well with Hizashi who’d spent the afternoon huffing and complaining about the clinic trying to kick them both out of the process. That much, he expected – he understood it to an extent; the agency catered specifically to Heroes, most of their clientele probably had busy schedules (which was true in their case as well). There wasn’t a need for them to be present at such a minor procedure, even if it did hopefully mark the beginnings of your pregnancy.

What he hadn’t expected was the twinge of discontent he felt settle in his own stomach. The Doc might’ve preferred they stay out of this, but at the end of the day he really didn’t give a shit what she or the agency wanted.

So he messaged you.

Do you want us there with you?

He watches those three little dots bounce for almost a solid minute before finally your reply comes through.

No, it’s okay, you don’t have to come. The Doc said it wouldn’t take long and I don’t wanna be a burden for you guys

It’s not really an answer to his question, and he briefly wonders if Hizashi might be right about the agency interfering, but he’s not going to fight you on it.

At least, that’s his plan until Principal Nezu pulls him aside at the end of a staff meeting and tells him that he’s found somebody to cover his classes tomorrow if he still wants the day off.

“Ya gotta go, babe. One of us should be there for our ‘lil mama.”

He asks you what time your appointment is and there’s a surprisingly pleasant fluttering in his stomach when you walk through the clinic doors and catch sight of him sitting in the waiting room.

It’s a momentary surprise – you almost do a double take, but a smile lights your face and you ignore the receptionist in favour of racing towards him.

“Shouta, I thought you weren’t coming!” Your arms wrap around his middle, squeezing tightly.

He finds himself returning your hug – albeit somewhat stiffly – but he’s glad he made the decision to come. The Doctor wasn’t wrong, you’re only in with her for just under twenty minutes, and when you come out there’s a tremble in your legs, but you seem otherwise fine.

It goes without saying that he’s driving you home, though you try once again to beg him off.

Kitten, when are you gonna learn that so long as you’re carrying his and ‘Zashi’s child, they’re going to go out of their way to make things easier for you – whether you want them to or not.

Yet your quiet discomfort on the drive home doesn’t slip past his attention. Maybe it’s because he’s become accustomed to your nervous rambling, but there’s something odd about the way you’re sitting so quietly, fingers twisting in your lap as you stare out the window. He knows that if Hizashi was here, he’d be chatting your ear off, but he’s never been one to fill silence with unnecessary small talk.

Though he can’t exactly help the way his own mind drifts. Are you in pain? The Doc didn’t say anything about there being any pain, only that you should rest over the next few days, so it shouldn’t be that. Perhaps you’re just lost in your thoughts – it’s strange for them having a surrogate, he can only imagine what’s going through your own head now that it’s actually begun. He hopes that you aren’t having second thoughts, almost opens his mouth to ask before thinking better of it.

You’re entitled to your thoughts and feelings, whatever they may be, and if you wanted to talk to him about them, you would.

It’s not until the scenery outside starts to change and the fancy sky-scrapers give way to dingy apartment blocks and dilapidated buildings, crammed in together too tightly that he realises that it’s not discomfort that’s written across your face, but embarrassment.

This was your neighbourhood?

Shouta recognises it, and really he should have picked up on it earlier when you’d given him the address – he’s spent more than a few nights patrolling the area. It’s a hotspot, not for the high-class, dangerous villains plastered across the news every night, but thieves and murderers. Petty thugs who prey on the weak, those addicted, with nowhere else to go… you live here?

Surely with the money you’re getting from the agency, and your job on top of that, you can afford a better neighbourhood.

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, watches as you all but shrink into your seat, and when you speak, your voice is little more than a whisper.

“You can just drop me off at the corner here.”

He pulls the car to a stop by the curb, and for a moment neither of you speak. He doesn’t know what to say, and judging from the way you’re nibbling on your bottom lip and glancing up at him, you don’t either.

“I–”

“Thank you,” you cut him off with a tight smile. “For coming today, and for… this. I-I really do appreciate it.”

The words aren’t quite sincere, but he only nods – noting the miniscule sigh that escapes your lips at the action. “Of course. Anytime you need us, just call, okay.” He waits for you to nod before continuing, “Do as the Doc said, rest.”

You all but scamper from the car after saying another goodbye, though Shouta waits until you’ve disappeared into the crumbling apartment block before driving off.

Maybe the inside is nicer, but he sincerely doubts it.

—

“You should’ve seen it, ‘Zashi.” The two of them are curled up on the love-seat, half empty containers of takeout littering the coffee table in front of them. “I just can’t figure out why she’d be living somewhere like that.”

The blonde frowns. He’d been messaging you throughout the afternoon, so he knew that the appointment had gone fine. It wasn’t that he expected to come home and find the erasure Hero jumping for joy, but the subtle discontent on Shouta’s face had been enough to make him pause.

“You’re worried about our ‘lil songbird?” he asks, pushing away just enough so that he could turn to study his face.

The short nod says plenty. Of course he is – even if you weren’t potentially carrying his child, you’re young, beautiful and far too innocent for your own good. In places like that, you were easy pickings, and you don’t even have a Quirk to protect yourself. His job requires him to assess his students’ strengths, their failings and weaknesses and their progress. He doesn’t need to see you in action to know that you wouldn’t be able to hold your own in a fight.

It bothers him.

“She’s not safe there.”

Hizashi hums, but instead of settling back against his husband’s side, he straightens up further. “Well, why don’t we go take a look-see, huh handsome? Make sure our sweet thing’s pad’s all safe ‘n sound, put your mind at ease. Whaddya say?”

As he stares into those imploring green eyes, Shouta knows that he should say no.

Concerned or not, there’s still a line, privacy that should be respected. He’s tired and this is the only night that they both have off this week. Your place is almost twenty minutes from theirs, and it’s already late – almost midnight. The list goes on, there are a thousand reasons that he should say no.

“Fine. Just for tonight.”

—

Two weeks later, the two Heroes receive a call from the agency; the blood test came back positive – you’re pregnant.

In the blink of an eye, at least to Shouta, this becomes startlingly real. You’re pregnant. They’re going to have a baby. Boy, girl, it doesn’t matter… You’re pregnant, and as his husband ends the call and yanks him by his collar into a fierce kiss, he realises how important this is.

How important you are, just by the virtue of carrying their baby.

They invite you over for dinner to celebrate, and while he’s never been one to flaunt the comfortable lifestyle he and Hizashi have, he does find it strangely pleasing to watch you wonder wide eyed through their apartment. He’d be the first to admit it’s big – bigger than they’d ever probably need, though with the baby on the way maybe they’ll finally be able to make use of all that extra space.

Mic grabs you by the hand, eagerly dragging you towards the nursery he’s already begun setting up. “Once I heard the good news, I just couldn’t wait to get started! Our little rockstar’s gonna have the sweetest crib, don’tcha think? Ain’t it amazing?”

He’s already started painting and there’s a wooden cot halfway assembled and the beginnings of a musical mobile pushed off to the side waiting for him to return to it. It’s hardly close to being finished, but you just grin, gazing at the mural he’s started on the walls. “It’s amazing,” you say.

“I knew ya’d like it!” he beams.

Shouta hangs back as Hizashi guides you through the rest of the apartment, chattering excitedly away. He likes seeing his husband happy, and somehow you manage to bring it out of him without even trying. It’s still early days but Shouta has to admit that already you’re more to him and Hizashi than he expected, or even anticipated. You fit well with them, seamlessly, as if you’d always been a part of their lives.

After dinner, they drive you home despite your protests, and Hizashi insists they walk you up to your apartment. You’re no doubt under the impression that they’re doing it to be gentlemanly, missing the shared looks between the two men as they pass the out of order elevator and tread down hallways with stained carpet and peeling wallpaper, ignoring the leering yellow eyes of your neighbour, peeking out from the crack in the doorway as they bid you goodnight, ‘Zashi squeezing you extra tight.

There’s an uncharacteristic hardness in his husband’s eyes as they both slip back into the car, “No way in hell are we lettin’ her stay here.”

On that at least, there’s no arguments from him.

—

Hizashi, unsurprisingly, is the one to bring it up.

The three of you are grabbing a bite to eat after your first ultrasound. This time, both of them had been insistent on being there, and he’s glad they were. Seeing that grainy image of their baby, hearing it’s heartbeat – strong and steady – had filled him with an emotion he’d never felt before.

It was happiness and excitement and wonder and awe all mixed up and wrapped into a gut punch that stole his breath away, and while Hizashi had burst into a loud fit of tears, burying his face in Shouta’s neck while reaching for your hand, he’d managed to keep his own at bay.

Mostly.

Regardless, you have little choice but to indulge them when they drag you out to one of the blonde’s favourite restaurants – on the proviso that they had you home in time to get ready for work.

“Songbird, there’s something the two of us have been meanin’ to ask ya.”

You perk up a little, hastily swallowing down your mouthful of food so you can reply, “Oh?”

He wonders if you notice the way your hand already instinctively drifts to your stomach, your barely there baby bump.

“Why’re ya livin’ in a place like that, sweetheart?” You freeze, the corners of your smile slipping, but Hizashi continues, “Ain’t the money from the agency enough? We know you’re working that other job as well… we just…”

Shouta can physically feel you tensing like a bunny caught in a trap, and he doesn’t know what possesses him to reach out, sliding a hand across the table as you pale, but you take it regardless.

“Talk to us. Please,” he begs. “We just want to understand what’s going on. You have to realise that it’s not exactly a safe neighbourhood, and it’s not just you we have to worry about anymore.” Dark eyes flicker pointedly towards your stomach.

It’s a dirty tactic, but that doesn’t mean it’s not the truth. Did you realise how much danger you were truly in? Not just from the common street thugs – though frankly he thinks it’s nothing short of a miracle that you’d managed to get this far unscathed – but any number of villains with a grudge against either one of them, or Heroes in general. If they found out a pretty, quirkless thing like you was carrying their baby, how long do you think it would take before they tracked you down and kicked through your door?

Your eyes flicker between the two of them, and you swallow shakily. “I-it’s…” you break off, taking a deep, steadying breath, “It’s all I can afford right now.”

“But, hun, what about–”

“I know,” you say. “The money for the surrogacy isn’t for me. It’s money I owe.”

Neither Hero speaks a word as you talk, telling them about your uncle, the man who raised you, how his business went under a few years back and you both lost almost everything.

Shouta isn’t surprised to find out that your uncle turned to loan sharks when the banks turned him away and threatened to take your house. Alarmed at the man’s blatant stupidity, yes, but not surprised. Your eyes start to water when you tell them about how he died a few months back – a hit and run – and the visit you were paid only a week later, informing you that your uncle’s debts were now yours, and payment had better come through quick.

Your hand’s trembling in his by the time you finish. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t have any options, I didn’t know how else to get the money, and they said that i-if I didn’t pay up, they-they’d–” a sob catches you unawares, and once again it’s Hizashi who’s out of his seat and at your side in a heartbeat, sliding into the booth beside you, pulling you into a one armed embrace.

It’s his eyes that you meet, and Shouta understands. He doesn’t need you to explain what threats were made. You were scared, terrified probably, and you had every right to be.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” you sniffle. “I’m sorry for lying to you.”

Really, he should be furious. Disappointed at the very least.

“Move in with us,” he says instead, ignoring your sudden, startled intake of breath. “At least until the baby comes.”

He should be, but this works better.

—

It takes a little longer than he’d like to convince you, but the two of them wear you down and a few weeks later Shouta finds himself carting boxes of your things up into the spare room in their apartment.

Despite the fact that you’re pregnant with their baby, you’re terrified of being a burden to the two Heroes, but it’s because of the baby that you eventually relent.

They want to be close, involved. They want to know that you’re safe – and their apartment’s state of the art security system will make sure of that when they’re not home with you. They want to make sure that you’re not exerting yourself, that you’re eating the right things and not running yourself ragged at a job you don’t need, stressing yourself out needlessly and putting the baby at risk.

All of that’s true.

It’s just not the entire reason.

At first, he convinces himself that it’s for Hizashi, as well as his own peace of mind, but he’s starting to wonder if that’s the full truth of it. Because of course he wants to keep a close eye on the pregnancy – he knows that this can’t be easy on you. You have no family left, and if you have any friends then they’ve done an excellent job of keeping you at arm's length.

You have nobody but them, and it does bring him some modicum of peace to know that you’re just down the hall if anything goes wrong.

Hizashi adores having you there with them, having somebody else to cook for, somebody to come home to at the end of a long day. More than a few times, they’ve both returned from a night of patrolling to find you curled up on the couch, fast asleep with a blanket over your legs and a book slipping from your fingers, having tried, and failed, to wait up from them.

You tune into Mic’s radio show on the nights you can’t sleep, and on the odd mornings that you wake up before either of them, they come downstairs to find bacon sizzling away in the pan, a pot of coffee already brewing. There’s something oddly charming about the way you pout while you pour it for them, knowing you can’t have any yourself.

“You’re a special kind of masochist, ya know?” Hizashi teases, sidling up beside you to grab a cup.

You sigh dejectedly. “I must be,” you reply as he plants a kiss on your cheek and squeezes your side affectionately, but it’s impossible to miss the sparkle in your eyes. You’re happy here, with them.

Shouta warns you from pushing yourself too much, but even he can notice the apartment’s tidier when they arrive home than when they left, the freshly baked goods sitting on the countertop that weren’t there yesterday.

“I just… I know I can’t pay you back for all of this, I just wanna make myself useful,” you tell him one night when he asks about it. “I still feel like I’m taking advantage of the both of you, staying here…”

“You’re carrying our baby, that’s enough,” he reminds you, his calm, steady voice brooking no disagreement. And yet, as dark eyes study your face, he can tell that it’s not enough for you, so he sighs, and in a quiet voice adds, “We like having you here.”

He likes having you there. Sitting at the dining room table, helping him grade papers, lounging around on their rare days off together – helping Mic set up the nursery, volunteering to go shopping with them for baby stuff. He’s lost count of how many pregnancy books you’ve bought, pouring over them with a fine tooth comb late at night – often falling asleep in the process, leaving him and Hizashi to carry you off to bed with a barely there kiss to your forehead.

You fit between them in a way he hadn’t quite expected. Not a burden, not an interloper, but as if there was always a place carved out for you with them, and it’s only now that they realise that there was something missing to begin with.

It doesn’t quite click until he finds his thoughts drifting towards you at work, his fingers drumming along the top of his desk so he can stop himself from reaching for his phone. He’s not usually so distracted teaching, and as the hours drag he finds himself glancing towards the clock on the wall, counting down the hours, minutes, until the day is done and they can return home to you.

Shouta can’t pretend for much longer that there isn’t something oddly satisfying watching your belly grow and your breasts swell as your pregnancy goes on. You’re glowing, and soft and beautiful, and he could kid himself and say that it’s just the normal effects of pregnancy, but there’s some part of him that’s strangely proud when your shirt rides up and he catches a glimpse of your baby bump – knowing it’s his child you’re carrying. His and ‘Zashi’s and yours.

And oh, he wishes that it was only pride that burns through his veins at the sight of you, barefoot and pregnant, pottering around the apartment. Hizashi’s the one to hold back your hair and rub your back soothingly when your morning sickness hits, but it’s Shouta who takes care of you when you start complaining about aching muscles and joints.

He tells himself that it’s purely about comfort, namely yours, ignoring the way you flush and stutter when he drags you up the stairs and pushes you gently towards the bed, telling you to lie down on your side.

It’s just a massage, yet the moment his fingers run along your soft skin and a breathy moan slips from parted lips, the very last vestiges of the facade he’d built up in his head crumble into dust.

You’re perfection. Bared and beautiful beneath him, making the prettiest noises for him as he works away at your muscles, expertly releasing all of your tension. He’s glad that your eyes are shut and you’re lost to the bliss, you don’t notice the way his breath hitches and becomes rough and heavy, the way his cock twitches in his sweats, blood flowing south as you arc into his touch.

Such a responsive little thing, aren’t you?

“You’re amazing,” you moan, and though you can’t see that either, Shouta smirks. “Please never stop.”

It’s a good thing he has restraint, because it’s taking absolutely all of his to stop himself from taking more.

He wants all of you.

Wants to tease and taste.

Take.

Wants to hear those pretty fucking moans take the shape of his name… Hizashi’s name.

And maybe he might have felt guilty for those perverse thoughts, for the way he wants to tear the rest of your clothes off and fuck you nice and proper, breed you–

If his husband hadn't been standing by the door, watching the two of you for the last ten minutes. Shouta doesn’t need to look to know that it’s not anger or jealousy burning in his gaze.

He knows that his husband’s far from disgusted, knows it from the way Hizashi grabs his wrist on his way back down the hallway, pulling him instead to their bedroom and shoving him back onto the mattress with a wicked grin.

There’s something positively feral in the blonde’s expression as he hovers over him, forcing Shouta back down with a hand splayed across his chest, the other reaching down to his sweats to free his aching, needy cock.

“You’ve been holding out on me, baby,” he sings.

—

They have time.

Your due date is still months away, and you’re comfortable, here with them.

There’s no reason for you to consider leaving until the baby’s born, and Shouta is adamant about keeping it that way. Hizashi can huff and puff and moan all he likes, he knows that they have to take this thing with you slowly. He won’t risk spooking you and losing any chance they have.

That’s not to say that he doesn’t empathise with the blonde, what with all the affectionate hugs and touches you thoughtlessly bestow, the way you’ll plonk yourself down on the couch between them so they can feel when the baby’s kicking.

Hizashi’s gotten to the stage where he’ll drop to his knees to shower your stomach in kisses when he gets home of an evening before sweeping you up into a hug of your own, his face a mask of perfect innocence when he catches sight of his husband’s less than impressed expression over your shoulder.

Having you here with them, this little temporary faux family dynamic the three of you have found yourselves in is easy, domestic and nice. It should be enough, but it’s not.

“It’ll be weird, going home after this,” you hum absentmindedly one night.

Preoccupied with the noodles you’re toying with in your bowl, you miss the sharp look shared between both men.

“Whaddya mean, sweetheart?”

If you notice the odd stiffness to the words, you pay it no mind, simply shrugging. “I mean once the baby’s born. I dunno, I think I’ve become too comfortable here freeloading off of the two of you…” you glance up, smiling a little. “Going back to work and finding a place on my own again, starting fresh, it’ll be different, that’s all. Not bad different,” you hasten to clarify at the blonde’s nearly stricken face, “just… different.”

“Well it’s not like we’re gonna be forcing ya out, hun! You’re always welcome to jam with us for as long as you want.”

You shake your head with a rueful little laugh, “We both know I can’t do that. You’ll have the baby to worry about and the last thing I want is to feel like some awkward interloper, always getting in the way – especially after everything you guys have done for me.”

Hizashi’s fingers dig into the meat of his thigh, tightening with every word out of your mouth.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m not saying I’m never going to come around to hang out or anything, but once this baby comes I’m gonna have to figure out what I’m going to do with my life.” Your eyes meet his, wide and hopeful, and Shouta’s reminded once again of just how young you really are. “I can go anywhere, do anything. It’s kind of exciting, don't you think?”

It was a mistake, to think that you’d come around to them on your own.

You were young and naive, still living out a rose tinted fantasy where the world was your oyster and all you needed to do was reach out and take it. And maybe he’s partially to blame for that, taking your problems and getting rid of them, making you feel safe and comfortable, not realising that that security didn’t extend outside of these four walls, outside of their protection.

They need you, but kitten did you ever stop to think that you need them, too?

Shouta had made the mistake of forgetting how this all came to be – you hadn’t wanted a family, you were just trying to save your own skin. You still think that you can make it on your own, without them.

He supposes he shouldn’t blame you for your misplaced idealism, it’s only natural after all. Some people just don’t know what’s best for them.

They need to be shown.

—

You don’t stir as your bedroom door swings open.

Not as Hizashi pulls back your sheets, groaning softly at the sight of your swollen breasts and precious baby bump, stretching against the confines of your silk pajamas. “Ain’t she a fuckin’ dream, Shou?”

Not as the blonde busies himself in carefully sliding your sleep shorts down your legs, or even as Aizawa gathers up your wrists, pressing a kiss to each one, and binds them to the headboard with his capture weapon.

“Gentle, ‘Zashi,” he murmurs when the blonde crawls up on the bed beside you. “Nothing too rough.”

You wake as long fingers caress your cheek, tilting your face towards him so he can kiss you properly.

Shouta hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights, but bathed under the soft glow of moonlight from your window, he watches your eyes flutter open, the momentary confusion that flashes across your face followed by realisation, horror, as you try to jerk back and cry out–

Only Hizashi doesn’t give you the opportunity, winding his hand through your tresses and anchoring you against him, forcing your lips open so that he can deepen the kiss and groaning appreciatively when a terrified whimper escapes you.

You still haven’t noticed Shouta kneeling on the bed between your legs, too preoccupied by Hizashi’s tongue sliding against yours. “Relax, kitten,” he says, laying his palm on your thigh, letting his thumb glide over the smooth skin.

“Let us take care of our cute ‘lil baby mama, yeah songbird?” Hizashi adds, breaking away from the kiss with a lovesick grin.

Tonight is solely about you. Your pleasure, whether they have to tease it from you willingly or not.

Your tears are kissed away, your broken little pleas swallowed under ‘Zashi’s greedy lips as Shouta shuffles down the bed, nudging your thighs further apart so he can lie between them.

The keening cry that leaves you at the first stroke of his tongue against your warm sex is a thing of beauty.

Blood rushes to his cock as you writhe, and he tightens his grip as much as he dares to keep you locked in place as he delves in again. There’s little finesse to the way that Shouta eats your pussy – it’s a simple study of reactions; the way you gasp and shudder when the tip of his tongue circles your clit, the way your pussy clench and quiver around the muscle when he eases it inside of you, massaging your spongy walls.

Never one to be left out, Hizashi decides that there’s a better use of his attention than just your lips. With your arms bound, he’s not able to take your top off entirely so he settles with yanking it down, freeing your breasts.

“Fuck baby, you’re so pretty. Look atcha!”

Your tits must be tender and aching, because the moment Hizashi’s mouth envelops one of your nipples, sucking at the pert nub, a fresh sob bursts from your lungs and you’re trying desperately to wriggle away.

Hizashi just frowns, breaking away for a second to brush a stray lock of hair back behind your ear, “Ah shit, sorry babe! I’ll be gentle, promise.”

Shouta’s far too preoccupied by the intoxicating taste of your sweet cunt to notice whether he actually does or not, but he trusts him not to push you too far. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.

Your baby bump is cute and all, but Shouta wishes that it wasn’t blocking his view of your face – he wants to watch every little expression as he slides two thick fingers into your dripping cunt and your hips buck up to meet him. It’s a twisted kind of pride he feels, pride fused with filthy, maddening pleasure as he pulls a string of choked moans from you with just a few shallow thrusts of his fingers.

His jaw’s slicked with your juices, your cunt sucking his fingers deeper when he turns his attention back to your poor, neglected clit. He can tell that you’re close, not just from the needy whimpers and the way your muscles are tensing beneath him, but the desperate canting of your hips, rocking up against his face even as you beg for relief.

“Shouta, Shouta, please– oh god, please stop, p-please!”

He longs to wrap a fist around his throbbing cock, desperate to help relieve the burning ache deep in his gut as you cum for the first time on his tongue. Or better yet, maybe have Hizashi wrap that perfect mouth of his around his cock and suck him off–

But now’s not the time for him to be greedy.

Rough fingertips prod at your walls, searching for that hidden little spot that’s gonna make you go wild–

You almost convulse when he finds it, and Shouta can’t help but smirk against your cunt as you tighten and quiver around his digits. With Hizashi playing with your tits, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses along your neck, Shouta’s lips wrapped around your clit, tongue flicking at the sensitive pearl as he suckles on it and long, thick fingers driving you to madness with each and every stroke, it’s too much for your poor, pregnant, oversensitive body to handle.

You cum with a strangled shriek, and Shouta almost moans at the flood of juices that gush from your trembling cunt onto his waiting tongue.

“How’s she taste, baby?” Hizashi asks, green eyes blown wide, his own erection straining against his leather pants.

Shouta doesn’t waste a beat, pushing himself up with one arm and grabbing his husband’s wrist with the other, yanking him into a fierce kiss – letting him taste your honeyed juices on his tongue.

Fingers tangle in dark locks, tugging him closer, and ‘Zashi lets out a low, throaty groan. It’s rough and eager, a slow burning frenzy that makes the blood in his veins sing with excitement. With their lips still locked, the blonde hastily yanks at the zipper on his pants, freeing the painfully hard member with a tight hiss.

But when he finally does break for air, it’s not Shouta that he addresses, but you, lying spent, crying and breathless between them, beautiful in your fucked out state.

“You can’t expect to put on a show like that and not get me all worked up, sweet thing,” he coos, taking his flushed, throbbing cock in hand and giving it a few slow, cursory pumps. “I’m gonna fuck ya so good, baby – have you singin’ like a little birdie for me,” his eyes meet Shouta’s, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips. “Nothin’ but the best for our cute ‘lil wife. Whaddya say, songbird? Lemme make you feel all nice and special, yeah?”

#yandere bnha #yandere shouta aizawa #yandere hizashi yamada #yandere erasermic #yandere shouta aizawa x reader #yandere hizashi yamada x reader #shouta aizawa x hizashi yamada x reader #tw non con #tw pregnancy #tw breeding kink #tw age gap #oh my god it's like 5am why do i keep doing this to myself

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quaranmine · 2 years

Text

How to Be a Human Being (Chapter Ten)

Boatem is in the void.

Masterpost | Chapter Nine

Words: 4742

We've gotten too far into this fic without any mortal peril, huh?

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

It’s odd how reality started to drip away from you as you floated in the void. Grian was accustomed to falling into the Boatem Hole and dying after a few seconds, but the moon’s gravity was stronger now and none of them had truly felt gravity in a long time. As such, he found himself sort of floating next to Mumbo, going downwards at a nearly imperceptible pace.

The light from the Boatem Hole was still visible–the hole itself was still visible. Grian thought he could see a torch flicker way up above, but then it suddenly vanished from view. The whole view of their world seemed to be warping and fading as they fell deeper, and the bedrock seemed to move under his gaze. It made him dizzy.

He looked up anyway, because this was the last time he’ll ever see their home.

The void was dark and full of inky blackness right up until it wasn't. There were little lights on the horizon, like purple and blue stars, though they seemed to move and blink when Grian moved his head. Scar, Impulse, and Pearl were below him and Mumbo–the two of them had fallen a bit slower than the others after Scar failed to include the correct amount of escape hatches for them.

“Grian! Mumbo!” Scar shouted, snapping Grian out of his thoughts.

“Yeah?” he replied.

“You’re too far away. We should be tethered together.”

“Oh,” Mumbo muttered. “Does that mean we’re gonna float off, then? I really don’t fancy floating off into the void alone. Or with you, no offense.”

“No, they’re saying they’re gonna toss us a tether,” Grian replied. “Look, Impulse is holding it right now. Get ready.”

Impulse tossed them the tether. It missed the first time, with the void being difficult to account for since it behaved differently than air. The second time, though, Mumbo caught it.

“I caught it!” he said.

“Tie my suit onto yours,” Grian said.

“Oh, how should I . . .”

Grian rolled his eyes and took the tether from Mumbo, and slid the tether through one of the metal rings on his suit before clipping the carabiner on the other end to a ring on Mumbo’s suit and locking it. “Now we’re both attached to each other.”

“I could have tied that tether, you know. I’m good with tying knots, I just didn’t know which one to choose for this.”

“I’d rather see your knots when our lives aren’t on the line. Using the clip is easier. It’s made for this, you know.”

Impulse reeled them back down until everyone was at the same level together, and then they all took turns attaching the tether to one another until they floated in a line. There was enough slack to move around if they wanted, but nobody was going to drift away from the group. Grian gave it about five minutes before they were all tangled up in each other like a dog accidentally wrapping a leash around its leg.

“Now we won’t float off!” Scar said, triumphantly. “This is so cool, it’s like a spacewalk. I’ve always wanted to do one of those, you know.”

“Wish it was in better circumstances,” Impulse said.

“Or, you know, actually in space,” said Grian. The group sort of uncomfortably agreed with that, and fell silent for a bit. Boatem, on most days, were never silent when all put in a room together at once. There was always something going wrong, someone teasing someone, someone making a joke, someone accidentally (or purposefully) killing another, someone scamming, someone planning, or someone arguing. But it didn’t feel like there was a lot to say right now.

Mumbo finally broke the silence. “So, er, Scar, where exactly are we going?”

“Yeah,” Pearl added. “What are we supposed to do now?”

“Um,” Scar said.

“Scar,” Grian said, not liking that tone.

“Um, well you see, I, uh, didn’t plan that far?” Scar explained hastily, hands thrown up placatingly. “I just built the rocket, you know! And the suits! I did those too. And, I got us out of there, but I didn’t really make a plan for how we’re getting out of here. I didn’t have time for that.”

“You made us go in here without a way to get us out?” Pearl exclaimed, at the same time Mumbo started making distressed noises and stumbled over some comment about how they were all trapped here and going to die.

“Well what was your plan to get us out of there?” Scar asked defensively.

“I was going to blow up the moon,” Mumbo said.

“Yeah, and how did that work out for you?” Grian said sarcastically.

“It’s not my fault you all distracted me so I couldn’t detonate it in time!”

“Oh, blame it on me-”

Pearl cut in. “Mumbo, wasn’t it also your idea to start a cult around not sleeping so that we’d appease the moon god or whatever?”

“YOU joined it! If it was such a bad idea, then why did everyone here join it?” Mumbo cried. “Besides, that was all a lie. How could any of you believe that? It was so silly, I can’t believe you fell for it.”

“I don’t need to sleep,” Pearl said. “It doesn’t matter if I joined it because it had no effect on me.”

“You were dead serious about the Mooners. Don’t lie, I saw it,” Grian said at the same time. “You roped me into it.”

“You wouldn’t sleep because you wanted to measure the moon!” Mumbo exclaimed. “I didn’t rope you in because you never even believed me.”

“Maybe I’d have believed you if you hadn’t tricked me into giving my soul away earlier this season,” Grian said, and actually enjoyed the hurt look on Mumbo’s face for a moment. “And yeah, I measured the moon. I wanted to actually do something about it!”

“Did you?” Mumbo asked, quietly. “Did you do something about it?”

Grian stopped. Because, well, he hadn’t. Not really. All he had was a book of numbers carefully scratched out proving the moon was getting bigger. Which was something he already had empirical evidence of every time he stepped outside at night.

“I asked Scar,” he said, “to build us a rocket.”

“I never slept,” Scar said mildly. “Except when I needed to. That whole Mooner business was funny, though. And I built the rocket, didn’t I? I did what you asked!”

“You’re like talking to a genie, Scar, I swear. Ask you for one thing and you better be specific or else you’re gettin’ something else. I asked for the rocket so we could go to space,” Grian shouted. “Not the void! You know, because rockets are for space. I thought you were supposed to be the space-person on the server, you talk about it all the time!”

“Scar-X has never had an unsuccessful space mission,” he defended.

“That’s because you’ve never had a space mission,” Mumbo muttered. “And this still isn’t one.”

“Why didn’t you build a rocket, Grian?” Scar asked.

“Because I don’t know how! That’s why I asked you!”

“I still got us out of there.”

“Yeah,” Pearl said. “Into the void where we might all die.”

“Well, that’s just a little pessimistic,” Scar pointed out. “Lighten up, Pearl! We’re all here, aren’t we?”

“I don’t even know where here is,” Mumbo said. “Are we sure this is better than before? I mean, really. Couldn’t we have just left the server? Wouldn’t some place, like, I dunno, Empires take us all in for a bit?”

“The moon made the server unstable. The server instability was making portals unsafe to use, at the end,” Pearl said. “We wouldn’t have been able to properly escape to someone else’s world without risking it too with the instability. So our best bet is finding a new blank world, so if the portal fails then we don’t risk anyone else. That’s what Xisuma said during the meeting.”

“Oh thank God,” Scar said. “Someone who actually listened during that.”

“Guys,” Impulse said. The others bickered over him.

“Maybe you should listen harder,” Grian commented, “because then you’d remember I commissioned a spaceship, not a device to drop us all in the void.”

“Oh, ‘cause you have a great track record of listening to everything people tell you, don’t you, Grian?” Pearl scoffed.

“Guys,” Impulse said again.

“Are you gonna start now too, Pearl?” Grian said. “Because I don’t remember you doing much about the moon either!”

“I couldn’t hurt my moon cousin!”

“You literally watched when Mumbo tried to blow it up.”

“Well, it sure looks like it was coming to hurt us,” Mumbo said. “Also, did we ever set a place to meet back at? Pearl said Xisuma said we’re supposed to find a blank world, but did anyone ever get where we’re going?”

“I imagine that’s what our communicators are for,” Scar said.

“Guys,” Impulse said a third time, finally breaking into their argument. “Somethin’s wrong.”

“Yeah,” said Pearl. “We’re stuck here and nobody agreed on a way to get us out of here.”

Scar opened his mouth, ready to defend himself once again, but Mumbo cut him off. “No, uh–I think Impulse is right. Something’s wrong.” He drifted over in front of Impulse, and squinted. “Are you okay buddy?”

Impulse blinked. He wasn’t really looking directly at Mumbo, and instead appeared to be watching some point just above his shoulder. “I don’ think so,” he mumbled.

Grian, Pearl and Scar drifted closer. Impulse was breathing fast, quick sharp breaths that fogged up his helmet a little. “Guys, give him space,” Pearl said. “Let him breathe. You’ll freak him out some more and if he’s panicking then that’ll just make it worse.”

“He’s slurring his words,” Scar noted. “What’s going on? Impulse? Can you tell us?”

“My head hurts,” he said.

“Try to take deeper breaths,” Pearl said. “You’re gonna be alright.”

“I can’t,” Impulse said. He slowly lifted his arm, like maybe he was going to grab onto Pearl for support, but instead he did the one thing Grian didn’t expect: he started to remove his helmet.

They exploded into action–really, too many people in such a small space, with Mumbo shouting Don’t! while Pearl grabbed one of Impulse’s arms and Grian grabbed the other and yanked it downwards. Impulse’s fingers had moved too clumsily to keep up with his friends’, and Grian let out a hot breath when he realized that the helmet was still securely on.

Or was it?

“Why did he do that?” Pearl shouted, at the same time Grian gave the all clear that the helmet was still attached properly. “Impulse, that would have killed you!”

“Impulse?” Mumbo said. “What happened?”

Impulse looked at Mumbo almost like he’d forgotten he was there, despite Mumbo having been next to him this whole time. “Can’ breathe,” he said. “I need . . .” He reached for his helmet again, but Grian held down his arm. It didn’t take a lot of effort.

“He thinks he needs to take the helmet off,” Grian said. “He can’t breathe and he thinks that it’s obstructing him.”

“He’s confused,” Scar said. “He’s not getting enough oxygen. That’s why he’s not speaking right, why his head hurts, and why he’s not focusing on us properly.” He paused for a long second and took a deep breath. “I don’t have to tell you guys that this isn’t good.”

“Did you pack enough?” Mumbo said. “Oxygen, I mean? Our suits don’t have–they don’t have tanks. Oh my god,” he muttered, “we don’t have tanks . . .”

Scar frowned. “We don’t need them. The suit recycles the air. I know a thing or two about that and used it to make the design more compact.”

“How- It recycles carbon dioxide to air? Like a plant? In the void?” Grian asked, puzzled. He shook his head stiffly. “Doesn’t matter. It doesn't matter! He’s not getting enough oxygen. Is it broken? Is your weird device broken?”

“I don’t think it’s broken,” Pearl said, examining him. “I don’t think his exhaling is the problem. I think it’s the void. I think there’s a leak.”

“My suits don’t have leaks,” Scar answered immediately.

“Well maybe they do,” Grian said. “Clearly they do.” It came out harsher than he expected, and Scar flinched, eyes wide.

“Is it–a slow leak?” Mumbo said. “We've been down here an awfully long while.”

Grian remembered his rules of the void uneasily. While they’d been arguing earlier, they all drifted well beyond the normal point of no return. There was no more slow falling from the moon’s gravity, because they were no longer in any realm the moon could affect. They were in a part of the void nobody had ever seen except the creatures that lived here, because it killed everyone who passed through it. And as far as Grian knew, nobody in Boatem was a voidwalker.

There’s not many things with a 100% mortality rate. People survive falls with feather falling. People survive lava with potions of fire resistance. People survive viruses with medicine and vaccines. People survive drowning through water breathing potions and making pockets of air. But the void? It didn’t matter if you had wings or an elytra or potions or armor, if you fell too deep and passed that gradient to the point of no return, it killed you every time.

And death didn’t like to be cheated.

The void wants YOU. It wants to gnaw on the edges of you and run tendrils up through your nasal passages and dig its fingers into your lungs until you burn up from the inside out and die, leaving you body and all your possessions as a gift to the unknown.

“There must be a hole in his suit,” Grian said. “He’s being choked by the void. That’s what it does to you. It chokes you and suffocates you and burns you up on the inside.”

Scar looked horrified. “Check the seal of his helmet!” he cried. “It might be a bad seal.”

“You don’t think he managed to get it loose earlier?” Mumbo asked.

“No,” Grian said. “He didn’t. I think he’s been losing air for a while, letting the void in instead.”

Pearl was examining Impulse’s helmet, running her gloved fingers across the seal. Scar started rummaging through his pockets on the suit. “I think I . . . I think I have something to fix the seals,” he muttered. “If I can find it.”

“Please find it,” Mumbo said. He wrung his hands.

“Impulse?” Grian said. “Are you alright?”

There was a long pause and Grian almost thought he wasn’t going to respond at all. “I don’ wanna die,” he said after a moment.

“You’re not gonna die!” all the other Boatem members shouted at once.

“Can you keep talking to me?” Grian said.

Nothing.

“Impulse?” He peered through Impulse’s helmet, but Impulse didn’t make eye contact. The quick breaths had stopped and there was no more fog on the inside of his helmet. He just looked sleepy. They needed to work fast.

“Ugh!” Pearl said, and made some other noise Grian couldn’t have translated if he tried. “I can’t find anything! I thought I might be able to but I can’t feel a thing in these gloves.”

They all looked at Scar. He was quiet. “I can’t find the material to fix the seal,” he said softly, staring at the not-ground below them and refusing to look them in the eye. “I don’t know if it wouldn’t have worked in the void either. For all I know it would react somehow and dry up the moment it left the tube.”

Impulse’s side of the tether started to pull taut a little, and he suddenly sunk down.

“He’s not supporting his own weight anymore,” Grian said, feeling ice drip down his veins.

Pearl was supporting the back of his head from where she’d been trying to feel the edge of the seal. “He’s unconscious.” The words were loud and then fizzled, consumed in the thickness of the void. There was no echo here. It was just for the four of them to hear.

“I don’t have the material to fix the seal. We don’t know where the leak is. I made the suits faulty. I trapped us here,” Scar said vacantly.

“Is he going to die?!” Mumbo shouted hysterically.

“If he can’t breathe,” Pearl said. “We have to fix it.”

“He can just respawn, won’t he? Right? He can still respawn, right?”

“I don’t think he can,” Grian said quietly. “The void is shared in all worlds, right? We’ve fallen beyond our world’s void. We don’t belong to any world right now, we’re in the void’s realm. I don’t know what happens when you respawn out here. You don’t have a world to go back to. And if he did, who’s to say that our server is still intact and the moon hasn’t crashed by now?”

Where can you go, if there’s no place to go back to? Where do you go if you die in between worlds?

“He’s going to perma-die,” Scar said.

“Yeah. Maybe. I don’t know. I hope not,” Grian said, but the uncertainty wasn’t hopeful. It just dragged them further down like an anchor chained to his feet.

“We don’t have time to talk about this!” Pearl said. “We have to work fast! Even if we can save him, we can’t wait too long or it’ll cause brain damage.” Pearl pulled Impulse closer, clutching onto him. Maybe if she held tight enough, he’d stay. “If you have any ideas, please, we need them now.”

“I don’t- I don’t,” Scar repeated. Mumbo spun in place, like he’d find something other than the endless void around them to use and save the day.

Grian was frozen, like the ice that had dripped through his veins had finally rooted him to the spot and he couldn’t move. He couldn’t lose another friend. Not again, not again, not again.

Scar laid a hand on Grian’s arm and he was violently snapped back to the present. They were all on thin ice, and it was getting thinner and thinner as time moved forward. Cracking, ready to plunge Impulse into the icy depths where he’d drown. But Impulse was still here for now. He was going to die if he couldn’t get more oxygen. But he wasn’t dead yet.

He couldn’t lose him. And–maybe, for once, Grian could do something about it.

He reached deep within himself, and tried to pull out a power he’d nearly forgotten. Nearly, because for once the soul-sharing with Mumbo had paid off–he’d been forced to pull it out of dormancy, brush it off, and practice it just so Mumbo would know what Watchers were capable of. It was like a little tendril in his core, difficult to grasp but in clear focus now.

Watchers were creative beings, perhaps second only to their stated purpose of watching. They blessed the world with materials, and facilitated updates. They created towers and things and gave players items, be they good or bad. They had access to blocks normal players didn’t, and placed them as easily as they could manipulate the rest of the world’s building blocks.

And Grian had always been a builder, even before he’d been blessed with the Watchers’ creative ability and then rejected it once more. Maybe that’s why they liked him. It was a better reasoning than anything else he’d come up with.

But Grian wasn’t making a house right now, or an obelisk or a maze or trap like the Watchers would have. He had one simple goal in mind: create something, anything, to keep his friends safe in the void.

The answer came inelegantly in the strongest material his panicked mind could think of: a plain bedrock box. 5x5, for 5 people.

A thunk echoed through the small space as the last block slid in place, punctuated only by his own gasping breaths. Just like mining out a space underwater, there was a small pocket of air in here. Grian didn’t know how long it would last, but he wasn’t worried about the future. The sound of his friend breathing would be enough.

Pearl sank to the newly-present floor along with Impulse. With shaky hands, she yanked on the helmet clasp, pulling it free. There was no sound–for some reason, he thought that taking the helmet off should have made a hissing sound, but it didn’t. There wasn’t a proper seal to break, he supposed.

“Is he breathing?” Grian said.

“Yeah,” Pearl said. “He is.” She rested the front of her helmet on the top of Impulse’s head. The lighting in the room was dim and murky, throwing glare on the helmets and leaving the corners in thick shadows, but Grian thought her cheeks looked wet.

The lighting in the room was dim and murky. Grian realized abruptly that there was no light. No proper lighting. It was just him glowing–his eyes, his skin, the power glowing at his palms and still shining under the gloves.

Oh. He probably didn’t look human anymore. That’s alright though, wasn’t it? Because his friends were all here, in this box, and he could see them all and reach out and touch them if he wanted, and he could listen to them breathe because they were all alive.

He dropped to his knees, suddenly feeling very tired, and tried to put his head between his knees the best he could in his helmet.

Scar removed his helmet with a click and a hiss and–yeah, it probably wasn’t necessary anymore since they had air in this little box. “Is he okay?” he asked.

“I think he will be,” Pearl said. “He didn’t spend very long unconscious. He should wake up in a few moments.”

“And what if he-” isn’t, Scar started, before stopping. “Yeah. He’s going to be okay.”

Grian felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Mumbo asked. And then, softly, “Thank you.”

“You’re safe now,” Grian whispered. He took in a shaky breath. “Can you . . . can you take some of it?” he asked. “The shelter. It’s hard to keep in place. You have half my powers now too; I’m not working at the capacity I could be. We have to share now.”

“Do you trust me?” Mumbo said. “What if I can’t hold it? What if I get us all killed?”

Grian chuckled and lifted his head to look Mumbo in the eye. Mumbo held his gaze. “It would be hard for you to do any worse than how we all almost got killed just then,” he said. He didn’t draw the distinction that only Impulse was in danger of death, because losing any member of Boatem might as well be the same as killing them all anyway. “Yeah. I do trust you.”

“How do I do it? You taught me, but this . . . this is different.”

Grian reached out and put his hand on Mumbo’s chest. The suits were thick, but he could still feel Mumbo’s heart hammering. He smiled, a little, at that. Proof of life. “Just . . . you should be able to feel my powers. We share it, yeah? It’s like a web, interconnected. Just add your own energy. I already made the blueprint, I just need some support.”

He felt Mumbo’s heart speed up, and then steady into a normal rhythm. Then it was like a weight was listed off him, but not quite–maybe it was a sense of being strengthened, or like someone taking your hand and helping you up off the ground. He’d never shared his powers with Mumbo before. He taught him, he demonstrated, Mumbo had used them, but they’d never actually been in sync with each other.

Mumbo’s eyes glowed a little too as he activated his powers. Purple. Grian didn’t think the color really suited either of them.

“Careful,” he murmured. “It’s harder than it looks to make this stupid little box. The void is . . . it wants to consume us. This bedrock doesn’t actually exist in our reality. I just created it out of nothing and it can just as easily vanish into nothing. And it’s really not supposed to be in the void. The void, er, knows that. So don’t drop it.”

“And if we do, then we die?”

“Then we die.”

“Well,” Mumbo said. “At least it’d be all five of us together, then.”

Across the tiny room, there was a sharp gasp. “He’s awake!” Pearl cried.

Impulse!

Mumbo and Grian scrambled to the other side of the room and crouched next to Impulse, Pearl, and Scar. Impulse eyes fluttered open, and then he screwed them back shut.

“Ugh,” he groaned.

“How do you feel?” Pearl asked.

“Like my head is split in two,” Impulse said. He opened his eyes again and coughed a few times. “Ouch, that hurts.”

“Nearly dying does that to you.”

Impulse sat up slowly, eyes shut again against the pain. “What happened?” he asked.

“You nearly suffocated,” Grian said. “Your suit had a slow leak and was letting the void in.”

Impulse opened his eyes and stared at the opposite wall for a moment, and then looked back at Grian. All his movements were slow. He squinted as they made eye contact, Grian’s eyes still glowing. “And then somehow . . . I’m here?”

“Grian saved us,” Pearl said, and then turned to Grian and threw her arms around his neck, helmet clonking his as she pulled him in for the hug. “Thank you,” she whispered.

When they pulled apart, Grian noticed Scar was staring at him and Mumbo. He was suddenly aware that neither Scar nor Impulse had ever seen him in any Watcher form. Immediately, that familiar anxiety stabbed him, but instead of bleeding out into a thick and all-consuming panic, it just stayed on the back of his neck, prickling him slightly. He normally might have cared more than this, but now Grian just felt like a wrung-out dish rag, drained and exhausted. If rain had existed in the void, he’d have been drenched from standing out in a downpour and dead on his feet.

“Dude,” Scar blurted out. “That was SO COOL!”

Grian blinked. “Uh.”

“I had no idea you could do that! And now you’re all glowing? And you created bedrock? And you saved Impulse’s life? That was amazing!”

“. . . Thanks?”

“This was you?” Impulse said.

Grian nodded.

Impulse rolled his eyes and shook his head, wincing as it exacerbated the pain. He punched Grian weekly in the shoulder. “Dude, I can’t believe you,” he said.

“Sorry-” Grian started automatically, but Impulse cut him off.

He continued: “I can’t believe you had the ability to manipulate bedrock this entire time and yet you always make me do it at the start of every season!”

Oh.

“That’s just because he’s lazy,” Pearl said confidently. “Why break it yourself when you can make someone else, eh Griba?”

“And I did it for free this season since we were all in Boatem together!” Impulse said. “Wow, I can’t believe this. You’ve just been scamming for bedrock breaking services this whole time.”

“It’s not just me doing this bedrock right now,” Grian defended feebly. “Mumbo’s helping.”

“Er, I suppose I kind of am, aren’t I?” Mumbo said.

“Yeah, what’s up with you two?” Scar asked. “I know you’re weird but you’re normally not this weird.”

“Hey-” Mumbo started.

“He stole my soul!” Grian said. “He tricked me into signing away my soul, and then he ATE it, and now he’s like this. Because I’m like this.”

“You’re not going to ever let me live that down, will you?”

“Nope.”

“Um, I’m out of the loop,” Impulse said. “What is ‘this’?”

“And what is soul eating?” Scar asked, eyes sharp and glinting with something unknown. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to tell Scar it was possible to steal people’s souls.

Grian took a deep breath. He was getting pretty good at explaining things now, wasn’t he? It was beginning to feel like a routine. Lay out what a Watcher is and what a Watcher does. Lay out why he’s one of them, and why he’s here instead of doing what they do. Perhaps lay out why Mumbo’s here too, and how that works. And avoid the question that inevitably gets asked, of why didn’t you say anything sooner?

“It’s-”

“‘This’ is something that is saving us right now,” Mumbo said. “And this is just Grian.”

“Yeah,” Grian said softly. “I’m just me.”

<< Chapter Nine | Masterpost | Chapter Eleven >>

#hermitcraft #grian #mumbo jumbo #goodtimeswithscar #impulsesv #pearlescentmoon #boatem crew #hermitcraft season 8 #watcher grian #watcher mumbo #hermitcraft fanfic #quara fanfic

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shurisneakers · 3 years

Text

harmless (xiii)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader)

Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, smidge of angst, guns, little bit of violence, obnoxious flirting, and kidnapping lol

Word count: 6.2k

A/N: welcome to chaos week >:) this is the first of three updates coming out this week (if i can finish the last one in time). big thank you to my love @no-shit-sherl0ck for the kidnaped!reader idea, and that one anon who suggested the inator that’s used here. i know you wanted to see it in a zoo but i couldn’t really figure out a way to use that so i referenced it a bunch in previous chapters. oh and also @ginevranights for this specific imagery

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

Who the fuck kidnaps a villain in this day and age?

Saturday started normally enough.

Nat kicked Bucky’s ass in training, evening the score to 120 and 120. He blames it on the lack of sleep. She tells him that it’s his fault he stayed up late to binge watch 911 Lone Star.

He still thinks it was worth it.

The team’s sunshines and rainbows that morning. Someone had cooked up a batch of pancakes and fresh orange juice. Someone else burnt the bacon but left to feed his dog before anyone could complain.

Nat opened up the newspaper. Different sections went to different people until Bucky got stuck with the entertainment section. Fun, considering that he doesn’t even recognise half the names. He’d have to pretend to be interested until the next rotation.

He watches the orange juice levitate in front of him from the corner of his eye and just assumes that Wanda’s getting a refill even though she could have just asked him to pass it. He smells the next batch of bacon burning and figures that Clint is back.

Sam’s beside him, annoying him about how long it takes for him to read about which new celebrity relationship just ended and Bucky retaliates by reading even slower. Fuck you.

He’s on his second stack of pancakes absolutely drenched in maple syrup when the doors to the elevator open and Marie steps out, laptop in her hand.

An instant chorus of hello’s and invitations to have some charred bacon resound through the table. She politely declines them with a small smile, instead opening her laptop and placing it in front of Bucky without further ado.

He looks at her questioningly, slowly swallowing whatever was in his mouth.

“An email for you.” She tuts her head towards it. “It has a video attachment of your friend.”

Bucky has plans to not watch the video in front of everyone, given that the content could range anywhere from you reading out fanfiction about him to a deep-fake of him singing a Whitney Houston song.

Both of which you have done before and would do again, without any hesitation.

“Aren’t you gonna watch it?” Wanda asks from across the table.

He slowly shakes his head no, cutting his stack into smaller pieces.

“If what’s in it is real, it’s important,” Marie stresses.

“What’s in it?” he inquires instead, hoping that the team would stop staring at him. If Marie was implying strongly that he needed to watch then something was wrong.

“Just watch it, man.” Sam’s statement has everyone agreeing with him. Bucky can’t refuse now, and if the team makes fun of him for the next month about how he looks good belting Greatest Love of All, he’s going to personally assassinate you.

He clicks on the email, noticing it came from a throwaway address. Probably untraceable, if the cards are played right.

The video opens to grainy footage, which is stupid considering modern technological advancements. If this is one more of your stupid LARPing sessions, it could definitely wait till after lunch.

But, he instantly recognises your silhouette strapped to a chair and suddenly the room feels very cold around him. His hand automatically clutches onto a bead from the bracelet you gave him that still remained tied to his left arm more often than not.

“Speak,” someone commands off camera.

“About what?” You sound annoyed, exasperated even.

“Why you’re here.”

“I’m here because you have unaddressed feelings of childhood insecurity.”

“I warned you to take this seriously.”

Bucky’s eyes widen slightly but his body relaxes the minute he reads the situation.

The team’s crowded around him, he can feel it. His attention remains on the screen in front of him.

“Who even are you sending this to?” You don’t sound the least bit threatened. “My roommate’s not at home but my cat is and I don’t think she’d care.”

”You’ve made a complete joke out of villains everywhere. Fraternising with the enemies, the Avengers,” he spits the name with so much vitriol. “You’ve erased what it’s like to be truly evil. Turned us into a laughing stock.”

“If it takes one person to undermine your whole movement then maybe it wasn’t strong enough to begin with.” You look at someone outside the lens, face scrunching in distaste. “Also your costume’s ugly.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., can you trace this voice?” Bucky asks, receiving an immediate confirmation. “Figure out who it is.”

“On it.”

“Tell them. Tell them we are a serious threat and are to be feared.”

"No,” you say resolutely. “You’re an overgrown manchild. Go watch Teletubbies or something.”

“She does not give a shit,” Clint marvels at the situation, a piece of half eaten burnt toast between his fingers.

You didn’t. And if he knew you in the slightest, which he prided himself on at this point, you already had six different ways of getting out of there.

“She knows she’s going to be fine,” Bucky murmurs, returning back to take a bite of his pancakes. “She’s probably still there just to irritate him.”

He zeroes in on your wrist to see if the teleportation watch was still there but no, your wrists are bare. Guess you forgot.

“You have to.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s how a real villain does it.”

“A real villain- what are you, gatekeeping the villain community?” You scoff. “You sound like a fuckin’ incel.”

“Just send them a message,” the guy bellows, hitting a table.

“She’s going to frustrate them to death.” An accurate observation, Sam.

“Okay, jeez, fine.”

Bucky just knows that you rolled your eyes at that moment.

He had faith in you, or in your abilities at the very least. While every wisecrack could possibly inch you closer towards harm, you probably wouldn’t be making them unless you felt completely secure in your situation.

“Help, I’m totally kidnapped and in danger. Save me because I can’t do it myself. This man is too powerful and strong and sooo scary.”

“Do you think she has a strategy?”

“Definitely.”

“You’re not worried, James?” Wanda asks curiously. “I thought she was your friend.”

“She is my friend.” He reaches over to take the jug of orange from across the table. “That’s why I’m not worried.”

“Are you going to fight the Avengers?” you interrupt his endless tirade. “Because that’s a stupid plan. You get how that’s a stupid plan, right?”

“Let them come. I’m prepared.”

“With what? A stick you found outside? A Nerf gun? Man, you’ve tied my hands with fuckin’ zip ties, you can’t be serious-”

“Shut up,” he roared and the stand shakes slightly from where he stamps his feet. “Our army is enough.”

“Wow,” you exhale. “I wish I had your confidence, I really do. I want to study you under a microscope.”

“I have reinforcements.” It sounds like he turns to the camera to address it directly. “This is a warning. Your friends have an hour to find you or things are gonna turn ugly. This is what real evil looks like.”

“Evil dresses in a dollar store Speedo, apparently.” The man pays you no heed, instead picking up the camera. “Hey, sarge, if you’re watching this, don’t bother. I’m fine, it’s not even the real me-”

The camera cuts to black.

“When was this video sent?” Nat looks at Marie, eyebrows drawn together.

“About ten minutes ago.”

Bucky clicks out of the email, determined to get at least half his breakfast in him before he left to see what’s up with your situation. A notification pops up immediately.

[email protected] just sent you an email.

A video attachment.

“We got another one,” Bucky informs the team, drawing their attention back to the screen from the informal conversation that had erupted between them about what they could do.

This time, there’s a subject line included.

Attack on the Clone.

"Ain’t that a Star Wars movie?" he asks, craning his neck to look at Clint.

"That's Attack of the Clones," Sam corrects. "Probably autocorrect."

Bucky narrowed his eyes in suspicion at him, jaw sliding outward before falling back into place. Enough times had Sam called him Fucky in the group chat and gotten away with it for him not to be wary.

“Or a code,” Wanda suggests, too many crime thrillers read and podcasts listened in her spare time. She occasionally brought them over to Self Care Saturday, introducing him to the world of true crime as a bit of light content while they snacked on chocolate chip cookies he baked. “Like the Zodiac.”

“For what?” Bucky peers over at her.

“All I remember from that movie is them rolling around a field together,” Clint mutters. “Maybe that’s how you’re supposed to save her.”

“I’m not saving anyone. Look at her, she’s fine.” Is he the only one who saw it?

When he’s met with skeptical looks and no other useful suggestions, he presses play on the video.

This time it's clearer footage. It hardly takes him a second to ascertain where it was.

"That's her lair." It showed the pathway leading up to the flat concrete building, exactly where the intercom should be.

There was a black Sedan parked haphazardly outside, engine still on judging by the sound of the radio blasting an AC/DC song.

Within a few seconds, someone drags you from the entrance of the lair to the car, despite your very clear protests and opposition, shoving you inside before it takes off in full speed, tires screeching.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., track the car from that video. Check all the CCTV and surveillance footage from around the area that you can find," Bucky commands, taking a sip of orange juice.

"Why would they send us that?" Clint pipes up. "They make their email untraceable but send us a video of the fuckin' abduction itself?"

"I don't know." Bucky shakes his head, setting his glass down. "She probably convinced them to."

It was an unusual scenario, he realised that. But his eyebrows lower in contemplation, his lip caged between his lip before a thought suddenly occurs to him. A laugh in disbelief almost escapes his throat ad he pushes it down with some freshly cut strawberries.

"And they listened?"

"I don't think you realise how annoying she can be." He knows, though. He knows. "Bet they regret it, though. I should tell them to keep her for a little longer."

"Voice recognition registers voice to someone named Chad, better known by his alias Soul Crusher. Surveillance footage places the car about thirty minutes away. Exact location sent to your phone GPS."

Soul Crusher. That was worse than Dr. Strange.

"I can make that fifteen." Bucky shrugs, setting down his fork and knife. If his hunch is right, the team didn’t really have to get involved. “See you guys later.”

“Do you want any of us coming with you?” Wanda gestures to the crowd at hand.

“I got it.” He pushes away from the table, depositing his plate in the sink, dropping an extra piece of bacon on the ground for Clint’s dog. “She’ll be alright.”

They watch him trail out of the room briskly, heading up to his room to change.

“Is it just me or is he too casual about this?” Clint continues staring long after he leaves.

“Both of them are weirdos.” Nat pulls open the newspaper again, going back to the sport’s section. “Who knows what goes in their heads.”

“Can confirm that not a lot goes on in his.”

Without Bucky to retaliate or grumble, a Steve walking into the room, sweaty and shiny after training becomes the new subject of jokes that morning.

For the first time in months, he’s had to bring a weapon or two along with him. Two revolvers and a couple of knives kept out of plain view. He wouldn’t need more than that anyway.

True to his word, it takes only fifteen minutes to get there, thirteen if he didn’t stop for the chain of ducks that crossed the street.

He’s also dressed in a little more leather than he usually reserves for your meetings. A jacket that brings to act as a windbreaker and tightly laced up combat boots make him look like he either stepped off a runway, or more menacing than usual depending on who was looking.

The GPS points him to an old warehouse near a more subdued part of the city. It was abandoned by the looks of it, and had been for a while judging by the lack of upkeep. Prime real estate.

He pulls off his helmet, hanging it on the handlebar along with his backpack before kicking the stand into place. The bike’s a few metres away just in case they decide to blow something up.

Bucky looks up at the warehouse, assessing the most damage he could do to it if at all it was needed. That thing could barely stand on its own, a grenade would absolutely decimate it. That wasn’t good news for you.

He sighs once before putting on his death glare, straightening out his shoulders into a stature that screams stone-cold, and pushes the door open, gun raised.

A mini-army of people ranging from their early twenties to late thirties stood guard at the entrance, all with rifles pointed at him. He counts fifteen, maybe eighteen.

“Oh, hell no,” a voice erupts from the back, followed by the sound of his gun being thrown to the ground. “No one told me that he was coming.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, his death glare not shifting and Glock not lowering.

“I’m out.” The same guy raises his hands up to show he meant no harm, slowly brushing past Bucky as he squeezed out of the building.

“You got five seconds to leave before I shut this door,” Bucky gives the rest of them an ultimatum. Not like there was a point anyway. SHIELD was sending down some people to account for the one day rise in new morons.

They all looked at each other, swallowing thickly before raising their weapons.

“I hope he’s giving you good insurance.” The second he finishes his sentence they all cry out in what sounds like a fucking war chant, launching themselves at him.

______

“They’re here.” Someone presses his ear to the door as if the gunshots and screaming weren’t enough.

“Brilliant. We’re ready.” Chad picks up the knife, running his finger along the sharp end. You try to see if you can use your Twitter-ordained powers of manifestation for a paper cut.

“How much are you asking them for?” You put forth a query instead, when it disappointingly doesn’t work.

“Asking who for what?” Chad stops his dumb intimidation tactic for a second.

“You know,” you insist like it was obvious, “my ransom. How much did you ask them to pay?”

“We didn’t-” He looks around at the other people in the room for confirmation. “-we didn’t ask for any.”

“Because I’m invaluable?” Your head droops to the side in mock flattery. “Aw, you guys.”

“We didn’t think of it,” someone from the corner behind you speaks up, coming to the aid of their boss.

“Now that’s just rude.” You tut, shifting maybe an inch or two in your bounds to try and get more comfortable. “Leaving aside your lack of preparation, let’s just assume he bursts in here, desperate and ready to bargain. How much would you ask for?”

“Three million,” Chad says confidently, gathering a nod and sounds of agreement from everyone else.

“Are you serious?” Your jaw drops, a scoff escaping you. “That’s all?”

His self-assurance falters a little bit, you can see it under his 5 Minutes Craft mask.

“Three mill-” You stop mid-sentence. “With this wiring? Ridiculous. Make it ten, I demand it.”

“We’ll ask for fifteen mil,” Chad proposes, his teammates agreeing again, a little more delighted than last time.

“Ask for thirty, you coward,” you argued. “Thirty million and a jet.”

“You’re not worth that much.” The dipshit diagonal to you pipes up with his unwanted and, frankly, useless opinion.

“And you are?” You whip around the best you can. “Henchman number four?”

“Megedagik,” he informs, standing up a little taller now that he was given some importance. “It means ‘killer of many’.”

“Did you just say your name was Mega Dick?”

“Megedagik,” he corrects.

You stare at him hard before turning away. “Alright, other than Mega Dick here, does anyo-”

A knife lands right next to your feet, driven at least an inch into the ground. You look up at the guy you managed to piss off within four sentences, his face now a beet red.

“These are brand new, asshole,” you barked, shaking your shoes around. “You’re gonna pay if there’s even a scratch on it.”

“Permission to kill her?” Meg growls, casting a side eye at Chad.

The boss man looks at you thoughtfully, assessing the repercussions of what might happen. You raise an eyebrow.

“Slow and painful,” he settles.

A small smirk makes its way onto your face.

“Title of your sex tape,” you quip as the man in the corner storms towards you.

_____

It’s all a flurry, really. A bunch of inexperienced newcomers versus one of the most skilled assassins the world had ever seen? Ten minutes tops.

Bucky doesn’t do any serious damage. A couple of broken bones but only out of necessity, a lot of concussions, and maybe a bullet wound, or three, here and there.

Most of the time he spends thinking about things that have absolutely nothing to do with what was going on. He forgot to take his laundry out of the machine. There was a biscotti recipe he had been procrastinating on trying. His succulents needed watering but he could do that once he was back. Was he wearing his good combat pants or was it the pair that had a hole in the pocket?

His left hand thrust outwards to shove someone away while he stuck his right hand into his pocket to check if it had frayed away. The person he pushed slams into a wall with a loud groan and no, his pants didn’t have a hole in them.

He stops to take a breather, assess what was going on. There are bodies scattered all around, mostly writhing in pain from minor injuries. Someone very bravely stands up, hands posed in front of him in a regular fighting stance.

“You sure about this?” Bucky asks, reaching for one of the concealed knives he hadn’t had a chance of using yet. It twirls rather nimbly between his fingers for something so dangerous, the hilt finally landing in his palm for a sturdy grip.

The man takes one look at the knife before sitting right back down on the ground.

“Good choice,” his voice drops to an octave lower than his self-esteem. He’s tired of this old routine but it works like a neat little party trick, often getting him the result he wanted. “Where?”

A few fingers point down the hall to the only room whose door was closed.

He makes sure to step over everyone who was lying along the way, ears tuned in to even the smallest of noises just in case one of them decided to attack him from the back. It doesn’t come.

He doesn’t bother creeping down the hallway. With all the ruckus that just went on outside, he’s pretty sure it’s obvious that they had an intruder.

Bucky kicks in the large steel door with ease, given that it was barely hanging on its hinges. His gun’s raised, muscles tight, and senses on high alert for any immediate threats.

It lands with a large thud, reverberating through the room. He’s reminded of your first meeting with him.

There’s a chair in the middle of the room with a person tied to it by a mixture of rope and tape. Others found themselves slithering around on the floor in a similar fashion, trying to get out of their bondages.

“Hey, James,” you call out, drawing his attention to you. You were sitting atop a table, legs swinging back and forth without a care in the world, a blade in your hand.

“You okay?” He tucks the gun into his waistband when he realises that none of the henchmen are going to be going anywhere soon.

“All good.” You hop off the table with a little spring in your step. “Did you bring your bike? I need a ride back to the lair. I think I left the TV on when I was, you know, getting kidnapped.”

“You coulda teleported back home before all of this even happened.” Bucky does a quick assessment of your body to make sure there weren’t any bruises or anything of the sort. “Avoided the whole thing.”

“Don’t have the watch with me.” Odd, since he knows you consider it one of your essentials but it just fuels his theory further. “Besides, if I just quit before we started, they’d keep messing with me over and over again.”

“Do you want me to punch someone’s face in?” He glances around the room at the ones wiggling about on the floor like fucking worms. “I’d be happy to.”

“Nah, I got a few in myself.” You rotate your wrist, other hand still holding onto the knife. “You know what, maybe I’ll have another go.”

He simply makes a noise in acknowledgement before he places a hand on the hem of your shirt, gently reeling you back. “I think you fixed ‘em up real good. That’s enough for today.”

“Fine but only ‘cause you said so.” You huff, looking past him and at the weirdos on the ground. “You hear that? This man just saved your life. Say ‘thank you’.”

A muffled chorus of what sounded like appreciation echoed through the room. Bucky awkwardly looks around.

“Damn right.” You walk over to the guy in charge of the whole event, bending down to his level. “If you ever try to fuck with us again...”

You stare straight into his eyes, unblinking. You hold up the knife to his Adam’s apple. Chad doesn’t dare to move other than the thick swallow.

You raise your finger and flick him in the forehead. “Get a better costume.”

The corner of Bucky’s lip quirks upward.

“Let’s go, sarge,” you announce, standing upright again and making a motion to follow you. “D’you have an extra helmet I could use?”

“Yeah.” He had brought one along in his bag, assuming that you’d need one once he noticed the watch was missing in the footage.

“Yay.”

The only storage space on his bike was under his seat and it’s just enough for an extra revolver. Clint asked him if it was his way of flirting with someone, give ‘em a quick spin around the city and then show them his gun. If looks could kill, Clint would be 7 feet under.

“You sure you wanna ride it, though?” He cringes immediately when he realises what it sounds like, waiting for you to smack the innuendo in his face. “We could wait for SHIELD.”

“Don’t really have another choice, Bucky,” you say absentmindedly, strolling out the room as you tossed the knife behind you.

He frowns at your indifference but turns around for a second to look at Chad. The man in question looks back viciously, his grandeur from that morning basically deflated and left to die along with his reputation.

“Might wanna reconsider the name,” Bucky remarks, doing a quick sweep of the area once more. “Soul Crusher.”

He waits until both of you are outside the cell and the door is shut on the ringleader and his circus clowns, handlebar twisted out of place so that they don’t escape for the time being.

“One second,” he calls, touch gently lingering on your forearm to stop you without even thinking twice about it. A famously uncharacteristic move for him.

"Hm?” You don’t even look like you notice his action.

“You sure you’re good?” he asks seriously, actual concern slipping through the question. “Do you need medical assistance?”

“They couldn’t hurt me anyway.” There’s something strange about the way you say it, almost assuredly. “I’m good.”

“Okay,” he concedes, his hand darting back when he realises it was still on your arm. His eyebrows furrow when he realises how instinctively he had reached out in the first place. He didn’t touch anyone, ever.

“What are we gonna do about them?” you inquire, stepping over someone on the floor to get to the exit.

“Marie told Agent Hill. They’re sending someone over.”

“They’re sending SHIELD for these wannabes?” Someone groans in protest from somewhere and you elect to ignore them. “Ew.”

“Just to make sure confidential information isn’t compromised in any way.” There’s a large bang that comes from the room they just left. Maybe one of them shot their teammate by accident. They were more than capable of doing it.

“I would never,” you exacted a little more solemnly, pushing the door open with your elbow to let the sunlight flood in.

“I know.” He doesn’t realise how dark it was in the warehouse until he steps out into the noon sun. “I’m pretty sure this is more about the fact that you were abducted.”

“For me?” The smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes the way he kinda likes. Something definitely felt off. “I love being class favourite.”

He doesn’t reply, a small grunt as he twists the handle of the warehouse door upwards, effectively jamming it.

“Can I drive?” You bat your eyelashes at him innocently, disregarding the loud screaming that came from inside as those less injured probably regrouped for a last ditch attempt.

“No,” he doesn’t hesitate in replying, handing you a helmet and buckling his own securely.

“But I just got kidnapped,” you complained, watching him swing a leg over the bike and straddle it. Okay then.

“All the more reason for you not to drive right now.” He mentions for you to get on, squinting at the warehouse a few feet away.

“Fine, but next time I’m driving,” you grumble, climbing on the back.

“Do you even know how to?” His head is tilted to look at you from the corner of his eye, voice heavier on account of the obstruction on his face.

The door starts shaking violently and he knows for a fact that it won’t hold up for much longer. Some of those who he had knocked out probably had been shaken awake again for manpower.

“I can learn.” You take a pause, mischief seeping into your next words. “You can teach me.”

“No.” He didn’t exactly practice what was considered safe, law abiding driving. He just got from one point to another and that’s all he cared about.

“Then I’ll do it myself.” You sound determined. “I’m going to leave a note for us in the lair.”

“You do that.” He revs the engine when something solid hits the metal door. As guessed, their usage of props to push it down faster was coming into play. “Now, can you hold on to something? We need to go.”

If only those idiots just realised that the windows covered by newspapers were right there, ready to be broken.

“Only if you promise to let me drive next time,” you say defiantly, drawing this whole ordeal out.

“Whatever,” he urges. “I promise. Now can we go?”

“Wait for it...” There’s a devilish smile on your face. “One.”

There’s a loud creak as the door finally gives way.

“Two.” The same people you left tied up in the room burst out, almost stumbling over each other in the process.

“Three,” he completes it on his own, not waiting for you to finish because God knows how long you’d stretch it out just for the drama.

Your excited screech of laughter as he narrowly misses a rod that gets thrown at him like a fucking javelin temporarily distracts him from the brain freeze he gets when your arms wind around his waist to hold yourself in place.

There’s angry screaming and bullets that whiz past in an attempt to get him to stop but a swift turn around a corner, pulling the both of you out of their sight is enough to get rid of them.

“We should get a few weapons and go back,” you yell over the wind rushing by, barely audible.

“You do that in your own free time,” he shouts in response, yanking you through narrower lanes and less popular streets.

“Maybe I will, you bore.”

Still, you shut up for the rest of the ride, only grumbling when he stops the bike to tell you that no, you cannot let go just because you want to throw your hands in the air like in the movies.

You hop off when he finally pulls up on the street outside your lair, adrenaline still pumping through your veins. He waits patiently as you unbuckle the helmet, switching off the engine.

“You gonna drop me off at my door too, now?” You snicker, fingers pulling off the helmet.

He looks at you for a second before dropping the kickstand into place and dismounting from the motorcycle.

“I was kidding.” You laugh, handing him your headgear that he shoves into his backpack.

“You’re pretty capable of gettin’ abducted along the way.” An absurd notion, considering it’s a short path from the road to the door.

“Oh, how chivalrous.” You let him tag along anyway, for his peace of mind.

“My ma didn’t expect any less.” A couple of sharp lessons from Winifred Barnes and Bucky was nothing short of a damn angel.

You knock on the door three times, crossing your arms over your chest as you waited.

“Aren’t you the one with the key?” Bucky questions, one hand on his waist.

The door swung open in the middle of his sentence revealing... you.

Another you.

“Nah, she has it.” Ex-Kidnapped-You raises your head in acknowledgement at Doorway-You.

“Ah.” He fucking knew it. An unnatural sense of smugness blossoms in his chest.

“Hey,” the both of you said at the same time.

Doorway-You looked way more relaxed, a little less grimy and dishevelled but exactly the same.

“Buck, I see you met my other half,” the you from the doorway greets him. “Or other whole, actually.”

“Sure did.” He sends a glance at Ex-Kidnapped-You.

“You can go on in. Big first day, huh?” Doorway-You refers to the you beside him.

“You wouldn’t believe,” Ex-Kidnaped-You mutters, pushing past the entrance and disappearing inside.

“She gonna be okay?” His gaze trails after your clone.

“Oh yeah, just needs to recharge.” You turn around to make sure she’s fine. “She’s made of some pretty strong carbon, technically almost indestructible.”

No wonder ‘you’ said they couldn’t hurt you.

“Heya, sarge.” You draw his attention back to you. “Always good to see you.”

“Can’t really say the same about you.”

“Ever the emotional repressor, Mr Barnes. I like this little leather show you got going, did ya wear it just for me?”

He shifts his balance to his other foot, feet slightly wide apart. “Take it that the clone machine finally worked?”

“I was in the middle of celebrating.” You sigh, recalling the events of that morning. “Teleported home for a second to get some champagne and when I came back she was gone.”

“Irresponsible.” He tsks, head shaking in disappointment.

“Sorry I didn’t take amateur kidnappers into account for my risk factor analysis, Bucky,” you shoot back, pressing on his name for added annoyance. “Anyway, I did the responsible thing. I sent all the evidence I had to you guys.”

“Real clever.” Bucky looks at you in dry amusement. “Attack on the clone? Really?”

“Hey, always make time for a good pun.” You finger gun, lopsided grin on your face. “Did the team like it?”

“They thought it was a typo.” Or a code. He really had Wanda to thank for his big revelation. “Your video didn’t help either.”

“Don’t tell me they couldn’t make out it was me.” You laugh, crossing your arms over your chest.

He doesn’t reply, pursing his lip inwards in sympathy, but more so to conceal a smile.

The happiness drops from your face slowly, horror taking its place. “Don’t tell me they couldn’t make out it was me.”

“Good job, your machine worked,” he adds helpfully.

“C’mon, there were so many differences,” you whine, the success of your endeavour the last thing on your mind.

“That is your literal clone,” he points out, only to see you- clone you- walk into the giant box in the corner of the room, bright green light emanating from it like a xerox machine.

“How could they not tell the original apart from a copy?” You look genuinely offended. Insane. “Not even Sam?”

“Guess you’re not unique enough.” A rise and fall of his shoulders signify his attitude towards this whole thing. “Think I like your copy better, too, actually.”

“You’re so mean.” You puff in disbelief. “I’m a 100% original. How many mad scientist teachers do you know?”

“Two.”

“I don’t mean now, that’s not even the-” You poke at his rock hard chest. “You are so much more annoying than when I first met you.”

He thinks it’s good relationship development.

“I have to deal with you every weekend.” He watches your finger drop from his chest. “Picked it up along the way.”

“Boo hoo, talking like you don’t have deep, deep feelings for me.” You roll your eyes. “I see right through you, Bucky Barnes.”

“Can you see the part that couldn’t give less of a shit?” He gestures to himself. “It’s all of it.”

“You think you’re such a comedian, huh?” You narrow your eyebrows. “How did you know she was a fake then, huh?”

Busted.

“Probably ‘cause you didn’t talk as much today,” he dodges. “Actually had some peace of mind for a change.”

“You knew before you got there, you liar.” You push past his fabrications. “You figured it out before everyone else.”

“You literally put it in the title.”

“Yeah, but the rest of the team saw it too.”

“Rest of the team didn’t know you were building a goddamn clone machine for months.”

“You remembered that?” You pulled away, palm over your heart. “Oh, sarge, you paid attention to me.”

His nose twitches.

“You said it, like, eight hundred times.” He could use both his hands to count the number of references you had offhandedly made in the last three weeks alone.

“Why'd you go save me when you knew it wasn't real?” you continue to challenge relentlessly, knowing fully well that he was fibbing.

“Because you fuckin’ peer pressured me. Had the whole team around me when you sent your little video during breakfast.”

“Just admit it,” you coo, ignoring all his justifications. “You noticed it was fake me right away but showed up anyway because you’re wildly in love with me.”

“No,” he says stiffly.

“No as in you won’t admit it you have a crush on me, or no as in you didn’t know it was fake me?”

There was no winning this.

“Good day to you.” He pulls the motorcycle helmet on to hide the expression that plain as day screamed the former of your two options.

“Also,” you bring up indignantly, “she even got to ride the fucking bike and I’ve been asking to drive it for months now!”

“We-” he chooses his words carefully. “-compromised.”

“Oh, you did?” Your voice lowers at the newfound information, interest piqued. “I’m gonna hold you to that then, whatever it is.”

“Doesn’t count.”

“Absolutely does,” you huff. “A promise is legally binding. Blue’s Clues taught me that.”

“Bye, Y/N.”

“You’re my knight in leathery armour,” you swoon, switching sides immediately, “Kinda.”

“See you next week,” he says in farewell, determined to leave before you made it worse. “Try not to get killed by then.”

“Why, so you can do it yourself? Protective much?” You pull him back when he starts walking away, laughing slightly. “Wait a second, you weirdo.”

He sighs, staying put anyway, arms crossed impatiently over his chest.

You pull out the pen tucked behind your ear and slowly tap him twice on each shoulder in a makeshift knighting ceremony. “For your sacrifice.”

He rolls his eyes at the ludicrousness, tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth.

You ignore his lack of enthusiasm, pressing your fingertips to your lips in a small kiss and then to his nose, given that it was the only part of his face you had access to.

“That was for your bravery.” You grin brightly at him and he sure as hell is glad he’s wearing the stupid helmet because he can feel his cheeks light up a bright crimson.

“Thanks.” His voice sounds gruffer than a second ago. He clears his throat.

“Now you’re my knight in leathery armour,” you fawn, nearly falling over yourself dramatically. “Let’s ride into the sunset together. I love you.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he calls out over his shoulder, turning away to return to his bike. “I despise you.”

“But you don’t.”

He really didn’t.

also i managed to fuck my phone up really bad so all proceeds from my ko-fi go towards getting it fixed

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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griffintail · 4 years

Note

I’ll set the scene, cause I feel like this needs a lil explaination, but imagine this:

One of the The Parent Gang (this is how I refer to the characters you’ve written all the wonderful parental stuff about) is wandering around an area they’re unfamiliar with, mainly just lookin to get some new resources or find a decent mine, when they stumble upon a water well in the middle of an empty field. The first thing off about this is there isn’t a village around for MILES, secondly the well is completely dry and empty, and third of all when they look into the well (which goes down pretty deep compared to the usual village wells), they see a CHILD at the bottom of it. The kid’s clearly malnourished, clothes in rags, dark circles under their tiny eyes, and when they see the Parental Gang member everything about the child brightens up; whoops, guess who’s gonna be a dad~!

- from, an Anon Who’s Trapped in Their Own Love of the Found Family Trope and Never Wants to Leave❤️❤️❤️

Yeah, I love those tropes. I love any child reader tropes though! XD

Wilbur is also my favorite thus, I picked him from the gang!

Well Met

Pairing: Parental! Wilbur x Child! F! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of malnourishment, Implied Mistreatment, It’s light angst that rapidly turns into fluff

Wilbur was hoping to find a place to loot to get a few bits of equipment for L’Manberg. Maybe he could even find a village that would like to trade for a few bits of good gear to keep in case of emergency. He really didn’t mean to wander so far out though.

“I should have brought a horse.” He muttered as he put his hands on his hips, looking up at the sun at the highest point in the sky.

He needed to head back if he wanted to get home before the night struck. Looking around, he hoped he could find something that would be a good enough landmark to remind him where he stopped when he came back out with a horse. Instead, he squinted thinking his eyes were playing tricks on him.

In the middle of the spruce forest, there was a well that Wilbur would usually see in a village, but there wasn’t one for miles, hence his search. Taking another quick look at his surroundings, he went over to the well. It was an older well, moss growing along the sides and a severed rope where the bucket would hang. He heard no water, so, he looked down, nearly falling in as he startled seeing something that was most certainly not water.

He stared in surprise as he looked at the small figure of what he could only assume was a child. As they looked up at him, he had to restrain himself from just jumping down the well. Big, innocent (E/C) eyes met his, looking so dull for a moment with bags under them before they sparkled with hope. When she, Wilbur assumed looking at them, looked up at them, he saw the rags she wore and how tiny she was. She opened her mouth but only a cough left her lips.

“Relax.” He quickly told her as she whimpered at the pain the cough brought her. “I know you’re here. I’m going to get you out as soon as I can. Just give me a moment.”

Desperately, he dug through his bag and breathed a sigh of relief that he did pack rope in case he found any sort of temple.

“Alright, darling.” He talked to her to keep her calm while he tied the rope to the nearest tree, not trusting the possible rooting well wood. “I’m going to come down and get you. We’ll see what to do when I get you up but we’re going to do this one step at a time.”

He gave a hard tug to the rope and it held. Carefully, he tossed it down and he felt so much relief that it ended close enough at the bottom for him to get down.

“I’m coming love.” He told her as he climbed in.

Scaling down the wall, he tried to think how this poor small child got in this situation. If someone left her there, he would not rest until he found those people. But one situation at a time.

He hit the floor and he saw how skinny the poor girl was. Not a drop of water was on the floor so he could only assume she was dehydrated as well after that violent cough. Carefully, he crouched in front of her, giving her a gentle smile. She couldn’t be any more than six as well and it made anger grow in the back of Wilbur’s head.

“Hi, sweetie. Let’s get you out of here, ya?”

She gave a small, slow nod.

“Alright, well I’m going to pick you up and you’re going to have to hold onto me like you’re giving me a big hug, ok?”

She gave a similar nod.

“Ok, here we go.”

He picked her up carefully, noticing how she flinched slightly and how cold she was. Since he was so warm, she gave no hesitance to hold onto him as she nuzzled into his chest to take in the warmth. He hesitated in surprise before wrapping his other arm around her, patting her greasy hair, which made him wince at the feeling.

“It’s ok, we’re going.”

He held her with one arm now and grabbed the rope with his free hand.

“Keep holding on like this.” He reminded her lightly before starting his climb.

It was much more difficult with a passenger to climb up and even more difficult when he could only use one hand. He stayed determined though to get out, not for himself but the little girl clinging onto him. The climb was long but he reached the top, hugging the girl tighter as he swung himself out. Sitting on the ground, putting his back on the well wall, his breath came out rapidly as he tried to catch it while the little girl stayed nuzzled in his chest.

“We made it.” He let out as he closed his eyes for a moment.

He waited till his breathing calmed down before he took in his situation. He had a possible starving and dehydrated child, miles away from L’Manberg. The sun would set soon and he’d be slower with the extra weight to bring along. So, he needed to set up camp.

“Alright darling, I have some water and an apple in my bag. I’m going to put you down and give you that while I set up a quick camp for us to rest in till morning. Ok?”

The little girl gave a nod and he lightly squeezed her before putting her down instead against a tree, kneeling in front of her as he went through his bag.

“Drink slowly, don’t want to make yourself sick.” He gently told her, giving her the water before taking a cloth and the apple.

Carefully, he cut apple using an unused arrow as she slowly drank. He put the cut-up apple on the cloth giving it to her.

“There were go, darling. You rest up and I’m going to get a fire going to warm you up.” He gently patted her shoulder before he stood up.

He took off his jacket and hat before working on getting a fire going. As he worked on getting materials, he took off his walkie.

“Tommy.” He called out on the public L’Manberg channel.

“Wilbur! Where are you?” Tommy questioned.

“I’ve gotten held up exploring, I’ll be back tomorrow. Keep everything together for me alright?”

“Of course, I will! I’m the Vice President!”

Wilbur chuckled lightly. “Right, thank you, Mr. Vice President. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Ok. Be careful out there.”

“Will do.” Wilbur nodded before putting his walkie away again.

He came back and started the fire. The little girl scooted closer to the warmth coming off the flames as he tried to set up a little shelter for the night to hide from mobs using large branches.

“Alright, we have somewhere to sleep little one.” He smiled as he sat next to her, wiping sweat off his forehead. “I should introduce myself now. I’m Wilbur, I’m President of a nation called L’Manberg.”

The little girl played with the rags she wore before she looked at him.

“I’m (Y/N).” She let out quietly, her voice still having a slight rasp.

He smiled wider hearing her speak. “That’s a very pretty name. Do you have a home?”

(Y/N) paused as she scrunched up her nose when she thought.

“I-I don’t remember things very well Mr. Wilbur. I don’t know.”

“Hey, it’s ok.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “I can take you back with me and you can think about it somewhere safe ok?”

She nodded. “Ok.”

“Then we’ll do that in the morning darling.”

When night fell, Wilbur shepherded her inside the shelter and made her comfortable little corner, laying his jacket on top of her. He stayed up during the night just incase with his bow at his side. As the night went on, he’d glance at the little girl to make sure she was alright. He was worried about how she might have gone down the well.

Was her bit of memory loss from how long she was down there? How long was she down there?!

He’d make sure she was ok though.

In the morning, he went out to check for any stray mobs before he woke up the little girl.

“It’s morning darling. Let’s get to L’Manberg.” He smiled gently as she rubbed her eyes sleepily.

“Ok, do you have more water, Mr. Wilbur?” She asked.

“No, I’m sorry love. I wasn’t planning on being out so late last night.” He apologized. “I’ll get us back as fast as I can so we can get more water.”

“Ok.” She muttered.

“Why don’t I carry you so you don’t tire out?” He offered as he put on his hat and his bag. “You can put my jacket on and then ride on my back.”

He helped her out before picking her up.

“Here we go (Y/N).” He smiled before making the walk home.

It was another half a day’s journey but he moved as quick as he could. As he walked, he told her dorky little stories to make her give little giggles and even sang a few songs to her, just wanting to keep her entertained. Before even he knew, half a day was gone and he grinned as he saw the welcoming walls of L’Manberg.

“There’s home.” He told her. “L’Manberg.”

“It looks pretty.” She mumbled.

“It is. And it has very nice people inside. I have a friend in there, Niki, I’m sure she’ll make you some cookies if you ask her nicely and we’ll get you some water.”

His own stomach grumbled but he didn’t feel it as he felt the little girl squeeze onto him lightly.

“That sounds nice Mr. Wilbur.”

“Just call me Wilbur. I’m going to be taking care of you until we see if you have a home, so no need for all that mister stuff.”

“Ok.” She smiled this time, hiding in his shoulder.

“Now, let’s get down there and get you cleaned up. Then, we can go look around with some cookies.”

He went down, smiling to himself. He didn’t know if (Y/N) had a home. He’d look, but he doubted there was any place that she belonged to but she’d have a home now if that was the truth. He’d give her the best care and live in one of the best nations, where he’d always keep her safe.

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction #wilbur soot x reader #dreamsmp #dreamsmp x reader

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marsbutterfly · 3 years

Note

Hey ! How are you ? Can I request an imagine for Hanji x f!reader where they both get reincarnated in modern time ? They both died side by side during the rubbling and when they get reincarnated they both have memories of their past life (they were already lovers). Reader thought she was never going to see her girlfriend again but one day she finds her by chance.

Take care and have a nice day !

Note: Thank you so much for requesting this. I had fun writing it and the prompt was *chefs kiss* so I really hope you like it.

In Another Life

Summary: Reincarnation is the doctrine or belief that the soul reappears after death in another and different bodily form.

Wattpad Version! | AO3 Version! |◁ II ▷|

Cold sweat drips down your face as you bolt awake, digging your nails into the bedsheets. The same nightmare has been waking you up in the middle of the night since you were a child.

In your dream, you are a soldier who battles to save humanity in the fight against titans. Somehow, you always manage to kill the gigantic beings and return safely to the world inside the walls.

Always by your side is a brown-haired woman with glasses, her left eye is missing in most of the dreams. In all honesty, you have never seen anyone so beautiful before and, somehow, you remember her name.

Hanji Zoe.

One day, you stood by her side as the world you’ve once known was being left behind, turned into dust. She held your face in her hands as tears streamed down her cheeks, the feeling of her lips against yours is vivid and you can even smell the apple she had earlier.

The scream of your comrades echoes through the plane and into your brain but all you can focus on is the image of Hanji’s body catching on fire as the same flames burn down your back.

She hits the ground seconds before you do and somehow you manage to land by her side, hand touching hand as her lifeless body begins to cool down. You don’t have much time to think before a titan’s massive foot squishes your bodies at the exact same time.

That’s usually when you wake up, when your lungs and heart explode inside your chest due to the pressure of the step. When every blood vessel in your body gives in to the pressure and bursts inside you.

You grab your phone, only to realize your alarm was about to go off anyway. So instead of trying to go back to sleep, you simply push the covers aside and begin to drag yourself to the bathroom in hopes of getting your day started.

Not every dream you have is a nightmare. Some of them are about a life you don’t remember living: The combination of joy and fear after joining the Survey Corps, the warmth of Hanji’s naked body against yours, the delicious smell of freshly made apple pie coming from the kitchen in the middle of the night.

At nights where you don’t dream about that life, you miss it. You miss being around your friends, being able to move around the trees as if you were flying, you miss her. Her deep, brown eyes are all you can think about and time slips away from you.

Once your morning routine is completed, you decide to go for a run in the park behind your house. Since the sun has been out for less than an hour, it shouldn’t be too busy and you’ll be able to enjoy some quiet time.

As the armband slides up your skin, a chilling sensation travels down your spine and nearly every particle of hair in your body rises, even though you can’t understand why. So you simply shake your head and push the feeling down.

Carefully, you select your favorite playlist and check to make sure your laces are tied but before you can actually look, your phone rings loudly in your ear nearly giving you a heart attack.

Without a second thought, you decline the call without even checking to see who it is and you make your way outside.

The cold breeze welcomes you and the sweet smell of the food cart in front of your house hits your nose. Usually after a run, you reward yourself with one of their delicious crepes and that is enough motivation for you to finish your jog.

At this time, the park is the most peaceful place in the city. No crying babies in their strollers or loud business men walking around on their phone, there is only you and maybe three more people.

Your favorite song comes on and you feel the energy pumping through your veins with every beat. It’s the perfect weather for a run and you silently enjoy the calm that washes over your body.

Your mind wanders back to your nightmares and you start to remember the better part of it. The times Hanji would take you to a secret picnic after she became commander or the makeout sessions in the janitors closet.

In some ways, you could even feel her warm skin against yours, her kiss-swollen lips attached to you by a string of saliva. It nearly feels as if you had lived throughout all of it, but it couldn’t be possible.

You’re so deep into your thoughts that you don’t notice the stick on the floor and, when you do, it’s too late and you’re already halfway towards the ground so all you can do is protect your face from the concrete.

The impact itself isn’t too painful but the humiliation is what stings the most. If only you hadn’t gotten that call before leaving your house, you would’ve remembered to tie your shoelaces and therefore they wouldn’t have gotten stuck on the stick on the floor.

This isn’t the first time the woman in your dreams has caused you trouble. In a few of your memories, she would make too much noise when you sneak out and the Commander would eventually catch you.

Ever since you were young and these dreams first started, you’ve been going to a therapist after the other in hopes of understanding what all of this means and why is it happening to you but all came to the same result: inconclusive.

No matter how many doctors you see, no one can understand why you have such vivid dreams about a war nobody has ever heard anything about or creatures that have never once been proven to exist.

With your ass on the ground, you notice you used the word “memories” instead of dreams and for a second you feel as if all air has been sucked out of your lungs by a massive vacuum.

You shake your head, pushing those feelings deep down inside of you and getting on your knee, preparing to tie your laces when a familiar perfume rushes by you.

It’s faint and quick, probably carried by the wind but enough for you to snap your head backwards. A comforting feeling settles in your chest, warm and fuzzy if you could describe it. That’s exactly how the woman from your dreams smelled like.

You notice a brunette in a bright yellow sports bra turning around a bush not too far away, but you can’t see if she’s wearing glasses or if she only has one eye, like Hanji did.

“Y/N don’t be ridiculous!” You say to yourself, standing up and brushing away the dirt from your clothes, “Hanji is not a real person, she’s like an imaginary friend.”

Forgetting all about your fall, you decide to resume your run. The pain in your foot forces you to go a bit slower than you are used to but nothing too serious.

Once you are done running your laps around the park and begin to make your way back home, a few drops of rain begin to fall on your skin, forcing you to rush home.

As you are eagerly awaiting for the crepe you’ve been dreaming about for hours, the owner of the small cart has a sad expression on his face.

“I’m fresh out of batter. My husband just went to grab some more, it should take a little longer than 45 minutes, I am so sorry Y/N.” He says and you sigh, a compassionate smile on your lips and you nod.

“You will save me the first one you make when he’s back right?” You ask and the man eagerly nods.

“Of course. With banana, strawberry and chocolate, right?”

And you laugh, knowing that the only reason why he knows your order so well is because his crepes have been your breakfast each morning since you first moved into this apartment.

Once you are done with the conversation, you rush up the stairs and immediately into the shower. With a washcloth you gently brush the dirt out of your bruised knee, quietly hissing as the burning sensation takes over.

Even though you know you aren’t supposed to do so, you pour hydrogen peroxide on top of the wound and a scream leaves your throat at every step of the way.

“Today really isn’t my day.” You say to yourself as you begin to wash your hair. A few specs of dirt fall to the ground and a prolonged sigh escapes your lips. Everything just seems to be going wrong: rain, no crepe, fell during a run, what’s next? Waiting in line at the coffee shop for over an hour?

As you stand in line, you realize you should have kept your mouth shut. Even though you ordered online, the amount of people surrounding the pick up area was beyond ridiculous and you were definitely getting late for work.

Once your turn finally comes, you thank silently in hopes that you will be able to actually make it in time. So with your chest out and happiness on your face, you loudly say over the many other voices, “Order for Y/N!”

The guy behind the counter looks confused as he checks every cup individually and you watch over him as he does so. He shoots you a sadden and a little annoyed look and you realize that the “Order” button never got pushed.

Your eyes fill with tears of frustration but you brush them away and take your phone out, repeating your online order to the barista on the register and they write it down perfectly.

Your eyes are glued to your phone’s screen while you wait for a message from your boss but the same comforting sensation you felt this morning is back again. Maybe it’s the smell of coffee that reminded you of the trips to Marley or the crowds of different people around, much like eldians and marleyans.

“I have to get this shit out of my brain.” You say, shaking your head and focusing on typing out a message to your friend, complaining and hoping that you won’t get fired today. You worked too hard to get this job and if they let you go over some 20 minute wait, you’ll raise hell on Earth.

“Order for Y/N?” A familiar voice says but you can’t identify from where.

So you walk to the counter, finally putting your phone away and counting the coffees. Your eyes land on the barista’s hand, who carries your regular order. You reach for it and in a split of a second, your hands touch.

The world around you seems to stop and so does your breathing. When you look at her, you realize she is the part of you that has been missing all along. She’s a real person and not a dream. You look at her nametag, just making sure you aren’t going insane and there it is. “Hanji Zoe”

In that minimal touch, you are bombarded by the emotions of a lifetime ago. The first day you met, the first titan experiment you had done together, the first kiss, the first time you’ve had to kill a titan because she would always get too damn close to being eaten alive.

But you are also reminded of the last meal you both ate, the last nose rub, the last time her lips touched yours, the last hand holding, the last breath you both took before you woke up where you are now.

And just like that, feelings you didn’t know were possible for you to have emerged from deep within your chest as if a box that has been sitting deep inside the closet has now just been opened. It even seems like the world has just gotten a bit more colorful.

Tears shine in your eyes as the coffee you just waited so long for hits the ground. With a smile on your face, you wrap your arms around her neck and pull her over the counter. It doesn’t take her more than a second to seal your lips together.

Her breath tastes like the hot chocolate she had earlier that day but it still manages to awaken butterflies that laid dormant in your stomach throughout your entire life. It’s not until your phone rings in your pocket that you are brought back to reality.

“I’m so late for work!” You smile at her and rush out of the store, the container with the other cups in your left hand.

“Wait!!” A voice screams from just outside the coffee shop and you immediately turn around to see Hanji, her hat in her hand as she comes closer to you. “I knew something was missing my entire life and….”

“And now I realize it was you.” You two say in perfect unison and she nods.

“Why don’t we start over? This time, without any titans around.” She asks and you smile.

“Hey, I’m Y/N.” You say, extending your hand.

“I’m Hanji Zoe and I would love to take you on a date sometime.” Hanji meets you in the middle, shaking your hand.

“I really have to go.” You say and a frown appears on her face, you have to fight the will to quit your job and start a nice, little life in the woods with her. Something you’ve always talked about but sadly never got to have.

“I’ll wait for you right here then.” She says, letting go of your hand slowly and you immediately touch the back of her head and bring her in for a long kiss while still managing to keep the cups in your hand still.

This time it was not a goodbye kiss. It was simply the second first kiss you’ve ever had with Hanji and hopefully, it will not be the last.

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Spilled Pearls Extra 3

Summary: Wen Ruohan, who is still a work in progress, confronts Qingheng-jun over Lan Qiren (set between Chapter 21 and 22)

- ao3 -

To cultivate is to go against destiny: this was something all cultivators knew.

That destiny was what tied all of nature together, uniting all things within one path to flow together along the same stream to the same ocean, and that to fight against that current was to fight alone – this, no one knew better than Wen Ruohan.

Excluding perhaps only those secluded cultivators that resided in their mysterious mountains, never seeing the light of day, there was no cultivator in the world like him. The years since his birth numbered a century and more, yet his face was youthful as it had been in his twenties; all those around him, being neither so talented nor so lucky nor even so ruthless, were born and lived and grew old and died even as he remained the same – the same, and yet not unchanging. Surrounded by short-lived mayflies, he existed beyond their understanding; by now, he had learned to look down upon them all as if looking upon ants, or else he might go mad for loneliness.

It was easier to be indifferent. Better to be frozen through and through despite all the flames of his fiery cultivation style, to ignore their meaningless cries and meaningless lives and focus only on himself alone. Sometimes Wen Ruohan wondered whether he had actually died when his normal lifespan was meant to have ended and that he now existed only as a ghost, full of resentment: it was far easier to be resentful of those living creatures around him that seemed to instinctively understand one another in a way he no longer did, to ignore them or to treat them with disdain, to allow their pain to be his own reprieve from his own endless ennui – a small child pulling the wings off of flies to amuse himself and remind himself that these creatures before him were actually alive.

Hatred was easy. Living was hard.

Why should he burden himself with the effort of living – with anything other than amusing himself?

He still hadn’t figured out the answer to that, but apparently some part of the answer was plain old irritation.

Lao Nie was too high ranked to be ignored, as Wen Ruohan did care for his sect if he cared for nothing else, and unlike everyone else he refused to be ignored; he had forced his way into Wen Ruohan’s life and made him feel things once again whether he wanted to or not. Mostly what he felt was anger: anger at being treated the way he treated others (for only he was real, and the rest of them fake, and for that reason only he deserved all the good things in the world), anger at being bothered by that interminable pestilence of a man, anger at – feeling things.

Remembering things.

Wen Ruohan was unwillingly reminded of the brother who had loved him and betrayed him and left him behind with a blood-soaked gift he’d never wanted, a cold corpse so long in the ground that he had undoubtedly been completely consumed by worms; he was reminded of those children he had so greatly cherished, so long ago, the ones he would have been willing to die for but instead had to bury. The memories, and the feelings that came with them, had driven him to distraction, feeling at first as though there was nothing to be found in Lao Nie’s immensely irritating brand of affection but needless pain, but somewhere along the line that little spark of irritation had become more than just that.

It hadn’t just been irritation, but curiosity – curiosity, interest, humor, affection…even a feeling of indulgence, a desire to spoil someone and treat them well for no other reason than in order to see them enjoy it, feelings he hadn’t felt in decades. And somehow that mixture of irritating and curiosity had led him not only to Lao Nie, who sent himself quite happily to his bed, but had driven him in a moment of impulse to set up a trap and net himself a brand new brother of his own.

That, too, was to Lao Nie’s credit…or perhaps fault.

Wen Ruohan had tried for years and years now to deny that he felt affection for Lao Nie, and yet it hadn’t helped him one bit in diminishing that affection. Even if the man were acting very odd as of late, almost as if he did not realize what a rare prize he had won for himself through his endless persistence – it wasn’t that Wen Ruohan needed to be wanted, of course, but it was rather irritating that the man who had stuck himself to his side like a burr that wouldn’t be peeled off would promptly disappear the second it turned out Wen Ruohan actually did want him there – it was still there, unchanging.

It might be affection now, but it had started, at first, with anger, that emotion that the Nie sect knew as well as their own hearts.

It was anger that Wen Ruohan felt now.

Not at or about Lao Nie, for once, nor for his sect, one of the few things he cared for. He certainly wasn’t angry any longer at the shining pearl he had snatched away from the Lan sect all those years before, their vision averted and distracted by the glittering but ultimately insubstantial sparkle of Qingheng-jun – he’d found that he could no longer feel anger when he thought of Lan Qiren, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how many times he reminded himself that it had been Lan Qiren who had turned away from him, distraught and upset on behalf of those meaningless flies.

Lan Qiren, who had, despite it all, missed him.

Who thought of him perhaps as often as Wen Ruohan thought of him in return – affection again, that insidious emotion, and Lan Qiren hadn’t even been the one to be persistent this time. Ridiculous, really, and even more ridiculous that it had been Wen Ruohan who had been the first to bend.

He had condescended to come to the Cloud Recesses to find him, all on the strength of an extremely implausible rumor, knowing even as he flew over that he was being a fool – there was obviously no way that Lan Qiren had actually done what he’d been accused of by the wagging tongues of inferior men, and so his trip to the Cloud Recesses was obviously an excuse to go see him and make up with him.

He hadn’t even removed the tongues of the people he’d heard it from, as a gesture of good faith.

He’d come to the Cloud Recesses for Lan Qiren, and he’d found –

He’d found –

Wen Ruohan was often angry after Lao Nie had forcefully pulled him out of the frozen torpor that was the depth of his hate, but he had not been this angry in a very, very long time.

He moved slower than usual, his rage deadening him like a snake in winter. His anger was not like Lao Nie’s, which burned hot and then snuffed itself out, restoring at once to the usual good humor, but rather lasted and lasted, glacial and slow and inexorable. The angrier he was, the slower he moved; if all his years upon the earth had taught Wen Ruohan anything, it was that he needed to keep a clear head when he was truly angry.

Even if only so that he could fully enjoy taking his inevitable revenge.

Wen Ruohan had used a technique to coax Lan Qiren into a deep sleep, meant for healing, and handed him over to a few of his most trusted associates with instructions to see to his injuries and take whatever steps necessary to reduce his pain in the short term. That the cost and effort expended was immaterial did not need to be stated, of course.

Once that was done, he had gone to the rooms of the Lan sect leader, step by slow step, and as he’d hoped, Qingheng-jun was there by the time he arrived, waiting to speak to him.

For all its loneliness, he reflected, there were many benefits to power.

“You’re in the wrong place,” he told him, seeing that, as he’d suspected, the Lan sect rooms were all oriented the same way.

Qingheng-jun frowned at him, clearly not understanding. “Sect Leader Wen –”

“You should take a few steps to the right,” Wen Ruohan clarified, gesturing, and making clear as he did that there would be no conversation until he was obeyed.

This, too, was the benefit of power.

Confused, Qingheng-jun did as he said, moving over until it matched up with the image Wen Ruohan had put together in his head on the way here: the stories told by his spies and the marks left on Lan Qiren’s body both, a hazy image of two brothers standing in a room that was laid out just the same but which was nothing alike.

“Perfect,” he said, and, curling his fingers into a fist, he punched him deep in the stomach.

Qingheng-jun’s complaint stuck in his throat as he gagged, the air expelled out of him by force – Wen Ruohan’s strikes were enough to shatter stone, and Qingheng-jun, however talented a cultivator, was not strong enough to be able to disregard them. He staggered, and Wen Ruohan caught him by the collar, slamming him against the wall and holding him up.

Just the way Qingheng-jun had done to Lan Qiren, just some few days before.

“How dare you,” Wen Ruohan snarled, and felt it again, that anger that was unlike any other anger. Anger that burned hot, not cold; anger that was like a furious flame, not the bright but unfeeling rays of the sun. Anger for someone, rather than against them…anger that was born of affection, rather than hate. “How dare you touch Qiren! He’s your brother!”

He’s my brother.

“He’s no brother of mine,” Qingheng-jun spat, vicious and bitter. “He hasn’t been in years, not since you stole him away and made him value you over his duty to his ancestors. The only brother he is, is yours – isn’t that how you want it?”

It was, of course, but that wasn’t the point.

Wen Ruohan sneered. “Do you think I do not know about you?” he asked. “You, the gifted child, talented and shining, whose world fell apart when your younger siblings died – your father forced you to take on the burden of keeping him intact, told you that you were the only reason he had to live, that you were perfect and therefore had to remain perfect, no matter the cost to you. In his grief he told you that it was because your brother was born that your mother died and you lost everything, and in your grief you believed him; in your rage you lashed out at him, and found that no one would stop you from doing so…it was easy to blame him, wasn’t it?”

Qingheng-jun glared at him.

“It was,” Wen Ruohan said. “You were a child: it was easy to hate where your father hated, to blame where your father blamed, and to lead everyone in the sect to hate right alongside you. You even convinced yourself that you were justified, when in fact you were only jealous – you had to be perfect, while he could be anything at all.”

He casually slammed his fellow sect leader into the wall once more.

“But you knew better. You knew. You had friends, you had allies, you even had Lao Nie, who knows more than most about righteousness – even if you were blameless for what you did as a child, led on by those failures that were your elders, the same cannot be said for you as an adult. You have learned morality and ethics, and yet you chose to continue that hatred, to rely on that crutch – to take the easy route, the selfish route. Why bother to do the work to improve yourself?”

Why bother indeed.

For some reason, Wen Ruohan was suddenly reminded of Lan Qiren’s eyes at the Fire Palace, full of horror and heartbreak, the way he looked as though his world had shattered even as he’d fled – as if leaving Wen Ruohan behind were the hardest choice he’d ever had to make, rather than a betrayal.

It’s easy to hate, he suddenly thought, his own words echoing back at him. The easy route, the crutch…

Wen Ruohan frowned instinctively before casting the thought aside to be examined at a later time.

“You should have done better,” he concluded. “You should do better?”

Qingheng-jun laughed in his face. “Why should I?” he asked savagely. “What use is he to me?”

“Use?” Wen Ruohan asked, and somehow found himself surprised by the question. Not a pleasant surprise, the way it had been when Lan Qiren had effortlessly resisted his compulsion as a child, or when he had turned out to be a thoughtful and oddly charming conversationalist, passionate about his interests and willing to share them as if he were handing out pieces of himself; it was merely that old familiar surprise that there were people this stupid in this world. “Do treasures need to be useful to be valuable?”

“You do not understand,” Qingheng-jun said, and that was the most absurd thing Wen Ruohan had yet heard: of course he understood. He understood far too well the darker emotions of humanity, the way they failed people and twisted people into terrible things – even Lan Qiren had his faults, his temper and his inflexibility; Wen Ruohan did not deceive himself into thinking that his sworn brother was a saint.

But he was himself, and that was worth something.

Even if someone like Qingheng-jun could not see it.

Wen Ruohan listened with only half an ear as Qingheng-jun spoke, seeking to justify himself and his behavior. It didn’t really matter what he said, not really; it was only excuses, in the end.

Instead of listening, Wen Ruohan recalled to himself the distant past: the madness of the Lan sect of his father’s generation, the chaos and terror of the wars they had begun – the miracles and atrocities they would and did commit for the sake of a loved one. They loved so deeply, these Lans; deeply and wholly and blindly, every one of them. To be the subject of their love would be to be their entire world, and even Qingheng-jun’s mad infatuation with the girl He Kexin was merely a pale echo of that love, though he did not know it. He loved the freedom she represented to him, not her: if he had loved her, he would have valued her happiness over his and let her go, no matter how he felt.

Put their happiness over your own, think first of what they would want, what would be better for them rather than what you wanted – only the madness of denying yourself for the sake of another was love.

A strange thought, although a useless one.

He was not a Lan, after all.

Still, however old, the memories of that past still lingered, leaving their mark on his heart all these years later – of all the sects in the cultivation world, Wen Ruohan was most wary of the Lan.

“I’m taking Qiren back to the Nightless City with me,” he interrupted Qingheng-jun.

“Good!” the other man shouted. “Keep him!”

Wen Ruohan somehow hadn’t expected him to say that, and for a moment he felt seized with glee.

Yes, he thought to himself, suddenly pleased. Yes, I will keep him; is that not what I want from him, what I have long wanted from him? I have thought of him every day since he has gone, dreamt of him every night; there is a poison that has sunk within my veins that wears his face and torments me endlessly, and he himself is the only cure I can think of for it. I even have an excuse now, his own sect leader’s word – I don’t have to give him up any longer. I can keep him for good!

And then, in the midst of his joy, he suddenly had a useless thought:

…he won’t be happy about that.

Truly a useless thought. What did Wen Ruohan care about that? Nothing mattered – nothing ever mattered, nothing but him and what he wanted, his wishes and his desires.

He was the only real thing in the world, him and only him, standing alone.

All good things in the world ought to go to him, be with him. It would make him happy to have Lan Qiren with him, to keep him by his side; what did it matter what Lan Qiren, that mayfly only a little more interesting than other mayflies, would prefer? What did it matter that Lan Qiren loved his sect, which did not value him as it should? What did it matter that Lan Qiren still loved his brother, who did not return it?

Wen Ruohan would take him away from it all, keep him by his side, and Lan Qiren would be better off for it, no matter what he thought he wanted.

It was as simple as that.

“You will never cause him trouble again,” Wen Ruohan said, even though it was pointless: if he wasn’t going to let Lan Qiren return, then such warnings were unnecessary. “Or else this will not end so lightly.”

Qingheng-jun sneered at him.

Wen Ruohan sneered back and dropped him, turning back to the door.

He would carry Lan Qiren back to the Nightless City himself, he decided. He would carry him in his arms as he flew on his sword, and make sure that he was untroubled throughout the entire journey.

His shining pearl.

He’d take good care of it.

#mdzs #wen ruohan #qingheng-jun #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls #since so many people were asking for it #some context for WRH's eureka moment in chapter 23

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seijohsbabe · 4 years

Text

Reward

Ship: Oikawa, Hanamaki, Matsukawa, Iwaizumi x Reader

Wordcount: 2,9 k

Tw: smut, pet names, overstimulation, abuse/rape (Reader kinda likes it ??), noncon

a/n: im so dumb ive deleted the old post so I have to repost it sorry guys :( If you have ideas for a next story, my inbox is open!

Nervously you looked to the ground. The mood was bad. More than logical, because the team you have been with for a long time has just lost to Seijoh.

But not only that made you look to the ground, there were four glances that made you tremble, and you knew exactly from who they were coming from and why. Your bet with you, which you had not really agreed but refusing with the four was no possibility. After your transfer to Karasuno, you were hoping to finally have some rest from the four. You were Oikawa's girlfriend, but his three friends also had a say. After you gathered your courage and broke up with him, it was far from over. They chased you, humiliated you, reached for you like you were a simple doll to them. Your move to Karasuno was like a glimmer of hope for you.

But only after 5 days they found you again, and drummed into you their bet to destroy Karasuno and take you as a prize. And here you were, on the bench, stunned, staring at the ball that practically meant your death. Shimizu, who was sitting next to you, noticed your trembling and held your hands with downcast eyes. But she didn't know a bit whatyou will expect now. You quickly tried to pack all your things and get back on the bus as quickly as possible. And you almost thought you had made it when you ran down the hall to get to the exit, but a hand grabbed your wrist and pulled you into a room that you actually wanted to walk past. The room turned out to be a locker room. The door slammed behind you and you got pushed right against it.The four pairs of eyes that you actually no longer wanted to see were now right in front of you.

Oikawa who was still pressing you against the door let you go slowly to take a step back, to your surprise. With an all too familiar grin, he looked down at you, just like the other three who were just a few steps behind Oikawa. Only now do you really realize how big they were again, how much stronger they were. You can just grab yourself so easily without you doing anything. "Lil cutieee." Oikawa said first. His voice made you tremble and crouch. You know exactly why they dragged you in here, but you couldn't have it that real. Iwaizumi, who so far has only been against one without comment Was leaning against the wall, with crossed arms, now pushed off to slowly approach you. "Can you still remember? Our little agreement? We want our price." What can you do It was hopeless, you were trapped in the wolves' den as a little rabbit. But you still had one option. Your gaze slid briefly next to you, where the door handle was. Oikawa hadn't locked it. You quickly grabbed the door handle and tear open the door to get out of this cave. But Iwaizumi must have noticed your gaze and no sooner had you opened the door than he reached for you and slammed the door with his foot. Your back was now pressed against his chest, and your hands were tied tightly to your body, his hands completely encircling you. "I would give myself up." He whispered in your ear. And with that your last hope was gone.

Matsukawa was now in front of you, to put his big hand around your cheek without comment. "Come on, you will surely like it bunny. "

His hand went deeper and deeper until he came to the edge of your t-shirt, which he pulled over your head after Iwaizumi slowly let go of you. They all stood around you like a hunter who had just caught his prey. Somebody loosened your bra from behind, and you were completely free of the upper body. Matsukawa quickly followed, pulling his turquoise white jersey with the number two over his head to show his well-toned upper body. But your hands were still shaking. Suddenly you were pulled along from behind. That someone turned out to be Oikawa, who sat down on a bench and positioned you with your back against his chest.

Hanamaki, who now crouched down in front of you, slowly took off your shoes and training pants, while Oikawa attacked your neck from behind. Unnoticed, you tilted your neck to give it more space. a slight giggle came from his mouth because he knew he had you. Your legs have now been spread apart after your underpants were also taken off. "Oh, already that wet arent you kitten?" Makki grinned with a knowing grin. The other two men had completely undressed in the meantime and were watching this happen while they lazily stroked their cocks up and down.

Makki's finger crossed your lips, which you feel a slight gasp. But Oikawa noticed it and raised his voice. "Oh our lil cutie, so excited for our cocks aren't you?" Your head shook, but the grip on your chest gave you a jerk. Makki lifted your legs to put them on his shoulders. THAT he was with his face right in front of you. You felt his hot breath against your core. And even though you were totally against this one, your hands ran through Makki's strawberry cake colored hair to get him to finally do something. and he knew what you wanted and started to work your cunt. His tongue wandered everywhere. He practically ate you up. But it was a wonderful feeling as Oikawa's hands wandered over your whole body. Little whimpering could no longer be suppressed. Oikawa's hand wandered until he put it around your neck to squeeze lightly, until he then slipped two of his fingers into your mouth and whispered softly in your ear, "Suck" and as obdiently as you were, you did it, which gave you a simple "Good Girl", but those simple words wandered down into your core, where Makki was just still eating until he looked up at some point, chin smeared, and an amused grin on his face. Oikawa's fingers now slid down to play with your cock lips until they sank into you with a jerk. To your despair you had to groan. It was useless, you should enjoy it. And this change probably all noticed, because your grin grew now. Oikawa's pace grew faster and more hectic until you were just a groaning bunch. And just as your walls spasmed uncontrollably around his fingers and your climax was approaching, until his fingers stopped and slipped out of you.

"O-Oi-Oikawa please" you whimpered. But he just giggled. "Its Tooru my lil bunny. But be a good girl and suck my fingers clean." And so you did. Your tongue swirled around his digits, until all was nice and clean. He got up slowly to get you on your feet, but the only shivering. As soon as you were on your feet you threatened to fall over, but Matsukawa caught you directly to lead you two to the ground. He leaned against a wall while positioning you on his thigh with his hands on your hips. The pressure against your cunt was so good that you couldn't stop grind slowly against his thigh. But you couldn't do it for long, because he held you tight with his iron grip. ,,issei! Please"

" I have something much better, kitten "With that he lifted you to slide you on his not exactly small penis in one go. Damn, not only its length was too much, from the middle it got thicker and thicker, and you didn't think you could manage everything, your hands were already pressing against his chest until you finally got to the base of his cocks. A loud sigh escaped you. But before you could even open your eyes again, he lifted you up again to lead you back down in a train.

And with that this knot of pleasure tore and your climax came with a jolt. Your eyes rolled backwards, a scream left your mouth, your body ran out of strength, and your head rested on Matssun's shoulder. But he was just getting started. He took your buttocks and now moved his hips with incredible speed. "I-Issei- I can't take it anymore please" you whined. "Oh come on, one more baby." And suddenly you felt a second figure appear behind you. Your head turned wearily to look at Makki's face. He positioned himself under your second hole. "Please no more no-" "Aw come on, bunny your gonna feel amazing, just relax alright?" And very slowly you felt how he was advancing, slower than Matssun, but the pain was there anyway. To be completely filled was a strange feeling, but it was still exciting in a way. This time at a slow pace they moved the two in and out. You felt the two next to each other, separated from just one wall. The knot grew again. Completely blown away in ecstasy, you did not notice how someone was standing next to you three until your hand, which until then was still on Issei's shoulder, was placed around a cock. It was the brown-haired wing spiker iwaizumi with a small grin around the corner of his mouth. "Don't mind helping me a little my dear?" Your senses were completely gone, but you tried to drive up and down with slow movements. Swear words and moans escaped him again and again. You looked at him, his lust contorted face, until your face was turned with one hand to the other side. Oikawa looked down at you, and you knew exactly what he wanted. In one go you took him up to your throat. But it wasn't enough, it was still a few centimeters You wanted to take your head back again and start a new attempt, but your head was held tight by Oikawa. While Matssun and Makki kept going out and in, and their thrusts became more and more targeted, you had to choke Oikawa's length. He tried to push the last few centimeters in.

"Come on baby, you can do it. Yeah just like that, FUCK!" his head leaned back while his hands were still in your - now - totally confused hair. ,, Youre doing so fine bunny, next time we will destroy Karasuno a second time, a-and fuck, and next time you should come on time. Alright? "The question was hypothetical because your mouth was still around his cock. Another hard nudge from Makki tightened your throat and Oikawa howled loudly.

" Fuck do that again. " And so you did, because you didnt want to make him angry, not in that position that your in right now. Your head was finally let go. The spit ran from your mouth down to your chin to your bust. "You look so beautiful, our lil cumslut." Matssun growled, while he used a harder and faster pace with Makki. They came closer and closer to their climax, because you felt them twitching inside you. And you too came closer and closer The pressure that Matssun now put on your clit almost bursts your knot. Only a small piece was missing. "Plea-Please, I-Issei, Makki, I wanna cum please!" Did you cry now? You will regret it in retrospect, but you didn't care about anything at the moment, because the climax was within reach. Makki came first, and sank his seeds in a hard thrust in you, and waited a while until he was sure that every mililiter was in you. Now Matssun could lift you up slightly to hammer into you. The knot burst, the tears just ran from your eyes. "Too much, too much" you mumbled, due to the overstimulation. After a short time Issei came deep inside you and also made sure not to waste a mililiter. After Issei pulled herself out of you, you felt so empty. It was embarrassing, what would Dachi Kyooko or even suga say? They would cast you out. You are sleeping here with four of their arch enemies. Especially one of them, they probably all hated. You had never told them what you and Oikawa were too embarrassed about you the whole thing. And now see where you have landed. While you were not only crying from the overstimulation on the cold floor of the locker room and the cum of the two men just ran out of you, two strong arms lifted you up. But he just picked you up while he whispered in your ear: "Oh one round baby, you cant let us two all high and dry hmm?" And with that you were put on Oikawa who looked at you with a big grin. " Please, I cant tak it anymore guys.

But the two ignored your protests and penetrated you at the same time.

"Oh you can, and you will." Oikawa said while he slipped into you. Your whimper could be heard outside but there was definitely nobody there, the games are over and everyone is gone.

Your hands pressed against Oikawa's chest as you continued to protest. "Oika-" But you didn't get far because he muted you with a hard thrust.

"Call me right princess."

"Tooru, please."

,, Good girl, your so brave. come on we make it fast hmm? "

And that's where real hell began. The two went in and out alternately. Building the third orgasm was bad. You felt everything. Every vein of its length penetrating your walls. While you were wondering where they got all their power from, Oikawa pulled you down to share a lovely, almost beautiful kiss with you, but you knew what was behind this facade. The devil himself, with three helpers by his side. his tongue rammed into your mouth and quickly got the more dominant one.

When Iwaizumi also marked your neck, you had to groan again. The grip of iwaizumi on your hip got tighter, and you are sure that it would leave its mark tomorrow. After they both broke up, their pace picked up again. However, when Oikawa briefly repositioned himself a little, he hit exactly this point with the next hit, the point that got you around every time, and made you see stars. Of course, Oikawa noticed this immediately and rammed into it with all his strength.

a loud fuck escaped you while you felt the two getting closer and closer. Their lengths twitched in you. Your climax was probably not far away either, but you weren't really excited about it. He will rob your last strength that was left to you. "Fuck your so tight-" Oikawa hissed now, until you felt the final snap and the load he send inside of you.

And right after Iwas fast snap of his hips your knot of lust loosened and pelted down on you twisted, your strength that somehow left you on top went from you and with that you hit oikawa's shoulder. Your arms and legs were shaking, and you only felt Iwa pulling out of you. He must have come too. Your senses are like Blown away, you only felt the cold ground below you after Oikawa got up. You should also walk slowly, you didn't want to be around this monster any more, but your legs were shaking, so you read yourself on the bench fall, cum slowely dripping out of you. ,, Princess get these on, you don't want our gift to be lost. " He threw your underpants at you, but you'd rather wash yourself. He noticed your reluctance and raised his voice. ,,Now" With trembling hands you put on all your clothes, but Oikawa didn't throw you your top but his white turquoise jersey with the number 1.

,, uhm, Tooru, you gave me your top. "

He just laughed. ,, Of course honey, everybody should see who you belong to. Since you knew that there would be no point in protesting, you put on the slightly too large jersey.

"Oh you look adoreable!" But you just felt how all the cum flowed out of you. He put an arm around you to leave the lockeroom with you. The others are probably already before. But when you got closer to your team , they looked angrily at the one standing next to you, then at the all-too-familiar top what you were wearing.

,,Sorry people i spilled water on my top and then slipped. Luckily Oi- "you noticed the slight pressure on your hip, a sign." Tooru there. " you looked up at him with your eyes until he spoke.

"Oh yeah, your little manager chan is very clumsy, better take care of her." As he turned to leave, he whispered in your ear without anyone seeing, "Next time, you will come twice as much princess . We will not lose. " And with that he disappeared, leaving you alone with the team, while thousands of thoughts buzzed through your head about how you could escape him.

#haikyuu #matsukawa issei #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #Oikawa x reader #Yandere Oikawa #Oikawa smut #Iwaizumi smut #matsukawa smut #hanamaki smut #oikawa x you

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gamerwoo · 3 years

Text

[Tales from the Pack] Joshua: Second Chance (Part Four)

Characters: Joshua x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, fluff, fluffy angst, Josh being a grumpy old man lmao

Word count: 2,042

Summary: After his mate died, Joshua always blamed himself and never wanted to imprint again. However, fate has other ideas when he meets you: a young, energetic werecoyote that’s quite the opposite of him. He insists he doesn’t want a new mate – nobody’s even sure if he’s ready for a new one – but he can’t ignore his instincts.

Previous | Next | Second Chance Masterlist

Because of how exhausted he was, Joshua was in and out of consciousness for a while. He couldn’t even keep track of days because he was sleeping at weird hours -- but it had really only been two days. He never stayed awake for very long -- the longest was always just to eat and go to the bathroom if he had to, and then go back to sleep -- but the first thing his eyes always found when he opened them was you.

You, however, weren’t asleep for nearly as long. You woke up again in the morning to see Joshua was still asleep -- you didn’t know he’d ever woken up. You still had a million questions bouncing around your head about who he was, what happened next, and the like, but you decided to just go with it until you found out. No point in panicking, right?

“You should be all set to go home today,” Minjee reported.

The wolfsbane was cleansed from your system -- mostly thanks to Joshua, otherwise your recovery would’ve been slower since you didn’t heal as quickly as the werewolves -- so all you really had to do was rest until your body fully recovered. But that was the same for Joshua, so it worked out.

However, Minjee wasn’t sure what was happening when you were discharged. Would you go home with Joshua and his pack mates? Would he turn you away and have you go off on your own? Even Hansol and Kyung said they weren’t sure when Minjee had asked.

But you just nodded, not even having those thoughts cross your mind, “Okay.”

Minjee sat down on the edge of your bed and studied you, “Do you mind if I ask a few questions first?”

“Sure,” you shrugged without hesitation.

“What’s your name?”

“_____ _____.”

“And where are you from, _____?”

“The Capitol.”

Minjee’s eyebrows raised, “So you’re not too far from here, then. We’re in the Capitol -- southeast of the castle.”

Huh. You didn’t know that. That was at least convenient to be close to a familiar place. But the Capitol was huge.

“Do you have a pack or family?” Minjee continued.

You shook your head. You’d been on your own for a few years now.

“You’re alone?” she asked.

In the other room, Kyung and Hansol looked at each other.

“So then why were you running around the forest at night, _____?” Minjee continued.

You shrugged, “Got bored.”

Minjee definitely thought you were...interesting. You were all by yourself, you were running through the woods in the dark for fun, and you still somehow didn’t seem fazed by any of it. And to top it all off, you still kept glancing over at Joshua and rubbing one thumb over his knuckles like you were already comfortable with him. He was a complete stranger to you, you hadn’t even spoken to him or seen him awake, but you didn’t seem to care. You weren’t even asking her questions like she expected. It was like you didn’t care about anything, you were just rolling with whatever came.

“Hey, Jee?” a girl opened the curtain and popped her head in. She had loose springy curls that were tied into two buns on her head, brown skin, dark freckles dotted over her cheeks and nose, and golden eyes that shifted over to you. Her eyes widened slightly for some reason before returning to Minjee. “Two of our other alphas are here. They want to know what’s happening with Joshua.”

“He’ll be good to go home when he wakes up,” she replied warmly with a nod. “He’ll definitely need the help home, though.”

The foreign girl turned her head, listening to what someone else was saying to her before turning back again, “Jihoon wants to talk to you.”

“Send them right in.”

The girl stepped aside to let two men through the white curtain -- you wondered if it was actually a bedsheet. One was short with light brown hair, and the other was taller with silver hair. The shorter one had an undercut with the rest of his hair looking a little wavy, while the taller one’s hair was fluffier and parted to the side. Like the girl, they both had golden eyes that seemed to study you curiously.

Jihoon and Seungcheol assumed you must’ve been the girl they’d heard about considering your cot was still beside Joshua’s, and your hand was wrapped around his. You didn’t react to their staring, just blinking back at them. But they took note of one physical difference that Soomin either forgot to mention or simply was unaware of: instead of gold eyes, your eyes were an icy blue.

The taller one’s eyes moved over to the doctor, while the shorter one continued to blatantly stare at you. Of course, you stared back.

“Is he really well enough to come home already?” the taller boy wondered. “It’s only been two days.”

Minjee nodded, “Hansol has medicine he’ll have to take three times a day to help with pain and healing, and Joshua will have medicine to take every twelve hours. ______ will need medicine as well, but... Um, other than that, the two just need a lot of rest -- especially Joshua.”

“What about her?” the shorter one asked, nodding his head toward you.

Before Minjee could say anything, you opened your mouth, “What about me?”

Jihoon’s eyebrows raised in surprise, almost like he didn’t think you could or would talk, “...Sorry.”

“Can you guys keep it down?” a groggy, raspy voice asked beside you.

Your head whipped to the right as you felt Joshua’s fingers squeeze yours. He was rubbing one eye with his free hand and letting out a yawn before he blinked his eyes open and looked between the two alphas.

“He lives,” Seungcheol chuckled. “How do you feel, Shua?”

“Like shit,” he replied, draping his arm over his eyes.

The two alphas noticed Josh was keeping his hand in yours despite being awake. Their eyes flickered from your hands, to each other.

“What’re we talking about?” Josh asked after a few seconds of silence.

“Uh...well…” Seungcheol tried desperately to find the right words to ask what he planned to do about you, but he was too scared to bring you up to Josh. He didn’t want to upset him already.

Thankfully, Minjee spoke up, “I need to know what’s happening with _____.”

Hearing your name, you broke out of your trance of staring at Joshua now that he was finally awake, and looked at the doctor.

Joshua tore his arm away from his eyes and lifted his head slightly to narrow his eyes at Minjee, “Who?”

She gestured to you, “Your mate.”

Hearing the title made him growl lowly in his chest as he slowly turned to look at you. Despite the aggressive noise, you could hear his heartbeat pick up when his eyes landed on you. It was also the first time he was seeing you awake, and deep down, it felt amazing to see you actually alive and well.

However, he still managed to tear his hand away from yours.

“She’s not coming home with us,” he scoffed. “She’s not my problem.”

“Josh--”

“Jihoon, you can’t tell me what to do,” he cut off the alpha. “I’ll do perfectly fine on my own, thank you. I don’t want or need another mate.”

However, everyone was surprised to see that you weren’t speaking up. They looked at you and found that you didn’t even seem bothered by Joshua’s words or actions. You had lifted your now empty hand closer to your face, looking at it as if you’d see traces of Joshua or something. But your expression was neutral before you looked up at Josh and shrugged.

“Alright.”

Seungcheol blinked, “A-- Alright?”

“Yeah,” you shrugged again. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It kind of is…” Jihoon said like you were stupid.

Hey, maybe you were. You didn’t know how any of this worked. You didn’t even fully grasp what was going on.

“It’s a good thing you’re braindead, I guess,” Joshua snorted under his breath before laying his head back down.

“We’ll just...take him home now,” Seungcheol told Minjee awkwardly, bowing his head slightly in a silent apology.

“I’ll go get their medications,” the doctor replied as she stood. “You can get Hansol and Joshua ready to be discharged.”

The curtain was pushed aside so the two patients could now interact. Seungcheol and Kyung were going to have to help support Joshua as he walked at least to the edge of the forest so Seungcheol could properly carry him without getting odd looks. But Hansol was good enough to walk home on his own, and you were, too. So you got out of bed and changed back into the clothes you were in when they found you -- but now they were washed and clean.

“So..._____,” the taller alpha began just to make some sort of conversation in the awkward silence, “where are you going to go now?”

“Uh…” you trailed off before shrugging. “I don’t know, probably back to the cave.”

“Cave?” the girl repeated as the group looked at you with varying looks of surprise. “I thought you were from here?”

“I am,” you nodded, “but I don’t live here.”

“You live in a cave?” the shorter alpha checked.

You shook your head, “Well, no. Recently, I’ve been staying in a cave because I found it. Before it was just...wherever there was some sort of shelter.”

“So you don’t live anywhere?” the wolf you had yet to meet asked. He had shaggy strawberry blonde hair and stayed close to the other girl.

“I guess not.”

You were too busy going back to putting your shirt on that you didn’t notice the way the pack pointedly looked at Joshua.

As the pack was leaving and walking down the few steps -- going slowly as to be accommodating for Josh -- you followed behind them. You weren’t really sure what to do with yourself for the rest of the day since you still weren’t feeling 100%. Maybe you could just go find a place to nap or something.

The pack continued onto the path, but Joshua turned his head. He saw you still standing on the middle step, looking this way and that with a thoughtful look on your face as you held a small paper bag with your medication in it. He stopped walking, causing the two who were helping support his weight stop. So the two behind him stopped, as well. They all turned to look where he was looking, which was at you.

Joshua very loudly cleared his throat, catching your attention. He was looking at you in annoyance, and his eyes rolled when you continued to just stand there and stare at him.

“Well come on,” he snapped.

“...Huh?”

“Let’s go,” he said with more force. “I’m tired and wanna go home. If you trail behind and get caught in another net or get attacked by wild animals, that’s not my problem.”

He turned back and continued walking again, the two beside him moving with him despite them continuing to glance back at you.

Was he...inviting you home with them? But didn’t he say you weren’t going with them? So--

“You should probably hurry,” the short one -- you realized his name was Jihoon -- told you, though he had traces of a smile on his face. “He’s pretty irritable.”

“Shut up, Hoon,” Joshua called behind him.

Jihoon chuckled but continued walking.

Hansol, however, stayed back to wait for you. He understood you must’ve been a little confused. You were dying, only to wake up to a mate, members of his pack, and now you were being told one thing and then something completely opposite. So he waved you over.

“C’mon, _____,” he called with a warm smile. “We’re gonna take you home.”

Home. That sounded nice to you. It was a word you hadn’t heard or thought of in a while now. So you bounded down the steps and walked beside Hansol as he began telling you about their pack and the house.

Ahead of you, Joshua was grumbling to himself in annoyance about the whole situation.

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chronicallylatetotheparty · 3 years

Text

Lucky Charm: Reflekdoll

Summary: Adrien struggles to adapt to his powers as Mister Bug while facing an old villain with a new trick. Will he be able to learn fast enough to save his partner?

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"Reflektas, start turning the rest of Paris into me!"

Adrien hid behind the overturned car as Reflekta's clones started attacking untransformed civilians. Apparently, Reflekdoll broadcast a signal that brainwashed any copies. "That's new."

"You are Chat Noir, correct?"

Turning, he spotted a red kwami holding a pair of earrings. "Yeah? And that over there is... Ladybug?" Adrien asked as someone who could only be his Lady launched herself at the giant sentimonster. The suit may have been different but the cat ears were a dead giveaway.

"There's been a little mix up with the Miraculous. I'm Tikki, pleased to meet you!" Tikki offered Adrien the earrings which he accepted.

"Well! Tikki, transforme-moi!"

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

Marinette dodged blast after blast from Reflekdoll.

"Well, my Lady Noire, looks like you're playing the easy part today!"

Lady Noire looked over to see who could only be Chat Noir with her Miraculous. "Not so sure about that!" Placing herself in front of him Lady Noir whirled her staff as a shield, blocking Reflekdoll's beam. "Looks like we'll be taking on two opponents that amplify each other's powers!"

They jumped onto the top of a nearby stone pillar as Reflekdoll attacked again.

"Stay focused, Mister Bug!"

Mister Bug took his yo-yo out and whirled it like he'd seen Ladybug do countless times. "Just my luck. I'm gonna have to capture two akuma instead of one."

"No, one akuma and one amok," Lady Noire corrected.

Reflekta fired her beam into one of the ports onboard. The magic layered by Reflekdoll before it shot a concentrated beam. Mister Bug acted on instinct and tackled Lady Noire out of the way. They rolled to their feet and charged up Reflekdoll as Lady Noire explained what a sentimonster was.

"Would've been nice to know what the Peacock could do before their sentimonsters started showing up!" Mister Bug commented as he launched a kick at said sentimonster to little effect.

"It was on a need-to-know basis!" Lady Noire swung her staff into the sentimonster with similar results.

"I really need to talk with the Guardian about what he considers 'need-to-know'!" Mister Bug leapt back towards the ground with Lady Noire. "Okay, so we need to find Reflekta's akumatized object and the baby monster's amok."

Lady Noire deflected another beam from Reflekdoll. "Can you manage or should we switch back?"

"C'mon! I'm totally capable of doin' it!" Mister Bug smirked.

Lady Noire pulled him out of the way of Reflekdoll's beam and they ran towards the Eiffel Tower. "We need to figure out where the akuma and amok are!"

"Probably the same place as the last time we fought her. In her bracelet!"

They jumped onto the tower itself and used the iron structure to shield themselves. "Maybe. We're gonna have to check that!"

"If I could just get my hands on a mirror I'd be able to reflect her own beam back at her!"

Landing on the first level, Lady Noire turned to look at Mister Bug. "That's not how it works." She crossed her arms. "The Lucky Charm doesn't just give you what you want."

"You ever asked? Watch and learn!" Mister Bug grinned. "Lucky Charm!"

"A mirror!" Oh, Adrien was gonna lord this over her so much!

"Beginners luck," Lady Noire declared. Chat Noir was gonna be insufferable about this she could feel it.

"You're just jealous of my mastery!" Mister Bug teased.

A loud banging interrupted them and they looked down to see Reflekdoll climbing the tower. Reflekta steering with one hand and shooting her much smaller lasers through the window eyes with the other.

Mister Bug held out his mirror and reflected one of them back at her. Bullseye!

Reflekdoll shot at them with its big beam.

"Very effective, Mister Bug."

"Hey, it worked didn't it?"

Lady Noire sighed in exasperation. "May I remind you that the Lucky Charm doesn't just give you an object to defeat the villain with-"

"I thought that's exactly what it does?"

"You actually have to figure out exactly how to use it!" Lady Noire poked him in the forehead. "Using your head!"

Reflekdoll reached there level and started firing. Mister Bug jumping for cover while Lady Noire blocked its attack with her staff. "Since you wasted your Lucky Charm. I guess that means it's my turn, buggaboy! Watch and learn! Cataclysm!"

Lady Noire leapt at the sentimonster and-

Her body was pulled out of the way of Reflekdoll's beam just in time. Mister Bug unwinding his yo-yo none too gently. "What was that about using your head? May I remind you that Cataclysm needs a physical medium to work properly! If that sentimonster is made outa magic I doubt it'll do what you want!"

Lady Noire held the Cataclysm as close as she could without actually touching it. "Well, what do you suggest?"

Mister Bug pulled her out of the way of another beam. "Uh... I... Knock her back to ground level while I come up with something?" Adrien smiled with the most conviction he could muster.

Lady Noire groaned. "Think fast!" And rushed out. Dodging Reflekdoll's attack she extended her baton and struck the sentimonster with her full momentum. Reflekdoll crashing back down to earth.

Taking advantage of Lady Noire's distraction Mister Bug glanced around from his high vantage point. Trying to spot anything that would spark an epiphany like Ladybug. "Okay, I admit it!" he cried out, shoulders slumping, "Being Chat Noir is way more fun."

Lady Noire leapt around the sentimonster and struck at its body. The Black Cat giving her a bit more agility than she was used to. Very handy.

Mister Bug added a swing of his yo-yo to one of her attacks. Reflekdoll stumbling with their combined force.

Lady Noire landed beside him. "What have you got?"

"Ah," Mister Bug rubbed the back of his neck. "About that..."

She stared at him. "Seriously!?"

"Well, I'm sorry! Some of us are just slow learn-"

"LOOK OUT!"

Lady Noire didn't think. She just acted. Mister Bug was the only one who could purify the akuma and he needed to keep going. She pushed Mister Bug out of the way as one of Reflekta's clones attacked... Just as Reflekdoll fired its beam.

"My Lady!" Mister Bug cried out.

Lady Noire stood immobile as a Reflekta copy.

"Yes! Now get bug boy's Miraculous!" The original Reflekta ordered.

Springing to life, the Reflekta that used to be Lady Noire aimed her bracelet and fired.

Mister Bug whirled his yo-yo as a shield and leapt to the nearest roof.

"You won't get away from me!" Reflekta called after him as he fled for cover.

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

Adrien leaned against the wall of his hiding place. Breathing deeply, heart hammering in his chest. "Okay. It's okay. Ladybug does this all the time! What would Ladybug do? What would Ladybug do?"

The Ladybug earrings beeped insistently.

"This is fine!" Adrien announced as he detransformed.

Tikki falling into Adrien's palms as he fell to his knees.

"This isn't fine! Tikki, I can't do this! I'm no Ladybug! We should've switched back when she said! I-" Adrien's chest constricted and he forced his breath to slow.

"She trusted you enough to keep going," Tikki said weakly.

Her state bringing Adrien out of his head. "You need food."

Tikki hovered closer to his face, looking him in the eye. "No two of my Ladybug's have ever been exactly alike. Some are slower learners than others. I trust you, too."

Adrien looked away, shoulders hunching. "But I messed up."

"Remember Stoneheart?" Tikki prompted. "Ma- Ladybug messed up too. But you still believed in her." She placed a paw on his cheek. "Believe in yourself now."

Adrien's gaze came back to her.

"Don't ask what Ladybug would do. Ask yourself: what would Adrien do?"

Steeling his resolve Adrien nodded, rising to his feet and cupping Tikki in his palms. "First things first," he inched closer to the alleyway's entrance. The overturned car with his stash of Camembert a short sprint away. "Let's get you recharged."

A gaggle of Reflekta clones chased a group of civilians past him. The people hit turning into more copies and standing still until the akuma villain's voice came booming over the city. The new clones springing to life so they could follow her orders.

They lit up in Adrien's mind and his head shot back to the sentimonster in the distance. Its beam lighting up too.

Adrien gazed down at Tikki and grinned. "I've got an idea."

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

"Lucky Charm!"

A mirror fell into Mister Bug's hands. "Wow, twice in a row. Lucky me," Adrien deadpanned as he tied it to his arm like a shield using his yo-yo. The plan was a laughably simple two step process.

Step One: Get shot.

"Hey, Reflekta!" he hollered from a rooftop at convenient shooting hight. "Don't you know that pink frills are so last season?"

"Once I turn the whole world into Reflektas it'll be the only season!" She fired into Reflekdoll's port which concentrated her energy into a stronger blast.

Just as planned. Mister Bug braced his feet and held his Lucky Charm directly in front of him. "Here we go!"

The sentimonster fired.

Step Two: Shoot Reflekta with her own sentimonster's magic.

The beam reflected off Mister Bug's mirror and perfectly into the round eye windows. Blasting Reflekta dead center.

Adrien held his position for a moment, peaking past his makeshift shield. Reflekta and Reflekdoll stood still. Waiting for orders from... themselves. The enhanced magic dependent on the sentimonster and by extension whoever was driving it.

"Yes!" Mister Bug raised both fists. "Now just a little pest control and we can all get on with our day!"

Finding and purifying the akuma and amok was easy when he wasn't being shot at. Grabbing Juleka as the sentimonster vanished and setting her down on the ground.

Adrien looked at Mister Bug's reflection in his mirror... "I've always wanted to do this." And tossed his Lucky Charm into the air. "Miraculous Mister Bug!"

As the ladybug's restored Paris he spotted a familiar black suit. Adrien ran for her.

"Mister Bug? What- OOF!" Lady Noire stumbled as her partner barreled into her and tried to squeeze all the air out of her lungs. Once she could breathe Marinette wrapped her arms around him and patted his back. "You did good, little bug."

Adrien just held her for a moment. She was okay. He'd saved her. She was okay.

Then his earrings beeped.

Breaking the hug, Mister Bug jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Ah, we should split."

"Yeah..." Lady Noire readied to extend her baton. "... I think I finally get why you're so protective."

Mister Bug smiled. "And I get why you're so focused all the time."

He offered a fist bump and she accepted. Both heroes leaping in opposite directions.

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

"Tikki!" Marinette cradled her friend to her chest.

"Marinette!"

"I can't believe how much Chat trusts me... Knowing you might have to do that again? I don't think I could handle it."

"He's your Chat Noir for a reason, Marinette," Tikki agreed.

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

"Fighting by yourself is horrible, Plagg! I don't know how Ladybug does it." Adrien held him tight. Deciding never to let his Miraculous out of his sight again.

"She's got you most of the time, doesn't she? You're supposed to support each other, ain't ya?"

"Yeah. You're right..."

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

"... Well, one things for sure, Tikki." Marinette gazed off in the direction Plagg flew towards.

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

"She definitely-"

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

"He definitely-"

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

"-got the short straw."

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

Yes, this is technically the last prompt... But it's already written and I'm impatient.

@adrienaugust

#adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #tikki #ml fanfic #reflekdoll #ml rewrite #adrienaugust #adrienaugreste #kwami swap #mister bug #lady noire

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cherryblossomtease · 3 years

Text

Chapter 12

18 + only

warnings and summary - Masterlist

Warnings: 18+ for explicit sexual content: depictions of sub/dom lifestyle and lead up to m/m sexual relationship. If it’s not your thing please keep scrolling. Thank you!

Is there a word for this feeling? The one that happens when you wake up not knowing when or where you are…

Is it day, is it night? Is this my bed? Is this even a bed? Am I home and if not, how far away am I? So many questions go tumbling around in your head so quickly that you just have to shut your eyes against the bizarre sensation. It’s one of the few that’s happened to absolutely everyone at some point. And as you lie there in bed —yes, this is definitely a bed— you think, no way the Germans don’t have a word for this strange phenomenon.

Inhaling slowly, exhaling even slower, you finally feel it come rushing back to you so that by the time you’ve filled your lungs with a nice deep breath of salty ocean air, the smile that raises your cheeks turns into a silent laugh as you roll onto your side, curling up tight, sliding your hand across the empty expanse of the cool bedsheets, lightly perfumed by the fading scent of his cologne which makes you feel warm all over.

You open your eyes, blinking, focusing, letting the view refresh the last of the memories.

You should have known, you think laying your hand on the pillow where he’d been. You stroke the high thread count like you did his hair and his face as he’d looked into your eyes and your racing hearts settled. How many unnecessary tears were shed for him? How much time was spent worrying that you might never see the man again when all you had to do was trust that no prison could keep Helmut Zemo locked away for long, and you laugh because a year must be a record for shortest maximum security prison stays.

Now, while escaping from the supposedly inescapable is impressive, you can’t begin to fathom how he’s done it and you’re more than happy to keep it that way which is probably for the best as Zemo’s made it pretty clear he doesn’t want you in possession of said knowledge for your own safety. The less you know at this uncertain stage in the game the better. You’re physically far from government detection or any others lookin to recapture the Baron for that matter, still, nothing is ever fully guaranteed.

Luckily it’s hard to feel anything other than at peace as you smile and lazily roll onto your back, stretching your arms over your head before looking down the length of the king sized bed to find the source of light warming your bare skin.

Oh, you smile That’s right.

The matching circular windows are very large and offer views of wild blue water as far as the eye can see. It is the very definition of tranquility.

And just off to the side is a glass door that opens to a large balcony just calling your name. You'll spend too much time out there soon enough you think, imagining falling asleep with a good book and a drink. After all, you’ve got two weeks before you reach France and then it's a quick flight to you final destination of Villefranche-Sur-Mer, according to Zemo.

Two incredible weeks— and to think you’d nearly dismissed that text this morning as nothing but annoying spam.

Luckily something about it brought you back after you'd poured cereal and milk into your bowl. You’d sat at the kitchen counter unable to look away from that single message sent from an unknown number, your breakfast all but forgotten.

It was short and to the point and it reminded you of the kind Zemo used to send what felt like a lifetime ago when the instructions were no more than a time but now there was the added bonus of a location and you were no longer the sole recipient.

The sound of Bucky charging down the hall of his apartment that had become just as much yours since Zemo went away answered the question before it could be asked.

“You got it too didn’t you?” You’d asked him looking up.

Bucky stood in the doorway, hair wet and slicked back from his shower, gripping the towel he’d quickly tossed around his waist and smelling like your body wash which he liked to snag when he ran out of his own. You didn’t mind so much but it was confusing when you were a tangle of arms and legs and other parts that smelled the same…

“It’s a trick. It’s gotta be.” He’d insisted, to which you’d rolled your eyes and considered throwing your phone at his head for saying something so ridiculous. Why would Zemo play a game so cruel. “He’s in the raft” He said your name with a finality that made you reconsider, but when you looked down at your phone again, you knew it wasn’t true.

This was him. This was Zemo.

“Go get dressed. I really think something’s happened.” You’d told him. He’d stood there for a second longer, his face unreadable. But he did turn and disappear down the hall, wet footprints on the hard wood left behind.

You must have been shaking as you waited. You’d been so anxious and your head a mess of worry and hope and fear and hesitation but so much excitement.

By the time Bucky came back dressed in sweats and a t-shirt which bothered you because you wanted him dressed to go, you were completely convinced you’d hear a knock at the door and find the Baron on the other side, you’d always been good at working yourself up into a frenzy.

Bucky had been the complete opposite. You can still see him; a gloomy hundred year old kill-joy.

You remember thinking he might have been a worried at first. A little jealous or scared maybe? Like he’d gotten too used to your life and the return of the man responsible for what you had together could also be the one to see it come to an end which was just silly. James was and would always will be your best friend, but your friendship had long since proven to be more than late night Netflix binging and ordering takeout.

In fact the night before the text, he’d come in long after you’d gone to bed. He’d been gone for nearly two weeks on some grand mission with Sam —off to save the world no doubt.

You were dreaming when he’d slipped in behind you and pulled you close, waking you with the warmth of those perfect lips so soft and full, the touch of his kiss leaving a trail of heat down your shoulder and back, only to flip you over once you were half awake with the strength of that wonderfully dangerous arm. As he pulled your shorts down and found you in the dark, you happily gave in, welcoming him home as only you could, and never once did either of you expect that your unconventional but comfortable life would come to such an abrupt end.

But no, he wasn’t jealous. You knew it because there was something sort of sweet in the look of shock on his face that gave you pause in asking why he was reacting this way.

That, was the look of man conflicted.

As you’d begun cleaning the apartment —certain you’d be leaving it soon— you’d paused and studied him sitting on the couch, alone with his thoughts, phone held in his hand like he’d never put it down. You knew Bucky well enough to know the basics of what he must have been thinking.

The Winter Soldier had been trapped in the living prison of his own body for a lifetime. Now Bucky was forever free to make his own choices. You certainly wouldn’t be the one to persuade him into doing anything he didn’t truly want to do. But you also knew that you weren’t alone in missing Zemo; not after what the three of you had shared and certainly not after what the two of them had come so close to starting.

But that poor dear, somewhat clueless man. For someone who was still adjusting to life in the present day after such a strange journey you tried to cut him some slack. He was still torn, still stuck between worlds. Having to question what he knew about his sexuality didn’t seem like a very fair thing to have to add to the mix, but that’s life. Unexpected to say the least.

He could no more deny his draw to Zemo than he could his desire to be a good person. These things were solid facts; He didn’t want to kill anymore and he was absolutely attracted to this man and presumably others, but yes particularly this one.

But now he was worried that giving in to his own happiness might cost him his friendship with people like Sam, and almost certainly his freedom when he’d only just gotten it back. Not because of being bi-sexual, but, because of, well— Helmut Zemo.

As much as you didn’t want to, you could easily understand the conflict.

Once you’d finished cleaning and packing your weekend bag you went back into the living room and made him look at you. “I know you’re worried about Sam and the others. All those super heroes you know. But what sort of friends would they be if they stopped you from living your life the way you want to live it?”

“Good ones if It means living with an escaped criminal.” His retort was so logical. You hate it when he’s right.

“One that you helped escape before right?”

“That was for a reason. This is all Zemo.”

“Did he really deserve to be in there?”

“Do you really want me to answer that question.”

You did not, so you’d stepped away and gave in, just letting him be.

It was frustrating to say the least but Bucky was not allowed to steal your joy, no matter how true it all was. Unfortunately, he was very much tied to that joy.

When you’d rushed back down the hall almost forgetting your tooth brush, he’d finally gotten up and gone into the bedroom but you'd ignored him, not out of anger but because It broke your heart to think you’d be leaving him alone to his own misery. It was the last thing you wanted to do, but if you absolutely had to you would.

Zemo was the man you’d loved long before you met Bucky, you would not put the Baron aside for another person's moral dilemmas, even if might crush your heart. You would leave and send word of where you and Zemo were and hope that he could join you in time but you had to see Helmut, you couldn’t ignore the message.

However, Sargent James Buchanan Barnes could be a real man of surprise when he wanted to be.

As you finished cleaning up, tears in your eyes for what you would be leaving behind, he’d come into the kitchen with his own black duffle bag and tossed it down on the floor.You’d spun around at the sound of it hitting the tile and kept it together but you could have screamed you were so happy.

He gave you that “don’t say anything” look so instead you just flashed a brilliant smile and kissed his cheek which he dismissed as if he didn’t love it, but you saw the way his eyes lit up. He could have hidden it from someone else who hadn’t spent the last year living with him but not you.

“It’s not permanent. I can’t stay no matter where he’s taking us. But, for a little while I think it’ll be all right."

“Of course!” You weren't pressed, you'd just talk him into it later because as of that minute you’d been too elated to care about time.

“So what the hell are these instructions?” You’d asked Bucky in the cab out of the city

“I have an idea.” He said shaking his head a little. He was clearly thinking ‘what have I gotten myself into’ which made you laugh. You could hear Zemo in your head, his answer simply being ‘Trouble’

“Well where are we going?” You’d asked anxious to know more.

“I don’t think we’re staying in New York if that’s what you’re asking.”

You’d quickly looked back at the city, watching the bridges fade behind you, wondering if you’d see them again. There was a strong possibility that it would be a while before you did.

As expected, Bucky knew his stuff. You were definitely leaving the city. The instructions were a time and location as you’d guessed but you hadn’t understood that the second half were coordinates and not for the cab.

When you got out of the very expensive car ride— which you charged to that handy little black credit card that had magically appeared in your mailbox about a year ago (thanks prison daddy)— the two of you stood in what looked like no more than an old shipping yard.

“Come on, I actually know this place. We need to go this way.” Bucky said with his head down and eyes up, his serious face looking every bit the superhero he was when he wasn’t with you. It always made you laugh a little. This was the same guy who also sat around in his underwear watching reality competition shows with you eating ice cream…

“What’s this way?”

“Room.”

Cryptic. They always love being cryptic you’d grumbled following him, feeling on edge as you’d snaked your way through the maze of shipping containers and storage units.

As you came near the water, the rusted out rectangles did in fact clear and the narrow passages opened up giving enough space, or as Bucky had said, ‘room’ for a blacked out helicopter to rise up. It was the sort of midsized military grade machine made for traveling long distance and sitting inside was a pilot-- the sort who deals in silence and cash only transactions.

“What exactly did you tell Sam?” You’d asked once you were in the air with your headset on. “I’m sure you had to tell him something to keep him and anyone else from asking questions.”

“That I finally decided to take a vacation” Bucky’d said, his voice clear in your ears as he glanced at you. He didn't have to ask for you to see that he really didn't want you to make fun of him for it either.

“Ha! And he bought that?”

“I think so. He said it was— a good look for me.” He mocked Sams tone.

You’d laughed rubbing his warm arm and laying your head on his shoulder agreeing with Sam whole heartedly but for very different reasons.

About an hour or more in you’d fallen asleep only to be startled awake by the sound of Bucky’s humorless laughter just in time to see your destination come into view.

“I knew it.” He’d sneered looking through your window.

“Oh my god” You sat up leaning forward peering down at the white oval in the expanse of blue.

“Of course.” The way Bucky could detest Zemo’s opulence would forever amuse you. He’d sat back refusing to look anymore, as if you weren’t about to land anyway.

“It's perfect,” You’d insisted.

“He’s such an asshole” He'd grumbled but you’d caught the little twitch of a smile.

“Shut up Bucky. It’s amazing”

“Its a god damned yacht!” His voice gone high with the absolute offense of it all.

All you could do was laugh.

You lie in bed remembering stepping out of the helicopter, your bags tossed out and the bird in the air so quickly it’s like the pilot was never there.

“Still think this was a good idea?” Bucky’d asked as if anything about this might have changed your mind.

Impressed by the private landing pad on the highest deck but already aware of the delights that were undoubtedly waiting below, you’d just smiled and gave his cheek a pat. “Come on.”

Bucky grabbed both bags and you’d led him down the steps and onto a massive deck of beautiful pale wood lined with low white couches at the far end, blinding in the bold sun. Beneath the overhang was a large wet bar, with glasses already set out and an ice bucket, the neck of a champagne bottle greeting you.

“Please miss. Allow me”

You’d both looked behind you, startled to find the old butler Oeznik coming up from the center stairwell.

Poor thing, you'd nearly toppled him, throwing your arms around his neck but you really did adore that wonderful old man. He’d just laughed and hugged you back welcoming you aboard.

You thanked him but no sooner had he offered had you forgotten all about his hospitality.

Your back had been turned when you heard your name said with the soft accented voice that you had missed, craved and imagined for so many months…

“Helmut.” You will never forget what it felt like to turn and find him.

He stepped from the shadows and into the sun and you can still feel the way you’d bit down on your bottom lip to keep from crying.

Those eyes, that hair, his smile; so subtle and sly. You’d nearly forgotten that you could in fact go to him. He wasn’t just a man made up from your lonely daydreams but flesh and blood and so perfectly made.

It took him drawing his hands from his pants pockets— linen pants of all the casual things— to break the spell.

He’d opened his arms to just the right size for you and there was no holding back then.

What had it felt like? You try to remember now, but it's useless. You can remember him pulling you in as though he couldn’t stand another second without you close. You’d closed your eyes inhaling his scent as he touched your face and hair, his fingers brushing along your neck and shoulders. It’s so lovely and primitive the way touch and smell can become the thing that reunites and reacquaints us. You were like two animals in the wild and you’d gasped at the feel of his face gliding against yours, and his arms so tight around you until he'd pressed his forehead to yours whispering things you couldn’t understand as you held onto his forearms giving in to the thin line of tears that fell from your eyes. It was an unexpected moment of reconnecting. You knew you’d missed him, but this was so much more. You’d felt ready to submit to every command so quickly it honestly surprised you. The warm touch of his face against yours, his breath along your neck and finally his lips meeting your own was and will always be your first experience with what people describe as coming home. And then he’d pulled back, looked you in the eyes and simply said “Hello”

You couldn’t say anything back. You just watched him look past you and saw how his expression changed. You still can’t place it… “James.” The way he said his name. God it was so beautiful. You’d turned in Zemo’s arms and saw the look on Bucky’s face. There were tears in his eyes that you’re not sure he was even aware of.

“Zemo”

“How was the ride?” He’d asked politely.

“Fine.”

The tension was charged. There was unfinished business between them that they would need to work out on their own, but you hoped they could do it quickly.

And then Zemo raised his hand in offering. He had after all sent that text to two people.

Bucky hesitated for longer than he needed to, but when he did come forward and gripped the Baron in what he’d assumed would be no more than a handshake, Zemo smiled and pulled him in. He’d let go to hold Bucky by the back of his head for a moment gazing at his face. “I actually didn't expect you” He said sounding relieved.

Bucky gave in to his own feelings and reached out, gently grabbing Zemo’s waist. “Well Im here.”

“So you are.” He’d said, the pressure of such strong feelings for his soldier bubbling at the surface, desperate to be released. But he just stroked Bucky’s jaw with his thumb and smiled before looking down at you. “And now that you are, let me show you both around.”

Sitting up, you rub your eyes and find your clothes tossed all over the place mixed in with Zemo’s.

As he’d attempted to show you and Bucky the ship and explain your route, his hand would linger on the small of your back. He would find your curves as he talked about the endless amenities the yacht had to offer until neither of you were sure if he was talking about you or the boat. By the time you’d come down to the cabin deck, he’d pulled you close from behind as Bucky went on ahead unaware. Zemo grabbed your hips exhaling against your ear and you’re fairly certain it was the moan you let slip when he ever so gently pulled your hair, tilting your head to the side as he whispered something to you in Sokovian that got Bucky’s attention.

“James, please help yourself to anything at all. There are more comfortable clothes in the room here. If you’d like, Oeznik can help you find whatever you need. But— it has been a year since I’ve seen her.” He’d said his grip on your hair easing a bit as he stroked his fingers down your back. “As I’m sure you understand a year without a woman like this is a year too long.”

There was a tense few seconds between them and you worried you'd been wrong about the jealousy, but Bucky's face relaxed as he looked around Zemo towards the back of the yacht. “Was that a bottle of Longrow scotch I spotted in that other room?”

“Ah.” He seemed impressed with Bucky’s keen eye. “18 years." Zemo smiled.

“Perfect.” Bucky winked and slipped past giving your cheek a quick pinch.

After that you don’t even remember getting into the room. One second you’d been standing in the hall lost in a wash of furious kisses and the next he had you over his shoulder charging down the hall to the master bedroom practically kicking the door in.

He’d sat you down and you’d both gone wild pushing and pulling at your clothes only just breaking away from one another’s lips to actually undress with a few anxious smiles, some excited laughter tossed in until finally you were naked and then….

You hide your face behind your hand now remembering how good it felt, even though it’d been strange to have another man inside of you after so long.

There was no sign of your former lifestyle this time as he’d fucked you so perfectly. This time, desperate as he was, Helmut was gentle. He’d picked you up and held you between the wall and his own body, finding you easily, moaning into the space between you as he watched your face. He seemed so pleased to see you react to his attention as you once had, because yes, he was another man— he was the Baron and no one could ever take his place.

You’d ended up in the bed on your back nearly in tears from the feel of being under him after so long apart. Not until he’d felt you nearing your climax did he slip back into his natural state of dominance and only just enough to make the orgasm stronger as he’d closed his lovely fingers around your throat and looked into your eyes as you came and he’d whispered your name “I love you…"

Thank the stars that man is free, you smile wide now letting the lasting pleasure ripple through your body.

You look up and say it to yourself again letting the truth of him being here and you for that matter ground you. This day has been a whirlwind and until this moment you’ve been flung from one emotional state to the next. This is the first time you’ve been alone to process it and you are thankful, but the moment is short lived because Helmut’s escape was no small feat and you are not the only one ecstatic about his return.

Eyeing the closet across the room you feel a twinge of a different sort. Helmut is a planner, you’re certain there’s nothing but extraordinary outfits just waiting to be worn and you decide very easily that it’s time to get up and celebrate his freedom and address the very sexy, very annoying tension between the two men you love most in all the world before it consumes them both.

#zemo x reader #bucky barns x you #zemo fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #winterbaron #baron zemo #zemo smut #helmut zemo #bucky barnes is so sweet #also grumpy #but mostly the best #but also perfect

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lubdubsworld · 3 years

Text

City Lights . ( Namjoon x OC)

Pairing : OC x Kim Namjoon.

Genre : Angst. Romance.

Rating 18 +

Word Count : 2900

Warnings : Mature Themes , Explicit Sexual Content . Slow burn. Like slower than a snail.

Summary :

Widowed and destitute, Son Yang Mi leaves the comfort of her small , secluded fishing village and travels to the intimidating city of Seoul with her young son. She has a plan, one that involves finding a job, getting her son into a good school and building a life for herself.

Now, three years later she has a job , working as a live in house keeper for the Kim family, specifically for the son, Kim Namjoon, a famous rapper and producer.

Its a job that puts a roof over her head and she’ll do anything to keep it.

But fate has other plans.

Chapter 1 ~

Akogare (ah-koh-ga-reh)Often translated directly as a sort of frustrated “yearning”, “desire”, or “longing” .

Seoul in summer was a sight to behold. I blinked back against the bright sunlight, staring out into the stunning skyline of the city as the sun rose over it , and although it was just a little past seven in the morning, the air was warm and invigorating. The mid July sun shone down with no mercy, and there was no trace of the rain that had lashed city just the previous night.

It had been three whole years but the relief that came from breathing fresh air, untainted by the damp musk of fishing trowels and sweaty men, was still unrivalled.

I shook off the feather duster in my hand, moving to carefully clean the wicker woven chairs on the artificial lawn in the balcony. Dusting the entire condo down was a mind numbing exercise in patience, so i tried to get it out of the way, early in the morning when my son was still asleep.

At six years old, Junsu was a bright , happy child. Summer vacation meant days sleeping in and evenings spent frolicking with the other kids in the building and he was content with being alone in our small shared room, reading or playing with his toys while I went about the day’s work.

I glanced at the clock, grimacing.

It was almost eight . And although Mr. Kim wasn’t due back home for another twelve hours, I felt a little jittery and nervous.

Kim Namjoon , renowned rapper, producer, writer , poet and what not. The apartment was his but he was usually on tour, traveling all over the world to promote his book and to perform in sold out stadiums. For an A list celebrity, he was surprisingly humble.

For the past three years, him and his model fiancée Lee Mina had spent a total of maybe seven months in the condo. They were a sweet couple, or so I’d always thought , a bit formal with each other but clearly in love . Mr. Kim was a kind, soft spoken young man and I’d never heard him raise his voice unless he was in the company of his very dear friends.

Just a little over a week ago , both of them had left Korea for the States , the tabloids screaming about a luxurious destination wedding in the Caribbean and I had been asked to take a few weeks off . The newly weds wouldn’t be back for quite a while and they would let me know when I had to come back to the condo.

I’d been toying with the idea of visiting my in laws in Gwangyog, maybe even dropping by to see some old friends there but yesterday , Mr. Kim’s mother had given me a call letting me know her son was coming home.

[

The conversation went something like this :

Yang Mi, I hope you haven’t left yet?

No, Ma'am, I haven’t.

Joon-ah is going to be back tomorrow.

Oh, is Ms Lee arriving as well?

No, Just him He’s going to be alone.

Yes, Ma'am.

Please don’t mention anything about Mina or the wedding.

No ma'am of course not.

I’ll drop by later . Cook him something warm and filling. And make sure the house is cleaned well.

Yes, Ma’ am.

]

And that was that.

~~~~~~

It took the better part of the day to finish cleaning and setting up the house . I washed the window slats, changed the sheets, arranged the books that had been left scattered all over his bedroom. The walk-in closet was littered with a bunch of his clothes and I made sure his gym bag was stocked with fresh towels, spare clothes and his favorite head and wrist bands.

For someone so careful and calculated, he was really quite a messy man.

i did his laundry, making sure he had ample clothes at least for another two weeks, creasing the handkerchiefs and carefully removing lint from his jackets.

I also carefully sorted out the feminine clothing from the laundry and from the cupboard, folding them neatly and placing them in the lowest shelf of the closet, where he wouldn’t find them. It wasn’t hard, hiding traces of his fiancee from the condo, because it had never really been her home. other than a few spare pieces of underwear and a couple of t shirts and skirts, there weren’t many articles of clothing belonging to Ms. Lee.

But I still got rid of the bobby pins and hair ties, the spare lip gloss and mascara.

Junsu spent the entire day in our room, reading and drawing, only venturing out every few hours to grab a snack. I left him with his drawing tab ( a gift from Mr. Kim for his 5th birthday ) and his favorite book, asking the security guard at the end of the hallway to keep an eye on the door, while i went out to buy groceries.

Lots of meat, no sea food, healthy snacks and high protein fiber bars. I stocked up on sauces and bought a fresh batch of eggs, oranges and grapes . Mrs. Kim had sent a large amount of kimchi a few weeks ago and that was still in the pantry.

i stopped for a second, staring around at the almost deserted store. Most of the other housekeepers shopped at the bigger, more exclusive store on the other side of the residential complex. But Mr. Kim had a very selective palette, which meant that I had to be very particular about the brands i bought.

When i came back home at around six, Junsu was on the floor in the living space and i felt my heart jump in panic.

“Baby!! I’ve told you not to come out here when I’m not home!” I protested bleakly and he pouted.

“I need to show you my gift for Mr. Kim!!” He said softly. I smiled moving to put away the groceries and glancing at the clock. It was a little past six. I had to call Yungyu.

“Did you draw him something ? “ I asked curiously, checking to see if the beer shelf was stocked. probably should have done that before going out for the groceries, I thought regretfully.

“Yeah! Look!!” Junsu held his tab out and my heart dropped.

For a six year old, Junsu drew very well. And there was really no mistaking the very obvious wedding scene on the screen.

Oh, Good God.

“ That looks amazing honey.” I said gently. “ But, I heard that Ms Lee isn’t coming over this time..”

Junsu frowned.

“Why?”

“Well, I’m not sure. But remember how we spoke about saying the right things? When something upsets someone, we do not bring it up.” I reminded him gently. My son hesitated but nodded.

“Okay. I’m sorry. “ He said softly.

“No baby, its not your fault. It’s just that we want Mr. Kim to be happy right? We don’t wanna upset him...”

He smiled at that.

“When he’s happy, his dimples come out.” He said with a giggle. I laughed.

“yes they do... So let’s try and get those dimples out as often as we can alright? Why don’t you show him that picture you drew of yeontan the other day? He’ll really like that....”

“Okay...but i need to go color it!” Junsu yelled, already running back into our room. I watched him go before reaching for the phone and dialing, Yungyu, the chauffeur.

“Are you on the way here? ” i said briskly.

“Just starting from home...” Yungyu muttered, “ I’m supposed to be on vacation now! Why is he coming back so soon?”

“Just hurry up !! We can’t keep him waiting!!” I said sharply, before hanging up.

I made a quick check of all the rooms, filling up water bottles for his gym routine in the morning and stashing them in the fridge before moving to get dinner started.

i set the water on boil for the stew, before moving to peel cucumbers for the salad. I chopped the cucumber , along with some fresh cherry tomatoes . I watched the water boil, thinly slicing an onion and adding it to the bowl as well. The dressing was pretty simple, soy sauce, rice vinegar, honey and sesame oil . I sprinkled some sesame seeds on the bowl, used the salad tongs to give the whole thing a nice toss and set it aside.

I braised the chicken first , peeling and chopping potatoes and carrots to add to the stew . In a few minutes, the rich smell of lightly spiced chicken and garlic and perilla leaves began filling the kitchen and I turned on the rice cooker as well.

The door bell rang at six forty and i opened the door to reveal Yungyu.

I grabbed the keys to the Palisade, handing them over to him.

“Did you hear?” He whispered urgently.

I frowned.

“What?”

“They say Mr. Kim called off the wedding!” He whispered, wide eyed.

I glared at him.

“Who told you that?” i demanded...

“Seojoon from the gate said-”

“Why don’t you ask Seojoon from the gate to mind his own damn business?” I snapped.

Yungyu looked suitably chastised. i felt a little bad. Yungyu was still young and curiosity was hardly a sin.

“His flight lands at eight exactly. Hurry okay?” I said with a smile, ruffling his hair.

He brightened, peering over my shoulder into the house.

“Where’s the little one?” He asked curiously.

“ Painting something for Mr. Kim... Go ahead, hurry up.” I shooed him away, locking the door behind him. I fixed a plate of food for Junsu and sent him to eat, before moving to check on the stew. +

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

By the time eight thirty rolled around I had the table set and ready. I washed my face quickly in the small bath attached to our room , making sure I was dressed well. Junsu wasn’t allowed in the main house unless Mr. Kim specifically asked for him and my son usually stayed in.

Junsu and I stayed in a bedroom , not large by any means but big enough for a queen sized bed, a table and chair for Junsu and small dresser where I kept a comb and a tube of night cream. I stared at my face, licking my lips as I smoothed my hair out.

I glanced at the bed.

Junsu was asleep , having dozed off while coloring his picture and I carefully extracted the tab from under his fingers, moving him around to lay on the soft pillows. I tucked him in gently, brushing the hair off his face.

“In peace , I will lie down to sleep, for You alone will let me rest in safety.” I whispered gently against his forehead, kissing the soft skin. I felt my lips wobble , a debilitating wave of affection flooding me as the sweet scent of my baby, filled my senses.

I would die for you, I thought fiercely, kissing him again.

The sound of the front door opening made me jump.

Swearing, i smoothed the fabric of my skirt, running to the kitchen.

“Thank you for picking me up Yungyu, I’m sorry you had to cut short on your vacation.” Mr. Kim’s deep voice filled the hallway and I quickly grabbed a glass, filling it with water and placing it on the dinner tray.

“Not a problem, Sir. “ Yungyu’s cheerful voice responded.

“How are you going home?” Mr. Kim asked.

“I’ll take the bus.”

A pause and then,

“Here’s some cash. Get a cab.”

I could hear the relief in Yungyu’s voice as he let out a , “ Thank you sir.”

I fixed his plate carefully, the bowl of rice, the bowl of chicken stew, and the salad neatly arranged next to the napkin and the chopsticks. I heard him move across the condo, the sound of his suitcases as he wrestled them towards his bedroom and I frowned. Yungyu should’ve have brought those in for him.

I finished reheating all of the food and carefully carried the dinner tray to the bedroom.

Mr. Kim’s bedroom was right at the end of the hallway and the door was open. The full length mirror on the opposite wall showed him sitting on the small couch in his room, legs spread and elbows resting on his knees as he ran his fingers through his hair.

I raised my hand, ready to knock on the wood.

“Fuck!” He shouted, kicking out at the coffee table with enough force to send the furniture skidding half way across the room.

I froze in the hallways stunned.

“You’re such a fucking fool , Namjoon !!” He muttered angrily and I swallowed, turning on my heel and quickly walking back to the kitchen.

Maybe I ought to wait till he asked for dinner.

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

He didn’t ask for dinner.

I stayed sitting on the floor of the kitchen, waiting and lightly dozing as I heard him talk to his parents on the phone. I heard him open the liquor cabinet in his room, the sound of ice sloshing against glass, the sound of whiskey being poured carefully and i sighed.

I had to get to bed. It was already a little past eleven.

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

Sometime in the night, I woke up sweating....

Wondering what woke me up, I blinked groggily, glancing at Junsu. He was still sound asleep.

Sighing, I climbed out of the bed, carefully making my way to Mr. Kim’s room, peering in carefully.

He was asleep on the sofa.

I stared at the way his long legs stretched over the armrest, his lean hips twisted to accommodate his broad shoulders on the couch and I winced. He was definitely going to regret that in the morning.

I stared at the half empty bottle of whiskey on the table and sighed, moving to take off his shoes carefully. He didn’t stir.

I grabbed a pillow from the bed, carefully lifting his head and slipping it under. I placed a comforter over his shoulders, pulling it down to cover his legs.

Force of habit almost made me brush his hair off his forehead but I stopped myself.

The clock on the wall read three fifty am. God, I was going to feel terrible tomorrow. I carefully tip toed out, shutting the door behind me

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

I picked the comforter from the floor, carefully folding it and placing it on the bed, before grabbing the empty bottle of whiskey and glass . i could hear the shower running. The curtains were still drawn in and I tugged on the strings to get them to open. Sunlight spilled in through the floor length windows. The bed wasn’t slept in, so I opened the closet to grab a couple of towels, laying them on the bed for him.

The bathroom door opened and i quickly straightened, wanting to race out of the room but it was too late. Thankfully he was dressed, a pair of loose sweats and a loose t shirt . He was running a towel through his hair and his face brightened at the sight of me.

“Yang Mi! You’re here....” He said cheerfully.

“Good morning sir.” I said softly, offering him a small smile.

He smiled brightly, hair damp and dimples deep. The white t shirt he had on was almost fully soaked through and he shook his head, sending stray water droplets all over the place, a few landing on my cheeks.

“I didn’t see you last night...” He said casually, moving to drop the wet towel in the hamper, grabbing one of the fresh ones I’d laid on the bed.

“I thought you would like your privacy sir, you looked exhausted.”

He smiled.

“ Thank you for the blanket and the pillow by the way. And the shoes.”

I bowed quickly.

“I’ll get your breakfast done, sir.” I bowed again before quickly getting out.

I moved to the kitchen grabbing the oranges I’d got the previous day . Mr. Kim wasn’t fond of traditional korean dishes in the morning. He preferred freshly squeezed juice and toast, sometimes with an omelet perhaps.

I fixed his breakfast quickly, setting it all in the tray . He was still moving around in the bedroom and I heard him drag his worktable to the windows, which meant he was going to stay in the bedroom.

Pouring his coffee into a cup, I carefully picked up the breakfast tray , moving to his room slowly.

I used my foot to knock on the door.

After a pause of a few seconds,

“Come in Yang Mi!”

I carefully moved to the small table in front of the couch, placing the tray right in front of him. The scent of his body wash, green apple and strawberries, hit me hard.

“Where’s Junsu?” He asked casually.

“Still asleep sir. It’s Summer so school’s out.” I smiled, grabbing his phone from the table to make space for his tray.

The phone buzzed just as I was about to place it back down and I blinked.

Mina calling.......

I swallowed, not sure what to do, placing the phone down quickly.

“Uh..you have ...” I waved vaguely at the device before bowing again and moving back.

“close the door on your way out, Yang Mi...” He said gently and I quickly obeyed.

I moved to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee for myself. I stayed leaning over the counter and even through the locked door, I could hear him .

“Just don’t call me Mina...i don’t want to talk about this!!!”

I swallowed, glancing out of the window again. It was a bright, clear morning.

A second later, the door to his bedroom slammed open and he stormed out. I watched him from my spot in the kitchen, his fists clenched as he rushed out to the front door.

The door shut behind him and I exhaled.

Once I as done with my coffee, I moved to his room to clear the breakfast tray. His phone was still on the table.

It began ringing again just as I left the room.

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

"Mrs. Kim.” i said respectfully, bowing . She gave me a short smile.

“Where’s Namjoon? I’ve been calling him for the past hour.” She pushed past me into the house and I bit my lips.

“He went out about an hour ago. He left his phone behind.” I explained.

She stopped, sighing.

“Fine, I’ll wait for him. “ She moved to sit on the couch, glancing around the room.

“Should I get you something ma'am?” I asked softly and she smiled.

“Get me a glass of lemonade, Yangmi.” She said brusquely and i nodded, running to the kitchen.

“Did Mina come over?” She called out as I got the lemons out of the cooler.

“No ma'am.” i replied.

“Did she call?”

I remembered the phone ringing, how upset it had made Namjoon, how he had stormed out.

“I don’t know ma'am!” I said softly.

She nodded.

“Okay. You can leave.” She said quietly. i bowed and went back into the kitchen.

I peered out of the window as I fixed her a glass , and my eyes fell on a familiar figure, coming back in through the front gate. Even from this distance there was no mistaking the long legs and messy blonde hair.

I bit my lips, mind racing.

Mrs Kim and her son had a volatile relationship, to say the least.

And something told me that Mr. Kim was probably not in the right frame of mind to argue with his mother, now. The man was upset but apparently, neither his mother nor his ex fiancée understood that. instead of giving him space they were hounding him.

I hesitated for a second before making a quick decision.

I grabbed the tray with her lemonade and moved to her quickly.

“Thank you.” She said sharply. “ Turn on the Air Conditioner for me, will you?”

I fumbled with the remote, grabbing his phone from the table , turning it on before moving to the front door and rushing out.

I almost ran into him as he came out of the elevator , and i jerked back stumbling a bit to stop myself from crashing into his chest. He let out a , ‘ Whoa, “ his hands reaching out to grip my elbows.

“Careful. What’s wrong?” He asked gently and I swallowed.

“Your mother’s here.” I said quickly, “ Sir.”

“Oh, fuck.” He groaned. I swallowed.

“You can leave.” I blurted out. “It’s Tuesday. She has her charity work meeting at ten. Its almost nine. She won’t stay long....”

His eyes met mine, lips parting in surprise.

“I really can’t meet her now.” He said apologetically.

I nodded.

“Of course, I understand , sir. Just be back in an hour , she’ll be go-”

The elevator buzzed , the doors nearly closing over my shoulders and I flinched. He swore and stuck his arm out to keep it open.

I stared at him before holding his phone out.

“Here you go sir. “

He chuckled taking it from me and shaking his head.

“i feel like a kid, sneaking away from my mom.” His eyes reached mine, twinkling, “ Who would’ve thought the quiet, timid Yang Mi would be my partner in crime. “

I didn’t reply, just smiled.

And then he hesitated. “ Is Junsu awake?”

I blinked.

“Uh...yes sir,...he’s playing in the park downstairs with the other kids.”

“Great... Would you mind if i take him out for ice cream?”

I stared at him.

“Oh..uh...of course not. Sure.. I mean.. he’ll love that... Sir. Thank you.. You don’t have to -”

“Consider it thank you for helping me with my mother.” He smiled again and i found myself staring at his dimples again. i swallowed.

“in that case, he loves butter scotch.” I smiled.

The dimples appeared and i bit my lips.

“Thank you Yang Mi.” He said slowly.

“Yes, Sir.”

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

Author’s Note : Finally a hyungline fic !!! ugh... I’ve been wanting to write a Namjoon fic for ages and I really hope you guys will like this one :’( Feedback is much appreciated.

#namjoon smut #namjoon au #namjoon hot #namjoon fics #namjoon x reader #namjoon fic #bts smut #bts fanfics #bts au #bts fics #houseofddaeng

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