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all-with-angel · 11 days ago

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Stress test // Superhero!Sukuna

➤ Superhero!Sukuna x Gearmaker!Reader

➤ Deadlines are nipping at your heels and you haven't found yourself a willing test subject for your projects. As your last Hail Mary, you waltz into the training area and borrow the first person you see; Not knowing who exactly you had just made your test subject. Not like it matters to you.

➤ gn!reader, Sukuna being sukuna, cocky Sukuna humbled by reader, both are 20+, light injury, sfw, NOT PROOFREAD and I couldve probably done a better job but wtv we die like gojo

You haven’t slept in thirty hours.

You haven’t eaten anything other than energy bars and instant coffee in fourteen, and the last time you took a break was when a rogue drone had exploded and knocked you out for 16 minutes. Those were a good 16 minutes.

You’d love to take a rest, sleep until the world exploded even, but deadlines were looming over your head like a death knell, red marker on your calendar telling you ‘You’re screwed.’

You had ideas- God, you had way too many ideas. Building them was one thing, but that was the easiest part really. You could do that in your sleep, and frankly, probably had once or twice. No, the problem was testing them.

You needed raw data. Field stress levels, user performance under duress, energy thresholds when pushed to their uppermost limit. Simulated tests could only go so far. The board wanted grit. They wanted the real deal. The kind that said, “Yes, this will absolutely survive a villain launching a bus at your face.” or “Yes, this will hold up against the strength of Infinity.” (Like that's even possible)

And you couldn’t give that. How could you? You didn’t have teams of testers like the more known gadget makers, no, you had yourself and A.I. test dummies that started flirting with you if they weren’t reset every other week.

You were a genius. But what good is a genius without results?

You put on your best unwrinkled lab coat, shoved your tablet under one arm, slapped a fresh stim patch onto your neck, and marched your overworked ass down to the training floors of the facility. Academy, as the higher ups would say, but it was anything but that really.

You didn’t learn much here other than that most of your coworkers were stupid.

Today’s plan?

Find the strongest idiot. Throw gadgets at them. Hope for the best.

Yeah.

Yeah, that sounded good. You really were a genius. Or sleep deprived. You couldn’t tell.

The facility, of course, was always active. Training rooms were booked 24/7 by heroes, cadets, and the occasional egomaniac. As you stepped into the third hall, the sound of explosions- actual explosions- echoed down the corridor, followed by some deeply maniacal laughter.

Sounds like the strongest idiot to me.

You took a step into the viewing area, peering into the highly reinforced glass and observed. There was smoke everywhere, but it quickly dispersed to reveal your maybe test subject.

He looked pretty familiar. HawkTuna-something?

He stood there in a scorched tank top, hands on his hips, surrounded by sparking debris. Pink hair and red eyes, face tattoos. He looked more like a gangster than a hero.

You jogged your memory, as fucked as it was- and remembered some news broadcasting about a Hero that had more than half of his fights end with a building or two collapsing. You snapped your fingers when you remembered, “The King”. That was his hero name.

You recalled it from an interview, where he refused to be called anything other than that. Right, so he was a cocky fucker. You could work with that.

A few minutes later, you found yourself at a vending machine right outside the training hall, buying yourself your nth energy drink today. Just as you grabbed the can from the machine, the mechanical doors of the training room opened. Out came walking the King, steps heavy but not rushed.

You straightened your lab coat, holding your tablet to your chest and energy drink in the other as you walked up to him. “Uh, excuse me?” You smiled politely. Holy hell, he was bigger up close.

“What?” He clicked his tongue, red eyes narrowing at you. “You better make this quick. I have things to do.”

“Would it be alright if I borrowed you for a little while? You see I need test subje-”

“Not interested.” He huffed, shoving past you.

Okay, rude. You stumbled to the side, head whipping in his already departing direction. You mentally debated whether pursuing an already bitchy test subject was worth it, before realizing that both your job and education was on the line. You let out a huff of frustration before running after his retreating figure.

“Hey! Wait! Um- Tuna guy? Suzuki, was it?”

He stopped abruptly, leading you to bump into his back face first. He didn’t even budge. Instead, he turned around, a scowl that would leave any sane person shaking in their boots.

Unfortunately, you were not sane. At least not right now.

“Sukuna. It’s Sukuna.” He hissed at you.

“Oh right, yeah, Sukuna. Anyway-” You took a few steps back, clearing your throat before continuing. “I need to put my projects under stress tests so I need-”

“Don’t they have simulations for that?” He was tapping his foot, crossing his arms as he looked down on you.

Okay, this guy seriously had to stop interrupting you. “Well uh, those can only go so far. And the board wants actual real life testing,” You answered. “Could you come up to the lab with me and test some of them? It’ll be quick. I promise. I just need to get my reports done before my deadline.”

“Why should I care?”

“Sorry?”

“I said why should I care?” Sukuna repeated. “You’re some nobody asking me for a favor when I’m supposed to be getting dinner. Who do you think you are talking to the future number 1, huh?” He leaned forward, looming over you with a scowl.

“The future number 1 hero?” You mused, staring right back at him. “I highly doubt that.” It hurt your neck to crane your neck this high, but you kept your voice from wavering.

“Tsk. Do you not even know who I am? What I’m capable of, brat?” He clicked his tongue, voice lowering into a growl as he glared, crimson eyes inches away from yours. “I can destroy this facility and everyone in it in seconds.”

“So?” You blinked.

You could see his eye twitch. “Do you have a death wish you-” His voice raised, almost yelling before you cut him off.

“Dude. Seriously, I can’t care less about what you can do.” You waved him off, “I only care if you can help me. Got it?”

Sukuna, The King- The so-called prodigy with more potential as a villain than a hero, stood there, dumbstruck at your audacity. You could see the gears turn in his head, the veins starting to pop on his neck.

You sigh in faux defeat, slumping your shoulders. “Unless you’re too much of a pussy to test some measly little gadgets.” You shake your head, turning away from him. “It’s a shame really, the so-called future number 1, scared by some nobody's little inventions.”

“Do I look stupid to you?” He rolled his eyes. “I’m not falling for your taunting.”

“Alright.” You shrug. “But you do sound,” You look him up and down, pointedly ignoring the imprint of his muscles the size of your waist. “-pretty weak to me.”

Sukuna stood there, glowering at you, a support course nerd he’d never even heard of. To be honest, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit curious at what you’ve got in store in that lab of yours if you’d really go this far to recruit him. His manager probably would be annoyed that he was late to their dinner meeting again, but what was that idiot gonna do anyway? Yell at him?

He clicks his tongue. “Fine.”

“Fine?” You raise a brow, a small smirk tugging on your lips.

“Yeah, fine.” He snarled.

“Perfect!” You clapped your hands once, previous ‘disappointed’ demeanor melting away quickly. “Come, come. Follow me.”

You click the handcuffs into place. “Comfortable?”

“No.” Sukuna answered, flexing his hands under the cold steel of the cuffs.

“Good. They’re not supposed to be,” Nodding, you take a few steps back. “Now break out of them.” You look down to your tablet, tapping a few buttons to monitor the stress levels of the cuffs and see how quickly they might break. You two have been at this for a while now, most of the gadgets being destroyed or barely grazing the cocky hero- Who simply grew more arrogant with every failed test. “These are a pair of reinforced handcuffs, they should hold up quite well-”

The handcuffs explode into pieces, scraps of metal littering the floor and edges of the testing area. “Against some robber, maybe.” Sukuna drawled. “Is this it? Are you seriously gonna waste my time with barely put-together chunks of metal?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing the pair of handcuffs off the list and marking it for extra blast reinforcement and maybe power dampening qualities.

“Nope. Next.” You grabbed a gadget from your side table, raising it and aiming at Sukuna. The hero stares at you, the weapon and then back at you. Seemingly unimpressed. “A gun? Really?”

“It's a non-lethal firearm, just as impactful as rubber bullets but not as harmful.” You keep your aim steady, ready to fire.

“I’ve melted bullets in mid-air. Do you really think that would work?”

“They’re high velocity, so we’ll find out.” You pull the trigger twice, but nothing hits Sukuna. Instead, two very small and unrecognizable puddles of the bullets are a few feet away from him.

“Well, well, well. Looks like your high velocity rounds aren’t much compared to me.” He scoffed.

This time, you felt your eye twitch. He really was starting to get on your nerves. “Yeah, guess so.” You lowered the gun to your side. “Could you get the next gadget? It’s behind you.”

“Tsk. Asking me to do your job now, huh?” Sukuna rolled his eyes, large frame turning around and inspecting the table behind him. Just enough time for him to lower his guard. You raised the gun again, firing at his back- This time, it hits.

“Fuck!” The hero exclaimed, lips pulled into a scowl as he whipped his entire body towards you. “The hell was that?!”

You hummed in satisfaction, finally setting down the gun and tapping your tablet to record the results. Success. “My finger must’ve slipped, sorry.”

“Like hell it did!”

“Did it hurt?” You smirked.

Sukuna felt a bruise forming on his back, the point of impact throbbing lightly on his back. “No. Of course not.”

“Noted.”

Sukuna growled at you, ready to lunge and rip you a new one before he remembered that if he did maul another of his coworkers, that he’d get suspended. Again. So instead, he huffed and crossed his arms. “Are we done yet? Or do you have more chaos to unleash?”

“Yep, just one more.” You tossed a grenade-shaped contraption up and down your hand. “Though, this one has healing properties. Should help with the pain.”

Sukuna eyed you suspiciously, checking if this was another trick. He didn’t find anything other than quiet amusement in your eyes and anticipation. You were clearly enjoying it with him as your test subject. When you noticed his distrustful glare, you reassured him with a smile. “Don’t worry, if something goes wrong, the agency has your medical bills covered.”

He rolled his eyes, like that made it any better. “So you're saying something can go wrong?”

You shrugged. “Anything could go wrong, really.” You traced your thumb on the metal of your little toy, finger hovering right on the detonation button- It should go off after 5 seconds after pressing it. “But trust me.”

“I don’t trust you.” Sukuna said, voice flat.

“Shame.” You pressed the button, tossing it at his feet and stepping backwards. He didn’t move though, even if he did raise a brow at your sudden withdrawal- It didn’t last long before the healing grenade exploded.

Green slime-like substance coated him and a good portion of the area, luckily nowhere near you. The substance from the grenade seemed to pulse and glow green, especially the chunks that were on and around Sukuna. You quickly noted that down.

Sukuna cringed at the sludge coating his body, he didn’t feel any better than he did 3 seconds ago, maybe even a little worse with how icky the green goo felt. “The hell?” He raised his hand, the slime connecting in strands to the rest of his torso. “Some healing grenade this is.”

You stayed quiet.

He clicked his tongue, glaring at you before looking to the door. “I’m done with this bullshit. Now I gotta take a shower before going anywhe-” Sukuna tried to take a step forward, only to be halted by the slime. He kept trying to pull at his limbs, each action taking more effort than the last as it became apparent that this was no ordinary healing grenade.

It hadn’t even passed any screenings yet. And this was still a work in progress, not an actual thing you had to test at the moment. It was one of your flukes, you knew that. Sukuna, did not. “Oh, right. About this one,” You picked up your tablet, voice painfully nonchalant as you act unaware of the struggle that Sukuna was going through. “I don’t exactly have a dissolvent for the healing cream, and it gets quite sticky.”

“Then what are you waiting for??” Sukuna screeched, head snapping in your direction as any fire or explosion he tried to use was cancelled by the healing agent. Did you mention that it also doubles as a power-cancelling agent? No? Oops. “Get to work on it then!!”

You shrugged, turning your back to him and towards the exit “Alright.”

“Hey, HEY! Where the hell do you think you’re going?!”

You turned around, motioning towards the testing area in shambles. “You don’t expect me to work in this mess, do you?” Voice level, like you were pointing out solid facts- trying your damn hardest to not let the smugness bleed into your tone.

“So, what? You're just gonna leave me here??” Sukuna sounded a mix of stunned, confused and angry.

“Thats the plan, yeah.” You start walking away, the door hissing as it automatically opened. “Don’t worry! It’ll probably melt off in an hour if I’m not done by then!” You give him a wave, smirking at him over your shoulder.

“Probably?? You motherfu-”

He was spewing curses at you now, belittling you and trying his hardest to defend his last remaining drops of dignity. You simply smiled back, polite. “See you, Number one.”

Yeah, you weren’t going to work on that dissolvent.

(open!) tags: @idontwannatalkrn1

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chrissssssmut · 8 days ago

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Hi hello sir, I kindly ask a story with popular girls Asa and Ahyeon asking shy+nerdy mreader for help studying. No smut obviously and no need for yandere. Just fluffy stuff

Perks Of Being The Nerd

Asa & Ahyeon x Nerdy Male Reader

You didn’t expect much out of sophomore year.

Not fame. Not a girlfriend. Definitely not two.

Your goal was simple: survive AP Chem and keep your manga collection hidden from the occasional hallway tormentor. You were painfully good at blending in—until they happened.

Asa and Ahyeon.

The reigning queens of the junior class. Known for their looks, wit, and tendency to dominate literally every school event. Asa was sharp-eyed, tomboyish, and had a habit of chewing gum like it owed her money. Ahyeon was sweeter, mischievous, and occasionally so charming it felt like she was glitching the simulation.

And somehow, through some cosmic joke, they were now sitting at your kitchen table, flipping through your perfectly highlighted notes like they belonged there.

“Okay, so explain covalent bonds again,” Asa said, squinting at the textbook like it had personally wronged her.

“They’re the ones where atoms share electrons,” you muttered, pushing your glasses up and refusing to make eye contact. You could feel both of them looking at you.

“That’s so cute,” Ahyeon said suddenly.

You blinked. “...Covalent bonds?”

“No,” she giggled, “you. When you explain things like you’re afraid we’ll break.”

“I—I'm not afraid,” you said, then immediately regretted it. “I mean, not of you. Just, like. Talking. In general.”

Asa smirked and leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm. “You talk more when you’re passionate. Like, just now. You went full anime professor mode.”

Your heart skipped.

You were going to die. Right here. In your kitchen. Surrounded by girls way out of your league and a stack of flashcards.

It all started three days ago when Ms. Kim paired you up for peer tutoring. Apparently, Asa and Ahyeon were “slipping” in chemistry. You’d expected them to blow you off immediately.

But instead—

“Hey, you’re that smart kid, right? The one with the cute notes?” Asa had said, cornering you after class.

“You have the best handwriting I’ve ever seen,” Ahyeon added, eyes twinkling. “Can we study at your place?”

You said yes before your brain could stop you.

Which brings us back to the present.

“You make this stuff sound easy,” Asa said, tossing a pencil up and catching it. “I swear, if teachers explained things like you do, I wouldn’t be failing.”

“I-it’s not really hard,” you mumbled. “Just patterns and logic, mostly. Like code.”

Ahyeon tilted her head. “You code too?”

You nodded. “A bit. Mostly games. Visual novels, sometimes.”

“You’re like, the most interesting guy here and no one knows,” Asa said, stealing one of your erasers.

“Maybe because he’s hiding behind his bangs and hoodies,” Ahyeon teased, leaning toward you slightly. “We’re gonna fix that.”

“Fix what?”

“You,” they said in unison.

Somehow, “study sessions” became a regular thing.

They always brought snacks. Ahyeon liked lying on the floor with her feet up on your bed, whining about reaction rates. Asa always claimed the desk chair and spun in it until she got dizzy.

You tried to stay professional.

Tried.

But sometimes, Asa would lean over your shoulder and ask about a formula, her breath warm against your ear. Sometimes Ahyeon would rest her head on your arm while you explained things, and it was impossible to focus when your heart was beating like a drumline.

“You’re blushing again,” Asa said one afternoon, grinning like a shark.

You immediately buried your face in your hoodie.

“No fair,” you mumbled. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”

“But it’s cute,” Ahyeon chimed in. “And you never tell us what you think.”

“I—I do!”

“Okay,” Asa leaned in, eyebrow raised. “What do you think of us?”

You froze.

“I—I think you’re both…” You swallowed. “Very…good at learning?”

They stared at you.

“Wow,” Asa said, snorting. “That’s the nerdiest compliment I’ve ever received.”

“I love it,” Ahyeon said.

You peeked up at them.

And found two girls smiling at you like you’d just given them the moon.

“Hey,” Asa said quietly, after a silence. “You ever think about, like…dating?”

You choked on your juice box. “W-what?!”

“Not like that!” she added, laughing. “Okay, maybe like that. It’s just—we were talking, and you’re…kind of great?”

You blinked.

“You help us study, you’re smart, you make the best snacks, and your dog loves us.”

“And,” Ahyeon added, sliding closer to you on the couch, “you make me feel calm. Which almost never happens.”

Your face felt like it was on fire.

“Are you saying… you like me?”

“We like you,” they said in unison again.

“I—I don’t know how to—”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Ahyeon whispered. “Just let us hang out with you more. Maybe hold your hand sometimes. That okay?”

Your voice came out small. “Yeah. That’s okay.”

So that’s how it happened.

One minute you were the quiet nerd with an anime wallpaper and a carefully curated pen case, and the next you were dating the two most popular girls in school.

Well. “Dating” might be a strong word. It started with long tutoring sessions that turned into movie nights. Hand-holding during breaks. A cheek kiss here, a forehead bump there. Soft “good luck” messages before tests and chaotic selfies from their classrooms.

Sometimes you caught people whispering when you walked down the hall with them on either side.

But then Asa would glance at you, bump your shoulder, and smirk.

Ahyeon would flash you a grin like you hung the stars.

And suddenly, you didn’t care what anyone thought.

Because somehow, impossibly—you were their favorite nerd.

End.

(But they definitely make you teach them anime intros next week.)

#kpop fluff #fluff story #fluff scenario #fluff stuff #fluff #asa babymonster #ahyeon babymonster #fluff stories #fluff x reader #fluff fic #fluff fluff fluff #fluff fanfiction #fluff for once #fluff fanfic

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cosmicviolencce · 4 months ago

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what we're fighting for. bellamy blake.

⊹ where bellamy sees you by the river, and you realize he needs a reminder of how good the earth can be.

⊹ smut, violence, fluffy, nsfw, swearing, breasts worship, unprotected sex, bellamy x fem!reader.

since you landed with the prisioners, your perception changed completely.

things were so different from the space, the air would actually smell like things, like trees and grass and dirt and... water.

you had your list of favorite things in the planet, including the sunset and flowers and the amazing feeling of laying on grass and watching the leaves waggling upon you, but the water would surely be on top of that list. it would taste infinitely better than how it did in the ark, but what you really loved was how it felt against your warm skin when you stepped into a river, or how calming the water would sound with the singing birds and the blowing wind against the trees.

there was a river a few kilometers away from the camp. everything was new for you, for a hundred teenagers on their first time in a new planet, though you weren't the first ones after the cataclysm, neither the only ones living there — and you discovered that in the worst possible way. but that didn't matter for you, because you already lived your whole life locked up in a cell, and you were already born in a box in the space, which didn't make things better.

the simple acknowledgment that you could actually see things you didn't even dare to imagine before was already worth the danger that came with the exploration; hostile grounders sneaked behind the trees and the next victim could be you, but you didn't care.

so you'd always find a way to sneak out the camp discreetly, and after insisting on helping with tasks on the camp that involved taking buckets of drinkable water to the camp or washing supplies, you had the path memorized in your brain, recognizing every curve and every hill.

your curious eyes wandered everywhere, and they still weren't used to how absurdly green your surroundings would be, so distant from the void you stared from the ark windows before you got arrested. and in that river, that beautiful place where trees were so close to eachother they created arcs of leaves upon the flowing water, you felt safe like in a fortress. at first you felt constantly watched, afraid a grounder would jump on you with a fatal stab from their spares.

now it didn't matter. as long as you could listen to the sound of the water flow crashing against the large rocks at the margin, feeling the cold sensation embrace your body, you'd die at peace.

so you made that a ritual, your secret little ritual. oh, swimming felt even better than floating on the gravity simulator. you took off all your clothes, disappearing into the water that mirrored dark green leaves. sat there, you could watch still as animals passed by to refresh themselves, and they didn't fear you. you felt like a mystical creature with superpowers, like you were born in the earth and belonged there.

at first, that was the first impression from the man that got surprised with the image of a young woman swimming so freely. when reality hit him, he wondered if it could be a grounder, but it didn't make sense, a grounder wouldn't be so near a river the teenagers used so often. not alone.

such a beautiful woman, wet long hair falling in waves on her bare back. slender and soft, stopping next to the edge of the river and hugging her knees like a fragile creature, covering all her nudity. he felt a pull, a primal urge to approach something so different from his roughness, from all the violence that planet offered. something pure and untouched.

bellamy watched from afar, hidden behind large leaves. then, when he realized it could be one of his own people, he approached. even if you were naked, even if you seemed so peaceful and free in your solitude. he couldn't let one of his own people in danger, so he stepped foward. your trained ears were so used to the quietude that it was easy to detect any changes on your surroundings. your eyes quickly looked for a sign and your hands instinctively went to your breasts, even though your knees were already pressed against them.

so, when he realized that, he stepped out from the darkness behind the tree and stopped by the marge, trying not to scare you. even though you weren't aware of how long he watched you, a hint of admiration still made his eyes shine. he was amazed, and tried to cover it with his toughness.

"you shouldn't be here," he said. a dead rabbit was hanging on his left hand, a bow positioned across his chest. he was hunting.

"i know," was all you answered, trying to look back at the water with nonchalance while you hugged your knees tightly.

"so you're rather stupid or suicide," he murmured with a hoarse voice, trying to intimidate you with his commanding tone as he did to everyone else in the camp. you didn't answer, which made him sigh in frustration.

then, he removed the bow from his chest and placed it upon a rock before approaching the river with a knife on his other hand. you watched it attentively as he started to clean the dead animal that would probably feed most of you later.

he was almost able to act as if you weren't naked so next to him, as if you didn't know he was trying hard not to stare too much at your hypnotizing form. he just couldn't leave you alone, so he made an excuse to not to leave. to be close. — to protect you, like the internal urge he felt when he saw you there, so sweet and innocent.

so while he pretended to be focused on removing the thin skin from the animal, you dived back on the deepest part of the river so that the water would cover your bare skin. you pretended to do something, to clean your hair or your to remove some leaves that the river would eventually bring from it's flow.

but bellamy couldn't stop watching.

your back, turned at him, moved gracefully. he admired your curves, the way the water only covered your hips. teasingly. your hair seemed even longer when it was soaked, and covered you like a blanket. but when you pushed your hair to the side to softly rinse your shoulder, his eyes fell to the curve of your back, imagining how his hands would feel against you. the sight of your exposed neck was driving him crazy.

he sighed, quickly focusing back on his task. even if all he did was for not leaving you alone, he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for making you feel vulnerable. at least he imagined you did, and he wouldn't blame you for that.

he cleared his throat. "it's getting late. it'll be dark soon."

"i know the way back," you said.

"i know you do." he said with slight irritation, what made you chuckle and turn your body to face him. but, when he took you in, water would be at your collarbone height.

"you act as if we weren't in the fucking earth."

his eyes went from the rabbit to you. "do you realize how many we've lost?"

you frowned, pressing your crossed arms upon your chest.

"that doesn't make the earth less amazing. just look around. it deserves our admiration... even if for a single moment."

he looked around quickly, "moment's over."

he swallowed, trying not to let your words annoy him like they would annoy the leader and responsible version of himself. being in charge of a camp meant having to carry on your shoulders the weight of every tragedy, and you could imagine how fucked up that was. but bellamy needed to understand your point of view too; and maybe it wasn't as easy for him to admire your freedom because he wasn't a prisioner like the rest of you.

but who in the ark would ever imagine any of you would be able to see the earth again?

"just look around, bellamy," you tried to step on his direction but remembered you were naked, and his eyes lowered quickly to your arms pressed tightly upon your breasts. you stopped there, because every step closer would take you to the surface and reveal more of your body. "there's trees, and animals, and... goddamnit, everything's so amazing. makes me feel like it's worth it," you said, "any of us who died got to see that, and the rest of us got the chance to make life possible again."

he seemed to think about the depth of your words for a long moment. they were beautiful, but not enough to get trough his tough facade.

"i don't have time for this. maybe i'm too busy keeping us alive,"

you sighed, frustrated.

"come here," you murmured in a soft invitation.

it was tempting. you standed so pretty, your frame shining among the water, your rounded eyes begging him for a chance to show him the beauty of the earth when you were the definition of it, a magical creature asking him to approach.

but he couldn't.

"listen, i don't have time for your-"

"please," you insisted with a soft smile, "i'm coming back to the camp with you, i promise. just come here..."

he sighed in frustration. though he tried to keep his word, he was still bellamy blake afterall, and the sight of a beautiful girl calling him that way would have it's effects on him

he put the rabbit down, cleaning his bloody hands on his jeans befote kicking his boots and removing his shirt. and at this point, it was already normal to stare, so you did. watched as his bronzed chest rose and fell repeatedly in a slightly quickened breath, his strong arms falling at the sides of his body while he approached you.

you smiled in satisfaction, now covering both of your breasts with one hand while the other took his own, bringing him even closer.

"look up, bell," you told him, your eyes following his to the trees that towered you, and for a second his eyes shined in admiration. leaves danced upon you with the wind, creating a calming sound that mixed with the flowing water. then, birds began to sing and you smiled.

you looked back at him, his pretty lips slightly parted as he began to relax, to appreciate the beauty that surrounded you two. then, when he realized, he'd lost you. he looked around to he surprised by your hands on his eyes, blinding him. from where you standed, so close behind him, he could feel your nipples brushing against his bare back, what made him sigh and swallow nervously.

"now listen," you murmured in a low and soft voice, guiding him. your breath so close to his ear made him shiver, "does anything you've heard up there in the ark sounds like this?"

you used one hand to cover his eyes while the other lowered to his heart, and you felt his incredibly fast heartbeat.

"maybe you need a break from the fight to just remind yourself what we're fighting for," you whispered and his breath got caught in his throat. "we're in the earth, bell. that's amazing for itself, just... think about that."

he sighed deeply, as if trying to take in the combination of your words and all the natural sounds around you. then he started to feel what you feel, what he felt himself when the dropship came down before the feeling got lost with the responsibilities. but it was easy with you, with your body so close to his, so intimately.

he felt as if the world silenced around him, and he could hear only his heartbeat.

your touch lowered from his chest to his abdomen, letting your nails tease the skin above the hem of his pants. he arched his back against you with a gasp.

then, your hand fell from his eyes and when he turned his body to see you - almost desperately -, he found that smile of yours, as he always did. and it was for him. your hands didn't cover your body anymore, they rested calmly at your sides, and your long hair served as a veil to your beautiful breasts.

and he had to see you.

he had to unwrap that gift the woods offered him, to feel you and claim you. every primal instinct shouted him to do so, because your ability to calm him trough a war got him simply amazed. hypnotized. so he gently put your hair behind your shoulders, now revealing your form completely. so pretty. his eyes shined, his hands ached in anticipation and the tenderness of his touch made you shiver. but you didn't move. you stayed there looking at him, seeing what else he wanted to do to you.

because you were at your favorite place in the universe, and his presence was the only one that didn't made you apprehensive in this world full of death and tragedies, and he did nothing but to touch you like a hidden pearl. his fingertips trailed down from your collarbone to the base of your breasts, feeling how heavy they were before squeezing both. you moaned, reaching for his curls at the back of his head and grasping it in response.

he swallowed hard, his jaw tensing with the burden of a hard decision.

"i should take you back to the camp," he said, yet not able to let go of you, his hands lowering to the curve of your back and brought your body closer to his as the water embraced both of your bodies.

"not now," you said firmly, and yet, it was one of the softest things he's ever heard.

"it's not safe for you here. you're vulnerable."

"i'm not," you murmured in a whisper, looking deep inside his eyes, "i have you." he blinked a few times, waiting for his heart to take in your words before continuing. "and i trust you," you said calmly, and he was almost flabbergasted. did you not understand the weight of these words upon him?

"you can't just say things like that," he murmured in frustration. his breath was hitched, ghosting over your face.

"come closer," you murmured, gentle fingers still stroking his scalp. he obeyed, gluing your body on his with your chest pressed further against his, and the growing bulge in his pants met the warmth of your thighs. he groaned at the realization; his clothes were the only thing between you, you were fully naked. and sometimes that was hard to take in when half of you body was covered by the water.

"i need you," was all he had the strength to mumble under his breath with his lips already ghosting over yours. in another situation, he'd simply take your lips with his the second you gave him the opportunity for it, but he felt in your arms the comfort he'd never felt in his whole life while all the responsibilities took over, and he was able to accept whatever you were willing to offer. like a lost boy in a fairy's arms.

you lips rubbed against his neck caressing the soft skin there, and you could feel his scent; something like woods and sweat. you needed it to fill your lungs, and you inhaled deeply. he held you tightly against him, lifting your body until your legs encircled his hips. felt like everything he's ever dreamed of, and suddenly he understood what you tried to explain.

the feeling of freedom.

and he needed more from you, to take all you was willing to allow him to feel; he kissed you deeply while guiding your bodies deeper into the water. you moaned against his mouth when he squeezed your waist, almost as if trying to bring you impossibly closer. you parted your lips for him and he groaned, tasting you desperately while you used your grip on his hair to bring him even closer and allow him to sink inside your mouth.

water seemed to dance around you, comforting and embracing your bodies. you didn't realize he was moving until he positioned your body gently in a large rock and pulled back to simply admire you there; droplets of water all over your skin while you layed there so sweetly, waiting for him.

he wanted to be inside you so bad, but the way you looked at him made him lean foward to kiss you again.

"just wanna make you feel good, bell," you murmured against your lips, and he kissed you again.

"you will."

you could feel him unzipping his pants, but you were too busy planting soft kisses on his jawline to do something about it. then, bellamy was hovering your body now, pants and boxers at the height pf his heels. you barely had time to admire his thick cock, to touch him and feel how his pulsating flesh would feel against your palm because he was already parting your thighs and forcing himself inside you.

you could feel every inch of him easily sliding inside your wet cunt. he groaned, burying his face in your neck. you sobbed, your delicate hands still on his hair, caressing and pulling at the dark locks.

your back arched against the tough surface, scratching your pretty skin. he pulled back and sank further agaisnt your warmth, needing more and more of the comfort you provided him, as if his heavy clouds filled his mind to the point he could no longer think about his duties and responsibilities, just the tight warmth of you sweet cunt encircling his throbbing cock.

and his only obligation was to drag more of those tiny sweet sounds from your lips.

he rolled his hips against yours, trying to feel all the extension of your insides, to know how deep he could reach before pulling back again, and again, and again.

"i need you so much," he breathed out, like fucking you this deep wasn't enough. his shoulder's muscles contracted so beautifully upon you, and your lips parted to let out a silent gasp. he was hitting you so deep you could almost roll your eyes if it wasn't for his torturously slow pace.

your hands lowered to his back in a sort of comforting touch, and you felt his burning skin; rays of sun mistreated his skin as he shelted you under his large frame. it would burn later, but you'd make sure to provide a more comfortable place for him to fuck you next time.

"faster," you pleaded in a whisper. he wanted to savour you, but he definitely wasn't against the suggestion; he'd have time to fuck you slowly over and over again, but right now, your pulsating walls brought him closer and closer to a no return point.

he pushed himself inside you harder and harder, one hand supporting his weight on the hard surface of the rock to allow the other hand to explore your body, cupping your breasts before using his hand to steady your trembling hips against the floor, allowing him to hit a sweet point inside you that made you moan in a quite satisfactory loud sound.

"holy fuck, bell," he looked down at you to meet your pleasured expression, half lidded eyes and the blush in your cheeks that came with the approaching release. he smiled trough his parted lips, parting your legs to sink even deeper inside you in a new angle, "fuck, just like that..."

he followed your words, despite fighting the internal urge to tease you further. his cock already throbbed fastly and not much different from your convulsing spongy walls, orgasm would reach him and he was desperate for it just like you were.

"hmmm..." he hits you even faster, "so. fucking. good."

"bell," you cry out, cheeks burning with the growing heat, legs tight around him, "bell..."

he reached for your swollen clit, his thumb brushing against your sweet spot while he lowered his mouth to suck at your breasts, pulling at the flesh between his lips and caging your nipple between his teeth making you scream pityfully. his cock pulsed harder at every response.

you pressed his face against your breasts and he submitted willingly, burying his face until he was lost between your soft skin, leaving marks there while he tried to distract himself from the growing urge — he had to feel you coming first, to listen to your sweet sounds.

so when his stimulation at you clit mixed with he burning pain as his canines stucked into your thin skin, your body couldn't handle it anymore, your pussy dripping slick and bathing his cock as it moved even quicker inside you.

"fuck, fuck-" you gasped, panting as your body contorted around him, "come with me," was all you whispered, making him nod repeatedly between your breasts.

your pussy clenched around him, your tiny sounds announcing your release for him and for all the trees around you, nature surrounding your intimacy while the world semeed to spin around you.

orgasm hit you two like a thunder, reverberating in your bones and making you tremble in a weakness that made your hips stutter against his. the accumulated tensin in your tummy spreaded all over your tired body.

bellamy moaned under his breath, pulling back and stroking his cock as it spilled all his release in your stomack in sweet threads of thick and warm cum, making you moan one last time before trying to bring fresh air to your lungs again.

he pulled back, putting back his jeans to kneel between your spread thighs again and take a deep breath, eyes closed. then, he did it again. focused on the sound of the wind, the flowing water and all the nature around you. and his body still felt the final effects, the ecstasy from release.

he felt like floating, for the first time in a while. thanks to you.

then he opened his eyes to meet you there, smiling so sweet at him and only for him. and he smiled too. leaned forward to cage you and kiss your neck tenderly.

"gotta get back now, princess," he mumbled, look deep inside your eyes,"but i have to say; i owe you for this. and i intend to return you the favor."

you smirk, supporting your weight in your elbows to face him. you touched his back softly, and the simple contact made him wince as the sudden absence of adrenaline made his skin burn painfully.

"i think you were wrong," he looked up, blinded by the sun, "not everything here is that good."

you giggled, pulling him closer to press your lips against his.

"'s okay. i have time to convince you again,"

#the 100 bellamy #bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader smut #bellamy blake smut #bellamy the 100 #bellamy x reader #the 100 fanfic #the 100 smut #the 100 #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #18+ mdni

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foolinafable · 1 year ago

Text

It's for the best .ೃ࿐

Keith Kogane x Fem!Reader Synopsis: locked in a cell, the white paladin remembers her happier times and hopes that she can make it back to a certain black paladin. Word count: 3.7K Tags: slight angst, flashbacks, mentions of torture but not graphic, set tentatively around season 4 Notes: Apparently, vld is having a resurgence so send in some requests!

You knew it was for the best. Sat cross-legged in the confines of your cell with a small smile on your lips, contented, knowing that you have done everything you could, that this wasn't in vain- rather it was what was supposed to happen. For the betterment of the entire universe, sometimes sacrifices need to be made. You remember telling Keith something similar during one of his many brooding moments. Now wishing that you could remember which conversation it was or maybe just that you had paid more attention to your time together, especially now you didn’t think you would ever see the boy with the mullet again.

You were sat next to Hunk, the pair of you looking up giddily at Takashi Shirogane, the famed astro explorer. He was speaking to the class about his recent accomplishment as he had just broken the record for the fastest orbital velocity. Everyone had tried the flight simulator and despite not being able to get passed level 3- like the rest of the class you were still excited by the prospect of meeting the youngest pilot to ever lead a mission in space. Even more happy that you had done better than James Griffin in the simulator- as he never stopped going on about his good grades and how much better he is. So to wipe that smirk off his face made it all worth it. As you and Hunk were fangirling in the corner you heard Griffins whining causing your attention to go back to the simulator, where apparently one more person was having a go. The pair of you walked towards the commotion as the annoyed brunette sounded out “No way! Keith made it past level five?! Thing's got to be broken.” That was the first moment you saw him, well properly at least. The young boy with a mullet and a ‘disciplinary issue’ if you were to listen to what your teachers told you. He walked away from the training simulator with a grin on his face and you couldn’t help but smile too. Especially when he looked your way as he walked off.

‘He doesn't even know you're gone’ you muse to yourself, and it’s true. The last you had heard from him was on the other side of a screen during a planning meeting with the Blade surrounded by your teammates, who similarly had yet to know the fate of the white paladin of Voltron. They would soon realise when you don't return through the wormhole and when they find your lion broken and alone. But then it will already be too late, as the galaran ship that held you prisoner was already galaxies away taking you towards inevitable doom. You think you're pathetic, as you are already giving up but what else can you do, your weapon is gone, lion missing, and you are locked in a cell with only your body inside of it with nobody even knowing where you are- not even you. Worry roots deeply inside of yourself as you think of your friends, a lump in your throat growing at the thought of them discovering that you're gone- they have all lost enough already. You’re sure Lance would try to be enthusiastic, claiming that they found Shiro so they could find you. Still, even he would know the saddening truth that the galarans won’t make the same mistake twice as he tries to hide his tears from Pidge who would be clinging to Hunk, begging him to tell her it’s not true- she only just got her brother back and now she has lost her sister- blood related or not. You knew it would destroy the team if you couldn’t get back to them and what worries you is that you're struggling to see a way that you can.

It was nerve-wracking, waiting to find out who Iverson and the rest of the teachers decided to team you up with for the simulators. It was a big deal, as this was going to be your team for the rest of your time in the Garrison. Last year you couldn’t wait for this moment, but maybe that was because you were certain that the boy with the mullet would be by your side as you were as Shiro put it “the only person that can put up with him” but he left, dropped out without so much of a goodbye, and you could understand, the loss of Shiro, Matt and Sam was difficult for everyone but nobody took it worse than Keith and you suppose it made sense as Shiro was all the boy had. You shook the thoughts of him out of your mind when Iverson finally came into the room, twiddling the rings on your rings on your fingers as you stood near Hunk who looked ghostly pale and going on queasy as you both prayed that the older man would do you both a solid and put you two together. You listened as he called names into groups, feeling somewhat better when Griffin was put in a group that didn't include you. Then your name was called and you were told to stand next to a tall Cuban boy wearing blue, you smiled as you walked up to him and he smiled back seemingly just as nervous as you were, then a smaller boy with round glass and a green jumper joined the group, your eyes squinting when looking at him, almost as if you had seen him before but you couldn’t place where. But before you could question it Hunk's name fell out of Iverson’s lips, you looked up in alarm as you saw Hunk coming towards your group, shocked that your prayers had been answered. The fear that was eating away at you was dulled slightly as he came to stand next to you. Sure it wasn’t the team that you wanted but maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Being in space has always made your internal clock question how long has passed, but it seems to be worse when alone in this cell. You believe it has been a few days based on the number of trays of food delivered to your cell, the only interaction with another you’ve had this whole time. At least you think, as you find yourself waking up exhausted with pains and aches all over your body, but you have no memory of doing anything or even anyone coming into your cell in the first place. You thought you would've been face to face with Zarkon or his witch by now, but as time passes, you struggle to believe that would happen at all, which causes a pit to develop in your stomach as the unknown of your future begins to dawn on you.

You can still hear the conforming hum of your lion in the back of your head, trying to reassure you that all is well but as the days pass by you begin to believe it less and less simply repeating to yourself that it was for the best.

“Things could’ve been a lot worse” you theorised. Sat with Pidge in this trash heap with your lions completely shut down. At least you were together and there were (up to now) no enemies trying to kill you both. To be honest, you wouldn’t want to be stuck here with anyone else. After Pidge finally revealed to everyone that she was in fact a girl, something you had figured out back in your garrison days, not long after you had become a team and saw the photo of her and Matt taken prior to the Kerberos mission, but you only knew because he had shown it to you first, during one of his many tutoring sessions with you. You liked to think that while Shiro was Keith’s mentor, Matt was yours. A sentiment he very much enjoyed, so much that Pidge later told you that she had already known who you were when she met you. A fact that made your heart swell. Your friendship with Matt was one of the many reasons that Pidge thought of you like a sister and the main reason you looked after her so much- you wanted to look after her for him while he couldn’t and while this mindset got you into many arguments with Keith over putting her safety over your own you wouldn’t change a thing because you knew it was the right thing to do (Also Keith couldn’t really say anything as he constantly put himself in harms way for everyone on the team.) You couldn’t help but feel protective over her as she was the youngest out of your ragtag bunch and was annoyingly the only one you could baby as you were the second youngest of the group as Lance loved to remind you. While being here with Pidge definitely made you feel a little better, you couldn’t help but be relentlessly worried for the rest of the group, as they always found some way to get into trouble- especially Lance and Keith. It was like trouble sought them out, always getting into some sort of issue whether it be with aliens or with each other. So you couldn’t help but double over in laughter when Pidge using her junk-made paladins started an argument between the fake Lance and Keith. Eventually, you both decided that you had waited around for help long enough and decided to try and find your own way back to the castle. Pidge made you gather together materials to make a home beacon signal in hopes that it could reach the castles of lions to allow them to find you two. No surprise to you Pidge’s brilliance worked its magic as the castle of lions appeared in the sky from a wormhole, the pair of you hugged each other happy knowing that you weren’t going to grow old on a trash pile as you had both dramatically claimed. You two were more than ready to return to the fight against Zarkon to save the universe and hopefully, find Pidge’s family.

You dream of him, black hair, violet eyes and his grumpy temperament clouding your thoughts as you try to rest. But, when you wake cold and alone in that dark cell you are reminded of the present and how you need to try and stop yourself from dreaming of the past.

Thought it was “just goodbye for now” you bitterly mumbled as you awoke from another dream of him. This time the memory sticks with you- of the goodbye you shared as he left to find himself with the blades, those were the words he uttered to you as you blanketed him in your embrace. That it was temporary, that you two would come back together again and you remember how you smiled through your sadness nodding at his words, believing him truthfully- as you always did. But you are now struggling to believe it anymore and you don't know if you are more mad at him for uttering those words or yourself for trusting them to be true. Up to now, all attempts to contact your lion have failed miserably but you can still hear your lion if you concentrate enough- as though you two are connected to the same string and you pray that it never snaps, clinging onto it like a lifeline.

You were buzzing, tapping your hands against your legs as you bounced on the balls of your feet, waiting for Pidges Lion in the cockpit while the rest of the team looked at you, amused. Lance, clearly feeding off your joyous attitude, ruffled the hair on your head, messing it up slightly. You turned to the boy, pouting as he withdrew his hands, using your own to try to flatten whatever mess he had made as he giggled at your reaction. A smile quickly returned to your face when Pidge stepped out of her lion with a familiar boy following behind her, you ran towards the pair, wrapping your arms around Matt’s shoulders in welcome, your smile only increasing when he hugged back with just as much gusto, you could hear Lance muttering something about someone being jealous if they were here to Hunk and Shiro but you weren’t paying close enough attention to anything he said, instead, you were very happy that the man who you would call a brother was really okay and just like Shiro had survived the Kerberos mission. When the family reunion had ended Pidge introduced Matt to the rest of the group, except for Keith as he was yet again away on some mission with the Blades. You watched amused as Matt’s eyes landed on Allura and something similar to what you see in a romcom played out as he screamed “You are so beautiful!” you struggled to keep the giggles to yourself as you saw Coran turn red in anger, clearly seeing this as an inappropriate way to talk to the princess and finding humour in Lance’s clear jealousy as Hunk made the boy walk away from the group. You decided to do something similar telling Pidge to give Matt a tour of the castle ship as you walked away with Coran and Allura, pulling both the alteans away with your hands.

Calming down an angry altean was albeit harder than you expected, especially when Allura was of no help at all as she was just laughing at how worked up the older man had become, but you understood it was because he felt so protective over her especially since there was no Alfor to help him and she was like Coran’s little girl so nobody would ever be good enough, you whispered just as much to him as Allura was talking to her mice and that seemed to make him less annoyed, knowing that somebody else understood him. It wasn’t until later when gossiping with Allura about your lives before all this, that she mentioned that it wasn’t just Matt’s interaction with her that annoyed Coran but also his interaction with you, claiming that he always got annoyed when others in his eyes tried to “flirt” with you, her or Pidge. However, she quickly noted that he never got annoyed or got Lance and Hunk to intimidate Keith like he did anyone else when it comes to you a comment made your cheeks burn.

You startle awake to the sound of your cell door being opened, eyes darting towards the light, confused when the door continues to open, eyes squinting from the light now surrounding you for the first time in weeks as you try to identify the body in front of you when a voice gasped out and a familiar voice spoke your name. All worry evaporated from your body as Matt Holt wrapped you in a hug and you knew for the first time in weeks that everything would be okay and that maybe Keith was right- it was just goodbye for now.

You now sat in the control room of the ship you had been captured in surrounded by freedom fighters. After hearing over hacked intercoms about it carrying ‘precious cargo’ for the emperor, they had infiltrated and taken control of the ship.

“And that was me was it?” you mused looking towards the Holt boy to which he cracked a smile sending you a simple nod in response. You had changed into your white and silver spacesuit and your bayard had been retrieved for you. Now more than ready to return home to the castle of lions, to the paladins and to him.

The first thing you saw, unsurprisingly, as the ship came out of the wormhole was your lion, growling in happiness, bounding towards her paladin only stopping when she was at the front of the ship, eyes locked onto you. You smiled gleefully at your lion feeling your connection stronger than ever, as though the string that attached the you two was unwavering, unbreakable. As soon as the ship reached the castle of lions you were enveloped in the paladin’s embrace, you would’ve fallen over when Pidge launched herself into your arms, legs wrapped around your middle like a koala, if weren’t for Lance keeping you balanced by surrounding you in a hug from behind. Hunk joined the misfit group of cadets finishing off the group hug similar to how they used to in the Garrison when they, for once, completed the training simulator much to Iverson’s shock. Thoughts of worry could be seen swimming through Shiro’s eyes as you caught them when looking up, he nodded at you, the tension flinging off him like water down a hill as you turned back to your family holding Pidge and Lance by the backs of their heads, smiling and reassuring them that this was real, that you were real as tears dropped from the twos eyes. You could feel Hunk’s laboured breaths, clearly trying to stay strong for the group as the rest were blubbering messes. Walking away from your embrace and towards the freedom fighters with Shiro shaking hands and thanking them for getting you back to them as the trio dropped towards the floor, holding onto each other like it was the last time.

It was only later when you had changed into your everyday wear, speaking with Allura and Coran holding both of their hands, stroking them gently that the paladins noticed the new scars decorating your arms and some scorch marks adjourned your neck along with bruising that you wouldn’t comment on. Or rather that you couldn’t as you claimed to not remember anything except for the dark room you were kept in and then Matt saving you. Another change was your hair, which had a white streak in it, you simply chuckled at the development turning to Shiro claiming "We match now" causing everyone to laugh and they supposed it fit you well - “As she is the white paladin” Lance claimed.

It was only when Coran transferred your memories temporarily into a crystal that they all saw what you endured on the ship, you were beaten and tortured for answers, electrocuted, burned for sport and tested on by some druids. At that point, they stopped watching as Shiro was looking rather green, probably from remembering his own time with those vile creatures. But you mused that you were lucky as you still had all your limbs and according to Coran who looked at your scan results from the healing pod whatever they were trying on you didn’t work as you were the same as you were before, “except for a few scars and a new hair colour that is” He pondered twiddling his moustache. And he was right of course you didn’t feel any different, maybe a bit more anxious at night and a few more nightmares but who could blame you after being trapped in a dark room for weeks. Of course, the memory loss was slightly concerning but they all believed it to be a coping mechanism to keep you sane and you were glad that you could only properly remember the dark room, that it was all that really haunted you at night and that those things you saw on the screen projected from your mind didn’t and you hoped it stayed that way.

The entire universe that was apart of the coalition let out a sigh of relief when it was revealed by Allura on comms to the members of the alliance that the white paladin of Voltron had been found and returned mostly unharmed. However, nobody’s relief could be felt greater than that of Keith Kogane who had been fighting with Kolivan for weeks when they received the information of your disappearance and probable capture, he remembers the way his legs nearly gave out from under him when during a meeting with Allura the altean claimed that Voltron couldn’t come to the rescue this time as they were missing a paladin- missing you. He Surprisingly didn’t even need to sneak out on a blade ship to try and find the castle of lions to see if it was true, rather Kolivan who was probably fed up with his moping simply turned to the boy and gave him ship and co-ordinates simply asking him to back in time for the next meeting. The older Galaran didn’t think he'd see the boy move so fast, mumbling annoyed about how much more work would get done if he did.

You didn’t hear him on comms asking for Coran to allow him into the cockpit, too busy in the training deck with Shiro and Allura showing them that despite being out of action for a few weeks you were ready to get back out there because as you told them “the galra don’t wait for anyone” and that “this revolution wasn’t going to fight itself.” You didn’t even hear your teammates asking for you to come to the control room over comms, far too busy fighting the training dummies and your comms device left on the side. What you did notice was when you were lifted from behind, a pair of pale arms grabbing you by the waist causing a gasp to erupt from your throat, You spun around ready to attack until your eyes met his, and then your sword dropped to the floor as Keith held you in his arms, staring intensely at you as if you would disappear if he dared to look away for even a second. You quickly returned the embrace, arms circling his back as you threw your head onto his chest, almost unbelieving that he was there, his arms moved, crowding around your head pulling you impossibly closer to his body as he noticed the white strand of hair, his fingers pressed against it confused as he rested his nose atop your head, breathing you in, reminding himself that this was in fact, real and not just one of his sick dreams he has been having since finding out you were gone.

Being held in his arms made everything real, and you thought that if you had to through everything all over again just to have this moment, in his arms, you would. It was all be for the best if you ended up in his arms at the end of it all.

#keith kogane x reader #keith x reader #keith kogane #vld keith #keith voltron #voltron #voltron x reader #voltron legendary defender #vld x reader #vld fic #keith kogane fanfic #keith kogane fic #Keith kogane imagine

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destroyndecay · 1 year ago

Note

daryl x reader

“whoa hey, you’re bleeding.” reader maybe not realizing it until she looks down. falling into his arms and daryl callin for help. whump whump whumppp . set at the prison ?

Family

word count: 1.1k

a/n: finally getting into the swing of things with requests. hope you enjoy anon <3

~~~

The sounds of people yelling and the banging of chain link fences echoed throughout the prison courtyard. You jabbed your knife through yet another walker, grunting as you pushed it through its thick skull. You, along with everyone else in your small group, including Carl, had been at this for at least an hour now, but it was necessary to keep the prison safe. Still, the constant stabbing motion had your upper arm aching. Probably acid and bile rising up from your stomach, too.

“I got the last one!” Glenn called out from the middle of the formation, sticking his knife right in the middle of the walker’s eye. Audible sighs of relief could be heard from the group, along with a victory ‘whoop’ from Carl. Standing right beside you, Daryl was flicking the excess undead blood from his knife and his hands, wiping the rest on his pants. He shaked a stray hair out of his eye then wiped a hand down his face, sighing and sheathing his now blood-free knife.

“Jesus. Glad that’s over. Can’t wait to do that again tomorrow.” He scoffed, leaning against the fence and stretching his overused right arm.

“I know, right? My arm is killing me. Gonna have to… ” You trailed off, suddenly feeling a wave of dizziness wash over you. You leaned your arm against the fence for support and lowered your head, squeezing your eyes shut.

Daryl stopped leaning against the fence and took a cautious step forward towards you. “Hey, you okay?”

You immediately snapped your gaze back up to the archer, desperately trying to seem like you had your shit together. “Yep. Yeah. I’m okay.” You placed your free hand on your hip to simulate normality. That’s when Daryl looked you up and down and his eyes suddenly went wide.

“Woah, woah, woah, hey, hey! Yer bleedin’!!” He quickly stepped toward you, glancing down sporadically.

You placed your hand on your stomach, discovering the right side was wet and sticky. It was, in fact, blood.

“Fuckin’ damn it.” You mumble, before going limp and falling into Daryl’s arms, him catching you by the armpits.

His heart immediately started racing when he caught you and layed you carefully on the dying grass. The few that surrounded you stepped back to give you some space. He instantly got on his knees and inspected your injuries, praying to whatever deity was listening that you hadn’t gotten bit. After a string of mumbled expletives, he shouted, “I need some fuckin’ help over here!” To no one in particular, his frantic eyes never leaving your closed ones.

What he didn’t see happening behind him was Rick rushing to get Hershel, while Maggie and Glenn hurriedly grabbing a makeshift stretcher and bringing it to wear you laid. He quickly got to his feet and helped you onto the stretcher. He was by your side the entire time and throughout all of the noise and chaos, you could swear you could hear Daryl whispering, “They’re gonna be fine. They’re gonna be fine.”

—

You groggily opened your eyes and instantly felt a stinging on your right side. The events of the past hour flooded back, and you wince. You cautiously felt the area, and thankfully you felt a clean bandage.

Judging by the beige ceiling and the firm yet surprisingly comfortable mattress you were on, you had been placed in Hershel’s room. You slowly moved your head to the side, expecting to be met with an equally beige wallpaper, but to your surprise, you were met with a sleeping, hot headed, brunette, redneck.

He was spread out in a chair he had brought from the dining room. His head was lolled towards you, his hair in his eyes and snoring quite loud. You smiled, heart slightly skipping a beat at the thought of him not wanting to leave your side.

“Hey.” You rasped, cringing at your own voice.

Daryl, being a naturally light sleeper, immediately blinked awake. It took a second for the fog of sleep to leave his brain, but it left fast when he realized that you were awake. That you were alive.

“Holy fuck. (Y/N.) Hey. How’re ya feelin’?” He rambled, scooting the chair closer to the bed and sitting on the edge of it.

“Like shit. But I’ll be fine.” You sighed in response.

“Good.” Daryl said softly, letting out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. “Hershel said you probably got scratched by a walker. That true?”

You averted his gaze from his and started picking your fingernails, a nervous habit you’ve had since you were a child. “It happened while we were dealing with that hoard. I didn’t wanna make a scene.”

You heard him sigh deeply and didn’t speak for a moment. You turned your head back towards him, and he had his head in his hand, almost willing himself to speak. He looked up and his eyes looked redder and puffier than they were before. “Why th’ fuck would ya do tha’?”

You slowly sat up in a somewhat sitting position to better look him in the eyes. “We all have to protect this place, Daryl! This family! It’s something that most don’t have these days.”

“We coulda had one less person in th’ family if you’d told me about tha’ any later.” He motioned to your wound with a nod of his head.

“You guys can function without m-” You were cut off from your half-joking comment.

“I can’t, ‘kay?! I can’t. So shuddup. Don’t say tha’.” He suddenly raised his voice a little, making you shut your lips and look at him with your full attention.

“Look. I don’t want ya gettin’ hurt. I care about ya. Always have.” He gazed into your eyes with such a fondness you could’ve started crying right then and there. And you would’ve, if he didn’t look away from you in sudden embarrassment. “Yer the only one who keeps me sane ‘round here.”

You sniffed, chuckling to cover up the tightness growing in the back of your throat. “That why you stayed and kept me up with your snoring?”

“Shuddup.” He repeated, sounding exasperated, but you didn’t miss the slight smile on his face.

He then stood up, flexed his probably sore neck, and put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. More heat blossomed onto your cheek at the sudden contact.

“Gonna go get Hershel now that yer awake.” He said softly before walking towards the door.

“Can you bring me dinner after pleeeeease?” You asked, your hands in a prayer motion and your eyelashes batting.

He turned around in the doorframe, his hands in his pockets.

“Sure. ‘S a date.” He drawled, winked, then walked away like nothing happened.

Maybe you should have thanked that walker before you stabbed him.

#daryl dixon #twd #the walking dead #twd daryl dixon #daryl twd #daryl dixon fanfiction #asks #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl dixon x gender neutral reader #gender neautral reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon whump #daryl dixon angst

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collapsedsquid · 5 days ago

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He was prepared to launch apocalyptic strikes should Soviet Russia ever attack first, and got a call around 8 p.m. one night from the guard station above. A glowing reddish-orange oval was hovering over the front gate, Salas told Kirkpatrick’s investigators. The guards had their rifles drawn, pointed at the oval object appearing to float above the gate. A horn sounded in the bunker, signaling a problem with the control system: All 10 missiles were disabled. Salas soon learned a similar event occurred at other silos nearby. Were they under attack? Salas never got an answer. The next morning a helicopter was waiting to take Salas back to base. Once there he was ordered: Never discuss the incident. Salas was one of five men interviewed by Kirkpatrick’s team who witnessed such events in the 1960s and ’70s. While sworn to secrecy, the men began sharing their stories in the ’90s in books and documentaries. Kirkpatrick’s team dug into the story and discovered a terrestrial explanation. The barriers of concrete and steel surrounding America’s nuclear missiles were thick enough to give them a chance if hit first by a Soviet strike. But scientists at the time feared the intense storm of electromagnetic waves generated by a nuclear detonation might render the hardware needed to launch a counterstrike unusable. To test this vulnerability, the Air Force developed an exotic electromagnetic generator that simulated this pulse of disruptive energy without the need to detonate a nuclear weapon. When activated, this device, placed on a portable platform 60 feet above the facility, would gather power until it glowed, sometimes with a blinding orange light. It would then fire a burst of energy that could resemble lightning. The electromagnetic pulses snaked down cables connected to the bunker where launch commanders like Salas sat, disrupting the guidance systems, disabling the weapons and haunting the men to this day. But any public leak of the tests at the time would have allowed Russia to know that America’s nuclear arsenal could be disabled in a first strike. The witnesses were kept in the dark.

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j-eryewrites · 3 days ago

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Enemy

Chapter Four of Under Pressure: A Thunderbolts Fic

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SERIES MASTER LIST | MAIN MASTER LIST

Word Count: ~5.8k

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Warnings: Canon typical violence, THUNDERBOLTS SPOILERS, language, mentions of manipulation, vivid descriptions of pain and violence, Sentry and Void, angst and hurt, no comfort. (Let me know if I missed anthing)

Author's Note: We're getting to the good stuff now. I had a lot of fun writing this. Again this wasn't really proofread. I'll go back an edit the chapters, but my motivation for writing has really kicked in so I'm following the high. Anyway, please enjoy this next chapter! (Also I mixed up the chapter titles for this and the previous chapter. It's fixed now, so no need to worry ;) )

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Your eyes flung open. White blinding light filled your view. Blinking a few times, you groaned the sound falling short in your mouth as you saw your reflection on the white linoleum flooring. A cold chill crept down your spine, sending waves of fear throughout your body. Whipping your head up you found yourself in a long colorless hall. Walls lined with observation windows and blinking locking mechanisms. Your lip began to tremble as a sickening recognition filled you. You had gotten out. Escaped. The Avengers had taken you in and made sure you never saw the walls of this place again. Yet here you were.

Standing up, your eyes darted around the hallway. They seemed neverending as the blaring light created a mirrored surface. One thing was for sure. You had to get out. Quickly, your feet dashed down the hallway. Sprinting, you felt your lungs heave with exhaustions. With each step you felt as if the hallway extended further and further becoming a labyrinth. You didn’t know how long you ran. Knees buckling under you, you fell to the ground coming face to face with your reflection once again.

“Begin the simulation,” a deep voice commanded. You heard the murmurs of the other assisting scientists. A shiver rippled underneath your skin. Using the wall as leverage, you pushed yourself to a stand coming face to face with a window into a lab. As if a sudden drought overfell you, your throat dried up, your voice hoarse as you cried out at the scene.

There you were, sitting on a gurney hooked up to a vast machine. Wires were strung from your head and fingers. The maze of wires intermingled with the others that were connected to the other children. Fast asleep under the spell of anesthesia, you all were subjected to the tests. But this test was different. It was the one that changed everything.

Your fist banged against the mirror pane. The glass ripples from the impact of your fists, but never breaks.

“No, no, no.” Your vocal chords grinded against the other. You had to get in there. You had to stop this, but the glass would not give. “No!” You screamed as the lights in the lab and hallway flickered around you. You helplessly watched as the scientists scrambled to adjust settings and shut the test down. Wires sparked and one by one the children surrounding the machine bodies erupted in seizures. Eyes rolled back, drool and foam trickled from the mouth. Their veins splicing, the blood spilling out mimicking the shape of the electrical current flowing through them. Heart monitoring screeched, blaring red. With one final flash, everything went dark.

It was a few moments before the backup generators flickered on. You knew what came next, but still you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the scene. Bodies of scientists and children littered the room. All dead except for one. Turning your head away as your sleeping body aroused from the drug induced slumber, you noticed a figure standing beside you. Jumping back, you came to face dark blue eyes. The tears pooling in his eyes mirrored yours.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

“Jesus, how long does it take to wake someone up?” A disdainful voice questioned.

Your vision blinked in and out of focus. Two dark figures zoomed in and out. Your brain was foggy and everything was sore, your body fighting the rising conscious state.

“The medical staff stated that it shouldn’t be long now,” a soft voice tried to explain.

You watched the fuzzy scene as the shorter figure approached you. You tried to make sense of it all, but your mind kept growing blanks. It took a moment before any semblance of movement displayed from your limbs. At the twitch of your fingers you heard the excitement from the soft one. “Valentina,” she said. You watched with clearer eyes as she pulled the other’s sleeve. Soon the view bloomed to life. “She’s awake.”

“Ah, there you are Ms. Stark. We were starting to worry you wouldn’t wake up. Oh and don’t think about doing your little energy thing.” Perfectly manicured nails pointed to two bulky bracelets thrumming with power. “The tower wasn’t the only thing I bought from your father’s company.”

You knew that voice. Without a second thought you shot up from the bed you lay in. Tubes and wires connecting to monitors hung attached to your fingers and arms. “Valentina,” you hissed. Upon seeing her dark hair and white strands framing her heart-shaped face everything came back to you: the vault, and the others, Project Sentry and Bob.

“Where’s Bob?” You coughed. Valentina’s assistant, Mel, handed you a cup of water. You scowled at the cup of liquid. Noticing your hesitation, Valentina assured you it wasn’t poison. “I wouldn’t put it past you. Now, where's Bob?”

“Robert is fine,” Valentina began. You couldn’t help how your eyes narrowed at how she said his name. “In fact he’s perfect.” A soft smile flashed across her face as a calculated hand reached out to yours. You yanked your hand away, causing Valentina’s expression to falter. “Look, I think the two of us got off on the wrong foot.” Flicking her hair out of her face, she continued. “I’m here to help both Robert and you. I–”

“His name is Bob,” you corrected.

Valentina let out a strained laugh. “It’s so sweet you think you know him after your little stint in the vault.” She leaned closer to you, her voice growing dangerously low. “But you know nothing about him. At least not as well as I do.”

Your gaze remained unwavering as you stared at her, but she caught the tiny tremble in your eyes. Could you really say you know him? You’d only known him for a few hours and in that time you had no clue he was Project Sentry. You began to wonder how much you really did know about him. Your eyes flickered to Valentina’s triumphant grin. You shook your head, throwing your doubts about Bob to the wind. “We’ve got you Valentina. The evidence in the vault. The others. I notified Bucky, and he–”

“Lets stop with the threats, Ms Stark, and talk about this like adults.” You fell silent, eyeing both her and Mel. “Good. Now as I was saying, I’m here to help. The world has felt a void since the Avengers left. Everyone has grown uncertain about who is coming to save the day. I’m sure you’ve felt that hole more than anyone.” Valentina motioned for Mel to hand her the tablet. “Project Sentry, the one you reported to the authorities, is there to fill that ache in your heart.” She handed you the tablet. Your eyes fell down to the screen scanning the information there. It was a picture of Bob alongside concepts and various notes. You had seen these before in the vault, taken photos of some as evidence. “I hope you will welcome Robert as the world’s mightiest hero. All the Avengers bagged into one perfect specimen.”

“What?” You asked, your tone a caution for Valentina’s next words.

“I need you, the daughter of Tony Stark and the girl raised by the Avengers to help introduce Sentry,” she pointed to the sketched photos of Bob in a super suit,” to the world. The people, they’ll believe you. They trust you. After all, who wouldn’t believe the child of the Avengers, the heroes we all hold close to our hearts.”

“No,” you swore,” You tried to kill me in that vault.”

Valentina asked. “No, I tried to kill criminals. Pests infesting our country. You were swept up with the dirt. An accident.”

“Pests?” Your jaw clenched at her words.

“Ms. Stark,” Valentina calmly addressed you. “I want to bring in a new era of peace. In this new world there can be no trash hiding under the bed. We need a clean slate. A fresh start–”

“Shut the fuck up,” you hissed. Valentina jumped slightly at your voice. “I won’t help you and you sure as hell won’t succeed. They’ll come and–”

“Who? Your little delinquent friends from the vault?” Valentina scoffed. “It’s a miracle you even worked your way out of there in the first place, but to take on me? The Sentry?” She cynically laughed, her words cutting deep against your skin. “They’ll be arrested or dead the moment they step foot near me.” Sitting up straight, she adjusted her matching suit. The fabric pulled taught against her. With a flick of her fingers, Mel had snatched the pad away from you and the two of them stood up opening the door to your strange cell. Just as Valentina was about to exit, she turned back to you. “Oh, and about your help? Let me just say that the media is more susceptible to my charms than you are.” Without another word, she left. The door locking shut behind her.

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It had been hours since anyone entered your room. You weren’t really even sure if you could call it that. The empty coloring and design brought you back to your past. Unease boiled in your stomach. You tried to not let Valentina get to you. She knew your past and had used it against you before. But that was long ago. You were older now, smarter, and you’d go through hell and back before you’d let Valentina use you again.

The only thing keeping you company and letting you know the passing of time was the monitor beside your bed. Every fifteen minutes it’d beep and the strap around your arm would squeeze tightly before releasing. You hated the quiet of the room. You hated the quiet. In the quiet you would think, your mind would be free to remember and remember hurt. Questions and worries filled you. What was Valentina doing to Bob? Was he okay? Did the others make it out? Has Bucky gotten your message? You knew your suit was destroyed, one of the last things you had left that Tony had made for you. Pulling at the sleeve of the medical garment you wore, you felt yourself become lost in your thoughts.

All of a sudden, the door’s locks were released. Mel peaked her head in. Her songbird necklace clinked against the frame of the door. “Good,” She said. “You’re still awake.” Pushing the door further open, she stepped inside followed by a few others. You eyed the contents of their hands: freshly ironed clothes, makeup, hair products.

“What’s this?” You asked, scooting back on the medical bed until your back hit the wall.

“Valentina said to get you ready.”

You frowned. “I told her I–”

“You weren’t going to help?” Mel finished. “Yeah, I know. Still. I’m just doing my job.”

Without another word she gave the go ahead for the team of people to approach you. Mel took her leave and closed the door. One man in a nurse uniform began to remove the wires and medical devices attached to your person. The bracelets dampening your abilities remained on. Next a woman grabbed your arm, pulling you off the bed. Her hands made quick work of the medical garb’s tie in the back before handing you a change of clothes.

“Change into these,” she instructed. You slowly eyed her, noting how she didn’t back away from you or turn her head. Realizing she and the others weren’t going to offer any semblance of privacy, you began to change into the new clothes. The shirt hugged your body tightly. Long sleeve clung to your arms and at the end was a small hole for your thumb to slip through. Your pants were high waisted and were of a looser design. It reminded you of lounge wear, but clean and fashionable. Next you slipped on the shoes provided for you, regular white sneakers.

Once you had changed, you found yourself being dragged to a nearby chair. A man with nicely trimmed hair, began to fiddle with your locks. All while another woman began to pepper your face with makeup. There was no mirror to see what they were doing, but you could guess what they were told to do. Make her look presentable, not enough to debunk the story, but enough to make them all look good.

You tried making conversation, putting the pieces together to give you a better idea of Valentina’s plan, but none of them spoke other than to tell you to look straight and hold still. Instead, you opted to gain as much as you could from what your eyes and ears were telling you. You couldn’t use your powers and sense the flows of energy nearby, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t something for you to go off of. You had gotten glimpses of what lay outside the door as they had all trickled in. The scene was half baked, a construction site. From there you remembered what you had drawn up in your initial investigation of Valentina. She had bought the Avengers tower. Your childhood home. And she was renovating it, but halted the project once the Senate began their investigation. It was probably a long shot, but if it was the tower. You could get out and find Bob. You just needed the opportunity to.

“Ms. Stark?” Mel’s voice called out to you. You peered over your shoulder at her, not realizing the make and hair artists have completed their jobs. “We’re ready for you.” For a moment, you stayed sitting in your chair, before coming to a stand. Mel motioned for you to follow her as she walked out of the room. Hesitantly, you trailed after her. Your eyes darted around for any sign she was tricking you, but none came. No one stopped you as you walked by. They hardly paid attention to you.

You nearly tripped over Mel as she came to a stop. “Inside, Ms. Stark,” She told you. It was an elevator. Large and spacious. You glanced at the glowing button pointing up. You nodded your head at Mel as you stepped inside, hoping that you’d be able to figure out what floor you were going to be on. Soon the thrum of the elevator stopped. The doors opened and you stepped out. The room was a husk of what it had been before. Once filled with seating and a long bar along the east wall. It was a room of comfort and welcome arms. A place where you spent many a night playing board games, joking and laughing with your family. Now it was stripped bare. A cold earthen design along the walls accompanied by a few stray chairs and a small bar and seat are to the west. Beside you, the walls held tokens from your past. Weapons and fragments of armour were displayed like a museum.

“Ah, Ms. Stark,” Valentina greeted. A chute of champagne in her hand. “Speak of the devil, Senator Barnes was just asking about you.”

Surrounding her were four familiar faces and a scruffy giant man. You blinked a few times, in disbelief of their appearance.

“Bucky? Guys?” You questioned their presence. “What are you doing here��”

“Is this Tony Stark's daughter?” The bulky man bellowed. You offered a small wave as Yelena groaned into her hand. “Alexei Shostakov. Red Guardian. Pleasure to meet you.” He stepped forward to grasp your hand, taking it into a firm handshake. Retrieving your hand from him, your arm felt like jello. “Yelena talked about you alot. You two are very good friends,” Alexei added. You glanced at Yelena with a shocked expression. She thought you were friends?

“Dad, what did I say about–sorry Stark. He’s just like that.”

“Uh, no problem,” you muttered a bit bewildered by the attendance of your vault mates, Bucky, Yelena’s dad and Valentina.

“Jesus, Stark,” Ava gasped. “Why do you look like you're about to go on the front page of a magazine.” You glanced at your reflection in the display case. Ava was spot on with her assumptions. They’re scruffed up and dirty looks were a stark contrast to your light and innocent look that the artists had dressed you in.

Before you could respond, Valentina clinked the side of her glass. “While I hate to cut your heartwarming reunion short, but there are more important matters we should be discussing”

“Yeah?” Yelena cocked her head to the side. “You want to talk important, Valentina, you tell us where Bob is.” The others nodded their heads in agreement.

“She’s got him,” You interjected. “Bob’s project Sentry.”

“Thank you, Ms. Stark for that…mediocre introduction.” Valentina cleared her throat, brushing her hair over her shoulder. She blinked, glancing around the room at everyone. “Robert,” her voice sang over you all followed by a thud of boots down a set of stairs behind the bar, Valentina leaned against. With a cocky, ear-splitting grin, she soaked in your varied expressions of shock and confusion.

You stood stunned, eyeing Bob strut down the stairs. His hair bleached blonde and streaked back with a light covering of gel. His body was scarce of any sweat or dirt he collected in the desert vault. Clothing his body was a near skin tight suit. The golden and blue fabric showcased his defined muscles. A dark blue cloak floated behind him. He looked unrecognizable, like a Greek god from the past.

“Oh my god,” Yelena enunciated.

“That’s Bob,” Ava muttered.

Walker nodded his head. “Yes, he’s changed a bit.”

Valentina clasped her hands together then waving to Bob, she began. “It is my great honor to present to you, the Sentry.”

Bob stood tall and proud. You swore he grew a few inches. Searching your faces, he shyly smiled. “Hi, guys,” he greeted. His dark blue eyes landed on you, and you swore you saw his breath catch in his throat. “Hi, Y/N,” he said sheepishly.

“Oh, that’s great,” Walker cursed, adjusting the grip of his shield.

Smiling, Valentina continued with Sentry’s introduction. “All-powerful, invincible, stronger than all the Avengers combined into one, and soon to be known as Earth’s mightiest hero.”

Ava’s face scrunched up. “Did you dye your hair?” She asked Bob.

Bob nodded. “Yeah, well, it was–”

“It was my idea,” Valentina bragged, dragging a hand up Bob’s arm. “People love a classic hero.”

Bucky’s blue eyes flickered between Bob and you. His eyes noted how the man seemingly couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. You on the other hand scowled at Valentina. “Alright,” Bucky stated. “I’ll bite.” Valentina’s hand drew away from Sentry. “What’s the plan?”

“Haven’t you figured it out yet, Senator Barnes?” She questioned him. Bucky shook his head. “Well at least you’re somewhat cute.”

“You’re not going to hurt people,” Alexier announced, puffing his chest out. The group began to close in on Valentina. You watched as she stepped behind Bob, the Sentry.

“No, I’m not going to hurt people,” Valentina corrected. “I’m going to hurt you. You see, the press is on their way up here now and they’re going to witness,” She turned to Bob and smiled, “the amazing power of Sentry as he takes out a ruthless group of rogue agents hell bent on taking out our dear Ms. Y/N Stark.” You felt all the air in your lungs leave. Yelena and the others glanced at you with varied looks. Some expressed betrayal, others hurt. “Thus beginning a new era in which I decide how to keep the American people safe. Answerable to no one. I will be untouchable and unimpeachable.”

“That’s not going to happen, Valentina,” you stated.

“And that’s not for you to decide, Ms. Stark,” Valentina finished. Turning to Bob, she relayed her first command. “Sentry,” he leaned closer to her, “your first mission is to take these criminals out.”

Bob nodded, accepting the order. Your expression faltered. “I don’t want to hurt you, guys. So why don’t you just surrender?”

“No,” Walker shook his head. “You don’t want to do this, Bobby.”

Bob tensed at the nickname. His jaw clenched tightly as he spoke slowly. “You can call me the Sentry.” He took a step forward towards all of them, his fists clenched.

“Please,” Yelena pleaded. “Don’t do this. You don’t need to listen to her.”

“Robert,” Valentina called out, demanding his attention which he willingly gave to her. “They don’t think you’re good enough.”

“That’s not true, remember?” Yelena corrected. “You can trust me.”

For a moment, Bob paused. His dark blue eyes turned into whirlpools of gold. Bob was no longer there. He was only the Sentry. “I don’t think so.”

Grunting, Alexei cried. “Enough talking! Nobody messes with the West Chesapeake Valley Thunderbolts!” Then he charged Sentry like a rhino, only for Sentry flick his wrist sending Alexei flying into the wall behind him. The sound of concrete shattering filled the air.

All of a sudden, everyone flew into combat. Next Walker threw his shield. Sentry quickly raised his forearm to block it. The shield bounced off him knocking Walker in the chest. Focused on Walker, Bucky shot his gun. Four bullets shot. One by one they stopped just in front of Sentry. Floating, Sentry eyed the bullets before shooting ricochets back at Bucky, which Walker deflected with his shield.

From beside Ava appeared. One hand swung at his head. The knives never scratch the surface of the Sentry. Getting back up, Bucky and John charged, coming at the Sentry from all angles. You could only helplessly watch as the Sentry pushed them back, knocking them to the ground.

Running over to Bucky, you held out your wrists. “Their dampeners, I need the–” Before Bucky could snap them, Yelena crashed into him. Whipping your head around, you saw Ava and Walker continuing their attacks. Alexei came up the rear screaming a battle cry. One by one they fell and got back up. Each time slower and weaker than before.

Sentry danced around them. Flying, punching, and maneuvering around each of them. His face filled with unwavering confidence as they continued their assault. He swatted them away like pesky flies. His ego and attacks were growing more violent. Ava cried out as Sentry grabbed her out of her phased state, taking her knife out of her hand and chucking it to the side before tossing her into a pile with the others near the elevator.

You glanced over your friends. They weren’t getting back up. Your eyes darted over to Ava’s discarded knife. You couldn’t use your powers, but you could give them time. Dashing over to the knife, you slid across the ground picking it up. Dust and specs of shattered glass dirtied your clothes. You stood behind Bob, knife drawn as he had his back turned to you, stalking closer to the others.

“Bob!” You called out his name. The Sentry froze in his pursuit, clicking his lips together he turned to face you. His eyes fell down to the knife that trembled in your grasp. From behind Sentry, Yelena, wide eyed, shook her head at you.

The Sentry chuckled at your attempt to engage with him in combat. “Y/N,” he tsked. “Don’t do this. I’m supposed to save you.” His pupils went wide with gold flames.

“This isn’t you, Bob.” The Sentry winced at the name. “Please stop, we’re–”

“It’s Sentry.” He surged towards you. Feet inches off the floor, he grabbed your wrists raising them above your head as he pushed you against a wall. You cried out in pain as his grip on your wrists tightened. The dampeners’ light flickered on and off. Your fingers turned white as you released Ava’s knife. It clattered to the floor in a deafening silence. “Why can’t you just let me save you?” Sentry asked. His head lowered closer and closer to your face.

“You’re hurting me,” You whimpered. Sensing your fear, Sentry pulled back just enough for you to see the deep blue of his eyes. You gasped as you felt him place a hand against your cheek. His thumb wiping off the dust that had smeared your makeup. In that moment of hesitance, you sensed it. The dampeners crushed by the hand of Sentry, you felt his energy call out to you. Your powers were back. Sentry’s thumb froze beside your lips. His eyes trickled down lower and lower.

You gulped, closing your eyes. Energy was not meant to stay put. It was meant to be used, redirected. That’s why you had trained to redirect instead of drain. Purely absorbing fried computers and weakened defenses but without anywhere to go, the energy flared up inside you, fighting your own energy like weeds trying to overtake a garden. Smaller and weaker weeds were easier to fight. Larger ones with deeper roots took time to drown it out. You could only wait as your body fought the foreign currents. A struggle that only got worse with the remnants of the mind stone staining your energy flow. You knew the risks. The dangers that came from trying to tackle his energy, swallowing the overflowing wisps that glowed brighter than the sun.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, barely loud enough for the Sentry to hear. Suddenly, his feet touched the ground. He blinked a few times, noticing the faint glow from streaming down from your hands and the top of your head. You were draining his energy, weakening him. His hand dropped to his side, releasing you. His energy inside you was fighting yours, begging to be let out and redirected. You collapsed to the floor clenching your stomach. It burned.

Behind Sentry, stood for one final push. Stripping off his leather jacket he charged Sentry whose eyes wavered with betrayal. You had weakened him. Not enough to beat him, but enough to give them a chance. Bucky punched his arms against Sentry. Relentless, Bucky fought Sentry, who stood eerily still.

After a minute of Bucky’s attack, Sentry caught Bucky’s metal arm. His fist made the metal groan before he tore it off Bucky and hit him with it.

Chucking the arm to the side, Sentry stared down at you, as you trembled with pain. A part of him ached at the sight of you struggling to keep Sentry’s energy at bay. It was one thing to absorb the energy of a supercomputer, but when it came to the energy of a thousand suns it hurt. Sentry’s eyes narrowed as he stepped closer to you, cocking his head to the side to study your pain. Your skin was flaring up with a gold light as your typical iridescent lighting flickered in and out. As time passed, the gold light got brighter, scorching your veins.

In your pain, you made eye contact with the others. “Go!” You yelled through clenched teeth.“Go!” Bucky was the first to take action, pulling Walker and the others to their feet. His glacier blue eyes flickered to yours. They saw your determination behind the sweat and tears that trickled down your face. You were giving them a chance to run, a chance to fight another day. You watched as they quickly trickled into the elevator. Bucky pausing to look at you before fleeing. Sighing in relief as the elevator doors closed, your fingers tensed against the ground.

The clicking of heels echoed across the floor covered in debris did little to draw Sentry’s attention from you shriveled up on the floor. “You should’ve listened, Ms. Stark.” You whimpered as the pain of Sentry’s energy coursed through you. Is this what Bob felt when they injected him with this power? The power seared everything it touched, making it hard to see or hear anything. “Finish the job, Robert,” Valentina commanded, glowering at you with disgust on her face. She could secure Sentry’s future without you.

Sentry’s eyes flickered away from you. “Finish the job?” He glanced down back at you. The ache in his chest before was getting stronger. You were like this because of him. He was meant to save you, not this. Now Valentina wanted him to kill you. That wasn’t the plan. “No.”

Valentina blinked once. Then twice. Her eyes dragged from your struggling figure to the Sentry. “What?”

“That wasn’t the plan,” he stated.

Valentina’s voice rose. “You have to do what I tell you, Robert.” She sounded like a mother scolding a child’s disobedient act.

“Why?” Sentry asked, challenging Valentina’s words. The confidence of a god that Bob possessed before faltered, leaving cracks of insecurity and uncertainty. Even crumpled in on yourself glowing like a ticking time bomb, you felt the shift in power. Valentina grew more and more fearful, desperate to regain control. “It has to be more of a collaboration,” Bob began to pace around the room as the pain inflicted by Sentry’s power began to ease up on you. “The hair, for example. Maybe I should have had more of a say.”

“Don’t let those idiots get in your head,” Valentina tried to soothe this new breaking foundation Sentry stood on. “The blond is great.”

His mind turned to the skepticism Ava and the other had at his hair. They hated it? Didn’t they? “I don’t know, I thought I liked it and now I’m not so sure,” Bob mumbled under his breath.

“Enough about the hair,” Valentina demanded. “Are you still mumbling about the hair?”

“No,” Bob shook his head. The shakiness that was present in his hands before returned. “It’s everything. My suit, my name, my missions.” He raised his head, putting a halt to his pacing. His eyes lightly twitched before settling on Valentina. A shadow of darkness crept onto his face making his blue eyes seem more like the darkest depths of the sea. “I mean, why would a god take orders from…,” Bob stalked closer towards Valentina. With each step he took she took one back. As Bob cornered Valentina, you managed to crawl away towards the side. The pain still flared up every so often, but it was more manageable than before. Your energy had begun to fight back against his energy, and it was winning. “Anyone at all?”

Valentina scoffed. “I think you're using the word God a little loosely there.”

Bob shook his head. “No, no, because you said I was. All-powerful and invincible and stronger than an entire Avengers team, which includes at least one god.” He noted how Valentina’s eyes widened, briefly flashing with fear. Her hand slowly drew behind her back. “So I thought I was starting to...I think maybe you don't know what I am. Or what I'm capable of.”

“Oh, damn it,” Valentina cursed.

“Perhaps I need to show you,”Bob challenged.

“This is very irritating–” Valentina exclaimed, but found Bob’s hand around her throat flying her back into a nearby wall. Startled, she dropped a small device. You eyed it and the small red light atop the device. Valentina gasped upon impact.

“You were going to turn on me,” Bob accused. His grip on her neck tightened. Valentina clawed at Bob’s hands as she choked for air. “Just like the rest of them.”

“I'm not afraid of you, Robert.” Valentina choked, trying to gain some power in the situation.

Bob shook his head, eyes a fire with the challenge he presented to her. “That's not what you need to be afraid of.”

Click.

Bob’s eyes rolled back into his head. He fell limp, falling to the floor.

Gasping for air, Valentina peered up. Kneeled on the floor, with the kill switch in hand was you. You weren’t sure how you got to the device. You knew it held some importance, that it could stop Bob. You didn’t want him to have her death on his hands. Bob was a hero. A misguided one, manipulated by Valentina. Despite it all, you knew what lied underneath. After all, you had seen it, the hero in Bob, as he sacrificed himself so that you all could escape the vault. That’s why you pressed the switch, but why was he still? Why was Bob not breathing?

The elevator door dinged behind you. A light of recognition and relief filled Valentina as she stood up and approached the person behind you. As she passed by you, she paused. Her heels clicked together. “Call clean up. We need to get rid of the body,” Valentina announced loudly. You froze. Your heart was pounding thunderously in your ears. You didn’t see the smirk on Valentina’s face as she walked away. “Tell Holt it’s finally time to go lethal on these losers.”

You didn’t move even after the elevator doors closed carrying Valentina far away from you. You could hardly breathe. The pain from before was nothing to how your body constricted itself. Your lungs tightened forcing all air out in cries and gasps. You had killed Bob. You hadn’t realized it was a kill switch, instead thinking it was something equivalent to a super power shock collar. Staring at his lifeless body, you sobbed. Chucking the switch away, you crawled over to Bob muttering useless apologies. His eyes were closed as you took his head into your lap. No energy flowed beneath your fingertips. Instead lay a void absent of all light.

As you mourned Bob’s death and your actions, you didn’t notice how the room grew darker. Shadows from the corners crept closer reaching out spreading like ink tainting the room around you. The tendrils of black drew closer, swirling around and reaching out to Bob. Wiping your eyes clear from tears, you saw the darkness swallowing him whole. Startled, you backed away, watching the shadow around you be soaked up by Bob’s body. You eyed the body void of all light, shape or definition. The lights in the room flickered and the building quaked. You tried to stand up, but your knees buckled under you, still weak from your attempt to weaken the Sentry earlier.

“Y/N Stark,” a voice coldly called out your name. You looked up from the ground to find Bob’s body floating in the air. A gasp left your lips at the sight. Whatever was before you wasn’t Bob. It took his form, but was empty of everything that was him. Where once blue eyes lived were piercing white pupils. Small and dagger like they stared at you, taunting you. “You thought you could save him. Be the hero your father always wanted you to be, but you know the truth. You’re weak. Scared. Not worthy of the legacy they left you.”

His words sliced deep, cutting loose the fears and insecurities you tried so hard to push down. “How can you save anyone if you can’t even control your powers?” He floated closer to you. The air around you turned cold and menacing, stealing away your breath. “You really just a Jinx.” He hissed your title like a slur. A name given in love now flipped around to stab you deep in the heart.

“Bob, stop it,” you pleaded, trying to crawl away from him.

“He can’t hear you,” it said. Raising a hand up to you, he cocked his head to the side. “You can’t escape me, can’t escape the void.” You braced yourself for an attack that never came. Darkness drowned out all light, swallowing up your vision.

Suddenly the room burst with a white light. ““Begin the simulation.”

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jinmindeulle · 5 months ago

Text

proven chemistry | lee juyeon

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 lee juyeon x fem!reader

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 1.3 k

𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 fluff | college au

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 none

you see juyeon laughing with someone else and, driven by jealousy, you finally admit how you feel about him.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ 　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚

You have always known that Juyeon wears his heart on his sleeve. He couldn’t hide his true reactions even if he tried, and that’s something you loved about him. Sometimes it could be hard to get explanations out of him, but you can usually guess what’s going on by how his eyes light up, stare in deep thought, or just avoid your gaze.

“Why is he so giggly?”

Your best friend looks at you with a tiny smirk, and you know what comes next.

“You’re jealous” she giggles, nodding her head.

“I’m not!” you cease to look at the scene displaying just a couple of meters from you and face Jihye, who is waiting for you to elaborate “It’s annoying how he just flirts with her in the middle of the library.”

“Relax, dear Jesus. He’s just laughing at what she said! They are partners in Mr. Choi’s project, they have to interact with one another. Remember?”

Your Chemistry professor had randomly assigned your partners for your final project. You got lucky enough to have been partnered with Jihye, not only because she was your best friend, but also because with her, choosing the topic was fairly simple: it was either related to environmental or green issues. However, as you sneakily look at the pair again, you wished you were in that girl’s place.

“What’s so funny about molecules?”

Juyeon had told you everything about their project and how well their first trials on the software had gone. They had decided to simulate molecules and predict their properties, but instead of experimenting physically, they did it virtually. Now, they just had to write down the first draft to hand in.

“I don’t know, but we still have to narrow down the conclusions on this thing, or else Mr. Choi will dump this paper right in front of our eyes!”

Although your chosen topic was way too interesting for you, esterification (making esters for flavors and scents) and how to replace the acid catalyst with an enzyme/greener catalyst to eliminate hazardous byproducts was proving to be nowhere as entertaining as looking at Juyeon from across the room.

“I think I need to get out of here”

The rest of the evening was spent back at your dorm, surrounded by lab trials on paper, coffee cups, various sweets, and the typing sound in two different laptops going on for the longest time you’ve ever heard.

“Last one?” Jihye asked with hope, looking at you with reddened eyes. The topic was no longer of you guys’ interest. You just needed some sleep.

“Think so! ‘For the last approach…’” You took the lead, ready to get over with it “‘Lipases (enzymes) were used to catalyze the reaction under mild conditions.’

After typing for some minutes, your best friend added “And we conclude that… ‘Every method proved to be efficient’?

“Well, they all were so…”

“Are we done?”

“Hell yeah”

Your celebratory dance was interrupted by a knock on your door. You checked the time — 9:48 PM. Had your roommate forgotten her key?

You stretch out on your way to the door, finally feeling your butt after hours of sitting down in the only chair you could bear. You were in the middle of a yawn when you opened it, and of course, he would be there, laughing at you in that state.

“Still working for Mr. Choi?” Juyeon asked, giggling at the sight of you.

“How did you guess?” you hid your face behind your hands, trying to make your burning cheeks less obvious. “What are you doing here?”

Completely ignoring your question, he walked past you and greeted your friend, who was already packing all her ‘study pack’, as she liked to call it, to go back to her dorm.

“You guys have a good night! I can’t handle myself any longer”

Juyeon got himself comfortable on your small couch and eyed you as you started putting your stuff away. “How did it go?” he asked in a low tone, well aware of how strict quiet hours were in your campus buildings.

“We’ll hand it in on Monday. The topic was fun at the beginning but after writing so much about it, it just fell out of my interest. What about you?”

“We finished it in the library a couple of hours ago. I thought you guys would be there as well.” When you finally sat down next to him, he pressed his back on the armrest so he could better see you.

“Hye and I decided to leave-”

“Because…” he inquired.

“It was too loud”

“The library?” he smiled, not tearing his eyes away from your increasingly reddened cheeks. “I know you were looking at me. At us” he corrected, his smile turning into a bigger grin.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” You looked away, busying yourself with the hem of your top.

“Your cheeks seem to know”

“You were being too loud” you murmured, unable to return the gaze.

“What? I didn’t hear you” Juyeon replies, clearly messing with you. By this point, it was obvious that he knew more than you’d like to. He showed it, proved it, and said it.

But how could you just tell him the truth? How could you admit that your heart beats faster when he’s near you? How could you preserve the amazing friendship that had blossomed over college years if you had to tell him that you like him more than that?

“Do you promise not to panic after I tell you?”

“Y/N…” he sighed, making the small distance between your bodies disappear. He took your hands in his, and kissed each one with a care you could’ve never seen coming “I like you too.” And if your cheeks had been red before, you now probably looked like an extra spicy hot sauce bottle. How…? When…?

“I-I… what?”

“I was testing you out before I said anything. It may have slipped from Jihye at some point…” he giggled at the face you made. That little bastard…“But I wanted to make sure that it was not just another of her ideas. Well… this afternoon, it was pretty clear to me”

“I couldn’t disguise it, huh?”

“You were shooting daggers at her.” Juyeon chuckled, playing with your fingers. His touch felt so intimate and gentle that you couldn’t stop looking at the way he caressed you “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I felt relieved in so many ways. I had been in the dark about your feelings for way too long and that was a very evident sign.”

“Are you sure you like me?” you whispered, too shy to look at him.

It had been hard enough to picture what being romantically with Juyeon could look like, that you never wanted to have to do that again. So many different scenarios, so many ways in which he showed his love for you, and so many caring stares that you didn’t want to imagine anymore. Cuddling with him? Kissing until your lips hurt? Meeting his family? Sharing a home? It had to be real, or else…

Your heart wouldn’t be able to handle seeing him in any other way than being yours.

“Do you want me to prove it?”

You snapped out of your thoughts, ready to finally have a taste of what you have longed for so many years. “Please”

Your whisper was rapidly cut short by his soft lips on your own, his big and rough hands cupping the sides of your face to angle you better. You couldn't help but smile in the middle of the kiss, too entranced in his touch to care to hide your true feelings. He took his mouth away from yours with the cutest smile you have ever seen.

“I might need a little bit more convincing, sir. Just to make sure… ” Your grin was now sly, daring. It was ridiculous how down-bad you were for him.

“Lee Juyeon at your service, madam”

His kiss was confident and eager. His lips moved at your pace, making sure he never crossed your boundaries.

“I’m officially addicted to your kisses” He whispered in between pecks, leaving your lips a little to continue pressing them all over your face and neck.

“How could we miss this for so long?”

“Better later than never, darling.”

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ 　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚

back at it! missed writing for my boyz so much 💙

#kpop #kpop imagines #kpop x reader #kpop angst #kpop fluff #kpop smut #the boyz #the boyz imagines #the boyz x reader #the boyz fluff #the boyz angst #the boyz smut #lee juyeon #lee juyeon x reader #juyeon imagines #juyeon x reader #juyeon smut #juyeon fluff #juyeon angst

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rebelliousstories · 5 months ago

Text

The One That Got Away

Relationship: Emily Prentiss x Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Mentions of a Crime Scene, Blood, and Firearms, Vague Mentions of a Serial Killer

Word Count: 1,698

Main Masterlist: Here

Criminal Minds Masterlist: Here

Summary: After leaving Interpol after an operation gone wrong, Emily thought that she would never see her ex-girlfriend again. That is until the case resurfaces, but on US soil.

Part Two: Would You Go With Me?

Consider Donating: Here

“The past is a very determined ghost, haunting every chance it gets.” Laura Miller

March 7th, 2005

In the back of an ambulance, a woman was staring straight ahead. She was unable to respond to the EMTs surrounding her. All she could replay in her head was the massacre that had just unfolded inside their safe house. A safe house that was now comprised.

She could barely comprehend that her girlfriend was in front of her, calling her name. Screams echoed in her head. Blood was actively drying on her face, hands, clothing, really just.. everywhere. There was a ringing ever present in her ears. Vaguely, she registered that she was being loaded into the ambulance, with other people climbing in with her.

Her girlfriend was holding her hand, trying to stay out of the way for the medics to work on the lady on the gurney. Everything was jut a blur. No sound loud enough, but not quite quiet enough. No image stood out to her. What the woman did not realize, was that this singular event would forever change her life.

Present Day…

“What have we got?” Emily asked, strutting in with Morgan and Rossi right next to her.

Aaron stood around the round table with JJ to his left. Garcia had shuffled in from the other entrance to the room with Reid close behind her. The unit chief held a harsh look on his face, harsher than he usually did. And he was looking straight at Emily.

“What,” came her hesitant ask, eyeing Hotch equally as hard.

“We’ve gotten a request to help with an Interpol case.” He stated.

“Okay, what’s so different about it? We’ve been asked to assist other teams before.” The rest of the team followed after Prentiss, also confused as to how cryptic this whole thing was.

“Imitirovat.”

“The Mimic?” While everyone remained confused, Emily felt like a cold rush of water came over her.

“‘The Mimic?’ Who’s that?” Garcia piped up, not liking the silence.

Before Hotchner could speak, the dark haired woman did so first. “He was an old case. A cold case back from my days with Interpol. Why are we being brought in?”

“It seems that he’s made his way to American soil, and he’s killing again. Agent Liam Shelby has asked us to join the FBI joint task force with the Salt Lake City police.” He continued, passing her a file.

“Shelby? He’s on this still?” Flipping through the pages, she scanned them to refresh herself on all the information.

“He is. And there is an additional agent that we need to find.” A highlighted name pointed her out, but that only made her groan.

“Jesus Christ.” A hand scrubbed over Emily’s face to try rub her bias away.

“I’m aware. Wheels up in twenty.”

On the plane, the conversation was not much better. While her teammates wanted to talk about the original case, Emily wanted to not be in this situation. If certain information got out, personal information, about this case, there could be repercussions both personally and professionally. But if Shelby was specifically calling the team that she was on to help now that this man had come back.

“So, what can you tell us about this guy, Emily?” Rossi asked, toying with the file in front of him.

Sucking in a depth breath, she readjusted in her seat, feeling the weight of everyone’s stares on her. “Um…well, no one knows The Mimic’s real name. But we do know that he comes from Russia, hence the name “Imitirovat”. It means “imitate” or “simulate.” White male, at the time he was approximately late twenties to early thirties. Sandy blonde hair, brown eyes, attractive-”

“Attractive?” JJ’s brows scrunched as she tilted her head.

“Yeah, he’s always been able to charm victims into going with him before he kills them.” Prentiss continued, “and when I was with Interpol, I chased him around Europe as he went on killing. We almost had him in London.”

“Were there any suspects?” Morgan quipped.

“We had some persons of interest, but nothing panned out.” Prentiss shook her head.

“When we land, Morgan and Reid, go to the latest crime scene. The rest of us will set up in the station.” Aaron ordered.

Soon after, everyone dived into their own thing. Pretty much everyone else was jumping into the information in the folders. Meanwhile, Emily was staring out of her window. What was she going to do if they found her? She had not seen the woman in almost a decade.

Making it to the Salt Lake City field office, Prentiss began to pick at her fingernails as they went further into the office.

“Emily!” A smooth, French-accented voice called out amongst the cacophony of the office.

“Liam, bonjour.” She replied, hugging him close.

“Bonjour. I hate to have called you here, but we need help.” Liam had jumped to near frantic as he introduced himself briefly to the rest of the team.

“I know. The Mimic is back. We’re gonna try to catch him but we need-”

Shaking his head and hands, Liam cut her off. “No, no, no, no, no. I need your help specifically.”

“Anything.” He passed her a piece of paper.

“We haven’t been able to get into contact with her. It is possible that this is why he came here. She lives in the city.”

A gasp tore from her throat. “She’s here?”

Liam just nodded. Scanning the paper she was given, Prentiss committed her address and number to heart. ”I’ll see what I can do.”

She decided on bringing Rossi with her to track down the final piece of the puzzle. Partially because there was no way Emily was going to play twenty questions with JJ, nor deal with the curious stare of Hotch. No, she brought David because he was a constant, fatherly anchor; that was what she needed. Anxiety was already rearing its ugly head at her, and she needed someone that could remain objective.

The place she now lived was far different than what she had in London. A run down apartment building that looked like it had not been updated since the 80’s. This was where she lived? When she stepped out, Prentiss smoothed her shirt and slacks, before rounding the SUV to cross the street to get to the door. However, when she went to knock on the door, it flew open with ease.

Immediately, the two agents drew their weapons, trigger discipline in place, and then they breached the ground level apartment. The first objective was to clear the apartment, make sure that no one, dead or alive, was in there. Prentiss took the west side, while Rossi took the east. She was traversing over broken glass, destroyed furniture. There were swipes of blood on the walls, dents, and bullet holes. All in all, it looked horrible.

“Clear.” Emily called, walking back into the living room.

“Clear,” came Rossi’s reply, also joining her in the living room. They holstered their weapons, and took in the damage. But as she looked around, a pool of something dark caught her eyes.

“Rossi…” she hesitantly drew his attention. Stepping quietly over to it, Emily’s stomach dropped. It was a pool of blood. One that had already begun to dry. There was an outline of a body in the middle of it, and bloody drags around the edges.

Rushing out the front door, Emily needed fresh air before she threw up. Shaking breathes sucked it in, but the thought alone was near enough to cripple her. Vaguely, Prentiss heard the front door open and close as Rossi came outside with her.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” Her words were rushed, not wanting him to even ask the question to begin with.

“Sure you are, kid.” Dave chuckled at her glare. “I’m gonna call this in. You go back to the station.”

“Rossi, I’m fi-”

“That wasn’t a request. Go.” Chucking the keys at her, he already had his phone pressed against his ear as he alerted the SLC police to their crime scene. Reluctantly, Emily drove all the way back, and her thoughts were racing the speedometer.

It did not even fully process to her that she had returned until Liam stepped outside to her window. “Emily? Emily, mon ami, are you alright?”

On shaking legs, and an even unsteadier heart, Prentiss tried to speak, but nothing came out. When she said nothing, the Frenchman ushered her inside, brought her to their little section of the office, and sat her down. While Liam went to get her a cup of coffee, Hotch and JJ came over. But their voices were not able to penetrate her ears. She could not follow their questions.

“She’s dead.” Emily finally muttered, still staring at the table ahead of her.

“What do you mean?”

“Who’s dead?”

“That can’t be.”

Overlapping voices, overlapping questions, each with the same answer. “She’s dead, Liam. There was no body, but you know what The Mimic does to his victims.”

There was a new fury in her dark brown eyes as she stared at her former partner.

“There was no way she could have survived from that much blood loss. And her place… it was destroyed. If you had seen what I did. I just- we’re going to find her body in a day or two.” Emily went on with her explanation.

Everyone was silent. While her new team had no idea what the women meant to each other, Liam did. And he knew that if he had found his past lover in that state, even without a body, he would be distraught.

“Thought you had more faith in me, Emmy. You should know me better than that.”

The new voice made the agent freeze. But as soon as that was gone, she shot from her chair like lightning to whip around to face the voice. She looked just as beautiful as she did all those years ago, just with a new line or two on her face, and a long natural blonde wig on. Emily knew her well enough to know that she would never actually dye her hair to that color.

“Ya amar…”

#rebelliousstories #writing #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss is a lesbian #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss #david rossi #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #derek morgan

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cherryblossompink303 · 2 months ago

Text

Patience S2:08:~The twins take the runway!~

➼ pairing: Kyoya Ootori x Reader ➼ summary: You are called upon to help the fate of the twins family's reputation ➼ what to expect: "that is nothing to do with your ego and everything to do with the fact that you look good in purple" ➼ warnings: none ➼S2:07 / S2:09

"What on earth?"

You had a plan set out for today, a vintage beach movie vibe host club that had been on the calendar for a few months now, so when you enter the host club for the morning expecting a simulated beach like Tamaki had said you were just shy of shocked to find nothing of the sort.

Instead, there were so man clothes racks that you can't see the back wall of the host club, and mannequins, so many mannequins it is starting to give you a slight uncanny valley effect.

"Y/n! Good! You're here, slight change of plans!" Tamaki jumps out from within the clothes "Clearly, why does the host club look like we're about to start our own design house?"

"Because we are y/n-chan!" Honey arises from a pile of fabric, your jaw drops "What?" Kyoya appears next to you, hand you a magazine, front headline stating that the future of the Hitachiin company is in jeopardy.

"Seriously you two? If you're gonna pull random pranks on people you know better than to do it somewhere that you aren't going to be photographed by the press" You turn to the twins, who look awfully blaze about it all.

"We've already gotten the lecture from our mother y/n, we don't need to hear it again" Hikaru sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"So why are we starting a design house in the host club?"

"The outside world thinks that Hiakru and Kaoru are unfit to take over the family business when it comes to it so, we are proving that they are capable by hosting a fashion show!" Tamaki exclaims, throwing around various garments.

"Right...that sounds....interesting....wait, why did you text me an sos then?"

"Well we need models for it, obviously, and we are kind of short of feminine members of the host club"

"Oh great" you sarcastically smile "why don't you get some of the guests to model, i'm sure they would jump at the opportunity"

"Oh we are aswell....but you know... the more the merrier "You squint at the three of them. They're up to something, you can tell, it's just a matter of what.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

The twins take the runway!

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Somehow this all quickly descends into you being stood on a pedestal in a corner of the host club, your fellow members surrounding you in a flurry of discussions about fabrics and designs, all somehow gaining pairs of glasses and measuring tapes as if to complete the 'tailor look'

"Hey Haruhi, doesn't Mei like fashion design? Maybe she would be interested in this"

"Oh yeah, she probably will, I keep waking up in the morning to the sound of her hemming her skirts, I'll call her"

"Takashi is that a 3 or an 8?" Honey squints at the tape measure, you shift slightly at the idea of looking at your sizes. "don't worry about that Honey I have her measurements" Kyoya mutters.

"Wait what?"

He raises an eyebrow "Have you never questioned why the holiday houses happen to have clothes and shoes in your size?"

"Of course i have...."

"What did you think was happening?"

"....clothes fairy" you mutter.

"You would look good in Blue y/n"

"You think?"

"Yeah you have a certain...alice in wonderland quality about you"

"Thanks...I think?" Once again you stand there question how on earth you have ended up in this situation, becoming a mannequin for the twins, a nightmare of yours and a dream of theirs.

"It's a compliment, don't worry, we'll make sure you look good, we're planning a statement piece for you, all the attention focuses on you"

You let out a nervous laugh "Haha-haha-greaaat"

The host club stares back at you with eyebrows raised as your reaction, "You good y/n"

"Great, why wouldn't I be, what girl wouldn't love to be stared at on a pedestal by a crowd of people in an industry that is overly critical on women's bodies...I'm just peachy"

"Oh that's right, y/n has stage fright... well that does put a spanner in the works" Tamaki pondered over it, scratching at his chin.

"Oh well there goes our finale" the twins pout in the corner, you know what they are trying to do, that being guilt tripping you into helping them. However while you can't easily be sued by guilt tripping, someone else in the host club can.

"It really is a tragedy, poor y/n who longs for the spotlight but can never step into it because of her fear, like a sad little caterpillar waiting to become a butterfly! Y/n this is the perfect opportunity for you to step out into the light and flourish! We will help you conquer your fear and save the twins business" Tamaki declares into the air.

"Please I am begging you not to"

"I know its scary for you y/n but you will be better for it and find your passion once again"

You sigh, turning to Haruhi "I'm not gonna get out of this am i?"

"Nope"

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

"Now y/n" somehow despite your protest you now find yourself on a makeshift stage in the hostclub, an interrogatory spotlight shining on you. "There are a few ways we can try and cure your stage fright"

"Exposure therapy"

"Positive reinforcement"

"Imagining we're all naked" Kaoru suggests

"I'd rather not, the last thing i wanna think about is you lot naked" you grimace at the twins "You'd only get jealous you can't see the real thing anyway"

"Okay! No nudity! and no exposure therapy! Next idea"

"Maybe we should consider what triggers her stage fright, you weren't always like this were you y/n-senpai?" Honey shyly mumbles at your pushback.

"No...I...no I wasn't"

"Good idea Honey-Senpai! Here y/n" Tamaki pulls out one of the host clubs sofas out from behind the clothes racks, urging you to lie down on it, him and the twins sitting at an arms distance away, clipboards appearing out of nowhere as they cross their legs in unison. "Tell us where it all began"

"I feel like this crosses a few professional boundaries"

"It would if this was a professional host club, but its not"

You huff in frustration, head falling back against the arm of the sofa and staring up to the ceiling. "Fine, what do you all know?"

"Not much, just that your father said a few things to you after a performance and it led you to quit performing for good"

"Well that's basically it, have you ever seen the movie dead poets society?" you earn a few nods.

"It's a similar situation to that, my father believes that any time spent on creative pursuits was time wasted, one day he came to a production I was in...I didn't expect him to praise anything but afterwards he drilled in how I should feel ashamed of myself, that if I am neglecting my studies for such things I should at least have...talent"

"That's horrible"

"you're not even a bad performer, we saw you sing during the Lobelia performance"

"Well I don't know about that but I just...the words stick with me whenever I'm on stage, I'm just conscious of it, my fathers words don't usually hold much weight with me but something about that just..."

"Y/n you were young and he is your dad you don't have to justify it to us"

You roll your eyes "Still, I know it's silly"

"Perhaps a fashion show is exactly what you need y/n, I know you don't like the idea of exposure therapy but mixing that with positive reinforcement could be good for you"

"Thanks tamaki but I don't really need you complimenting me when I know its for the sake of helping my stage fright"

"It won't be us doing it though, we continue the plan as it was, you go out with the statement piece of the night, it will go well and there is any criticism of the night it will be on the twins designs not on you"

"that's quite optimistic Tamaki"

"And that is quite pesimistic, y/n"

"Come on, y/n" Hikaru places his hands on your shoulders, appearing behind you on the sofa "You are our friend we would never embarras you on purpose"

"You literally make a point of doing that on the daily"

"Okay, well, our reputation is also on the line this time"

You sigh, "fine, but this is the last time, if anything goes wrong y'all cannot ask me to go on stage again"

The host club lines up to salute you. "Yes ma'am!"

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

A week later you are pacing back and forth 'backstage' at the twins fashion show, while you've been getting random words of encouragement from various people across the week they didn't offer much comfort.

The dress was amazing, that you couldn't deny that the twins have certainly outdone themselves but still cycling through your mind were all the possible things that could go wrong, tripping over, a technical malfunction, or god forbid a wardrobe malfunction.

"Dear? Are you back here?" Kyoya pulls back the curtain that you have somewhat been hiding behind "Hi" You you shoot him a nervous smile.

"Oh my..."

"Don't, please, I've heard enough attempts to cure my ego this week" he raises an eyebrow, stepping fully into the small sectioned off area "Is that what you think I was going to do?

"Am I wrong?"

"I was going to say that you look amazing, but that is nothing to do with your ego and everything to do with the fact that you look good in purple"

"Wow two compliments in one sentence from Kyoya Ootori... you're overdoing it a little which is how I know this is at least a little bit about my self esteem but thank you anyway"

"You'll be fine just try to take things slowly" you nodded, closing your eyes as you breathe in and out deeply. "y/n" Kaoru pops his head through the curtain "You're on in a min"

Your eyes shoot open, like a deer caught in headlights as your eyes frantically dart between the two of them. "Right...right..." you follow Kaoru out.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

"The exhibition was not only innovative but inspired, a well balanced mix of reminiscing on the illustrious history of the Hitachiin family fashion dynasty and hinting to the future, snatching their spots as rightful heirs by force after recent questioning of their eligibility. Eyes glued to their final piece of the night pictured left modelled by y/n l/n."

"Yes Hikaru I get it you don't have to read out the article again" you pinch the bridge of your nose, developing a headache "just making a point"

"Hello?" A knock on the door captures tamaki's attention, an older woman stood within it "I am looking for y/n l/n?"

You raise an eyebrow, sitting up from where you were laid down on the sofa "Nana?"

Next time on patience....'Strike three for Tamaki and Kyoya!'

'Mommy and daddy of the host club have had it, meanwhile y/n is trying to piece back together a different family Can the cold kyoya and the overemotional Tamaki work things out? Find out next time on patience!

We'll see you then!'

Tag list (reply to be added): @skottch @cgmajor @rebirthbunbun @bbybubbles @blueberry19000 @katgirl05 @smellslikelovinglies @veras-fanfic-reblogs @sadprimrose @mirtalikesdr @sleeplesssskeleton @ritzes28 @crackpeole @rory-cakes @renjunniex @II-kita-san-II @angelicwillows @missbrebre1012 @sleep-7372 @strawberrbitch @reticent-writer @eternal-dokja @meme848 @mistyhydrangeagarden @nanaloverz @hyuninslutbbgirl @rebel-author-chick @voyager1fan @bubbabobabubbles @haowonbins @justtryingtosurvive02 @darlingxym @funtimefreddynaofficial @lunarthehokage

#kyoya ootori #kyoya ootori x reader #kyoya x reader #ohshc #ohshc x reader #ohshc kyoya #ouran high school host club #ouran highschool host club #ouran host club #ouran hshc #kaoru hitachiin #ouran #ouran kyoya #hikaru hitachiin #haruhi fujioka #tamaki suoh

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redtsundere-writes · 1 year ago

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mma fighter!sukuna ryomen x femalecoach!reader

Chapter 1. The King Of The Ring.

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Summary: Sukuna is a world champion with anger issues. It's believed by many that he is untrainable. Yeah, you can't train him, but you can dominate him. More Info.

A/N 2: So I finally edit this, I will be posting some extras soon :3

“Sukuna Ryomen, ladies and gentlemen! He showed us once again why he is the king of the ring!” The excited narrator exclaimed, meanwhile the king flexed the golden belt around his waist after another amazing fight.

His body glossed in sweat, a proud smile plastered on his face and the blood of his opponent sliding down his tattooed skin. A dangerous beast who just caught his prey, flexing his powerful muscles to show off what he was made of. The repetition of the final hit in slow motion was so satisfying to watch, a perfect punch in the perfect moment. Luck doesn’t exist in the world of mixed martial arts, only unique opportunities. I used to believe that, until I witnessed it myself.

“It’s here,” I thought out loud when I saw the giant sign that read “Team Black MMA Gym” in bright white and red letters from the sidewalk.

The most important MMA gym in Tokyo. I heard that they only accept the best fighters of the country. My coach used to tell me to at least try out to be surrounded by professionals. As a woman, I wasn’t particularly interested in entering a male-exclusive gym. The only other woman there is the physiotherapist.

I took the elevator to the gym’s floor. When the doors opened, the smell of sweat and the sound of the metal weights welcomed me. I just stepped inside, and I already had eyes on me. I was expecting it to be honest. A woman in a gym filled by rugged men isn’t something you see every day. It didn’t help that I was using an oversize gray hoodie which covered my shorts, making it seem that I wasn’t wearing any pants.

The gym was divided into training areas for different martial arts. In the corner, there was a ring that stood tall for fighters to simulate real combat. Along the gym, there were several punching bags, weight stations and resistance equipment.

The sound of the punches and kicks, mixed with the coaches’ instructions, created a threatening and energetic environment. I could easily notice who were the fighters with discipline. Those working hard to perfect their skills, showing off their determination in every move. The place was impregnated with a spirit of self-improvement and sportsmanship, where the passion for martial arts was in every corner.

“Welcome, miss.” A tall blonde man called me.

“You must be the manager, Nanami Kento,” I greeted with a respectful bow, which was reciprocated.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person,” he greeted back. “Let me introduce you to your trainee.” He led the way through the heavy equipment to the outstanding ring.

And there he was, in all his glory. Sukuna was simulating a fight with another member of the gym. Nanami and I just waited for them to finish so he could introduce me formally. Sukuna was constantly moving towards his opponent, creating closure enough so he could punch him better. The power difference could be noticed from what they were wearing. The King of the Ring was just wearing a black compressed shirt and gray shorts, showing off his defined abs and powerful legs, meanwhile his black haired opponent was wearing the gym uniform and all the protection equipment available.

It was a different experience watching a fighter like him live in action live. The details like the sound of his punching winds and how Sukuna’s muscles flexed with every move were lost on the TV. When Sukuna threw a definite left jab that left his opponent on the floor, I couldn’t help but gulp hard. He was a killing machine.

“Great job!” Nanami applauded along with some other fighters who were witnessing the fight as well. I clapped so I didn’t look so out of place.

Sukuna turned to my way and a grimace of disgust appeared on his face when his eyes landed on me, a total stranger with no pants on. He took his gloves off and threw them to my feet. “So this is how it is going to be?” I asked myself, not even bothering picking them up. Sukuna gritted his teeth when I didn’t care his expensive gloves were still on the floor.

“What an awful cleaning lady you hired, Kento,” Sukuna said disdainfully.

“She is not a cleaning lady! She is your new coach,” Nanami introduced me, ashamed by the attitude of his star athlete.

“Kick her out, I don’t need a new coach,” Sukuna groaned.

“If I knew this was going to be like this, why am I here?” I asked myself in my mind, starting to take back my decision of becoming the coach of a well-known fighter with anger issues. Ah, I remember now. I needed to see something for myself.

“Hello? Am I talking with Y/n?” A couple of weeks ago, Nanami Kento called my gym, desperate.

“You are talking with her,” I answered, thinking he was a sponsor or someone in the UFC.

“My name is Nanami Kento, and I am Sukuna Ryomen’s manager.”

If I had a penny for every time I have heard that name, I would be a billionaire. He was a famous fighter in the MMA world and the sport’s world. The world champion in the light heavyweight weight class. The king of the ring and a wild tiger on interviews due to his lack of humbleness. A horrible person to the simple eye, a magnificent opponent in the ring.

“I’ll be straight forward. I don't know if you saw his last fight…”

Sukuna’s last fight was against Suguru Geto in Las Vegas, another amazing fighter. The interesting thing about that encounter was seeing two great fighters specialized in opposite areas. Geto specializes in floor fighting, while Ryomen is an incredible boxer. Everyone went crazy when the fight was announced, could Sukuna beat him with just his bare punches, or would Geto be able to bring him down to his advantage?

In the middle of the fourth round, Geto pulled him to the floor and Sukuna was in trouble. Obviously, Sukuna has some training in floor fighting, but that wasn’t enough when you are against the best. Geto caged him like an anaconda, ready to choke him to surrender him. Sukuna tried to set himself free by force, but his punches weren’t good enough to win the fight.

“It will be a technical knockout.” I thought out while watching the fight from the comfort of my living room. I was eating chips mindlessly until I saw a unique opportunity.

Sukuna, somehow, freed himself from Geto’s strong grip to reach for his head. With great momentum, he punched him precisely in his jaw, completely knocking Suguru out. I knocked my bowl of chips when I jumped from the couch to watch the repetition closely. I had seen Geto do that chokehold a thousand times, no opponent can just simply "free” themselves like that. My eyes couldn’t believe how clean that killer punch was.

“The thing is that his coach and I believe he must improve his floor techniques,” Nanami explained the situation.

“There are many more renowned coaches who specialize in floor, why me?” I asked, curious at the whole conversation since I have heard rumors that Sukuna is pretty picky with whom he lets in his gym.

“You are right. You have been the tenth coach I have called today,” Nanami answered honestly. “Sukuna is too stubborn and doesn’t want to admit that he was also beaten in his last fight. He goes out of his way to get rid of every coach we bring him.”

“Why do you think I will accept?” I asked. If he was calling me, a famous woman for a specific quality, there must be a reason.

“If I believe someone can humble him and teach him some discipline, it’s you,” he declared.

An offended smile appeared on my face. I wasn’t going to let Sukuna Ryomen treat me like I was a slack to deal with. Now I understand why every coach gave up on him, you cannot train something that doesn't want to be trained, but you can tame it.

“Sukuna, we already talked about this. You should train with someone who specializes in floor so what happened in Vegas doesn't happen again,” his coach, Satoru Gojo, tried to convince him. A tall white haired man in an all black coaching uniform. He was standing beside him with his arms crossed, clearly stressed from dealing with his bratty attitude all day.

“What happens in Las Vegas stays in Las Vegas. I don’t need another stupid coach,” he defended himself while he brushed his hair back with his fingers.

“You win, I won’t train you,” I said in defeat, turning around to make my way to the elevator. “Either way, I don’t train assholes,” I said loud enough with a sly smile. A howl from the fighters who heard me echoed through the gym.

“Stop!” He barked. I turned around to see what he wanted.

“Didn’t you want me to leave?” I asked, trying to keep my act together.

“What did you just call me?” He dared me to repeat myself.

“Gotcha!” I thought, proud of myself. I know how the male brain works. They can’t let anyone challenge them just like that. I hid my smirk and faced him again.

“Did Geto hit you so hard that you went deaf? I said, “You are an asshole!” I shouted from my place.

Nanami quickly got to me, so whispering that I behaved better for my own good, but I couldn’t back down now. Sukuna scoffed and snapped his fingers at me.

“Get up here,” he demanded as another fighter gave him back his gloves. He wanted to fight me.

“You don’t have to, miss,” Nanami warned me in a whisper.

“I know what I am doing, don’t worry,” I answered in the same volume.

I put the mouth guard I brought with me on my pink shoulder bag. I wrapped my hands in bandages while Sukuna was analyzing me from top to bottom while preparing myself for the fight. It was understandable, I was a dangerous wasp in his bee hive. The rest of the fighters stop training to get around the ring to witness the match.

When I finished prepping, I took my hoodie off, revealing my abs and toned arms. Some whistled and applauded as if I was a stripper, when I could shut them up with a kick in the nuts. Sukuna, on the other hand, just kept staring, looking for weaknesses. He could be an asshole, but he respected his opponent at least.

“You better not be wasting my time,” he angrily barked. His red eyes still looked at me from head to toe without shame.

“You are already wasting mine,” I answered. Sukuna smiled, not believing what I just said to his face.

“We are really going to let this fight happen?” Nanami asked Gojo.

“It looks like it's the only way he will accept her,” Gojo shrugged before stepping inside the ring. He told us the basic rules for the match, asked us if he was clear, and we just nodded. “Touch gloves so we can start.” I placed my gloves in the middle so Sukuna could bump them, but he just backed away. “Fucking pussy” I thought, backing up to my side.

A small audience gathered around the ring for an unusual show. A light heavyweight champion against a random girl that just showed up. It looked like the possibilities of winning weren’t on my side. I started moving my legs and arms to warm up. If Sukuna was a lion, I had to be a fast gazelle. His prying eyes were on me all the time. I smiled at him. He could look at me everything he wanted, he didn’t scare me. It was my time to show him who was boss.

“Fight!” Gojo shouted.

There is a golden rule in mixed martial arts: “The first hit is the most important.” Sukuna flew towards me with a superman punch. He was open. I dodged it fast enough so I could jab him against his left cheek. The surprised audience gasped collectively. Sukuna quickly got used to my rhythm and changed his posture towards me. I created distance between us, so I could evaluate my options. I didn't have anything other than going for his legs, but that wouldn’t be a simple task. His legs were too strong to just sweep him off his feet with a single kick. I needed to do something more drastic.

Sukuna kept closing the distance between us to punch me directly, he was looking for the knockout. He was more of an offensive than defensive fighter, like I already knew. Sukuna hit me a couple of times and was celebrated by the public. They stung with power and intense pain. He was giving the best of him. I needed to answer with the same power, but in a more clever way.

I kicked him in the stomach so he could back down, but he pushed my hand down just in time, so my kick didn’t connect well. I tried kicking the other side, this time he stopped me by grabbing my ankle. Big mistake. I impulsed myself with my other leg to kick him on his face to knock him to the floor. Sukuna fell with a big slam that made the whole audience howl in surprise.

I quickly got onto him to lock him down against the mat with my legs around his neck and torso. He tried getting up, just like with Geto, but I wasn’t going to let him. This was the only chance I got to beat him. I could listen to Sukuna growling under his breath. He punched me against my sides, but I couldn’t give up. I latched my left leg on his right arm, making him turn around slowly. The audience screamed confusing instructions to Sukuna because they knew if this continued, the fight was over. I made Sukuna turn on his belly. I reached for his head so I could choke hold him in between my biceps. The screams kept getting louder, but I didn’t give a damn. I needed to end him, if I wanted a place in his gym. Sukuna started to breathe with difficulty while his hands tried to loosen up my powerful grasp. He was reliving what happened in Las Vegas.

“Come on, Sukuna! Finish this!” Gojo ordered among the hollering.

Sukuna sighed and obeyed. He tapped my arms three times in surrender. A technical knockout. I quickly released him and I stood tall, leaving him space so he could breathe.

“Y/n “Medusa’s snake” Y/ln is the winner,” Gojo announced while raising my arm in victory. The fighters applauded me in approval. I took my dental protector to breathe comfortably through my mouth. Even though I won, I wasn’t finished.

“Good fight…” Sukuna groaned under his breath, giving me his hand to shake. I shook it, even though he was visibly mad. I could understand why, I just kicked his ass in front of his entire gym, but I didn’t give a shit.

“This means you will train Sukuna?” Nanami asked me with hope in his voice.

“No, I said I didn’t coach assholes,” I shrugged. Sukuna’s face turned from angry to offended in a hot second.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! I am a world champion, you should be honored to train me!” He shouted in my face, but I didn’t budge. He wasn't upset that I had to train him. Now, he's just mad because I didn't want to train him anymore. We were making progress.

“I am not interested in training the world champion of assholes,” I seriously said before putting my hoodie back on.

I hung the bag on my shoulder and quickly walked away from the whole situation. I dodged the other fighters on my way out. Nanami kept following me, asking me to reconsider the offer. I took the elevator, leaving the chaos behind me. Once the doors closed, I collapsed against the wall behind me. Fighting against Sukuna was an entire workout. The bruises started to show up in purple hues, my legs were trembling weakly, and my lips were begging for water. Dealing with Sukuna wasn’t an easy task.

The elevator’s doors opened on the first floor. I stepped out just to rest my body for a minute. I took my water bottle out to drink some while I waited. What I was waiting for? I really didn’t know, but I needed to wait for someone to come chasing after me to beg me to stay. Maybe it was going to be Nanami, Gojo or any other fighter. It could be anyone.

“Wait!” The last person that I thought would come for me said behind me. It was Sukuna, looking tired and agitated. He was wearing a black hoodie, and he wiped the sweat off his forehead.

“What do you need, asshole?” I asked without taking the straw off my mouth.

“Don’t call me like that,” he groaned.

“I will once you stop acting like one,” I said, putting my water bottle aside. Sukuna rolled his eyes and sighed. He was so done. “Now you understand that you need me?” I asked with a confident smirk.

“I don't need you, but you are good. I want you in my team,” he corrected.

“Fine, under one condition.” Sukuna raised his chin at me to continue. “You must accept that you are terrible at floor fighting.” He laughed at the “absurd condition.”

“I am a world champion, I am not terrible in floor fighting,” he said angrily.

“It’s bad to lie so much,” I said, replicating his condescending tone. I turned around to exit the building. “If you don’t want to fulfill my condition, I can’t train you.”

“Wait!” Sukuna grabbed me by the arm to stop me. “Fine,” he sighed again. “I am terrible at floor fighting, are you happy now?” I turned to him with a bright smile on my face.

“See? That wasn’t that hard.”

“Hush,” he groaned, clearly embarrassed. His cheeks were a bit flustered, it was kinda cute.

“When do we start?” I asked with a proud heart. The Medusa’s Snake had beaten another terrible man.

“Right now,” he pulled me with him, back to the elevator.

Masterlist.

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kurikive · 5 months ago

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💽 vinyl pressed | part one | word count: 4.2k

you like gloomy days. there’s not a lot of people out, the sun does not blind you nor burn your skin and the weather isn’t usually that bad before the remains of the sun start setting.

the best part is getting home right before it starts raining, and just in time to cozy up with a cup of tea, a book, and music playing in the background (but you’re not that sophisticated, so you usually just end up falling asleep on the couch).

your body automatically relaxes at the memories of being a young girl, laughing and dancing with your mom in the kitchen and around the living room, one of her vinyl records playing just beneath the sound of your giggles and laughter. just the thought of it sends you into slumber, and your subconscious makes a wish to dream about it.

after you had moved into your new apartment, you tried your best to simulate the liveliness and essence of the home you grew up in. you turned the whole place upside down, from a dull box of concrete walls, to a cozy abode full of life.

the only thing missing, however, was the music. the melodies you hummed along to, the rhythms you made up dances for.

you could easily just listen to music through your phone and headphones like any other person, but the feeling of being surrounded by sound as a small child is an experience like no other. an experience that you know you can never replicate, but are willing to go through countless methods to get the closest feeling.

you had recently bought a record player specifically for this situation, but you only now realize you had forgotten to bring the most important thing from your mom’s house. the damn records.

although you had moved to a different city, your hometown wasn't too far away. it was around an hour and a half by car, and if it wasn't too late you could always make a quick trip back and forth to just borrow a few records, surprise your mom too.

and just when you start getting excited it hits you. you don't even own a car. and you also can’t afford one.

defeated, you slump down on your newly bought couch. a sad groan leaves your lips as you take out your phone to check out the nearest record store in your area.

the last thing you wanted to do was buy the records, especially since your mom had what could be considered a library of them. not to mention, they got more expensive with each passing day.

but you had no choice. the time was too perfect. if you wasted any more time, the moment would pass on by, and who knows if you'll even live to see the rain again (you probably will, and probably tomorrow according to the weather forecast).

so you grab your wallet and a bag and head outside. it was a twenty minute walk from your apartment, thankfully.

you could see yourself heading there whenever you found yourself in the mood for something more recent, or in need of something you couldn't find back home.

ah, the privileges of the big city.

as you embark on your journey, you recall the events of the past few days. your trip to ikea and getting lost with 5 candles in your hands. seeing your university in person for the first time and getting lost in the massive campus grounds. making new friends, who you bonded with over being lost, and getting even more lost with them.

hopefully you don't get lost on your way to the store.

and thanks to the grace of god, you were standing right before it. “ditto records”. your reflex is a giggle when you read the name and think of the pokémon.

you look through the windows of the place and you can't see a soul inside. it's either going to be a nice experience or your hands are going to start sweating by minute two. it all depends on how the worker interacts with you.

considering you've been on a rampage of nice interactions with people in public (you asked for help with directions at ikea), a little bit of small talk with a middle aged man won't be so bad.

the soundtrack of your entrance is the jingle of a bell played by the door opening. the sound catches the attention of a girl at the register, who had her head pillowed by her own arms in the register counter.

she looks up to see you walking into the store and greets you with a small, tired smile. “welcome to ditto records. is there anything in particular you're looking for?”

her voice is soft and sweet, and it sounds like she's said that greeting five thousand times in the (assumed) short span of her life.

she's also extremely pretty, you notice. her face is small and round, her eyes are shiny yet tired, her lips are plump and the perfect shade of pink, and there's a red mark on her forehead possibly caused by having her face pushed up against her arm for a long period of time.

you smile, half of it out of manners and the other half because of the big red circle plastered on the girl's forehead, “hi! just gonna take a look around, thanks.”

the girl nods, “alright. let me know if you need anything.” with that, her smile fades and she goes back to her original position, only this time it's her chin that rests on her arms.

when your eyes track back to the absolute feast of records in front of you, you realize it's time to get to work.

you're not gonna leave this place empty handed, but also not planning to pack your bag full and spend what's left of your money (although it's really tempting).

you've made up your mind on the things to find. something jazzy and nostalgic, something recent that you can brag about owning, and something older that your mom doesn't own.

you look through the shelves of your favorite genres, smiling when an album you recognize falls on your hands, memories of listening to it in your childhood home replaying in your mind.

while searching through piles and piles of vinyl and cardboard, a question falls on your mind that you had never really bothered to look up.

you look back to face the employee, she's in the same position you last saw her in with her eyes now closed. hopefully she's not asleep, you think a few seconds before calling out.

“hey,” her sparkly eyes open, looking for you as she sits up straight, you pause for a millisecond longer than expected, “how do they even get the music in these?” you ask, record in hand.

it's a dumb question, yes. but how were you expected to know the answer to it? when you were born it was already the CD era, and you're also not a musician by any means.

your mom would probably know the answer, and you could probably just ask her. instead you've made a fool of yourself in front of the pretty record store worker girl.

at least your hands started sweating by minute seven.

she raises an eyebrow, slightly, but you notice. she's clearly dumbfounded by your question, probably thinking ‘let me know if you need anything’ was only a figure of speech. before you can assume and overthink more about this poor girl's life, she speaks.

“you can't be serious…” she scoffs as quietly as she can, but you hear it anyway. you're strangely not offended. “i- do you know how they put the music in CDs?” she answers with another question.

truth is, she doesn't know either, but she knows what burning a CD is, and vinyl LPs are the same shape but bigger, so she assumes it's a similar process. can't say the same for yourself.

“now that you mention it, no, i don't. wow.” this is a big moment for you. an existential realization about the things that bring you most joy, and you don't even know how they're made. something to reflect on later, or now, i guess. “do you know how that works?” you ask her again, as if she gets paid for it.

more than dumbfounded, the girl now just looks concerned, “i… don't know ma'am. it's not like i make the records. i just work here.” and with the tone in which she speaks it sounds like she's tired of it. or maybe she's just tired this particular day. maybe it's the weather.

you could stop terrorizing the girl with your questions, but one particular word has you rewinding the last 5 seconds.

the girl looks about your age, maybe younger, maybe older, you can't really tell from far away. but there's an obvious non-age-gap in between you two.

what the fuck is ma’am about.

more than offended, you're horrified. “ma’am?” you exclaim, heartbroken, “i am not that old…” you speak with exaggerated pain in your voice.

the girl is visibly not amused, if anything she just looks scared, but on the inside she's so happy she has something interesting to tell her roommate when she gets back home.

“i'm sorry! i just- i don't know what else to call you.” she says with a little bit of guilt and a big bit of confusion. it's not everyday you get customers this dramatic and, well, interesting.

“y/n’s fine!” you smile. it's so over for everyone. you successfully introduced yourself to a complete and also very cute stranger. the demon of social anxiety has been defeated. you're on top of the fucking world.

“okay, y/n. do you have another question i probably can't answer?” the girl behind the counter hates to admit it, but you have a contagious smile, and she's mildly interested in this conversation and where it's going.

she's probably never going to see you again, and you're introducing yourself like you're her new coworker. she wonders if you're going to tell her your social security number next.

“nope.” you calmly answer as you turn around. conversation over. you came here to do one thing, buy records, and small talk was turning into grande talk, which could only turn into venti talk.

you hear the girl behind you go “oh, okay.” and you fight your instinct to turn back and find out whether she went back to her previous position, chin resting on her arms, or changed it once again.

but you give in anyway, and you see her, this time the side of her face rests against her arms. her cheek molded to the shape of her arm as she looked out the window. the soft music in the background and the soft lighting of the gloomy weather remind you of the softness of her voice.

you look out at where she's looking, and realize the weather has only gotten worse, and you need to hurry the fuck up if you don't want to return to your apartment completely soaked.

you run your hands through the hip-hop shelves and find your last target. holding three records in your hands, you make your way back to the register. the girl sits back up for the third time since you entered the store when she hears your footsteps coming closer.

you hand her the albums one by one. etta james’ ‘at last’, dijon’s ‘absolutely’, and slum village’s ‘vintage’.

you were subconsciously looking for clairo’s most recent album. you'd thought it'd give you bragging rights, and the songs were perfect for the weather in your mind, but you couldn't find it anywhere, so you assume it's out of stock. wouldn't hurt to ask the one person who works here, though.

“clairo is like, gone, right?”

the girl looks at you and turns her head in confusion. you avert her gaze and look anywhere else, eyes landing on her nametag. oh, cool! great timing!

hanni.

cool.

“oh, the new album? yeah, it's all gone. every single record got bought.” hanni says as she recalls the first day it was in stock. lots of gay girls and twinks came in that day.

this is horrible news for you, though. you're only a few days late to the party, and every copy is gone? since when was clairo so mainstream? is this clairo shade?

you pout your lips in disappointment and frown, “are you gonna have it restocked?” you ask as your last resort of hope.

“uh, yeah! i think so.” she says, and it reassures you a bit, but her “thinking so” isn't gonna cut it. you need to be sure.

“you think so?” your eyes twinkle like a puppy that's been left without food.

hanni doesn't really get what you want from her. it's really not the end of the world, the new copies are gonna come in a few days and the earth will keep turning. so why are you looking at her like you've been punched three thousand times in the face? “...yeah.” she can only wonder.

this isn't it, you think. this can't be it. you need that record, and you need it bad. you're not taking any chances. so you swallow your pride and ignore the way hanni is looking at you and speak up.

“do you- um. can you like… like tell me… when it gets here?” social anxiety has gotten back on the ring, and it's swinging. “please?”

hanni is seriously contemplating if you're a new local stand-up comedian who's practicing her characters on her without her consent, because the y/n that was asking dumbass questions cannot be the same y/n stuttering her way through a sentence.

and then it clicks.

“are you asking for my number?” hanni is so sure she's caught you red handed. and she's so proud of herself, until she sees you frown.

“well, no.” what. if you ask her, hanni really isn't disappointed, she's just, well, disappointed. and also confused when she sees you start scribbling on a piece of paper you found god-knows-where.

“i was gonna give you mine. but that's honestly a really smart way to do that. i didn't even think of that.” hanni’s even more confused when you sound honest. she was expecting to be flirted with, and not even that she can expect from you.

but that doesn't mean it's not fun to tease.

she snickers as you write, “you're still giving me your number, though.” you look up at her with a raised eyebrow when you slide the paper across her side of the register. “are you sure you're not flirting with me?”

enough!

“please, i just really want that clairo album! please!” you say almost begging, slamming your hand on the counter and resting your head beside it, knees going weak in desperation.

amused at the reaction, hanni laughs and takes the piece of paper, giving one look before stuffing it in a pocket of her jeans. “i’m joking.” she says in between giggles, “i’ll call you when it gets here.”

you get up from your position almost immediately with the happiest smile you've ever given a stranger. contagious, hanni thinks again. “yay! thank you, hanni!”

“how do you-” confused, she hands you your records.

“nametag.” you simply say as you stuff them into you bag. “gotta get going now, it's raining soon.” your words end with a zip!

hanni can barely get her words out from the smile that's plastered on her face, “yeah- i- okay.”

“see you when those copies get here!” your words end again with a ding! and you wave at the girl before the door closes on you. your next mission? making those twenty minutes back home at least fifteen.

“sure… bye…” hanni mutters to herself. this has been her most interesting shift in the 2 years she's been working at ditto records. danielle is going sit through the whole retelling of it.

it's been about 5 days since your first visit to ditto records. you had already told your new friends all about the situation. in fact, you had told them almost everything about you in just a few days. you had even invited them over a few days back, gaining many compliments at the state of your home.

(“no wonder you chose interior design. i never wanna leave this place!” jinsol had said, boosting your ego.)

you sat at a café near your university with your friends kaede and jiwon. ricky and jinsol had already left due to their schedules but the conversation never got dull.

“no, i swear i’m really good at bowling. it all just depends on the ball itself.” jiwon desperately defends, but neither you nor kaede were convinced, the latter even more so.

“unnie, you're making excuses. the ball is not at fault, it's your skill. you just need to admit it.” the younger squeezes jiwon’s shoulder in reassurance, and it only makes her even more defensive.

“i have thick fingers, kaede!” her voice comes out louder than expected, and only a second goes by before jiwon hides her face in her hands.

you take a good look at her hands since she was already holding them up to her face, “you literally don't but okay.” for some reason it offends the girl even more.

“we're going to have to go bowling together to prove myself to you.” she says, you laugh but welcome the idea.

“sure, miss ‘man-hands’.” kaede laughs loudly at the nickname, and you realize she probably won't let it go for a good two weeks. sorry, jiwon.

you let the girls argue a bit more and take out your phone that you only now realize had vibrated at least two times in the past 3 minutes. when you turn it on you see two text messages from an unknown number.

confused, you open your messages to find out who had contacted you.

you’re getting up from your seat before you can begin to say “guys, i have to go.”, leaving your two friends, who had been just watching you panic, dumbfounded. you quickly take out a bill from your wallet and slam it on the table before running out of the café. “see you guys tomorrow!”

“girl, bye.” kaede mumbles. jiwon just stares and waves, but you're already on the other side of the windows when you see her from your peripheral vision.

you've never ran this fast in your life, not even 5 days ago when you were racing with the rain. you pass through buildings and people like a racecar, careful not to bump into anyone.

you start seeing streets you recognize and know it's a good sign. the smell of bread of a nearby bakery tells you you're only a few blocks away. this has to break some record.

you start running out of stamina about a block away from your destination, and you start regretting giving up on track in high school. nonetheless, you push through and use your last turbo power-up. zooming through people until you can see the “ditto records” light-up sign.

when you get to the door you can barely catch your breath, you can't even touch the door to at least get inside before your hands are on your knees and you head lowers. on the other side of the window, hanni watches as you struggle to catch your breath and she struggles to not chuckle.

you swallow down the last breath you take before opening the door to the store, and hanni greets you from the register with a brighter smile than last time, “welcome to di-”

“where's clairo?” you cut her off. you're gonna get the closest you can get to those vinyls before you pass out. at least your unconscious body will serve to ward off anyone who tries to touch those copies before you.

“over there.” she points to the ‘new releases’ shelf a few steps away, or at least that's what your blurry vision lets you see, and you march your way over. you do your best to catch your breath one last time when you get there, somehow you're still struggling to breathe and hanni notices.

“how long did you run for?” she asks, now slightly concerned.

“i don't know, but i need a medal for it.” you finally find a stable breathing rhythm and stand up straight, “usain bolt, you're so over.”

hanni giggles quietly as you take a copy from the stack, “my sweet baby.” you say to the piece of cardboard, yet refrain from kissing it as you've still not paid for it, so it's technically not yet yours.

you're about to make your way towards the register, but as you take a look around you realize some records have been changed. and well, you're already here, might as well leave with something extra.

you rummage through every shelf you hadn't paid attention to last time you were here, from punk rock to classical. it's quiet apart from the sounds of the background music. neither you nor hanni talk, even though you feel her eyes on your back.

you usually wouldn't care too much, but for some reason her gaze made the back of your neck a little itchy.

as you make your way through every hall and corner, you find yourself a hidden gem in the japanese music section.

“no way you guys have this!” you turn around to face hanni with the most excited smile she's ever seen from you (she's seen you two times) as you hold up 1986 omega tribe’s ‘navigation’ vinyl.

“i guess we do!” hanni shrugs. she doesn't recognize the album, but the fact that you do and it makes you this happy makes it hard for her not to smile.

“i couldn't find this anywhere! not even online!” you do a double take the album to check if it's real and search for a clock near you to check if you're dreaming. “this is insane.”

“glad we could be of service.”

when you make your way to the register, you hold three records in your arms, just like last time. the aforementioned two records and the 1975’s ‘i like it when you sleep, long-ass-rest-of-the-title’ which you recognize can be quite controversial, but you only do so when you're about to hand it to the girl.

“just so you know, i do not like matty healy.” you feel the need to announce. “like, at all.”

hanni gives you a look, raised eyebrow and a smirk, “yet you're putting money in his pockets?” she got you there. but you can't be the only one at fault here.

“you’re the one selling the record.” you try and shift the blame onto her, or well, the store.

and hanni’s convinced, “yeah, i guess that checks out.” success. but you don't feel too good at this success. so you think it over quickly before the scanner can get anywhere close to the plastic wrapper around the vinyl, and you suddenly snatch the record from her hands.

no words said, you walk back to the section where you found it and put it back in place, only speaking when you're back in front of the girl. “i reflected on it.” you say, “i am a pirate before i am a consumer.”

you felt like a social rights activist hero, a leader in the moral and ethical high ground, and you're quickly shut down by hanni's confused expression. it says it all, really.

i guess your words weren't clear enough, because hanni’s brain is running a montage of images of you with an eye patch and peg leg with a parrot on your shoulder.

“like. pirating music.” you explain and her expression softens slightly, “i'm gonna pirate his music.”

“i got it.” she holds back a laugh as you scratch your head awkwardly, “so just two then?”

“yeah, that's it.” you made the calculations in your head and take out some bills that'll leave you with a bit of change. you slide them across the counter just as the girl speaks.

“okay, that'll be $56.20” hanni says as she puts the scanner down. you must've heard that wrong.

“what? that's way too cheap!” you argue, yet the girl seems unfazed. she's either playing or she forgot to check out one of the two records, which is weird to say the least.

“you got the funny discount.”

“what the hell are you talking about, hanni.”

“make me laugh and i’ll cut down the price!” the way she says it so casually makes you debate whether she's telling the truth, but you quickly realize that cannot be a real deal. and if it is, what the hell?

“that's not real.”

“well it is now. here's your change!” right. that's what you get for getting ahead of yourself. you take the change she gives you reluctantly and stuff it in your wallet, then similarly stuff the two records in your bag.

“you're messed up hanni. you're real messed up…” you say as you walk away.

“come again soon!” she waves at you with a bright smile, which you immediately return as you open the door to step outside.

part two. [soon]

🗒️ you can barely tell i started writing this in october 🤣sorry abt that

#newjeans x reader #hanni x reader #pham hanni x reader #newjeans fic

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thicknick19 · 2 months ago

Text

Tell No One

Shout out to @darksturnioloqueen for being so awesome and supportive! This one's for you girlie! <3

🔪 Summary: You signed up for an experiment. Strict rules. Constant surveillance. But the longer you’re inside, the more the walls seem to shift— and the closer he gets.

You were told not to speak. Not to ask questions. And above all… Tell no one.

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

Part One - Welcome Package

The Car Ride

You almost don’t see the car at first.

It pulls up at the end of your driveway in complete silence, no engine hum, no headlights, nothing but the soft shift of gravel under its tires. Matte black. Tinted windows. The kind of car you’d expect to see in a spy movie or a funeral procession. You don’t know what you were expecting… but this feels wrong.

Still, you step out of your house with your small duffel bag in hand. The contract said light packing only. They would provide the rest.

A man waits at the rear passenger door. No uniform. No badge. No smile. He opens the door for you without a word, nods once, then walks back to the driver’s seat.

The inside of the car smells faintly sterile, like citrus, metal, and something sharper, like new wires or blood. Not enough to choke you. Just enough to make you sit a little straighter.

There’s no music. No screen. No welcome. Just your name displayed in soft white letters on a black panel above the seat in front of you.

SUBJECT: [REDACTED] EXR-117 DURATION: UNDISCLOSED COMMUNICATION: DISABLED

You open your mouth to ask how long the drive is, but you remember the first line of your contract.

No communication after entry.

You close your mouth. And the doors lock with a soft, final click.

Arrival

You lose track of time.

The sky grows darker as trees thicken outside your window, gradually blocking out the horizon. Civilization peels away, no street signs, no billboards, no signal. Your phone is off, packed deep in a sealed envelope the moment you were picked up. You're not supposed to use it. You're not even supposed to want it.

Eventually, the road narrows. You pass under something tall and black—a gate?—but it’s over before you register it. Your ears pop as the car dips downhill.

And then, suddenly, you stop.

The facility is nearly invisible, nestled in a clearing surrounded by trees. It doesn’t rise like a building. It sinks. Subtle. Spread-out. Sleek panels of black glass and pale stone. No signs. No guards. No lights in the windows.

The front entrance is a square of glass that slides open before you even approach it.

Inside: silence. Not hospital quiet—intentional quiet. Like sound itself was asked to leave.

A woman stands behind a desk. She looks up at you, but she doesn’t smile.

“Welcome to the Observation Trial,” she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Please follow the illuminated path.”

A line of soft blue light pulses on the floor, leading down the hallway.

You follow.

Orientation

You’re brought to a small white room with two chairs and a single table. There’s nothing on the walls. A camera watches from the corner, blinking red once every ten seconds.

The same woman enters behind you. She places a slim folder on the table.

Welcome Package: EXR-117

Inside:

A redacted consent form with multiple pages blacked out entirely

A subject ID badge

A daily schedule:

Wake: 7:00 a.m.

Meals: 8:00 a.m., 12:00 p.m., 6:00 p.m.

Reflection Periods: 9:00 a.m. and 5:00 p.m.

Lights Out: 10:00 p.m.

“The Observation Trial is a psychological endurance study designed to measure human behavior under controlled isolation,” the woman recites. “It simulates social deprivation, environmental monotony, and regulated observation. The goal is to better understand emotional resilience and dependency under stress.”

She pauses. “There will be no clocks in your space. No contact with other participants. And no confirmation of when, or if, the trial will end. You’ll remain in your assigned quarters unless instructed otherwise.”

You nod, pretending it’s new. But you’ve read the abstract already—twice. It was vague. Fluffy with academic buzzwords. Controlled stimuli, variable exposure, emotional transparency... all dancing around one thing:

They want to watch you break. And they want to see what pieces you try to protect.

You signed up anyway.

Maybe it was the money—definitely part of it. Maybe it was curiosity. Or maybe it was just the silence you’ve been craving.

Ever since everything at home imploded, you’ve felt like you’ve been watching yourself from the outside anyway. Like you’ve been performing normalcy while something cold buzzes quietly in the background.

You thought this might help. Or maybe, deep down, you just wanted to see what would happen if someone finally watched back.

You flip to the last page of the contract. One phrase is written in bold, unmistakable lettering:

TELL NO ONE.

She doesn’t explain what it means. She doesn’t have to. It feels like a warning.

The Room

The hallway stretches long and clean, its walls gleaming with that same too-smooth finish. It doesn’t feel like a hospital, not quite, but it doesn’t feel like a place meant for living, either.

You’re led to a door marked only with your subject number: EXR-117.

No name. No keyhole. No handle.

The staff member—silent again—taps a small panel beside it, and the door slides open with a whisper. You’re gestured inside.

“Your reflection period begins at 0900. Dinner is at 1800. Lights out at 2200.”

She leaves before you can respond. The door seals behind you with a soft hiss, and the click of the lock echoes louder than it should.

You’re alone. Or at least, that’s the idea.

The room is… minimal.

Not empty, but designed. The bed is made, corners tucked tight. A white desk sits in the corner beneath a mounted light panel. There’s a shelf built into the wall—just a few books, blank notebooks, and a mechanical pencil. Everything looks untouched. Sterile.

The walls are bare except for one.

A full mirrored panel stretches across it from floor to ceiling.

It reflects everything: the bed, the door, you.

You stare at your reflection. It doesn’t blink. But you swear… it watches.

There’s a faint red light glowing in the upper right corner of the mirror. It blinks once every ten seconds, steady, rhythmic, like a pulse. The camera, no doubt.

The ceiling is ventless. The corners are seamless. The room is too quiet.

It’s not a place made for comfort. It’s a place made for observation.

You take a slow lap around the space. No windows. No air vents. The walls don’t feel quite like drywall—something smoother, maybe plastic or glass beneath paint. The bookshelf is built-in, the bed bolted down.

You try the door again. It doesn’t budge. No handle. No seam. Just cold, hard metal.

You sit on the edge of the bed. It doesn’t creak. Even the mattress feels… measured. Soft enough not to complain about, firm enough to discourage sleep.

There’s a tray slot in the bottom of the wall beside the door. You hadn’t noticed it before. A soft whirring sound begins as if on cue, and a covered tray slides through, slow and deliberate.

Dinner.

You lift the lid. The food is exactly what you’d choose if someone had asked. Nothing extravagant—just right. Too right.

You didn’t tell anyone your preferences. But they knew.

Later, you explore what you’ve been given. The books on the shelf? All things you’ve read before. Or wanted to. Even the edition of your favorite novel is the same—the dog-eared one you left behind.

Your pulse picks up. You speak, mostly to break the silence:

“How do you know that?”

No response.

Just the red light. Blink. Blink. Blink.

You end the day in front of the mirror, as instructed. You sit. You speak. You say your name. You say how you’re feeling.

Not watched. Just… recorded.

“This feels like a setup,” you mutter. “Like something’s happening I’m not supposed to see. But someone is. Aren’t they?”

Your reflection stares back. Neutral. Familiar. Not comforting.

You lean forward, close enough that your breath fogs the glass. The red light blinks once. Then again.

Just before you turn away, you notice it—a smudge.

Faint. Small. A half-fingerprint was near the bottom edge of the mirror.

It isn’t yours. You haven’t touched it yet.

Taglist:

@riasturns @poppetbaby02 @johnheart @bells-sturn @user1smvtysturniolo @finnickodairslut @bellxx9 @ariastur9z @sage-burrow @theylovedemi @persephonesluvs @elisebeattie @novalovesstvrz @angelsturniolo @honey-zozo @idek1234567891 @darksturnioloqueen

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