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dumdumsun · 3 years

Text

And Dusk

A/N: Just a heads up, the sensitive content in this chapter will be marked "<<<<<<" as the beginning and ">>>>>>" to signify the end. The racial slurs used in this chapter were targeted towards African Americans (and still are) and I chose these because I, myself, am African American and used them as a sort of “default” for any POC readers. ⚠️Please, never use these towards anyone. Whether it be in a “joking” manner or not. They are hurtful and were created to be that way⚠️ I wrote this chapter the way I did to bring awareness. Proceed with caution. Much love ❤️

Warnings: ⚠️racial slurs⚠️, violence, mentions of guns and dying/death

Word Count: 3707

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Chapter 3: The Frankel Footage

Shaking himself out of his shock, Five stood from his seat and hurried after his brother, grabbing onto his arm and stopping his strides. “The hell is wrong with you, Luther? I just told you the world’s gonna end in ten days!”

“Yeah, well, you’re always saying that.” Luther nonchalantly spoke before moving away, but Five intervened yet again.

“And so far, I’ve been right.” He hissed as Luther sighed and shook his head.

“Look, you want to go save the world? Knock yourself out, alright? I already got a job.”

“Wait, you work in this shithole?” The boy furrowed his brows.

“Yeah. Well, my boss owns the place,” Luther only received a nod from his brother, so he clarified. “I’m his body man.”

But this only made Five even more confused. “What’s that? Like, a masseuse or something?”

“Okay, you can make fun all you want, but I take good care of Mr Ruby.”

“Wait, Ruby. The Jack Ruby? The gangster who shot Oswald.”

Despite Five’s concern, Luther proudly smiled a smug smile as he glanced over at his boss. “Yeah. The one and only.”

“Well, it finally happened,” Five sighed. “That gorilla DNA has finally taken over your mind-”

“Hey, watch it, alright? Jack’s a good friend-”

“And you’re Number One. Numero Uno. Remember?”

Luther clenched his jaw and shook his head. “There is no Number One. Not anymore. Not in 1963,” When Five stared at him in disbelief, Luther sighed again. “Look, I’ve been stranded here alone for a year. What did you expect?”

Five scoffed. “I get it, alright? You watched Pogo die, the world exploded, and I marooned your big dumb ass in time. I’m sorry, okay? But I’m asking for your help, Luther. The Umbrella Academy needs you.”

“It doesn’t need me,” He slowly spoke to draw out his words. “It never did.”

“Luther, honey,” The waitress from earlier approached the two. “Jack’s about to lose it on some half-wit. A little help?”

“Ah, shit,” He groaned and began walking away. When Five tried yet again to stop him, he whirled on him, his lips pulled into a thin line. “Listen. You’re the genius who said we should jump, right? You’re the one who got us stuck here. And you’re the one who brought Vanya. So, if there is a doomsday coming, she’s probably the cause. And if I was gonna do something about it, it sure as hell is not gonna be with you. That’s (Y/N)’s job, being dragged around into your messes-”

“I don’t drag her into anything.” Five swallowed, blinking rapidly.

“Yeah? Well, she wasn’t stuck as a thirteen-year-old and constantly worrying about her kids until you showed up. I’m surprised she isn’t sick of you yet.” And with that, he stomped away to his boss. This time, Five let him go, his words sending a pang through his chest as he thought back on it. Grabbing his drink, he sighed and shook his head.

“Dad should’ve left him on the moon…” He muttered, taking a sip of his drink before moving to leave his seat. When he felt his jacket snag on something, he looked down to see an object in his pocket. Taking out the tape, he frowned and turned it over.

Date: 11/22/63

Subject: FRANKEL FOOTAGE

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

This world was unfamiliar to (Y/N). She knew she had to have been somewhere in America, but she didn’t know where. The cars, fashion and stores bringing the street she walked to life told her she had to have been in the sixties. But she didn’t want to believe it. Surely Five hadn’t time travelled that far? She had to have been dropped during some type of sixties-theme festival. But the voices suddenly beside her quickly prove her doubts wrong.

“What do we have here?”

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a lost little colored girl.”

Tensing, (Y/N) continued her way down the sidewalk, slightly speeding up her pace, but the men fell into step beside her with ease, flanking her sides.

“You’re on the wrong side of town, girl.”

“Yeah, we don’t like coons around here.” One of them hissed right in her ear. Her eyes welled up with tears before the other shoved her forward.

“Gon now, get!” He ordered as if she were a dog. She realized that’s how they had seen her. An animal. Nothing more. Tripping on a crack in the sidewalk, she fell to the ground, smacking her face on the concrete. She choked out a sob as the two men cackled. And to make matters even worse, she felt the pitter patter of raindrops start to freeze her skin.

(Y/N) gasped out in shock when the men spit two wads of saliva in her face. She knew she must’ve looked a mess with spit and tears sliding down her cheeks and blood oozing from her nose. She hiccupped on her sobs and began to stand, much too tired from her previous fight with Vanya and literally being dropped from the sky to successfully do so. The men backed her up against a wall and one fisted the front of her vest before a voice called out.

“Take your hands off of my child!” Whipping around, the men were half expecting to find another target, but (Y/N) coughed and sputtered nonsense upon the person her gaze fell upon.

“M-Mom…?”

Before her was Grace, but… she wasn’t robotic in any sense. She could tell by the raw anger etched into her features. She took a brave step forward. “I said. Take your hands. Off my child.”

And that was another thing: her accent. (Y/N) was immediately comforted by the stern southern accent the woman shared with her attackers. It was a voice she never thought she needed. The two looked between Grace and (Y/N) with smirks. “You mean this lil ol’ jigaboo-”

“Is my daughter. Now you let her go before I call the police.”

“Woman, I don’t care if you call the police-”

Grace took it upon herself to step closer and grab the child by her arms, yanking her into her warm embrace. (Y/N) immediately latched onto her, quivering in her hold. The men scoffed and shook their heads, beginning to walk away. “Make sure to keep that thing on a leash if you’re gonna have it out, ma’am.”

“Oh, fuck off.” She growled before turning and walking back in the direction the girl came from. As they walked past the alleyway, Grace took out a handkerchief and began wiping the girl’s face clean of what the raindrops hadn’t already washed away. “It’s alright, hun, they aren’t gonna hurt you anymore.”

“T-Thank you.” (Y/N) sobbed and gently held her nose in pain. Grace crouched in front of her and gently held her face in between her hands.

“Don’t thank me, darlin’, it’s how everyone should be treatin’ you ‘round here… Where are your parents? I could take you to ‘em.”

(Y/N) thought for a long moment, watching as the rain soaked Grace’s hair and clothing. The woman didn’t seem to mind as she watched the girl before her swallowing thickly. (Y/N) skimmed over her current choices. She didn’t have any choice.

“I don’t have parents. I-I don’t remember them…”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

“I’m tellin’ you, Reggie, she’s highly intelligent for a child her age.” Grace proudly presented (Y/N) to the man she had grown fond of over their time working together. (Y/N), however, was frozen in her spot. Sir Reginald Hargreeves. The man whose death she had wished upon for years, whose death had finally graced her existence, was back in her life. She flinched at the disapproving look on his face, much too acquainted with it by this point in her life. “And she’s very respectful. Talented, too, this girl can speak several languages.”

“You seem rather fond of this child.” The man observed as Grace squeezed her into her side.

“She’s my pride and joy.”

“And you cannot remember anything of your past, child?”

“N-No,” (Y/N) shook her head and stared down. “Not a lot. J-Just my name and birthday.”

Reginald hummed and stared her down with an unreadable expression. When she met his eyes again, he was crouched down to her level, his monocle clutched in his fist. “(Y/N), was it?”

“Yes.”

“It would be an honor to have your presence within my home, along with your mother.”

“O-Oh, that’s okay-”

“I insist. Besides, you have been living with her for almost half a year, correct? It is highly unlikely that she will share a home without you.”

“He’s right about that, hun,” (Y/N) glanced up at Grace, who was smiling warmly at her. “I’m not leavin’ you.”

(Y/N) could have cried.

And she did.

One year later, (Y/N) had been living quite the comfortable life with Grace and Reginald. She had been introduced to the ape, Pogo, for the second time since Grace first started working with him. As much as she loved being around the chimp, it brought back so many memories. She almost felt silly, looking after him sometimes knowing he had done the same for her in the original timeline.

Her relationship with Reginald was nothing she ever expected. He was gentle, well as gentle as Reginald Hargreeves could get, he cared for her, spoiled her, even. She wouldn’t have to ask for anything half the time. If he were to overhear a conversation between her and Grace about a dress she oh-so wanted, it would suddenly be laid out on her bed the next day. She usually had a say in dinner meals every Thursday and Sunday and Reginald listened intently whenever she would voice any discomfort or concerns with her living conditions. (Y/N) never had a real father, but she assumed this is what it was like to have one. She never wanted to let go of it.

For her birthday in 1963, she was surprised that he had actually gotten her a present. As she entered the parlor, she was met with the tiniest bark and an even tinier golden retriever, bounding up to her. She gasped and stopped low, letting him jump into her arms. She let him lick her face and giggled in the joy it brought her.

“Your mother said you would like it. Though I would never allow dogs in my house, I have come to understand that there are rules I must bend for you, my child.”

(Y/N) turned to her father. Yes, father. Reginald, also growing quite fond of their father-daughter bond formed between them, decided to adopt the girl. As much as his beliefs and his deep distaste for children protested. There was just something about this child. Or perhaps it was Grace’s insisting, reassuring him that he would make a wonderful father. (Y/N) was very hesitant at first for her own reasons she never shared, but eventually came around to the idea of being his daughter again.

This was the same Reginald Hargreeves who locked her in a dark room for five days straight, but also an entirely different man. Perhaps it was her fascination with the differences, or maybe she just wanted a real father for once.

“Thank you, Dad.” She softly smiled, the man nodding in response.

“But this is your pet, (Y/N). It is your responsibility. I will not find it in my study, in my bedroom, you are to train it yourself-”

“Can you-”

“And no, I will not help you pick out its name.”

The girl softly groaned and looked back down at her new puppy. Looking into its eyes, she smiled softly at a distant memory as a small child.

“Welcome to the family, Mr Pennycrumb.”

-------------------------------------------------

(Y/N) groaned when she felt the sunbeams of the early morning sunrise hit her eyelids, coloring her black vision with the stinging fire of orange. Rolling onto her other side, she stretched her blanket over her head. They were yanked away the next second, causing a whine to leave her lips. “Mom… Five more minutes.”

“I let you sleep in long enough, hun, it’s time to get up. You have a date with Preston this afternoon.” Grace gently pulled her daughter to sit up, giggling quietly at her look of disgust.

“Preston? Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously, let’s get goin’.” Grace patted her leg and walked to her door, waiting patiently. (Y/N) sighed and rubbed her face, letting her feet slide into her slippers. As they descended the stairs to the kitchen for breakfast, Reginald could hear his daughter’s sleepy complaining from his place at the table.

Setting his utensils down, he turned his head in their direction. “My child, how many times throughout each week must we have to repeat this conversation?”

“Until it starts making sense.” (Y/N) stepped into the dining room, now in her robe, and crossed her arms over her chest. Reginald sighed and stood from his chair at the table.

“You are one of my greatest accomplishments,” He began towards her. “There is no doubt in my mind that you would make a fine successor. I do not believe you will need a husband. In fact, you would be better off without another individual holding you back from what you are truly capable of.”

“But?” She raised a brow.

“But… I have grown to know you more than I expected… and I know that you would need someone to help manage your finances you inherit once I am gone. Preston is a fine young man who was born into this life, made into this life. He will take good care of you.”

(Y/N) knew there was only one person in this world who would truly take good care of her. But he wasn’t here, and she needed to play the part as the amnesiac adopted daughter, so she huffed and nodded. “Fine… I’ll go…”

“Thank you-”

“But only if Mr Pennycrumb can go, too.”

“Very well, but you will not be gifted another animal if you lose it.”

The outing wasn’t entirely bad. (Y/N) didn’t mind the picnic or the art museum, it was the company that made her blood boil. Preston is anything she would have expected out of him. This had been their seventh date, tenth of the ones he planned. (Y/N) sought out any opportunity she could to cancel on him to save herself from the unbearable three hours she would have to spend with the kid. He was arrogant, smug, selfish, narcissistic, and overbearing. Of course, this was not the Preston he presented to her parents. No, to them, Preston was ‘a fine man with a bright future ahead of him’, or as Grace would put it, ‘a delight to have around’. He laughed like a drunk, talked like a husband, and smelled like a man. All at the age of fifteen. (Y/N) had to remind herself on several occasions that she was mentally the older out of the two and to not stoop to his level when he got under her skin.

“Don’t you think, (Y/N)?” The voice brought her attention back to the boy beside her. She looked up from the grass they had been strolling through. When she hummed in question, he amusedly scoffed and side-step closer to her. “Never mind. I should have known you wouldn’t have been interested in politics.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” The girl raised a brow. At her confusion, he laughed and gently tapped the side of his head.

“You’ve always got that head of yours in the clouds. Or turned behind you- like right now.”

(Y/N) turned her head away from where she had been looking over her shoulder. “What? Sorry, Preston, I’m a little preoccupied today.”

“With what, exactly? You don’t seem to be the type of girl to have very many issues. Nothing to worry about.”

“And you wonder why I don’t listen to you.” She sighed as her puppy ran in between her legs, rolling in the grass once he was a few paces in front of them. Preston frowned in distaste and shook his head.

“You should really keep that thing on a leash, sweetheart.”

She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes, clenching her teeth as she folded her hands behind her back. “Really now?”

“Really. You know, I’m not very fond of dogs, so I’m not sure how it’ll work out once we’re married. I think we should get one after we have kids, you know? Just so the kids could grow up with it.”

(Y/N) quickly turned her head to the left, pointing out across the street. “Preston, would you look at that?”

“Look at what?” He gullibly looked in the direction, (Y/N) quickly checking the area before almost silently singing her tune. From her shadow, her clone formed and robotically walked behind the two. She quickly switched spots with it and ordered the clone to walk with Preston before scooping her puppy into her arms and rushing off in the opposite direction. Once she was behind a diner far away from their date location, she let out a sigh and gently patted her dog on the head.

“Were you sick of it, too?” She chuckled. Resting the back of her head against the brick wall she leaned on, she let out a slow breath and began to relax. The sound of guns cocking had her head snapping up so fast, she swore she could have dislocated it. Just down the end of the line of stores were three white-haired men, one in a milkman uniform, training their guns on her. (Y/N) didn’t waste a second tucking her dog in front of her and spinning around, charging down the opposite direction as bullets whizzed past her. She dodged them the best she could, jumping a few feet in the air at the ones that threatened to take their place in her feet. It was like a dance; the twisting, spinning and jumping, and she was to perform this dance until one of those bullets killed her if she didn’t find a way out soon. Sliding to the side of a clothing store for cover, she gently shushed her pet as she caught her breath.

The three sets of footsteps eventually found their destination and rounded the corner with skilled quickness, shooting at the girl until she was nothing more than a bloodied corpse on the ground, bullet holes lodged in almost every inch of her body. The three men nodded to each other and turned around, making their way out from behind the stores.

(Y/N) had already been down the street from her house by the time her attackers found the clone in her place. She couldn’t have been bothered to check herself for any wounds, too worried about Mr Pennycrumb’s potential bullet wounds. But the pup was perfectly, happily nuzzling into her arms and wagging his tail. This left (Y/N) to ponder.

Who the hell were those men?

-------------------------------------------------

“Is it on?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know? There’s an ‘on’ button. Just- There’s something over- that jigga-ma-thing, whatever.”

“I hit the jigga-ma-thing!”

“Okay, well, just- Give it to me. I know how to do this.”

“Alright, here, here. Hurry up.”

“Okay, alright, let’s see…”

Lila didn’t look up from her task of painting poor Elliott’s toenails, his bindings he received after threatening the trio with a gun preventing him from moving too much. Which was beneficial to her, as it kept her from ruining the paint job. She softly smiled as she listened to the argument between the elderly couple on the film Five and Diego were intently watching. “They’re so cute,” She commented. “I love old couples. I’m always so proud of them for not murdering each other.”

Ignoring her, Diego turned to his brother from his seat on Elliott’s counter. “Why are we watching this?”

“Shush.” Five replied, eyes trained on the film before him, searching for any clue to the approaching apocalypse, brows furrowed in concentration.

“Yeah, I… I’m Dan Frankel. And…”

“I’m Edna Frankel.”

“...Edna Frankel. We are in Dallas, Texas, to see the president. Today’s date is November 22, 1963.”

Five nodded as everyone’s attention was brought to the projected screen before them.

“That’s six days from now.” Lila spoke as Elliott thrashed about more against his bindings. Diego sat forward in interest.

“Holy shit. This is it. The grassy knoll. Kennedy’s about to get shot. How do you have this?”

“Hazel died to get me this footage,” Five answered. “It must be the key to stopping doomsday.”

“Hazel…?” Diego frowned, remembering the man he spent hours searching for and planning to kill to avenge the death of Eudora Patch.

“Long story.”

“What’s doomsday?” Lila looked up at the boy.

“Longer story.”

“What exactly did he say to you?” Diego asked as Lila turned her head back to the film.

Five shrugged. “Well, he was killed before he could explain. But whatever he wanted us to see, it’s on this film.”

“This is very exciting.” The old man smiled before the sound of gunshots and screaming could be heard, the camera moving around in blurs due to the shock of the old woman filming.

“Oh, my god!”

“Oswald…” Diego whispered, setting his knife down as Five leaned in closer.

“The president!”

When the camera was steadied to record across the street, Five and Diego both stiffened in their spots at what their eyes caught. “Oh, no…” Five breathed and moved behind the projector, rewinding the film and scooting the cart backwards to zoom in closer. The room was silent as Diego stood to his feet and Five rounded the cart before standing beside his brother, directly in front of the film. “This can’t be…”

“Okay, you gonna fill me in now, boys?” Lila glanced between the two. “What the hell is this shit we’re watching?”

But she was ignored yet again.

“No, that’s impossible…”

“Clearly, it’s not.”

“What… What is it?” Elliott muffled past the gag in his mouth.

A beat of silence went by before the two Hargreeves whispered in unison,

“Dad.”

—————————————

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#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #umbrella academy x reader #tua #tua x reader #tua fanfic #tua five #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #number five #number five x reader #five x reader #of starlight #and dusk

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intheticklecloset · 3 years

Text

Cool, Confident Libero (Haikyuu!!)

Primary Universe

Summary: An accident during practice leaves Noya all tangled up and nowhere to go when his teammates discover something new about him.

A/N: I wanted to write a fic where someone got stuck in the net. I also love the crap out of lee Noya, so...yeah that's pretty much it. Enjoy! ^^

Word Count: 1,762

~~~

“Nishinoya!”

The gym was a flurry of motion. Noya had been trying his quick set that he’d seen another team do, only he’d put too much momentum into his sideways jump and jumped too high at the same time, causing him to grab onto the top of the net to try and catch himself. Only rather than fall back down on the same side he’d tried to set from, he ended up flipping over the top of it, his legs flying in an arc over to the other side, hands grasping desperately at the webbing to try and stop himself. Meanwhile, his teammates on either side rushed forward to either try and catch him or steady the netting so it wouldn’t rip and make the situation even worse.

In the end, Noya’s arms got tangled up in the netting, and he dangled awkwardly from it on the opposite side from where he’d started.

“Noya! Are you okay?!” Suga cried.

Noya grunted, starting to drag the netting down with his weight. Before he could reply to everyone’s concerns, Kageyama reached out to steady him by grabbing onto his waist right at the same time that the libero slipped even further downwards, causing the first-year setter to catch him by the ribs instead.

“GYAH!!” Noya shrieked, instinctively kicking his legs out and nearly catching Kageyama in the stomach. “Dohohohohohon’t!”

Startled, Kageyama took a step back and merely stood there awkwardly as the others around him gradually helped Noya back down to the gym floor so that he was at least standing on his own two feet, even if the net was still keeping his arms bound above him in an unforgiving tangle of limbs and webbing.

“Are you okay?” Kageyama asked after a moment.

Noya groaned. “Yeah, but my pride probably broke every bone just now.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“Ah, n-no. Just…you caught me by surprise, that’s all.”

Even more so than flipping over the net? Kageyama thought, but said nothing more.

Suga pressed a hand to Noya’s lower back gently. “Are you okay, Noya?”

“F-Fine. Just embarrassed. That was a really lousy set.”

“Hang tight; we’ll get you out of this net. Is it hurting you?”

“Eh, just doesn’t feel super comfortable,” Noya replied, remaining nonchalant despite his awkward situation. “But it’s not chafing. I’ll be okay.”

Suga nodded, then moved to help Daichi and Ennoshita untangle him from the net’s grasp.

“Hey, Noya, your jersey came untucked,” Hinata said, stepping forward to grab at the fabric and try to pull it back down over the tiny sliver of the libero’s belly that was now showing. “I’ll fix it for—”

“Hi-Hinatahahaha!” Noya giggled, twisting out of the way. “Dohohon’t!”

“Hold still, Noya,” Daichi ordered, so focused on his task he didn’t realize what was actually going on.

Noya sputtered a couple of extra giggles, then made the mistake of making eye contact with the redheaded first-year. Hinata’s eyes were wide, shining, like he’d just seen the Tiny Giant play on TV for the first time and was inspired. The libero’s eyes widened right back.

“D-Don’t,” he pleaded. “Hinata—”

“Are you ticklish?” Hinata asked, and suddenly everyone’s attention had shifted.

Noya flushed bright red. He desperately wished Asahi were here to save him, but of course, this was the one time the ace had gotten a cold and stayed home.

“N-No-! I mean yes, but – but please don’t – not like this!” The libero sputtered, feeling the heat of his embarrassment on his cheeks and ears. His heart was racing, blood pumping through his veins. He tried to pull his arms down but they were still stuck tight.

“Noya,” Suga asked curiously, “are you ticklish? Really?”

“I wouldn’t have even thought about it,” Daichi added, still fussing with the net. “But I guess it makes sense. Lots of people are.”

They were all talking about it so casually. Noya was very, very aware of how exposed and helpless he was right now, especially with Hinata’s bright eyes on him and Kageyama’s wicked smirk backing him up.

“D-Don’t…please,” Noya begged, realizing what was about to happen and unable to stop it at all. Hinata poked his side to test the waters, grinning when the libero couldn’t help but smile and jerk out of the way. “Guys, please, I’m – I’m really ticklish, I can’t—”

Kageyama shoved the redhead out of the way, and for a split second Noya thought maybe the setter was taking pity on him. But in the next moment those hopes were shattered when he felt fingers pressing deep into his ribs. “Oh, yeah. This is payback time.”

“No! Nohohohohohoho, dohohohohohohon’t!” Noya squealed, bursting into high-pitched giggles despite himself. He couldn’t bring his arms down at all; this was not good. “Ahahahahahahaha! Plehehease, Kageyamahahahaha!”

“Hey, no fair!” Hinata whined, reaching under Kageyama to grab at Noya’s sides. “I wanted to tickle him first!”

“GYAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! Nohohohohohohohoho!”

“Guys, stop tickling him! You’re making this harder for Ennoshita and I,” Daichi grumbled, still trying to free their poor teammate from his prison.

“Stahahahahahahahap! Daichi sahahahaid to stohohohohohop! Guys!”

“You didn’t show me mercy when I was stuck in that bus.” Kageyama smirked. “I’m just getting even, finally.”

“And I just really want to tickle you,” Hinata added, nearly bouncing around for how excited he was.

“Guys, plehehehehehease! Please, I cahahahahahan’t – AHAHAHAHAAAAAH!! HINATA NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!”

Hinata had grabbed onto one of his thighs and begun squeezing there, but at the strong reaction he got he went for both at once. “Ooh, you’re really ticklish here!”

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Noya tossed his head back and let out his loudest, screechiest laughter, wiggling and kicking against the net and his ticklers in a fit of desperation, and everyone in the gym took a moment to stare and smile at the scene unfolding before them. Noya was always an energetic, positive presence on the team. But no one had ever heard him laugh like this before. “STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP IT PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE I CAHAHAHAHAN’T TAKE IT!! HINATAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

“I’m tickling you, too,” Kageyama muttered, but he was smiling, still drilling his fingers into Noya’s ribs.

Noya had never had both of his worst spots tickled at once before. Even Asahi never pushed him that far; the ace knew he couldn’t handle it. But Asahi wasn’t here. Noya was on his own. He could not have been more embarrassed by the sounds leaving his mouth, intermixed with pleas for mercy. He was the cool, confident libero. He didn’t beg.

Yet here he was.

“PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!! DAICHIHEHEHEHEHE!!” Noya begged his captain to intervene. “MAHAHAHAHAHAKE THEM STOHOHOHOHOHOP IT, PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!!”

But to everyone’s surprise, it was Kinoshita who came to Noya’s rescue. He grabbed Kageyama and Hinata by their jerseys and pulled them away. “That’s enough, you two. Let him breathe. Can’t you see he’s practically crying?”

The first-years looked, and sure enough, there were mirthful tears in the corners of Noya’s eyes. The libero gasped for breath, hanging limp from the net, barely able to stand up anymore. They both winced, then bowed in apology. “Sorry, Nishinoya.”

“J-Just…just get me out,” Noya mumbled, turning his face away from them, trying to hide in his own shoulder. He was so humiliated by the whole situation that when Daichi and Ennoshita finally got him free a few minutes later, he crossed his arms over his stomach and stared at the floor, refusing to meet any of their eyes.

There was silence in the gym for a long, long minute. Noya struggled to think of something to say, but what could he say? Everything was already out in the open; how ticklish he was, how fast it made him beg, how loud it made him scream. He flushed a deep red, hating every silent second that went by.

Finally Daichi spoke up. “Noya, are you—”

“That was awesome, Noya!” Hinata cried, interrupting their captain and bringing a loud energy back into the room that had been sorely lacking just moments before. Everyone stared at him, surprised – including Nishinoya.

“W-What?”

“You laugh so loud!” Hinata jumped up and down, beaming. “You get cooler and cooler every day!”

The libero was stunned. “I…w-what?”

“I mean, I’m not surprised,” Suga said, grinning. “Until Hinata showed up, Noya was always the most energetic one here. It makes sense he’d be just as loud and crazy when someone tickles him.”

“No kidding! It made me want to laugh just listening to him,” Tanaka added, chuckling a little for emphasis. “This is great! Why didn’t you tell us you were so ticklish, Noya?”

Noya blinked several times. He looked at each of his teammates in turn, stunned. “You…you don’t think it’s…lame?”

“Lame?!” At least half of the Karasuno boys exclaimed at once.

“Are you kidding?!”

“It’s the best!”

“Watching that was the best thing that’s happened to me this week!”

“Dude, your ticklish laugh is so much fun!”

And on it went, each of the boys weighing in their opinions, every one of them positive. Fun. Hilarious. Happy. Inspiring.

Inspiring?

Noya couldn’t believe his ears. “I…I thought for sure you’d all think I was a total loser for being so ticklish. But you…you think it’s inspiring?”

“Dude,” Tanaka said, coming over to wrap an arm around his shoulders, “if I heard you laugh like that before the start of every game, I’d never lose a single one of them.”

“Same here!”

“I know, right?”

“We should make this a tradition!”

“Hold on a second, guys,” Daichi said, raising his voice to be heard over everyone else. “Let’s not get carried away here. Noya,” he turned to the libero, “are you okay?”

Noya looked at him, then at Tanaka, then Hinata and Kageyama, and each of his teammates in turn. Suddenly it didn’t bother him so much that Asahi wasn’t here. These were his friends, too, and hearing all of their positive reviews of his insane sensitivity just made him feel like that much more of a cool, confident libero.

“Yeah,” he said at last, smiling. “Yeah, I think I am.”

“This is great!” Hinata cried, wrapping his arms around his middle and digging into his sides.

“ACK!! Hinata!”

Tanaka joined in, scribbling into his underarm.

“AIEE!! Tanaka, wahahahait-!”

Then Kinoshita stepped forward, then Suga, then Kageyama again, and before he knew it, Noya found himself tackled to the floor of the gym, the tickling and teasing of several of his teammates at once overriding any lingering anxiety he may have had about how incredibly ticklish he was. All he could do was screech, and writhe, and fight, and beg, and laugh and laugh and laugh.

#fanfiction #tickle fic #haiykuu #haikyuu!!#hq #yuu #nishinoya #noya #karasuno #practice #stuck in the net #playful #fun #teasing #libero #tickling #ticklish #tickle

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atinymommy · 4 years

Text

𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒅𝒅𝒔 ༄ 𝒋𝒉𝒔

🍼 ⇢ ˗ˏˋ — JUNG HOSEOK; j-hope

☁️. . . ⇢ happy hobi day! i'm aware that this is a new years au but let's just not talk about it ok? difnfkskdkcj✧ ೃ༄

╰┈➤ cussing; MAJOR teasing;

nipple stim; hickeys; groping;

grinding; pegging;

fingering; slight exhibitionism;

degrading; aftercare;

petnames

(a/n: die is the plural of dice, just to avoid confusion lmao nobody dies in this story wodncnsjsj)

"i hope you're ready." you teased, smirking, as you shook the two cubes in your fist before rolling them over the table. both pairs of eyes hawked over each side the die rolled onto, until it came to a stop. it was hard to miss the smile that quivered at hoseok's lips.

both of you were intoxicated. the intention was only to celebrate being roommates for a year while it was moments before the clock struck into 2021. this had started two hours ago and ended up being a lot more than just two people rejoicing in abiding under the same roof.

hoseok had started talking about this game his friends had bought him for his birthday, with the biggest flush of red marking his cheeks and ears. you've always thought he was the cutest. he was the best roommate you could've ever asked for, and honestly a really good friend too.

which is how you both had ended up on the floor, snacking on some junk food and sipping on some alcoholic beverages. tonight you two had gotten as honest and open you probably ever will. hobi told you that he didn't date much because he didn't like the pressure of being the one to take charge. you nodded, agreeing with him about how frustrating the role men have to play in relationships are. two opposites ranting over the same topic.

"okay, got ahead." hoseok giggled as he removed his sock and wiggled his toes in your face. if you weren't under the influence, you would have found this less comedic and definitely wouldn't have popped one of his toes into your mouth for a mere millisecond. "that was by far the weirdest sensation i've ever felt." his face was red with laughter.

weakly you reached for the die and strewed them over the tabletop.

the laughter died out and the both of you just stared at each other - the die engendering a thick room as either of you processed the outcome. "w-we don't have to play anymore if you don't want to..." hobi's usually stentorian voice thinning at the end of his suggestion.

possibly it was his sudden shy behaviour around you or the lack of sincerity in his voice when he spoke those words but you drew closer to him, bringing your face directly in front of his. "why? are you scared, hobi?" you taunted, observing his eyes widen and the air caught in his throat. slowly you brought your lips to his ear, whispering, "unless you want to stop..."

hoseok closed his eyes and went for it. your taunting tone mocking him into acting on his true desires in that moment. he did as the die had dared him and he began nibbling on your neck, hearing you gasp lowly in his ear motivated him. when you ran your fingers through his hair was when he began to suck harshly, causing you to tug at his roots and moan as he brought blood up to the surface.

he pulled away, needing to refill his lungs and to evaluate the marks against your skin. you, yourself, wanted to see so you looked for your phone and opened your camera. smirking, you touched the area along your pulse. "not bad for someone who didn't want to play."

you put your phone away and hobi was already throwing the dice again.

the male gasped when he read them. lick + nipples.

"i-i don't kn-ow, y/n..." the male seemed unsure and fidgety, but the hard on in his pants betrayed him.

"i'll show you mine if you show me yours?" you suggested, to which he nodded in agreement to. both of you folded your fingers under the hems of your shirts, anticipating. "one.."

"two... three." you lifted your shirt over your head, throwing the clothing item aside, and looked over to hoseok. your eyes took him in for a moment. your heart was racing at the thought of him eating up every crevice and bump on your body but, thankfully, your mind was too fogged and occupied at the moment. instinctively you reached for him, feeling his heart beat under your hands as you roamed his chest slowly, and he just gazed up at you.

you took his face in your hands, locking eyes with him and seriously informed him, "if you want to stop, tell me." he only smiled at you and lightheartedly replied with, "don't ruin my fantasy now."

this ignited you. hobi openly admitting having sexual thoughts about you made you go feral.

hastily you pulled him down onto the floor until he was under you and you brought your lips down to his collarbone, you littered kisses along it before making your way to his buds. your hand massaged his side as you flicked over his nipple. his made him gasp.

hoseok shut his eyes and allowed you to do as you wanted with him. he lay there, whimpering when your flattened your tongue against the sensitive nub. he bit his lip when you blew cold air over the now wet area before you teasingly kitten licked the other nipple. he moaned, throwing his head back and began squirming under you. you sat up, straddling him, with a smirk. "did you like it that much?"

"too bad it's over." he heaved, trying to catch his breath again.

smiling, you got off of hobi and found your way back to the die. you rolled them once again. you could sense the boy's relief with the probability that had played out as he went back to sitting on the couch.

massage + ass.

you crawled onto hoseok's lap, placing your knees on either side of him and he cupped your ass. he lightly rubbed over your jeans, feeling unsure of himself and slightly awkward.

"c-could you take your jeans off? you can s-say no." he looked away from you, glancing to the side at a low angle. his cheeks felt numb with all the blood rushing to them.

you stood, reaching for your button and removing the bottoms. he only stared at your feet, where you kicked away the clothing, and felt too shy to see you. just his imagination was enough to build this tent in his pants, he couldn't imagine how his body would react if he could eat up every inch of you.

unfortunately for him, you weren't having it. "look at me," you scowled, folding your arms and leaned onto your hip. hesitantly he obeyed and ran his eyes over your figure. hobi couldn't help himself when the whimper left his lips and his cock twitched. "shit..." he whispered lowly to himself in awe.

you inched onto his lap again, comfortably avoiding his boner, and his hands naturally traced up your thighs.

"this is by far the most uncomfortable thing i've done this year." he mentioned as he began to knead your ass. rolling your eyes, you leaned towards him and captured his lips with yours. while running your fingers over the nape of his neck, you pushed down onto his heat. hoseok moaned into you, squeezing you harder.

he felt a tingle in his body and your movements fogged his mind. his thoughts had left him. all the knew was you.

you waited until his eyes shut to pull away. smirking, you casually walked back to the table where the die lay. hobi groaned loudly, flexing his thighs in frustration, "you are the biggest fucking tease!"

chuckling, you threw the die. butterflies fluttered in your stomach when they land on suck + thigh.

"hmmm, i'm going to enjoy this." you taunted, watching him read over the two words etched into the plastic cubes. hoseok gulped, for the tenth time in the last half-hour.

his hands trembled as he took off the last item of his outfit — only leaving him in his underwear, just as you were. he only sat there, blushing aggressively, as you oogled over him. you appreciated his sculpted legs, softer tummy and broad shoulders. "so that's what you've been hiding under there this whole time, angel?" he was taken aback by the petname. it made him even more excited.

"p-please touch me, mommy." hobi pleaded, biting his lip to hold back tears. he was so overwhelmed. he just wanted to be yours in this very moment. all he could think was you.

slowly, you crawled over to him on the floor. "since you asked so nicely, i think i might." you could see the relief on hoseok's face.

you pushed his knees apart, getting a full view of the lewd sight before you. he mewled and tried to cover himself up but you swatted his hands away. "don't hide my property from me," you snapped. "this pathetic cock is mine. you are mine." the male felt weak; just from a few words he felt as though he could cum right then and there.

he moaned when you began placing hot kisses along his inner thigh, lightly brushing your nose against his heat before moving away again. hoseok's muscles contracted under your touch while you sucked on the inner most sensitive area and he let out a throaty moan as you massaged his bulge. "ah~ yesss- t-hank you-"

you removed his boxers. his cock straightened out and met his abdomen with a light slap. hobi pulsed between his legs, and you were about to lick his flared tip when he called out, "no! wait! ah~ i-i neeeeed you. let me f-eel you mommy! p-please! i've been a good boy!" he was whiny and desperate.

this was a sight you never thought you would have seen in a million years: your roommate spread out on the couch in front of you, naked, and begging you to fuck him. you weren't complaining either.

"stay here." you demanded while you made your way into your room and scratched for your strap in your drawer. the few minutes it took for you to put it on and return, the time felt twice as long for hoseok.

you spun the male around, pushing him forward and telling him to lean onto the back of the couch. obediently he got into position, rolling his hips back to show you his puckered hole. grabbing the lube, you lathered your strap and fingers in it before slowly sliding one finger into him. he sighed in bliss, wrapping himself around you as you reached your knuckle. "m-more!" he cried out to you.

adding another finger, you began to finger him. he moaned and hunched over the furniture. "yes~ ah- it feels so good mommy." he panted.

you scissored your fingers until you felt him stretched enough. he whimpered with how empty he felt without your fingers. it wasn't long until you eased your strap into his tight hole.

hoseok arched his back and curled his toes as he swallowed you up. you snapped your hips into him suddenly, resulting in the the loudest and most unholy sound to emit from hobi. his whole body fell forward as you pounded into him. he had to hold onto the couch as you railed him.

you felt sympathetic towards your neighbours since the walls weren't soundproof at all but that didn't bother hoseok. his moans filled the whole floor probably.

your nails dug into his hips as you pulled him back while your hips rocked forward. hobi felt so wonderfully out out control as he surrendered his body to you — to use, love and bruise.

out of the blue, his phone buzzed as namjoon's caller id popped up. smirking, you passed it to him without losing your pace and dared him, "you should answer it."

"y-you're lit-erally fucking railing m-me! no!"

"be a good boy and try not to let him know what a slut you are." you sneaked over his shoulder and tapped the answer button. alarmed, hoseok put the phone to his ear, trying to keep his breathing far from suspicion. he bit his lip in an attempt to hold back his moans.

"hello?"

"hey! look, the clock is about to turn into the new year and i just wanted to say i love you man..." hobi tried his best to focus but his body betrayed him as a knot began to form in his stomach. he wasn't listening to his friend anymore. he shut his eyes as his high approached, and moaned softly enough for it to not be picked up on the phone.

"i- i- fuck!" hobi tried to talk to him but his thighs were trembling as you continued to hammer his prostate. he unexpectedly moaned the loudest he had that evening, as his cock spewed all over the couch. "mommy!"

you leaned over and whispered into his ear. "you couldn't help but let everyone know who's fucking you this good, could you, kitten? couldn't even ask for permission?" he whined in reply, too weak to answer you.

"hello? j-hope are you okay? hey!" you snatched the phone from the lump of a man hobi had been turned into and pulled out of him gently as you walked away. "hey joon, hoseok isn't feeling too well. he had too much to drink. sorry about that."

"oh okay, i'll call again tomorrow. i mean later." you glanced at the clock and it was true. hoseok came into the new year.

(a/n: don't come for me😭😭😭😭 that was an impeccable joke right there🤡😎)

"alright then, happy new year joons." you greeted.

"happy new year, 'mommy'." he teased before hanging up.

immediately you rushed to hoseok who was still in the same position you left him and carried him into his room. "shhh you did so good. i'm so proud to have an angel like you. what did i do to deserve you, hm? i didn't mean it when i called you those names. you mean so much to me."

hobi smiled at you, half asleep, and whined for you to cuddle him. and you did just that.

#sub!hobi #sub!j-hope #sub!hoseok #sub!bts #fem!dom #bangtan seonyandan #bangtan boys #sub!male #mommy kink #smut #new years #jung hoseok #hobi #hoseok #j-hope #kpop #kpop bg #bts

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just-a-creep-babe · 4 years

Text

Kinktober Day 31

Out with a Bang

Holy crap I finally ~finally~ finished it! This was not,,,,,,, the best of ideas I’ve ever had because holy fuck it was a lot

But I really really reALLY wanted to make something for the fellow simps (like yours truly) who just ~cannot~ decide which mans they want because, let’s be real, they’re all Snaccs and they all need that good lovin 😌👌

In hindsight, I wish I would’ve made Toby’s part a little longer, but alas, I think it might be too late to change that by now. Also, there’s a lot happening throughout all of this and it does feel rushed and just generally,, badly paced and stuff, but still, even if it might not be the absolute best, I’m relatively happy with the way it turned out :)

So, ah, anyways, quick warning for just,, more than I usually do for smutfics so read at your own risk!

And for those who do manage to get through this mess, well, I hope you can enjoy 😉💦

~Requests are closed~

Masterlist: x

Any tips are greatly appreciated!

You squirm and try to suppress a whimper as strong, warm hands caress your front

You’re dizzy, nerves set ablaze with something hot and burning and wholly consuming—like nothing you’ve ever felt before

BEN tugs at your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, a wicked grin on his attractive features at the sound of your choked moan

“You like that, babe? Like being a little slut at the center of attention? Hm?”

His scarlet pupils flare mischievously as his free hand works to evenly pump at his cock

Before you can respond, your attention’s pulled away by Jeff jerking at your face, forcing you to look at him

You can barely react before he smashes his mouth against yours, chapped lips tasting of blood and something sweet

Your hands flutter up to him, fingers tangling into messy raven locks as you try to keep up

He wastes no time cramming his tongue down your throat, and the feeling almost has you forgetting about everyone else in the room watching

Almost

He growls against you, his body like a wall of muscle pushing you down harder against Hoodie’s lap—albeit probably unintentionally

Still, it has the proxy’s hard-on poking your naked thigh through the fabric of his jeans, his cock twitching eagerly in response

They’re all so hungry

Despite all the distractions trying to steal your attention away, you still reciprocate the kiss to the best of your abilities

It leaves you breathless and panting, your thoughts swimming, tugging at dark strands for a grip on something—anything

“Quit fucking hogging her mouth. I want those pretty lips wrapped around my dick”

Jeff grunts, pulling apart, breaking off a faint string of saliva in the process

There’s the sound of a belt unbuckling, and you look up, still dazed, just in time to see Masky undoing his pants and tugging himself free

“Fuck…” he breathes out a cuss, member springing out—just inches from your lips

He’s nice and thick with a prominent vein running along the underside of his shaft, and you can’t help but swallow thickly as he rubs at the precum beading up his tip

Despite still having his mask on, the bottom of it is still tilted up just enough to reveal his amused smirk

“You like what you see, sunshine?” he teases, slowly stroking over his length

When you bite your lip and nod, he takes it as all the permission he needs to wrap his hand into your hair, twirling a makeshift ponytail to use as leverage to bring you towards him

You accept him into your mouth without hesitation, swirling your tongue around the tip and watching as he throws his head back with a cuss, his fingers tightening in your scalp

You prop yourself up as best as you can, despite the others still gripping and groping at your body, to take him in all the way until he’s hitting the very back of your throat

Lifting yourself from Hoodie’s lap meets you with a strong smack! to your ass, followed by a husky chuckle as your hips buckle

Who you can only assume to be EJ, judging by the steadiness of his caress, trails his fingertips down the side of your torso and to the aching spot between your legs

Another pair of hands splits your thighs open, gripping flesh with a loving slap, before letting Jack take the lead and cup your heat, his thumb just barely teasing at your clit

Your eyes squeeze shut, a desperate muffled whimper sounding out from around Masky’s cock, which has him twitching and groaning huskily

Another harsh whap! stings the flesh of your ass and you whine again

“You shouldn’t talk with your mouth full,” Hoodie snickers

You don’t have time to push away and respond—not that Masky would’ve let you at this rate—before someone takes one of your hands and hesitantly presses it to their crotch

“(Y-y/n), can you—can you p-please touch me?”

You wrap your fingers around Toby’s bulge and his hips buckle, an adorable moan spilling from his lips

He’s quick and eager to undo his pants, his dick springing free with a slap to his lower abdomen, before he’s guiding your touch back to his stiff member

Your second hand is brought up to wrap around another erection, and this time you can hear Jeff hiss in a breath as you give him a long, slow stroke

“God, that’s so fucking hot,” BEN groans

He tugs at your nipples again, then leans in to take one between his teeth, watching as your movements stutter and your whole form stiffens

A lewd moan wrenches itself free from the back of your throat before you can catch it

There’s too much stimulation—they’re overwhelming

You don’t know what to focus on; it all just feels so good—you’re absolutely powerless to do anything but let them have their way with you

Jack’s long, elegant finger prods at your entrance before slipping into your sopping cunt

He slowly twists his digit against your fluttering walls and then pushes in a second one

Your whole body trembles, and you choke on a moan as your cunt immediately clenches around him like a vice—all too eager

You’re out of breath, your throat’s raw and your lungs are burning

You’ve no choice but to pull away from Masky’s to cough and splutter, another string of saliva still connecting you to him before finally snapping off

The way their eyes roam over your form, drinking you in, soaking up every detail you have to offer, it’s borderline humiliating

Even the most seasoned sex worker would flush at the attention

“You feel so tight around my fingers” Jack’s voice is thick and husky, hardly above a whisper but you somehow hear him loud and clear

His fingers move slowly and methodically, coaxing a ridiculous amount of slick from your eager opening

It has you squirming, trying to get him to move faster because fuck, you need more, but Masky’s grasp tightens around the crown of your skull and it forces you still

You expect him to cram himself down your throat again, but instead, he just smacks his cock against your cheeks a good few times and it has you whimpering, muscles clenching madly in delight

“Such a good, eager little cockslut, aren’t you?” he chuckles

He releases his grip and instead strokes himself a good few times, using your own saliva as lubricant

“(Y-y/n)...”

Toby’s gaze suddenly catches yours, a light blush dusting his cheeks, his pupils blown wide and clouded with lust

He hesitantly comes closer until you manage to bring his member into your mouth, tongue flattening against the underside of his tip before taking him all in and swallowing him down

It’s difficult to work, to say the least, when BEN’s lavishing your chest with attention, Hoodie’s kneading at the fresh marks on your ass and Jack’s fucking you on his fingers, but you do the best you can

Toby unwinds into a shuddering, moaning mess at the command of your mouth

The way he squirms and gasps as you suck him off hard and slow, gazing up at his reaction through long lashes, is somehow both endearing and horribly sinful at the same time

You can tell he’s starting to get close when Jack hits something blindingly wonderful inside you, and it has you pushing away from Toby, your back arching with a breathless cry as adrenaline races up your system

“Here, (y/n)? That where it feels good?” he murmurs, his voice a low, deep rumble thick with arousal

You nod eagerly, trying to splutter out an affirmation, but the most you can manage are broken moans and pleas as he toys with the spongy spot deep inside your fleshy walls

“J-jack, fuck—s-shit!”

You try to hump against his fingers, your orgasm building way too quickly, and when Hoodie reaches around to jerk at your clit, your whole body buckles, core convulsing tightly and thighs shuddering on top of him

The others pull back, and you’re more than fully aware of how they’re all stroking themselves while watching you, but you’re far too horny to care

Your hands scramble to grip onto Jack and Hoodie’s forearms, feeling their muscles tense beneath smooth skin as they pump and rub your sopping sex until you’re throwing your head back and crying out from the stimulation

Euphoria reverberates throughout your whole body, but just as you’re about to cum, Jack pulls his fingers out and Hoodie quits playing with your clit, only to give a quick, light smack to your cunt and chuckle when you whine in protest

“N-no, fuck—please!”

You try to reach down to alleviate yourself but Masky stops you before you can, forcing your hand back to stroke at his member with a tsk

“Little slut’s getting impatient, aren’t you, baby?” BEN coos, “You want us all to take turns fucking you nice and good, don’t you? I bet your brain‘s turning to mush just thinking about it, isn’t it?“

He gives a good few mocking pats to your cheeks and chuckles

“I bet I can fuck her better than any of you shit-heads can”

Jeff’s gruff promise is all the warning he provides before settling himself between your split legs

He leans in and spits onto your cunt, not that you need the extra lubrication, before then rubbing the head of his member between your ridiculously slick folds

“You gonna be a good bitch at the tip of my dick, (y/n)?”

You nod eagerly, trying to hold back the obscenities threatening to spill

And then all at once, he snaps his hips forwards—shoving himself all in one motion without mercy

His scarred grin twitches at the way you cry out and moan around him

Your head rolls back, chest arching up, allowing different hands to roam over your tits and toy with your nipples, others wrapping around your neck and feeling your breath catch into your throat in response

“That’s a good slut~” Jeff snickers

He pulls out, ever so slowly, and then he slams back into you again

“Jeff—fuck!”

Your whole body’s burning up, tremors of arousal rolling through you with every ounce of attention you’re receiving

Jack snakes his hand back to your front, between you and Jeff, to rub at your throbbing bundle of nerves while Hoodie gathers up your slick between his fingers to envelop around his member

And even though you’re expecting it, it still knocks the breath out of you as he pushes into you from behind—and you’re absolutely stuffed with the both of them

“So fucking tight~” Hoodie groans

He palms up your thighs, gripping your flesh, forcing you to wriggle and grind against his pulsing cock nestled deep inside of you

BEN yanks your chin up to look at him, chuckling at the dazed, glossy look in your eyes and your parted lips

You’re nearly drooling at the feeling, thoughts completely fuzzy and overwhelmed

Your cheeks are squeezed together, the entity toying with your bottom lip with his thumb before he’s bringing his member to your lips and you’ve no choice but to take him into your mouth

You squirm, eyes squeezing shut, swallowing down the taste of his precum as hands—and you don’t even know whose they are at this point—wrap around your thighs and toy with various parts of your body

It’s too much

With every harsh thrust, Jeff forces himself harder and faster into you—practically ramming into you while Hoodie hits deeper inside you

The way they both fuck into you—and Jack’s steady hands rubbing at your clit, you can’t keep up

You’re breathless and shaking and gagging on BEN’s dick, tears blurring your vision, until all at once, you finally cum with a strangled, muffled cry

Your eyes roll back, lids falling shut, back arching and shudders rocking through your whole body

“Fuck—fuck she’s already fucking cuming!”

Jeff throws his head back with a snarl as you clench impossibly tight around him

Hoodie groans behind you as well, hands bruising your thighs as BEN thrusts into your welcoming mouth and his cock hits deeper down your throat

Your muscles seize, pleasure and euphoria rocking through your body in seemingly endless waves

The stimulation’s so overwhelming that it’s nearly painful

Your vision clouds, stars dancing behind your eyelids, until Jack finally moves his hand away from your throbbing clit

But Jeff and Hoodie don’t relent

Their paces only grow more frantic and eager, all the more desperate to fuck into your welcoming holes and feel you tense so wonderfully around them

You try to swallow back your cries but you can hardly control yourself—especially not with BEN twitching between your soft lips wrapped up so nicely around him

The other hands grasping at your form toy with your body like you’re theirs

Fingers wrap into your hair and twist at the roots of your strands, tugging and pulling until you’re forced to take the cock into your mouth even deeper

“God, you’re s-so fucking pretty~”

You can hardly hear Toby’s voice through your own muffled whines and needy pleas

Try as you might, you can’t stop squirming and jerking from the overstimulation

Your throat’s raw from being fucked so thoroughly, especially coupled with the shameless moans that keep spilling free

Everything’s too intense

Your hands are brought up to wrap around their throbbing members, coaxing quiet groans and hushed moans to accompany your own muffled mewls

Hoodie’s pace grows until you know he’s getting close, and already, you can feel your second orgasm just teetering on the verge of crashing into you

A hard smack to your ass has you jerking, skin burning and tingling and no doubt covered in red prints

Jeff then immediately slams into you—either jealous of the attention you’re giving the others or equally close to release

But either way, his relentless pounding is enough to have you cuming again already

And your second orgasm’s blinding

Everything inside you seizes

Your muscles recoil from the shock, adrenaline and ecstasy racing through your bloodstream like it never has before

Your toes curl, legs wrapping tighter around Jeff, who releases a string of filthy cusses and snarls

“God—fuck!”

A couple more mind-melting thrusts and he stutters inside you, hips movingly sloppily until you feel his seed filling you up to the brim

Hands tug at your nipples, stroking and savoring your skin, even as you’re pumped full of cum

Hoodie follows soon after—his strong, calloused palms forcing you down so that your seated on his throbbing dick and he’s as deep as he can get

He grinds up into you as he cums, hands moving up to briefly wrap around your neck before returning to settle at your waist

“Such a—such a good slut!” BEN pants, groaning and moaning, “Fuck! Fuck! I’m gonna cum!”

He throws his head back with a moan, hips jolting into your mouth until the taste of him fills up the back of your throat

You pull away from him, coughing and spluttering, only to notice the others also nearing their end

Toby whimpers, his cock twitching incessantly in his grasp, and when you glance up to look at him, it’s all it takes for him to come undone

He release all over your chest, painting white streaks of his seed, until Masky’s yanking you by the hair and bringing your face to his cock so he can cum all over it

You instinctively squeeze your eyes shut, lips falling open with your tongue out and ready to taste him, though most of it misses and hits your cheek instead

“Such a filthy little morsel~”

Jack’s voice is deep, dark and gravelly, his whole form shuddering from the pleasure raking up his system as he works his cock

You reach over to help him out as well, wrapping your lips around his tip to hollow out your cheeks and suck—hard

It has him making what’s possibly the sexiest sound you’ve ever heard

His hips buckle, pushing his member further down your throat, and the moan you make is finally what it takes to send him over the edge

There’s so much of it

Try as you might to swallow it all down, you can’t, and it ends up dripping down your chin and all over your neck, right down to your chest and between your thighs

You’re a mess

Your whole body’s slick and filthy and you’re absolutely spent

Jeff finally pulls out, leaving more cum dripping out of you, but you’re far too exhausted to care

Just as you’re about to get off of Hoodie, you feel him press you back down

“Ah ah ah, who said we were done with you just yet, Princess?~”

His voice is a low hum at your neck, followed by the soft warmth of his lips pressing to your skin

You squirm, feeling yourself flush even through your exhaustion

The only word you manage to pant out is a dazed and confused, pathetic little “W-what?”

Masky snickers

He rakes his hand through your scalp, tugging gently at the roots of your hair to pull your attention back up towards him

“Don’t worry sunshine, we’ll do all the work for you. You just have to be a good little girl and fucking take it~”

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader smut #creepypasta x reader #x reader smut #kinktober #creepypasta kinktober

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helenazbmrskai · 4 years

Text

Shush

Wow. I think this is the filthiest and the most messed up shit I’ve ever written in my whole life send me holly water pls (after you enjoyed reading this duh) I don’t know how this idea popped up in my mind one night but yeah don’t come at me.

💊Title ‹ Shush ›

💊Pairing ‹ Jimin x OC (f) ›

💊Genre ‹ adopted brother au, forbidden/unhealthy romance, smut, angst ›

💊Summary ‹ Forbidden fruit always taste the sweetest and when the fruit comes in the form of an innocent boy it’s even sweeter. ›

💊Warnings ‹ emotional manipulation, discussions about an incurable disease, unhealthy relationship dynamics, some fluff, multiple smut scenes filthy so be aware!, mention (and brief description) of sexual fantasies, sub! Jimin, soft domme! OC, teasing, mention of porn watching, brief imagined masturbation, corruption kink, first time, virgin! Jimin, blowjob, handjob, good boy Jiminie, jealous OC, oral (f), fingering, unprotected sex (don't do this be safe!), exhibitionism, marking/biting, almost getting caught, dirty talk, riding, pls keep in mind that this is only fiction! don’t do this folks ›

💊Word count ‹ 6k ›

💊Masterlist

Brushing the snowflakes off my coat’s shoulder, I take a look around the spacious living room soaking in the warmth and waiting for my fingers to defrost, hearing nothing besides the wind that blows outside. Checking the clock on the wall I recall that mom should be still at work at this time around, nothing’s new.

I silently make my way upstairs then halting once I’m in front of Jimin’s bedroom door that has a big J on it. Mom would be upset if she knew I didn’t check on him first thing when I got home so I knocked once then twice before I heard muffled noises from the other side and the shuffle of sheets followed by a loud bang of something hard suddenly hitting the ground. The sound itself quite concerningly rings in your ears.

”Are you alright?” I place my palm on the wooden surface concentrating on the noises that I faintly hear filtering through the door, biting down on my lip as I still didn’t get an answer from him.

”Ok. I’m coming in!” I tell him after a couple of seconds of silence, I gave him enough time to yell out that he’s fine. I’m ready to burst through the door when his voice squeaks out a tiny unconvincing ’I’m good.’ but my hand is already on the doorknob. His body lays slightly off the bed when I enter his room, the bed under him is unmade and his hair is dishevelled sticking to different angles from all the tossing and turning looking soft, wearing only a thin white shirt and pyjama pants to bed. Probably haven’t gotten up from it all day.

”You fell off the bed again?” I chuckle, sending him an amused look spiced with an arched eyebrow – it’s not the first time I see him in this position – shaking my head from side to side, though my eyes reveal that I’m not angry just amused. I grab both his knees and help him to lay flat against the pillows just like he was most likely laying before. His eyes glow like a lightstick with a beaming smile on his face.

”Y/N, you’re home early.” Arching up a brow himself he situates his body to rest his back against the headboard interrogating the cause of my early arrival with a slightly hoarse voice. Jimin looks into a specific direction frequently enough for me to spot his staring. I reply to his statement with a roll of my eyes brushing his hair gently to the side after I checked he indeed has no fever. Giving him the benefit of the doubt that I have no idea he’s trying to hide something I smile back.

I scan through his room hoping to find out by the order of things are placed what he was doing before I got home, it’s easy to spot the differences since I’m the one who usually cleans in here but besides his laptop that sits on the far end of the bed instead of the desk, nothing else seems out of place.

”Why? Were you doing something you shouldn’t be?” I grin, at first the question was intended to be innocent but watching how Jimin’s face contorts into a scandalized look I know he’s up to no good. His expression soon gets replaced with shyness unintentionally a boyish blush spreads across his rosy cheeks. It gets me even more curious.

He gained some weight over the past weeks so his features are almost healthily filled out, the new medication seems to work better than the doctors had anticipated and right now he has minimal symptoms.

Mom must be pleased by the outcome, he regained so much colour to his pale skin too. I witnessed all his ups and lows, I still remember the day I met him. He was in a bad shape, bedridden, so pale and skinny like a skeleton. He couldn’t even sit up on his bed to greet me and when he opened his eyes hearing my mom’s voice calling out to him I came face to face with his teary eyes, hands grabbing his chest to ease the pain that he felt crawling his way up from under his ribcage as a silent tear rolled down his cheeks. He got better when mom decided to take him out of the care system and switched doctors to look after his further treatment.

I regarded him as a responsibility at the beginning of our relationship made sure he took his medication between meals just like my mother instructed. Cleaned his room and made him food when my mother was busy with work. She’s a nurse at the local hospital, she left me alone with him a lot, her job consumes a lot of her time so I had to take care of him almost every day after school even had to take a few days off so I can stay at home when his condition started to get worse and he needed more supervision than usual.

Be that as it may, he had his better days that I started to like so much, spending time with him stopped being an obligation and instead, the time spent together started to be the highlights of my days.

Listening to his angelic laugh, having him listen to me talking about my day. No boy or man ever paid this much genuine attention to me, only him. He has his eyes only on me.

His fierce response makes me come to my senses, dragging me out of my own consuming thoughts.

”Of course not!” He defensively spats my hands away when I try to pinch his cheeks. He looks very pretty when the sun shines on his face. He looks like an angel.

”Oh really? I guess it’s fine then to show me your laptop’s search history. How about right now?” I move faster than he can snatch the device so I’m able to get it and open his tab before he even lets a leg down to plant his feet on the ground.

However, I was not expecting to find something this interesting in his log history. Looking between the screen and his red face I tilt my head to the side seemingly deep in my thoughts. It’s not that I never acknowledged the fact that he’s a man in his mid-twenties and because of his unfortunate susceptibility to having a systemic autoimmune disease he never had the chance to socialise like it’s a norm for most people. The only other’s he meet day by day are my mother and I since he can’t go out because of his photosensitivity.

Maybe I could blame the stars that never flickered out of his naive eyes for the past ten years I’ve known him for not thinking that Jimin could have dirty thoughts. Well, this porn page clearly states otherwise.

I know it’s inappropriate to think about Jimin, my adopted brother, in this way but I can’t find it in me to stop the spiralling thoughts.

Wondering if he masturbates while watching these videos when I’m in school. How he grabs his cock with shaky hands, cute fingers coated in his precum. Wondering if he uses the same hand to hold mine innocently after he did dirty things to himself. I subconsciously rub my thighs together to ease some of the tension that gathered between my thighs, even fantasising about him makes me feel hot.

I feel bad thinking about him inappropriately when he’s sick but I can’t seem to feel the shame when I look directly into his bright eyes now. The rational part of my brain screams that it’s inappropriate even though we are not blood-related.

Heck, not at all as mom adopted him when his last remaining family member, his father died ten years ago.

Jimin’s facial expression is like an open book I read him so well. Poor boy can’t even lie everything he thinks about is apparent on his pretty face.

Afraid that I’ll call him names he lowers his gaze, waiting for me to tell him that I’m disappointed and disgusted by him now that I discovered his dirty little secret that he rubs one out to porn but oh boy he has no idea. That I think about him in a way a sister shouldn’t. That there is nothing wrong with being curious. He has all the right to be. It’s easy to forget he’s older than me when I’m the more experienced one in everything.

”Hey it’s ok,” I get to my previous position, sitting down on the edge of his bed right next to his waistline. I curl a finger under his chin to level his face with mine, showing him a small smile indicating that everything’s gonna be alright.

”I watch porn sometimes too, there’s nothing to be ashamed of here Jiminie. It’s only natural to be curious about it. It’s human nature.” He avoids making eye contact but a tiny nod in my direction shows me that he’s listening.

”If you want I promise I’ll forget that this ever happened. Do you want that honey?” Nudging his pinky with mine I offer him the chance to change the topic to something light.

”You won’t tell mom about it, right?” Nodding my head in agreement I assure him that this piece of information can be our secret and no one has to know that this conversation ever happened. It appears to calm him down gradually as he finally reciprocates my gaze and sighs in relief. What you didn’t expect to hear after that, however, was an explanation of why he started watching porn.

”I want to know how it feels.” Jimin admits shyly, looking around to avoid my eyes as he tells me his hidden thoughts and I find him truly endearing. The previous tense atmosphere seems to completely fade away as Jimin relaxes his muscles against the bedsheet and opens up his heart.

”What? Sex?” I asked, watching his reactions closely as I experimentally place my palm above his right knee. An innocent touch.

Jimin shivers into the contact but other than that nothing remarkably changes in his behaviour or posture. He pays careful attention to not let his feelings show up on his otherwise expressive face. Cute. Sooner or later I’ll know how he really feels about my advances as he can’t keep pretending for long. He was never good at it.

”Yes. They seem to like it so much when I’m watching those videos.” Humming approvingly I rest a manicured nail at the edge of his waistband, this earns a sharp inhale of breath but he doesn’t try to remove my touch that indicates he’s not uncomfortable with me touching him. He doesn’t seem bothered, just a little sheepish.

”You know, a video is nothing compared to the real thing.” I let a single finger slide under his shirt drawing circles into his hipbone eyes watching the way his chest moves up and down a little faster at that.

”What a shame that you don’t know pretty girls to have sex with.” Deciding it’s time to remove my hand I’m letting the limb fall to my side lazily. Jimin’s lips immediately form a pout after I stop making advances on his body, showing me that he was expecting something more. All this time I thought he doesn’t see me like I see him but maybe I was wrong assuming that. Gaining confidence I decide it’s time to push his buttons a little more.

”I’m sure girls would form long lines to get into your pants baby. I wouldn’t be surprised since you are so pretty.” The praise makes his ears bright red, mother did a good job with giving him a boyish undercut a good fashion choice to leave the tips longer so I can easily comb my fingers through it, curling a few strays behind his ears.

”Y-Y/N.” A breathy moan leaves his lips as I kiss the underside of his jaw on impulse, finding stability by grabbing onto his thighs to lean closer and breathe in his clean scent. I push him against the headboard but he doesn’t mind it at all, too lost in the moment, feeling my lips on his throat to register any pain.

I pull away slightly to reconnect our eyes. Jimin licks his dry lips, not having anyone to talk to until I arrived home, he kept his mouth shut only feeling now how dry his throat is all of the sudden.

A ghost of a smile appears in the corner of my mouth as I realise Jimin is watching my lips not even trying to conceal his desire to have another taste of the forbidden fruit. This is so wrong but his lips are so light against mine, afraid that if I apply pressure somehow this moment will end and I don’t want this to ever end but as the saying goes, nothing lasts forever in life.

The magical moment ends when I hear my mother’s voice from downstairs. ”Y/N, Jimin I’m home!”

The cheerful voice of my mother abruptly interrupts our first shared kiss, not letting him chase the taste of my cherry lip balm I place a small peck on his nose instead yelling back that we’re upstairs and we’ll be down in a minute.

”No need to rush,” I peck his forehead this time, giving his face small kisses to lift his mood. It’s comical how disappointed he looks with his nose scrunched up adorably. He really has no shame as he sighs licking his lips to taste the remaining flavour of our kiss.

”We can continue this tomorrow, we have so much time, I promise...”

And continue we do. True to my word I comply with his request pulling the oversized t-shirt over my head to reveal him my black lacy bra and the curve of my waist. His eyes devour the new uncovered flesh hands lingering in the air itching to touch my bare skin but too shy to do it without my permission. He remains frozen in the act. Dreamy eyes watching my reaction to his shy movements silently asking for a sign that it is alright to touch. He’s so curious he wants to hear those noises the couples always make in his videos.

I nod putting him out of his misery cradling his hand in mine to place the warm palm onto my covered breast I guide his movements fondling the flesh, his touch feels good despite the barrier between his skin and mine.

Slipping his hand under the cup his finger comes into contact with my nipple I show him how to circle the bud until it gets erect a small sigh escaping my lips. I had the sudden urge to steal a kiss so I leaned in to grab the back of his neck and crush our lips together no tongue just lips touching sweetly.

I removed his touch to intertwine our fingers placing both of our hands to rest against the bed leaning into his mouth more.

”Is that all that you want me to do?” I murmur the words into his mouth, encouraging him to say more, to do more. Jimin swallows the saliva in his mouth gaze significantly cloudy as he stares into my eyes, shaking his head. He got so far the current thoughts in his head are clearly not about stopping anytime soon.

”What else do you want then?” I press him to answer my question, following the line of his upper lip with my thumb smearing the lip balm that got transferred from my lips to his while kissing, Jimin took a shaky breath before opening his mouth.

”Y-your tongue.” His tongue seemingly came out subconsciously to wet his lips I closed my eyes moaning at the sinful image. He really did his research, I’m about to give him everything he wants if he keeps up with these innocent yet so dirty looks.

”Where do you want it?” I grin moving closer so our thighs are firmly pressed together letting go of his hand to cup his face with both hands. Bending my head to peck the outline of his vein on his neck his pulse quickens under my touch. Pleased to have had such a great effect on him.

”In my mouth.” He squeaks out his response when I bite into his shoulder careful not to really pierce his skin but let him feel a moderate amount of pain mixed with his pleasure. I smooth my tongue where I bit making sure that I don’t leave any marks on his perfect skin. I don’t want our mother to ask questions later.

”Hm,” I hum into his neck satisfied by the answer before lining our faces again to fulfil his wish. ”Open.” As soon as I command his lips part obediently waiting for me to slip my tongue into his awaiting mouth.

”Jimin. Can I touch you?” I sigh into his mouth, he tastes so sweet I can’t seem to get my fill as I discover every corner of his hot cavern licking the roof teasing him before letting our wet muscles touch in a heated battle for dominance. Jimin gets greedy soon as he pushes my tongue back to do the exploration of his own, the kiss turns sloppy and too much saliva. Hands clutching onto the duvet under him grounding his body swimming in euphoria from falling too deep into the feeling.

”Yes, please.” Our eyes open slightly to watch each other my mouth founds the corner of his lips then the side of his cheek and jaw before diving back in parting his lips with my tongue to continue tasting him.

With a feather-light touch, I snake my hands upwards his thin frame and tiny waist feels so fragile under my fingers. I want to pepper his torso with my kisses pushing his body down using his shoulders to see his weight bounce on the bed. But I can’t get so ahead of myself, Jimin deserves to be worshipped like the angel he is.

”Lay down on your back Jiminie.” I smile seeing how obedient he is following my orders without any complaints or questions. He trusts me so much.

The thought alone that he is under me letting me have my ways with him makes my underwear sit uncomfortably against my heat when I move my legs to straddle his hips I feel how drenched I am for him. So pretty and so eager under me as his head rests on the pillows he truly looks like an innocent angel.

I motion for Jimin to raise his arms so I can get rid of his shirt and finally do what I intended to do and kiss his body starting from his collarbones all the way to the line where his pyjama pants hide the delicious lines of his hip bones.

I press kisses of praises into his shoulder blades moving down following the line of his sternum to give attentive licks and pecks all over his stomach feeling his muscles tensing under my lips whines and other sweet sounds slipping out of his parted lips as he breathes heavily through his nose with his eyes closed.

When I let a couple of fingers slide under his pants I realise the lack of material under my touch. He’s not wearing his boxers. The outline of his dick is evident when I look down he’s not that long but where he lacks his grith makes up for it as I can already imagine how good he would feel buried in me stretching my walls so good.

”Do you want me to touch your pretty cock darling?” I don’t forget to ask for permission even though by now I can clearly see how much he wants all this. The sight itself, how his member strains against the concealing fabric is an awfully clear giveaway of his growing desires. Jimin maintains our eye contact with hooded eyes nodding his head fervently before he can confirm his needs with words. His body burns but not with fever.

”I..yes, please. I w-want you to.” Jimin squirms waiting for me to do something that would relieve some of the tension in his joints. His cock feels heavy in my hand ready to sink into my cunt anytime, I can’t wait to put my mouth around it first but I have to be patient. I circle a digit around the tip testing how much precum he has for me.

Holding the digit up to my lips I taste the slightly salty substance humming approvingly. Tugging his pants down I get to work giving a kiss to the tip before coating his member with my saliva so I can lubricate his shaft enough so it won’t hurt him. His whole body shakes when my mouth makes contact with his cock his virgin body overwhelmed with the new sensation the little pleasure already too much for him to handle.

I make a mental note about grabbing some lube on my way home tomorrow so I can be prepared for situations like this. My lips suddenly widen into a Cheshire grin as I deliver the last lick all the way up to the hilt replacing my mouth with my hand.

”Jiminie look here for a little.” I coax him to open his eyes again with a sweet voice. ”Like that darling.” I praise him when his eyes met mine, choosing the moment his gaze connects with mine to use the same hand that pleasured him to glide under my jeans and underwear mixing my arousal with his precum I moan for the show as I rub my clit before collecting my essence so I can use it on his dick giving him the needed extra lubricant.

Jimin’s eyes don’t stay open for long when I finally touch him properly with the intent of making him cum. He can’t seem to keep his moans and throaty whines to himself as I give him a confident grip increasing the speed of my wrist when his whines became more high pitched his body gives away all the signs when he shakes under my touch that he’s close embarrassingly fast but I don’t mind, it’s his first time after all. We can always work on his stamina later.

”Relax baby and just enjoy this.” I encourage him to let go, massaging his thighs with my free hand to relax his strained muscles, slowing down my strokes but give special treatment to the tip collecting the forming precum. ”There’s no need for you to hold back.” I peck his hip picking up my pace again for a few moments longer before taking him into my mouth waiting for him to cum swirling my tongue over the tip repeatedly.

”Y-Y/N.” My name comes out in moans like a broken record when he finally lets all the tension seep away from his body letting the building pleasure force him into submission as he cums into my mouth his body goes limp when the pleasure fades away after I let him ride out his high with gentle licks.

I place the duvet over his sleepy form after I help him back into his clothes, tucking him in as I kiss his cheek to say ’sleep tight’ with the gesture.

I toss the food around on my plate in front of me tentatively listening to the conversation held between my parent and her guest but not engaging, sinking my fork into the broccoli angrily as I hear Natalie’s sugar-coated voice destined for only Jimin’s ears to catch.

She leeched herself onto him as soon as she stepped into this house annoying me with saying stuff like ’you have such a nice brother’ just to emphasise my relation to him. Even my mom takes her side saying that they look cute together.

I know she wants Jimin to socialise, that’s why this dinner is purposefully held in the first place but I can’t seem to show a different emotion than disgust when I look at Natalie trying to woo my Jimin. She will never know how he sounds when he’s about to blow his load or how he would taste against her tongue because only I can see that side of him no one else, and especially not her.

His ears are red from her constant compliments and I swear I even saw her hand grip his shoulder when she laughed about something my mom said, he shies away from her because he never kept a conversation going on with another girl that wasn’t me or my mom before but that doesn’t mean jealousy doesn’t bubble up in my chest when he doesn’t deny her advances explicitly.

The dinner continues for an awfully long time before I could excuse myself from the table to hide away in my room and peacefully start yelling into my pillow to relieve my pent up frustration throughout this unpleasant meal.

Either Jimin genuinely didn’t have a clue what she was implying or he was aware but fine with it I don’t want to waste any more time and watch her all over him. I continued sulking in my room when I heard a knock on my door grunting a ’yes’ before I resembled smashing my keyboard I suddenly felt the urge to complete that assignment I procrastinated on so I can keep my mind focused on something else.

I avert my gaze from the screen to see who’s my intruder but I refocus on my computer when I see it’s Jimin. I’m not in the mood to talk to him right now since the picture of Natalie all over him is the first image to enter my mind.

”What? Dinner’s over so soon?” I’m careful to use an unaffected tone when I speak up, holding myself back from making eye contact even though I would love to see his face, we haven’t got time all day to talk or cuddle at all since I had to help my mother all evening to prepare for this dinner that was a waste of time anyway.

Jimin stays silent not bothering to answer my question but I still refuse to look at him as I pretend to be absorbed in my work. Even if it’s far from reality when the only thing consuming my thoughts right now is that I want him to tell me no one else is going to touch him only I can make him feel that good. That he wants. No, needs only me.

”A-are you angry? Please don’t be.” I still don’t turn around and looks like it makes him desperate for my attention he thugs at my blouse but I don’t react.

I want him to panic take over his body so he won’t do this to me again. I have to busy my fingers with typing so I don’t move to card my fingers through his locks like I long to do when he lays his head on my lap kneeling on the ground to do so. I don’t push his head away but doesn’t react either.

Half an hour passes in this manner, only my typing is heard in the otherwise silent room Jimin’s head still resting on my thighs hands circling my waist. I’m halfway done with my assignment when I feel Jimin’s nose nudge my centre. I showered after I excused myself from the dinner to blow off some steam and calm down grabbing only a pair of underwear and a shirt to cover my body with.

Jimin placed a kiss on my clothed clit making my body jerk in surprise forcing me with his bold actions to finally look at him our gaze locks as soon as I look down. Jimin folds the sides of my blouse so he can get access to the rest of my underwear following my panty line with his nose.

”Can I make it up to you?” Jimin looks up with innocent eyes that have my stomach twist in excitement but I try not to show him how much he can affect me as well. I’ll still make him pay for his actions.

”So you know you did something wrong.” I scoff but it ends up in a gasp when he licks the front of my underwear without a warning.

I grip his hair to keep him in place holding him close enough so his head still rests on my thighs but not that close to letting him lick my centre again. He’s playing dangerous games right now but I don’t know if I have it in me to be gentle with him.

”You should stop before I can’t guarantee that I won’t lose my control.” I warn him through my gritted teeth, closing my eyes for a moment to focus on my breathing, his eyes grew bigger for a moment before the previous shocked expression morphs into something else.

He can’t reach my cunt from where he’s restrained by my hands so he licks the inner side of my thigh his teeth nibbling on my sensitive skin.

I loosen my grip on his hair smoothing the silky locks out of his eyes but he cleverly uses the gesture to scoot forward and have another taste placing a more confident lick stretching the rubberband side of my panty with his teeth sliding his hands over my stomach that was previously so obediently circling my waist.

”You don’t have to do it.” I remind him, feeling out of breath from his kitten licks over my clothed mound.

”I know.” Jimin replies with a sweet smile adorning his face before he pulls my underwear down my legs slowly, watching with interest as I part my legs so he can have a good look at my glistening core.

”The girls from the videos always like it when the boy does this.” Jimin murmurs under his breath absentmindedly before rubbing my clit with his fingertips his digits dipping lower to catch where most of my arousal gathers a single digit nudging my entrance. I part my legs more so he can get more comfortable between them I let him get familiar with my most intimate part before I pull his hand away with shaky fingers.

”Taste it.” I order for him to pop his fingers into his mouth licking my arousal clean from them and he doesn’t disappoint as he does.

Now that his fingers are coated with his saliva I guide it back to my core. ”Want your finger in me.” I throw my head back when he enters, my walls sucking his finger in his movements are inexperienced and uncoordinated but I let him experiment until he gets the hang of it, and oh when he does. His one finger turns into two soon as he finds the best way to pound into my wet cunt curling the digits just the right way to make me see stars. ”Doing so good Jiminie.” I tell him between heavy pants as the rhythmical hard thrusts of his fingers starts to become too much to handle I feel my insides tighten just like my walls tighten around his fingers getting closer and closer.

I open my eyes to watch him lean down his hair tickling my inner thighs as he nestles between my legs licking at my clit while the movement of his hand never falters, the new stimulus that his visual between my legs and his tongue on my nub adds to the feeling, making me come undone around his fingers.

”Stand up baby.” I motion for him to stand as well, his finger slips out of my hole, with a confused expression plastered on his face but doesn’t question my intentions as he obligates standing on his wobbly feet I let him sit down to where I was before straddling his hips.

”Are you going to let me ride your cock? Make you mine?” I ask him using my sweetest tones before slowly kissing his lips making sure to map out his mouth once more before turning my attention to kiss the expanse of his neck.

”Yes. Fuck yes.” The way how the curse word slipped through his mind without him noticing is endearing, he can always surprise me with something doesn’t matter how much time I dedicate to learning his body and soul, he’ll always have layers to discover. These good days sometimes even weeks when his illness hides its ugly face into the background are so precious that I wish we could always be like this.

I situate my body so I can pull his sweats down I pleasantly discover that he doesn’t wear his underwear when his dick slaps against his stomach. I reach for one of the drawers where I know I placed the lube.

I squeeze some into my hand before wrapping my fingers around his fully hardened shaft smearing the lube over him Jimin whines when he feels the cold liquid hit his hot member moaning once I roll my wrist the way he seems to like so much. Have enough of the foreplay I position him in front of my entrance making eye contact with him before taking him in letting him have the chance of backing out.

Jimin’s thighs shake as I take him in fully he tries muffling his moans by biting down on my shoulder so our guests don’t find out what we are doing in my room. With a smirk on my face, I roll my hips getting the best responses as Jimin tries to hold back his cries tightening his hold on my waist to slow my thrusts down but I don’t listen to him as I start to grind down on him letting his member pull out almost all the way before sinking down enjoying how good he fills me up.

I slow down as a knock is heard at my door Jimin’s eyes widen in fear but I don’t let him move an inch as I silently take my seat with his cock buried between my folds he holds back a moan when I clench around him.

”Mom?” I call out to her, my voice a bit shaky but I was able to mask it away enough that it doesn’t sound suspicious.

”Are you alright? Can I come in?” I hear her worried voice, she probably heard Jimin’s louder cries and she thinks something’s wrong. At this moment I’m really glad that my mom is very dense.

”I’m feeling unwell so I’m going to sleep immediately but you go and have fun with the guests don’t worry.” I offer her my reply as I circle my waist can’t keep still as Jimin’s dick feels heavenly it shouldn’t turn me on as much as it does seeing how pathetically he tries to prevent my mother from hearing his moans but his innocent facade can’t fool me as I feel him twitch inside me as I talk to my mother while he’s balls deep in my cunt. I wonder if he wants us to get caught or that he would like me to fuck him in front of Natalie on our dining table so she can see she never had a chance with him.

”Fine but come and get me if you need anything.” She leaves with these last words without further protests and I thank her while bouncing on Jimin’s lap silencing his cries by kissing him hard.

”What mom would think if she saw you in this situation Jiminie? Fucking me while you pretend to be an angel in front of her. Kissing her cheek with the same lips that were buried between my legs moments prior.” I whisper next to the shell of his ear he lets out embarrassed whines but I can feel him enjoy how I fuck myself using him.

My thighs ache as I increase the pace feeling so close again I guide Jimin’s hand between our bodies to make him rub at my clit he does it messily but it’s enough stimulation as I cum again watching as Jimin’s eyes squeezed shut close to reach his own high.

#jimin smut #bts smut #jimin #park jimin #jimin fanfiction #jimin fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts #bts stepbrother au #bts filthy smut #sub jimin

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into-crazy · 4 years

Text

horror and chill

Ledger!Joker x Female Reader one shot

Summary: You and J watch a horror flick. Eventually you both grow bored, turning your attention onto one another. You don't make it through the movie.

Warnings- Cursing, NSFW, SMUT, fingering, edging, orgasm denial, light knife play, spanking, use of the word daddy(once), unprotected sex, brief degradation, choking, light blood play, J style fluff, ages 18+

This sort of popped into my head while I was watching a scary movie. I'm a sucker for watching horror movies in the dark. Let's just say my self indulgences deff kicked in with this one whew! Also forewarning, it’s very long.

The month of October has always been a favorite for you. That time of the year when Autumn is in full effect. The air outside is cooled down, where it's not too hot and not quite cold yet. Seasonal items return with a comeback, available to stock up on- whether they be edible goodies or scented candles. Then, of course, there's Halloween. Or spooky season, as the kids like to call it.

That special time where watching horror movies is an absolute must. Ordering takeout, nothing on but panties and an oversized tee, cuddling on the couch with a blanket, turning out all of the lights, and blasting the volume on the television to get the full effect. Yeah, it's one of your most prized traditions.

You and Joker have been together for well over year now. Let's just say he was around this time last year. He knew of your passion for this month, but he hasn't fully experienced it with you. Since that was a point where your relationship- if that's what you want to call it- was still fresh. Too early to establish complete trust and understanding in one another. Actually, you believe that still may be the case for J.

Not that you have anything against it. He's a highly complex and guarded man, he has a difficult time trusting people. In fact, he doesn't. But he's allowed you- and no one else- to come this close into his life, and it's pretty damn close. He trusts you enough and he's trying. There's nothing you'd ever do to betray that. You've come to accept it'll take a longer period before you'd get there fully.

Though it can be rough sometimes, you've had your fair share of fights. But he's never given you a reason to leave. You trust him, you've grown to love him. And while J would never confess to it, would never say it aloud, he adores you. He shows it in everything that he does for you. As for love, you've become aware and accepted that the word doesn't apply to him. He can't love. And that's okay.

Fast forward over to now, already a week into October. It's a Saturday night, and you're ready to continue your cherished routine, but with your beloved J. You've only watched two horror flicks thus far. Both nights had been alone, minus him and the takeout. He's been busy with his usual chaotic jobs, which kept him out later hours into the night. However you don't care about that right now, he called and informed you that he'll be home for tonight's showing.

"An' don't ah, don't ya dare start without me." J warned on the other end of the phone line.

"Well then you better hurry back," you playfully teased into the phone, "I already ordered the pizza and the movie is set to play."

That conversation ended about forty minutes ago. You sat on the couch in your shared apartment, waiting for him. Everything good to go, pizza has arrived, scented candles are lit, movie ready to proceed at the click of a button, and the lights are off- save for the small lamp by the entryway. The overall setting feeling eerily, just how you like it. It also feels quite romantic, which is a bonus.

You're wearing one of J's dress shirts with a blush thong underneath. Wrapped snug in a huge fluffy blanket in your designated spot(rightfully decided by you as this was your apartment first). Since he prefers to keep the apartment cold, you tend to get chilly a lot. Which was fine considering you have J and a vast selection of blankets to keep you warm. Currently, you have the blanket. All that's missing is J.

What's taking him so long? I'm gonna start the movie, I don't care. He'll just have to deal with it.. and I'm not rewinding it either.

You began to ponder while sitting in silence. Fingers tapping impatiently on the remote, debating whether or not you should carry on without him. With a loud huff, you glance over at the pizza box on the small table directly in front of you. In the amount of time you've waited, you managed to eat two slices already.

Then, you heard the familiar ruffling noise at the front door. The sound of the lock hurriedly being turned getting you to shoot your eyes towards it without moving your head. The door swings open and in walks J in all his glory, quickly shutting and locking the closure behind him.

"I'm home-ah!" A lilt in his voice as he exaggerates his arrival.

"You're late," you return displeasingly.

He narrows his glare at you, "well uh, hello to you too."

Rolling your eyes, you motion with your fingers, "I was this close to starting the movie without you. What took you so long?"

J works on shrugging off his plum trench coat. "What can I say? It was such a ah, easy breeze to get here." He throws sarcastically.

Shaking your head, you laugh, "I'm sorry J, I didn't mean to sound rude. I just missed you is all." You really do appreciate the extra efforts he goes through to make sure he gets here safe and undetected. To not be traced or followed. Be it by his fellow rivals, Gotham police, and in some cases- the Batman.

"Yeah doll, I know," he licks his lips, "I know." You watch him remove a few of his other articles to get more comfortable. His face paint isn't too disheveled which tells you his day went rather smoothly. Or as he prefers to call it- boring.

You open up the blanket to make space for him. Patting the empty spot right next to you, "hurry and get over here, pizza's getting cold."

Left in his purple slacks, dress shirt, and socks, he shuts off the last light before making his way over to plop onto the couch next to you. He allows you to snuggle against him. With the cover behind him, he doesn't feel the need to wrap himself in it. You, on the other hand, have your end burrito wrapped over you. Finally, you stick your hand out the blanket to hit play on the remote.

Twenty minutes in, you were beginning to grow less and less interested in the film. Nothing but a predictable storyline with a bunch of weak jump scares. Not to mention the overly cheesy acting. Though it wasn't completely terrible, it had a few good points to it. However this film probably won't make it onto your rewatch list. You failed to previously read the reviews for this one like you normally would when picking a new movie to watch. The plot sounded good when you had read it. Oh well, you gave it a shot.

J wasn't fond of the movie either. He's actually more bored of it than you are. Occasionally would he exhale blatantly or comment on one of the bad moments that came across. This. Is. Torture. He thought to himself staring blankly at the screen. And not the good kind. Alas, he'll bite his tongue and miserably sit through another hour because it is your movie night, and he knows how much this means to you.

You can't help but feel bad for having him sit through this with you- for you. Soon, you lost total interest in the film and your mind began to drift.. elsewhere. To his hand, resting freely between your soft thighs. His palm feels so warm against your flesh. But that's just J- always giving off heat. He's like your own personal heater. Sometimes warming you to the point you don't even need a blanket because it becomes too hot. Speaking of which, you removed the cover, preferring his signature warmth over the fabric's any day.

Your fingers start to brush lightly on his wrists and knuckles. The subtle touch earns you half smile followed with a pleased hum, which you see in your peripheral vision. He hasn't caught on yet, but your need for him is building fast.

You scooch closer to him in attempt to get his hand where you need it most without him catching on just yet. It didn't work, his hand isn't touching you. It's right there, mere millimeters away. Thinking about how amazing his hands feel when he touches you. When he grants you with friction as he rubs your throbbing clit. The wonderful spots he reaches when he relentlessly fucks you with those paint speckled fingers. Curling them deep, making you writhe and cry beneath him.

Clamping his wrist, your breath hitches at the thought. Shit. That was audible. For a split second, you thought you might have blown it. But Joker took it as something from the film frightening you.

"Quiet doll," he shushes, "you an' I both know the ah, movie ain't scary."

Fuck, you can't take it anymore. You want him to touch you. With a slight roll of your hips, you manage to get his hand to brush against your clothed heat. The smallest bit of friction causes you to release a muffled whimper.

J's arm stiffens and his face instantly snaps to look at you. You seize, halting your movement. No question, he felt what you did, sees the burning desperation in your eyes. Tossing his head back, he erupts in a delighted, high pitched cackle. "Oh-" more cackling laughter as he glances at you again, "so that's what that was." A malicious smirk spreads his scarred cheeks. He firmly grips the inside of your thigh, pulling you against him. "What happened bunny? Growin' needy?" Cupping your clothed mound, his fingers rub you teasingly.

"Yeah," you admit, taking your bottom lip between your teeth. Tightening your thighs around his wrist. Would've been no use lying to him when he'd easily seen and felt otherwise.

His rubbing comes to an abrupt stop. He taunts, "Ahh, this was your idea, hm. You were the one keen on a movie night, remember?"

"I know, but-"

"Ah-ta-ta," He cuts you off, "But nothing. This is what ya wanted, so that's what we'll do. We'll ah, sit here and watch."

Suddenly, he lifts you, effortlessly moving you into his lap. You yelp as your back is pressed flush against his torso. He separates your legs apart, you can feel his cock beginning to harden under you, pushing into the plush of your ass. One hand wraps around your chest, to roughly knead your breasts. The other slides under the shirt, gliding over your abdomen, down between your legs. To rub harsh circles on your excited clit through the thinly soaked fabric of your underwear.

"Ahh- fuck!" You whine, throwing your head back to rest on his shoulder, reaching around to grip his green locks.

J starts to kiss and nip his way down your neck. Leaving dark patches into your skin, accompanied by red and white splotches- completely marking you. Once he was satisfied with his marks, he leans closely by your ear. "You're dripping, doll," he whispers huskily, his hot breath brushing against your neck. "Now, you will sit here and watch the flick like a good girl, while I play with this needy little cunt of yours. No fussin' or fightin'. Got it?"

"Mhm, yes sir," you answer. Biting back the urge to smile at the thought of finally getting what you want. Fighting it off because, let's be real here, you know with J, it never comes along that easy. But he always makes it damn well worth it.

"Good, now sit still." He growls lowly onto your neck. With that, he pushed your panties to the side and began his torture. His fingers transitioning from fucking your aching hole to rubbing the drenched digits on your throbbing clit. Whispering twistingly sweet and dirty words into your ear while he slathers your own arousal all over your pussy.

He'd bring you close, on the verge of your orgasm, only to stop his movements entirely. Tearing it away from you before you could fall over that edge into pure ecstasy. You grew more and more frustrated each time he'd do that. Though you haven't fully, but you're rapidly losing your composure. Which already may be broken. Sweat is forming on your hairline, tears are prickling your eyes, your breath is starting to hitch. Starting to want it so bad you're teetering towards retaliating to get what you crave.

Joker's counting on it. He thrives on edging you, demands the control over you. As much as he prefers having you entirely at his mercy, he likes it when you lash back. Finds it rather amusing, makes for something a little bit more interesting. See how far you'll go before you snap so beautifully.

And that's now.

You start to buck your hips against his fingers that are going in and out of your pussy, along with his thumb assaulting your clit. Feeling that powerful knot reforming, you need to orgasm. "Oh f-fuck! Please!" You start pleading, "I-I can't take it anymore. Please J, l-let me cum!"

"You wanna cum?" He hints, removing his chin from your neck.

"Yes, God- yes please!" You cry out, clawing your nails into his thighs. Clamping down to gain better leverage. The wild rolling of your hips gets your ass brushing more against his hardened cock. Your arousal had already soaked through his pants a long time ago.

"Fuck," he hisses through gritted teeth, digging his fingers hard into your hip that's sure to leave an array of dotted bruises. He bucks absently into you, licking a wet, hot trail up your neck. "Mm, dirty girl. So you wanna play that game-ah?"

He moves his fingers faster and harder. Even over the loud volume from the television could the wet squelching sounds deriving from his ministrations be heard. The air filled with the scent of sex- your sex. So desperate and ready to let go and orgasm. It's driving you crazy.

"P-please- Ahh! Can I cum?" You plead. Hoping he'll reward you at least for asking.

"You can cum. Go on, babygirl. Cum on my fingers." He finally grants, fingers continuing to get you to ecstasy.

Well you didn't have to be told twice.

You release with a broken cry, orgasm gushing out onto his digits. Drenching the fabric of his pants beneath you. Your body spasming madly over his own while you ride out your high.

Coming down, J removed his hand from your pussy. His fingers are glistening, coated in your cum. He sticks them into your mouth. "Clean my fingers of the mess you made," he growls the command in your ear. Groaning in approval when you comply. Eagerly licking and sucking his digits clean of your juices. "Come here," he grabs your face, turning your head, making you look at him. "Give me a taste."

He kisses you, shoving his tongue into your mouth to savor the taste of your delectable juices. You kiss him back feverishly. One hand fisting in his hair, the other goes to stroke his cock. Still clothed, still hard. The action causing him to snarl against your lips, "such a greedy little thing. Always ah, wanting more. Ya just can't get enough of me, huh?"

"Never," you huff with a grin, "and telling by this-" you rub him again, "neither could you." His eyes snap to glare into yours viciously. Ohh, he's gonna make you pay for that snarky remark.

With hasty movements, J turns you around so that you're now facing him. Straddling his lap. He tears the shirt that adorned your body open, buttons flying to scatter the couch and floor. Someone's gonna have to sew those back on later, most likely you. He removes the shirt from you, carelessly tossing it aside.

With the large article gone, it granted him with a better view of the mess you made on his custom, pricey slacks. His entire crotch and thigh area is completely drenched in your juices. He gave a sigh which tried to make him sound annoyed or displeased. However, with the straining bulge pushing against you below, you know that was far from the case. His eyes traveled to land on your barley covered pussy, he groaned at the sight. The flimsy fabric of your thong sticking to one of your wonderful, wet lips. Your orgasm, still dribbling out your cunt.

He hooked a finger under the thin strap hugging your hip, pulling far enough only to have it fall and snap against you. Chuckling at your slightly startled reaction. "Bad girl. Misbehaving, talking back, making a mess of my pants? These aren't exactly 'buy at the store' ready. Maybe I should put your dirty mouth to use and have you suck your own juices up, hm?"

"I misbehaved?" You mock a pout, fully knowing what you did. Regardless, asking anyway.

His kneads the plush of your ass roughly. The callousness of his hands making you shiver in his grasp. You may think this position is in your favor, that you could use it to your advantage. But Joker's got you right where he wants you. The stern look in his blackened eyes and the firm hold he's got on you make that known. "You ah- were supposed to make it through the film without so much as a fuss. Remember that?"

"I was?" Your fingers ghost up his chest, "I don't remember that part." Now you're pushing it. He notices the smile threatening to creep your face. One of his hands shoots up to grasp a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back, exposing your marked neck.

"Yes," he acknowledges slowly trailing his lips up your throat, "yes you do. You just chose to be a brat and not listen." His tone is dangerous, and it would've been absolutely frightening had you been anyone else instead of the only person he cares about in his life. Even though he'd never verbally admit that, frustrating as it is for him, he does care. He does. Which is why whenever you feel that tingle dubbed as fear creep up your spine, you still hold assurance. The flesh of his scars brush the underside of your chin, making you moan unabashedly. "Ya know I gotta punish you for that."

J uses his hold on your hair and hip to guide you to lay over his lap, your naked stomach pressed against his wet thighs, and most of all, his erection. He reaches over to the small table beside the couch, plucking an item you assume to be one of his signature knives. The distinct clicking sound indicates you were correct. It's a switchblade.

He drags the razor sharp blade along your spine until it reaches your underwear, almost on the verge of slicing into you. The thrill gets your heart pounding faster in your chest and ears. You love it when he cuts you, and he's aware of that. But this is a punishment, so you won't be getting what you want.. least not yet. Placing it under the strap, he tears the article to shreds, carelessly nicking you a few times in the process. Alright, so the little nicks he can't control. Those just come naturally. Tossing the ruined fabric aside, he palms your ass cheeks, favoring a spot to start spanking. "Count. We'll ah, stop when I decide you've had enough."

His palm came down hard against your ass, sending an electrifying jolt through your entire body causing you to yelp. "One!" You count. The stinging grew worse with each spank. He hit you hard, but it wasn't anything you couldn't bare. Warm tears steamed down your reddened cheeks. It hurt in a wonderful way, your pussy leaking more arousal as it progressed. He continued to spank you until he grew bored of hearing the same cries and whines.

"Last one bunny," he subtly praised, soothing over the bright marks in your flesh that are starting to welt and bruise. With that, his hand came down a final time. This one stinging the worst.

"Fif- fifteen." You manage to rasp, mind overcome with the lust you had building up. At this point you need him inside you. You need his cock buried deep in your aching core and you need him now. "Please f-fuck me J. I need you!" Your body arched into his as you begged.

J snickered, "need me huh? How bad?" His hand went back to your abused ass to shove you forward, so that your pelvis was atop his as he purposely rolled his erection against your painfully heated sex. The friction drawing a long, strained moan from your lips which pleased him. "Tell me bunny. How, how bad do ya need my cock?"

"Bad- oh so fucking bad- I need your cock! P-Please J, please daddy, fuck me!" You practically shout, resorting to the word daddy. A word which you hardly use, but do when need be. And now was a time of great need.

A snarl left his lips as he yanks you off briefly to undo his pants and shove them down. His cock finally free from the uncomfortable confines, he sighs with relief as he takes it into his hand, pumping a few times. The tip, red and angry with his precum beading out. "Get over here now," he growls impatiently.

Wasting no time, you swing your leg over both of his, reclaiming your previous place of straddling him. You grabbed-rather pawed- his shoulders for leverage. His thick head lines up with your dripping entrance, then he pulls you down, driving his length inside with a powerful thrust. Knocking the wind from you as he filled you. Fuck, how he stretched you so good.

After a brief second for you both to adjust- you to his size and him to recompose himself- he instructs you to- "Move."

To which you do. Rapidly bouncing yourself up and down on his cock. Unashamed at the loud moans and whimpers continuously leaving your lips. This was exactly what you needed, and having been denied lots tonight it felt amazing to finally have this. You moved like your life depended on it.

J grunted as he met your thrusts with his languid ones, his hands guiding the movement of your hips. He held back from pounding into you, oh how he's going to pound into you, just not yet. Which means he's definitely in the mood to tease you to an extent, in any and every way that he can. What an asshole.. Your asshole.

Your arms went to wrap around him. To your surprise, he didn't shove them off. Instead, his chin went to rest in the crook of your neck, catching glimpse of the illuminated TV screen. The movie was still on.

"Mhm, you're just a horny little slut, aren't ya?" He sneered. "Can't even get through a movie without having my cock inside of ya."

There was no way you could give him a proper response. So wrapped were you in the exhilarating feeling of him that any words to a sentence you tried to form wouldn't come out. What did manage to slip out was muddled babbling. He snickered at your incoherence.

The female protagonist on the screen started to scream. The shrieking noise caught both your attention, though your actions didn't falter. "This woman's a terrible actor," J criticized the lady, "her scream is so fake, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes- ah," you return finding your voice, "It s-sure is."

He removed one hand from your hip, gliding it up the valley between your breasts to grip your neck. Glaring menacingly into your eyes momentarily before muttering, "I think you could give me a better one." You knew from his low tone that something malicious just popped into his head. His fingers tightened, "Let's see if you could scream louder than the girl on the screen. Can ya do that for me sweets?"

You nodded feverishly within his hold, "yes J."

Satisfied with the answer, he began driving his cock vigorously up into you. The harsh slapping of skin heard as his hips pound mercilessly against your own. The spontaneous change of pace left you almost completely breathless. Your orgasm was fast approaching. Eyes squeezing shut as he fucked you relentlessly. You screamed, "Oh fuck!"

Your beautiful screams rang harmoniously in his ears like a favored tune. That he could play on repeat over and over and never grow tired of hearing. Your screams and moans are definitely his favorite sounds, aside from explosions and gunfire. He can't help but want more. Crave more.

"Come on doll, get louder," he teases, "I know ya could do better than that." He went to tug your head to the side, exposing the junction between your neck and shoulder. Sinking his yellowed teeth in, biting down hard to draw blood. That was just the push you needed. Your eyes roll back and your walls clench tightly around his length, releasing a shattering scream as you cum violently around his cock.

J lapped the fresh blood from where he bit you. "Hm, that's it," he groaned, "now that's a real scream." He kept going, his pace never letting up. In fact, soon as your hands went to tug at his hair did his thrusts speed up.

You yank his head from your neck to look into his intoxicating eyes, moving to glance towards your blood on his lips. Crashing them with yours to taste that savory metallic flavor for yourself. You take his bottom lip between your teeth and bite down harshly, earning a rumbling groan from him.

He's getting closer and closer to his own peak as you're nearing another. When you feel his thumb move to rub rigorous circles on your sensitive clit, you release his lip with a sharp cry. "J!"

Your walls clamping painfully tight around his throbbing dick, vision blurring as you cum. Nails digging into his broad chest, probably creating tiny bruises under the shirt.

He relishes in the pinch of pain you give him. Combined together with your sinful noises, the sight of your face contorted in ecstasy, and the feeling of your tight warm walls. With that, he buries himself in you and cums hard. A moan mixed with a groan like noise slipping from his lips while he shoots his hot load into your cervix. So much, that some leaks out while you milk him of every last drop.

J collects his breath before lifting your weight up to slip out of you. Your pussy lips are so swollen that his cum isn't even able to drip down once he's out. He sets you onto the couch beside him, getting up to go into the restroom to clean himself and grab a damp rag to bring back to you.

As you regain yourself, you manage to sit a little more up on the couch. Wincing, trying not to sit up all the way due to the soreness already starting to form between your legs. You wrap the blanket around your naked form and silently contemplate. The sex was amazing sure, but you still felt bad for ruining movie night with a terrible movie.

The sound of J coming back in hadn't even registered with you until he waved his hand in your view, tearing you from your thoughts. You blink quickly, offering him a smile to hide it. But J had already seen the small frown when he walked back. And he wanted to know the reason behind it, since it was out of the ordinary. Usually you're always smiling in your post orgasmic state.

"What's carving a frown in ya, pumpkin?" He asks, a hint of concern in his tone as he hands you the small towel. The strange nickname causes you to giggle and he eases knowing you're alright.

"It's nothing J," you say shyly, "I'm just.. I'm sorry the movie sucked. I promise I'll pick a better one next time."

He hums, saying nothing else as he sits back down beside you. Draping his arm behind the couch behind you. Blankly watching the last of the movies end credits while you clean yourself with the rag.

You start to laugh again, "Well, now I really wanna carve a pumpkin. This place could use a couple. How about tomorrow I get some for us to carve?"

He grins sinisterly, "ya know, I'm usually carving into people."

"Pumpkins are less messy. Like, way less." You playfully respond.

"I like messy," he huffs.

"Yeah I know you do." You smile knowingly at him, lightly tracing the hexagonal patterns on his shirt. "I thought it would be fun. You don't have to if you don't want to."

J licks his scars as he ponders on it. Any activity having to do with a carving into something with a knife, count him in. "Ah, what the hell. Alright. What better way then to uh, help me spruce up on my slicing skills." He traces his hand out in front of him, as if he were carving a smile into something. This action causes you to release a genuine laugh. And in that moment, J relishes in hearing yet another one of his favorite sounds~

Woah, so that's the end! I hope you guys liked it. Again, sorry that it was so long. I can't help but make these super lengthy when it comes to smut😭

#heath ledger joker #tdk joker #the dark knight joker #ledger joker x reader #ledger joker x y/n #ledger joker x female reader #joker x reader #joker x y/n #ledger!joker #ledger joker #ledger joker smut #joker smut #the dark night #fanfic

858 notes · View notes

stevenbasic · 4 years

Photo

“Well good morning,” she smiled, seeing the reaction on my face as I took in her appearance. It was a sweater dress, a really short, tight sweater dress. Her makeup was done dramatically, dark around the eyes, and her hair cascaded over her shoulder in a long, flowing, raven mane. I could feel myself staring at her but was not able to stop myself. I mean, I’d seen her in party dresses, tank tops, bikinis, but was still for some reason helpless to keep from gaping. And despite my obvious, dumbfounded awe, she looked amused, relaxed, casual. Was she actually accustomed to this? Seeing people - let alone her boss - stunned speechless when they looked at her? She was holding my coffee mug out to me, and had cocked an eyebrow waiting for me to react. “Think you can hold this yourself?” she asked, with a maddening mix of mischief and actual concern.

“Oh, uh, yes, haha,” I stammered, remembering myself but still dazzled by the glittering golds and greens in the gemstones of her eyes, glimmering down at me, “o-okay..”

She smiled as I took the mug. Her perfume still lingered in a cloud around us, both relaxing me and keeping me alert, focused on her.

”th-thanks for the coffee,” I said, able now to raise it to my lips, take a sip myself, acutely aware of how close she was watching me.

“And...thanks for reaching your mug?” Melissa asked, both eyebrows up now as she studied my face.

”Hah, uh yeah...right,” I replied, “Thanks. Don’t know how it got up there…”

“Didn’t you put that there yourself last week?” she countered, confidently questioning me, “I watched you do it. We were in here chatting with Vida about her billing, and her cute new shoes.”

“I don’t...I wouldn’t...how could I?” I responded, for sure sounding confused. I was denying it, even to myself, but maybe I did put my mug up on the high shelf? Last Wednesday, was it? How was I able? “I really don’t thINK-”

Yikes. What was that crack in my voice? Why did it just shoot higher?

“Did your...voice just crack?” Melissa asked, eyes widening in interest, “Like a little boy’s?” She bit her lower lip, watching me, hands now crossed in front of herself as she rocked, slowly, on her feet.

“I, uh...yeah, I guess so…” I answered, taking another sip of warm, milky coffee. Must have been something in my throat.

Melissa nodded, thinking to herself before speaking. “You’re like a little vulni-chic man, you know that?” she said, almost to herself but with unmistakable eagerness, biting her lip again, regarding me, “All helpless and weak, needing me to do things for you.” As we’d been standing here, Melissa’s voice had changed, subtly, had grown lower, smokier.

“V-vulni what?” I asked, less shocked than I should be for how she was speaking to me. Did she just call me ‘helpless and weak’??

“‘Vulni-chic’, like vulnerable,” she explained, reaching up to adjust the collar of my sports jacket, “it’s a hashtag these days. For guys that are smaller, beta guys that are, like…”

She bit her lip once again, eyes flashing as they shot into mine. My own heart was racing already, and her gaze quickened it further. What was happening? Why was I feeling like this? And - instead of breaking out of this humiliating conversation - why did I answer her with this:

“...L-l-like meE?” There it was. My voice cracked again.

“Omigod yes…” she groaned, eyes fluttering, “small, beta guys...like you. So hottttt…”

‘Hot?!?’ Jesus what was happening? Something was coming over her. And...what was going on with me? My...my cock was swelling in my pants, and then her perfume suddenly assaulted me anew, like a bomb blast, making my knees shake, chest shudder. Oh Christ, I felt all the blood rushing from my body, my brain, down...

“H-how tall are you, Dr. J?” Melissa asked, suddenly stepping in to me. We were face to face. Or, rather - face-to-tits.

“W-why?” I stuttered, alarmed and awed by how much bigger she was, standing here over me. Honestly. My eyes were just about level with her collarbone, and the shelf of her impressive bosom threatened my chin. Her legs were longer, her hips were wider, her shoulders were stronger. I felt meager and weak, and anxious that we would be seen like this.

“I...I want to hear it…” she breathed, obviously without any similar concerns or misgivings herself. If anything, she only inched closer.

My mouth went dry, my mind blanking as I reflexively stepped back. “W-well...didn’t we measure me, when we were shopping? I’m...5’8”?”

“No way…” she answered, shaking her head, her mane of hair alive on its own, “no way your five-eight...” Her voice trembled in eager exhilaration.

I thought to myself, immediately - she’s right. I remembered just then how I had measured myself on rounds at the hospital last week at 5’7”. I had been doing my best since then to put the fact that I had once been 5’11” - way back when - as far out of my mind as possible.

“We’re going to measure you again….” Melissa announced, and then as if suddenly remembering something, reached into her dress, down her neckline, into her cleavage. She pulled out a...tape measure?

Who keeps a tape measure in their bra??

“Wait Melissa don’t-“ I began, but before I knew it I was taken by the shoulders, firmly, and half-guided/half-pushed towards the wall. Roughly, she kicked a tall trashcan aside and stuck me in its place..

“Stand straight,” she directed me, having already pulled a pencil, also, from between her tits. One hand on my chest, and standing too, too close, she looked down onto the top of my head as she marked it against the wall, onto the matte grey paint. I took the moment to not only stare at her big, firm tits, but breathe in her perfume. It was like a hit, and I knew if I didn’t watch myself I’d be needing it, a junkie. Her own breath came in quick little pants, and I admired the bulge of her breasts, how they rhythmically swelled over her bra, even through the taut, knit fabric of her dress. But soon, immediately, she’d moved me aside and instructed me: “Hold this.” She put the end of the tape measure in my hand, held it against the mark on the wall.

Still without protest I complied, and in the next moment she’d crouched down, giving me a view down her top and-

“Oh god you’re five-five??” she groaned from her knees, reading the tape, “You’re so short.”

“I, uhhh…” That can’t be right, can it? It must be a mistake!! I thought, but then remembered my shoes, adjusting my desk ch-

“When are you going to sign those papers..?!?” Melissa groaned, loudly, suddenly standing up and taking me by the shoulders. She had tossed the tape measure onto a nearby table. I gulped, and looked up at her. She stared hotly into my eyes and searched them, fighting something in herself and watching me, watching me passively waiting for her to-

“What are you two up to?” Randi said, entering the breakroom with Amelia, “it’s a little early, don’t you think?” She had caught us - close to being within inches, Melissa’s hands on my shoulders, holding me to her - in an obviously intimate pose. What would she think was happening?!

“Missy don’t hurt the poor guy,” the blonde added, checking her nails with a disinterested frown, “we need him to sign our checks…”

===================================

Another big thanks to Beetlebomb for the image and a shout-out to Horuvex for letting my little world tangent into his. All non-canon for "Nexifem", of course :)

#Growing Into the Job

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urslasherbaby · 4 years

Text

Michael Myers NSFW Alphabet

(Obvious NSFW warnings: smut, blood kink, choking, cock warming, etc.)

Do we really need yet another Mikey NSFW alphabet? Yes, yes we do.

(Also I am sorry for not posting, I kept second-guessing myself)

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

After the assuredly rigorous workout he just put you through, he usually leaves you to recover. After he assumes you’re okay, he’ll wrap his big arms around you and hold you there until the morning. After that? Well, he’s got people to kill… so he’ll be back for you later tonight…

B = Body Part (Their favorite part of their own body and their S/O’s)

His favorite body part on him is definitely the hands. They help him do his best work, but most of all he loves watching them curl around your neck. He savors every moment of you struggling against him until he can’t take it anymore and slams you on the bed. Don’t think he’ll let go either… choking you while he’s pushing inside of you is the fastest way to get him off.

His favorite body part on you, however, are the legs. You have a bad habit of not wearing pants around the house when you’re alone, so when he comes back from a spree and sees you curled on the couch in just your underwear… it’s on. Not to mention when you two roleplay as stalker and victim: seeing those legs run away from him, grabbing them and pushing you to the ground, lifting them above his shoulders so he can go down on you. It’s the fastest way to get you off.

C = Cum (Anything to do with it really… I’m a disgusting person)

Absolutely LOVES cumming inside of you. Especially while he’s on top and can see your face as he fills you. Once during a particularly long session, he came inside of you, pulled out, and started licking the cum out of your hole. That only marked your third orgasm of the evening.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Cuddling. Bastard can’t get enough of it. Given most of his life has been spent in a cold psych ward, he can get pretty touch-starved. He has a habit of coming home and just wrapping himself around you until you eventually have to pee or eat… and even then he’ll still hold you for at least ten more minutes. Cock warming goes pretty much hand-in-hand with this. He once stayed inside of you for a whole HOUR.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Like I said… most of his formative years have been in captivity. You had to make the first move, definitely… but Michael is a very fast learner. The first time you asked him to go down on you, he pulled your legs apart right then and there and started practicing. So long as it makes you moan and scream his name, he’s ready to try and master it.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying, will probably include a visual)

Any position where he can see your face will turn him on the most. On the good days, he’ll stroke his tongue over your pussy while making you look into his eyes and caress your face while he enters you. On the bad days, well... prepare for bruises the next morning. Michael will take you by the throat and shove his cock so deep into you you could see the lining of it through your stomach bulge. He’ll take your hips and piston into you at a grueling pace, all while keeping the mask on and staring into your eyes.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

While Michael does, in fact, have a sense of humor (Fuck you, Loomis), he’s just as stoic in the bedroom as outside it. One time after making you cum an impossible number of times, you could have sworn you sensed him smirk through the mask.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Michael doesn’t really pay much attention to the amount of hair he has down there, however, he knows you do. You had the courage to bring it up one night, but he just gave the same dismissive grunt he always made. The next morning, however, he was freshly trimmed and groomed. You didn’t dare mention it of course, since you knew as soon as you did he’d stop.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

Surprisingly, Michael does have a tendency to get lost in the moment before he finds himself and snaps out of it. It’s the little things: the cuddling, the soft touches before he enters you... he even brought you a gold necklace once. It was covered in blood, but it's the thought that counts.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation head canon)

He doesn’t really enjoy it as much as he does with you. In fact, it’s rare that you find him touching himself at all. You assumed he had to at one point, but given the number of times he’s just pulled you down to his crotch for a blowjob... you suspect not so much.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Besides the cock warming, the choking, and dominance... Michael has a huge blood kink. You found out when you cut yourself cooking in the kitchen and started sucking on your finger. You looked up and saw Michael already bounding towards you. Now on very special occasions, you know that a well-placed nick or a subtly moving his knife to the dresser will initiate some very long nights. He also has a pretty big size kink. The man dwarfs most people, but he loves how tiny you look compared to him, especially while he’s on top in the bedroom.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Michael won’t really leave the bedroom unless it’s an emergency. Wearing one of his shirts with no panties while lounging on the couch? He’ll pull your legs right back and get to work. Leaning over the counter with your ass out cooking? He’ll grab onto your hips and grind against you right there. Heading to the shower? Hope you like the company. Okay, okay, okay... so maybe “emergency” is pretty loosely defined to him. You don’t really mind.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

It really can be the smallest thing, but Michael’s biggest turn on? Teasing. This man can not handle even the tiniest poke of the bear without going feral. For instance, calling him “Mikey”? Fifty-fifty chance of you getting murdered or fucked into a mattress.

N = No (Something they wouldn’t talk about, turn-offs)

Teasing him too far without any pay off will definitely piss him off more than turn him on. It’s a very delicate balance that could either have you riding him all night long or pinned against the wall with a knife to your throat. Another big no-no would be the family. Michael’s not a big talker in the first place but mentioning Laurie will start a full-on killing spree with you as the final girl.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

You’ve only seen Micahel without his mask a handful of times, most of which were either him asleep or coming back from “work”. However, one night, after a particularly long dry spell during your period, he came home heaving and covered in blood. You could see the predatory look behind the mask and quickly prepared yourself for a long night. He pushed you onto the bed, ripped your pants and underwear off, and went down on you for the first time. It was clear that he was new to this kind of thing, but like everything else he did, he took an enthusiastic first try. His tongue had gone over your clit, around your cunt, and inside you so many times you were cumming in less than a minute. His mouth and face covered in blood as he got up made him look even more feral before he grabbed your hips, flipped you over, and started pounding into you from behind. It would hurt like all hell the next morning, but it was so worth it.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Michael’s pace matches whatever will ruin you in the moment. Feeling frisky and can’t wait for a rough, hard fucking? He will pick you apart methodically, almost clinically, so slowly so you’ll be begging him the entire night. Michael will pin you down onto the bed and deliberately ease himself into you while staring directly into your eyes. Whimper and beg all you want; his only goal is to slam into you while pulling all the way out to make you cum, over, and over, and over again. Then on the next night, when you least expect it, he’ll bend you over the nearest flat surface and finger your cunt until you explode... the best of both worlds.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

As much as Michael loves hovering over you, watching every second of you falling apart, he’s very much aware that you two don’t need to have proper sex to make that happen. Not to mention how often he goes out or “work”. More often than not, however, it’ll be you kick starting things since you know how much your teasing affects him. One day when you heard his heavy boots walking up to the door, you took off your clothes as quickly as you could leaving yourself in your bra and panties and waited. As soon as he stepped through the door and saw you, he locked the door behind him and grabbed your hair by the scalp. The moan you let out only encouraged him as he unzipped his jumpsuit and pulls out his cock...

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risk, etc.)

As previously stated, Michael will do anything to make you squirm. Your whole existence to him at this point is a walking, talking fuck toy. However, he’s still dead set on keeping you from the rest of the world, so no exhibitionist-esque escapades for you, sorry. He does get more and more bold with his blood kink. Sometimes a simple prick will do, but before you know it, he’ll have plunged the kitchen knife into your side. He knows not to hit anything vital, obviously, and you’ll heal up in a couple days anyway. Be pissed at him all you want: that’s the deal.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last)

Oh... Michael can last. He has an absurd amount of control and go as long as you need and then some. You figure its a mix of pent up energy from the psych ward/lack of entertainment in general as well as that whole making you suffer thing he has. Overstimulating you is practically his end-all-be-all goal, so make certain you can handle cumming multiple times any time he’s feeling up to it.

T = Toy (Do they own/use toys? On themselves or their partner?)

Michael hates toys and in fact threw away your vibrator when he found it in your underwear drawer. He’s the only thing that’s going to make you writhe and scream, dammit. He won’t use toys, but he’ll still tie you up with your own scarves or anything handy. Just because he hates the mechanical stuff doesn’t mean he won’t play around a little...

U = Unfair (How much do they like to tease?)

Michael? Tease? He’s not really the subtle type. More like the, walk through the door, lift you up by the ass, and take you to the bedroom type. However, one day after doing some handiwork around the house, he came into the kitchen with a sweat drenched t-shirt and took it off right in front of you. You couldn’t help the blush crawling over your face and you definitely couldn’t hide it from him. All he did was give you half a smirk and slowly walk into the bedroom where he knew you’d follow.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make )

It’s no secret Michael’s the quiet type. Same way in the bedroom: heavy breathing, grunts, and the occasional deep growl that drips down your spine. Honestly getting him worked up to the point where he can’t help but spill out those low, guttural noises just makes you even hotter.

W = Wild Card (A random head canon for the character of your choice)

Michael’s favorite pass time is watching you masturbate. He’ll pretend to leave in the morning but sneak back through the bedroom window and hide in your closet. Sometimes it’ll take hours, but he knows eventually you’ll spread yourself onto the bed and start roaming your hands all over your body. You always do it just like he would: starting with the nipples, rolling over and pinching them so they get nice and hard. Then move down to your clit, rubbing it in circles gently at first, then furiously while sliding in a finger, then two. It only takes a few minutes before you cum completely undone. His favorite part is when you taste your fingers afterwards. It’s almost enough to make him burst through the door and give you another.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what going on in those pants, pictures or words)

Michael sports a fair five and half inches flaccid, seven inches hard. Not too girthy, but still thick enough for you to have to use two hands when you want to jerk him off.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Seriously? Years in a psych ward combined with meeting you and learning some all new tricks? You’re surprised he hasn’t put you in a wheelchair yet. The dangerous thing is that he can control it. The same amount of libido would bring a man to his knees, but not Myers. He will fuck you for hours and still be ready for another round at the drop of a hat.

Z = ZZZ (How quickly will they fall asleep afterwards?)

He’ll always wait for you to sleep first, which isn’t a long wait by any means. As formidable as he is, he won’t take off his mask around you if he doesn’t need to. Sure, he’ll let you catch him without it a few times, but that’s only because he knows you won’t say anything either way. After you’re down however, it still takes him a good amount of time before he can get himself to sleep. It’s a predator thing.

#michael myers headcanons #michael myers smut #michael myers x reader #michael myers #slasher community #halloween 1978 #halloween 2018

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smolfoxbab · 4 years

Text

okay here’s the Narumitsu angst (with a happy ending)

its my blog and i get to choose the hyperfixation to post about

((1,830 words //tw for injury + blood// hope u enjoy!))

Phoenix Wright wasn’t the type of person to make enemies. At least, not on his own. His selfless nature and optimistic personality made him a likable man to be around, even if he was often clumsy and oblivious at times. However, being a defense attorney was a different circumstance, one that brought a certain set of unspoken dangers with it. In proving his client’s innocence, the guilty verdict was placed onto another. While most of these people posed no threat behind the bars of their sentences, there was no guarantee a grudge wouldn’t push them to seek vengeance.

Miles Edgeworth had plenty of experience with this concept already. He was a prosecutor-- The Demon Prosecutor. Among the death threats and various other attempts on his life, he was all too aware of the risks that came with his job. But he had learned to shoulder them, right alongside the other burdens he carried. He also knew that Phoenix didn’t consider these things, didn’t consider his own safety as much as he considered others. Concussed, tazed, nearly drowned and beaten to a pulp in an infamously deadly river... none of it seemed to phase him. He never slowed in his pursuit for protecting others, and that... that concerned Miles more than anything.

“You need to be more careful, Wright,” he had said once in passing after a trial where a guilty offender nearly wrung Phoenix by the neck, the defense attorney standing just a little too close when the verdict was handed down.

“One of these days something... serious, might happen to you, and you won’t be able to just laugh it off.”

Phoenix only flashed him that dopey grin and said, “I’ll be fine, Edgeworth. For an unlucky guy, I’m pretty lucky.”

Miles wanted to believe that, truly. The man seemed to get off easy in dire situations more often than not, so perhaps he had a point behind his foolish reasoning. Even so, his worry lingered. Luck always tended to run out at some point.

---

Then one afternoon, his phone rang. He had already been driving towards Phoenix’s office, having been called over earlier on the premise of having an “important discussion.” He’d left as quickly as he could, but the traffic seemed to determined to keep him from reaching his destination. It was slow, and he seemed to be hitting every red light possible. It was at one of these prolonged red lights, as he sat impatiently tapping the steering wheel, that a familiar tune sounded off in his pocket. Sighing, he slipped his phone out and checked the screen, not too surprised to see Phoenix was the one calling. Forgot to tell him something in the first call, most likely. He hit “answer” and brought the device up to his ear.

“What is it, Wright.”

There was a raspy breath on the other end before Phoenix spoke, his voice just as hoarse.

“M-Miles, I... I-I uh...”

Miles’ brow furrowed, and he found himself straightening in his seat, grip tightening on the phone.

“Wright? Is something wrong?”

There was another breath, followed by a rather nasty sounding cough. There was then a sound that could have been a laugh, if it wasn’t so strained.

“Ah... s-something like that... I w-was trying to call... hhhah... I guess it d-doesn’t mmmatter... a-are you almost... here?”

The light turned green, and Miles pressed on the gas. Harder than he should have, perhaps, but he was uneasy now.

“Yes, I am. What is it, Wright? What happened?”

There was a grunting sound, and the rustle of paper.

“W-well... fffunny story, ah... there was s-ssomeone at the door and it t-turns out it wasn’t... w-wasn’t you and ahm... shit-”

The hiss was sharp and pained. Miles turned a corner a bit too hastily, nearly catching a street sign as he swung around it. Before he could say anything, Phoenix continued.

“I’m not... I’m nnnot doing too hot, Miles... It’s getting... k-kind of hard to... focus...”

Miles clenched his jaw, trying to hold his composure. He was on the final stretch of road, he just had to get there.

“Stay with me, Wright. Stay on the phone. Do you hear me?”

“Yeah...” came the reply, but the strength in it was fading, “yeah... Miles...?”

“I’m here, Wright.”

He turned into the office parking lot as he said that, haphazardly parking and exiting the car in record time.

“.....what I w-wanted to... tell you... I... I love... you.”

Miles’ breath hitched as he ascended the steps. He would’ve have stopped completely if not for the adrenaline fueling his movement. A lump formed in his throat, which he heavily swallowed as he pressed on. Damn it, why now did he- Damn that man.

“J-Just hold on, Wright. I’m coming up on the door now. Wright? Wright?”

Silence filled the other end of the line as he approached the door, which sat unlocked and ajar. A red smear stained the door handle, while more splashes led across the floor and deeper inside. Miles only hesitated a moment before flinging the door open, rapidly searching the room for the other man. It didn’t take long.

The defense attorney was slumped against a bookshelf near his desk, various papers and books scattered around him, along with his still lit up phone. He wasn’t moving. Miles sucked in a breath as he practically slid to Phoenix’s side, one hand clasping his shoulder while the other went to check his pulse. Thankfully, he could still feel it, though it was weakening.

“Wright? ...Phoenix, can you hear me?”

He tried to get some kind of response, lightly shaking his shoulder, but got nothing. He shifted his gaze downward, where he couldn’t help but spot the dark stain soaking underneath his jacket. He lifted the blue fabric slightly, trying to get some assessment of the damage. It looked too wide a tear to be a gun wound. A stabbing seemed more likely.

“Damn it. Damn you,” Miles cursed under his breath, shucking his jacket off and moving to put pressure on the wound. He set to call the authorities at the same time, his now-shaking hand nearly dropping the phone entirely. He stared at the unconscious man before him as the phone rang, mumbling to himself before the responder picked up,

“If you die, you fool, I’ll... I’ll bring you back and kill you again myself.”

Emergency services responded quickly, and an ambulance was sent with haste. The police force arrived as well, with the ever-diligent Gumshoe heading the charge. Ever-diligent, and ever-emotional, as the detective seemed to blast through one emotion after the next while Phoenix was being prepped for the drive to the hospital. Miles was given the assurance as he boarded the ambulance himself that, no matter what, the culprit wouldn’t get away with it. In the tense silence of the ride that followed, Miles let that statement repeat in his head- let it hold him together. They wouldn’t get away with this. He would see to it personally... Once he was assured that Phoenix was going to make it out of this alive.

---

Several hours of absolutely nerve-wracking waiting in the hospital lobby followed after, but all well worth it when he was informed that Phoenix was in stable condition. That didn’t stop him from nearly throwing the recovery room door off its hinges upon arrival, however. He needed to see it for himself, confirm with his own eyes that the other was alive.

A tired smile greeted him from the bed.

“Hey Edgeworth...”

Miles stood in the doorway for a moment, silent and stiff. Then, slowly, he drew in a breath, let his shoulders relax, and stepped inside with the door closing behind him.

“Wright.”

Phoenix winced at the tone of Miles’ voice, like a child about to be lectured by his parent.

“Look, before you get m-”

“You are an absolute moron, Phoenix Wright. I mean really of all the idiotic- Not only do you call me as you’re bleeding out, rather than contact the authorities-”

Phoenix attempted to interject.

“To be fair I was actually trying to call the-”

But Miles didn’t let him finish.

“But then you have the gall to go and declare- to tell me that you- in such a dire circumstance you decide to claim-”

“Miles-”

“Not seconds before I walk in on what could have well been a murder scene- And what would I have done then? Knowing you had said such a thing before I could even have a chance to process it let alone-”

“Miles if... if you don’t feel the same I-”

“Reciprocate.”

Both of them fell silent then. Phoenix, slack-jawed and staring straight at Miles while the prosecutor locked his gaze to the floor, feeling the heat begin to burn in his cheeks. Phoenix blinked rapidly, beginning to flush a bit himself despite his currently paler complexion.

“Y-y-you mean you-”

Edgeworth huffed and turned towards him, closing the distance between himself and the bed before closing the distance between the two of them. It was an impulsive kiss, and not the one either of them imagined would be their first, but it was real. Phoenix was real, and still here, returning the kiss like it was the most natural thing in the world. A wince and a hiss broke the moment though, Phoenix pulling back to sink into the mattress he’d started to push off of. Miles pulled back hastily, rubbing at his arm with an awkward clearing of his throat.

“A-apologies, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, no- my fault, really. And look I... I’m sorry for worrying you and... how I said that really wasn’t how I meant to go about it-”

Miles cut him off again before he could start losing himself in his rambling.

“I... I know, Wright. I would be far more concerned if your plan had been to confess to me by having a near death experience.”

Phoenix chuckled nervously and looked elsewhere, giving Miles the chance to take up the seat next to his bedside.

“Yeah that’s... a little far out there... even for me. But Miles, you really...?”

Phoenix looked back with a start as Miles took his hand, his grip cautious but protective. Miles attempted to play it off as if he was exasperated, rather than jumbled mess of feelings he was grappling with. The mess of feelings he had been grappling with for some time.

“Honestly, I would have thought just now made it clear enough, but. If I must say it to convince you. Yes, Phoenix. I... I love you, too.”

There was a pause, far too long yet far too short, before Phoenix smiled. Still tired at the edges, but warm and genuine.

“Okay then. I’m... I’m really glad to hear it isn’t just... I’m glad.”

Miles couldn’t help but smile faintly himself, gently squeezing the hand in his.

“...As am I. Now... why don’t you tell me how you got into this mess?”

#narumitsu #wrightworth #ace attorney #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #My writing #fanfiction #*twiddles fingers*#idk if this is any good but

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angelanimedesaray · 4 years

Text

Through the Looking Glass Chapter 10: Constellations

AN: Yes, I named this chapter after the song I’ve been listening to on repeat for two weeks for where this series is right now. Constellation by Far Out feat. Karra.

Also this picks up DIRECTLY after the previous chapter.

Characters: Levi, Reader

Pairing: Levi x Reader

Warnings: Umm...feelings? Emotions? Fluff? Perhaps a bit of Hurt/Comfort?

Word Count: 6130

<----Previous Chapter Masterlist Next Chapter---->

(Gif found HERE on Giphy)

*Reader’s POV*

After the show was over, Levi was...restless. He’d practically sprung up from the couch once the final credits started playing, and for a moment you thought he was going to claim he was sneaking away to the bathroom again. He didn’t claim anything, actually--instead he started climbing the stairs, looking agitated with a slight scowl on his face. If you hadn’t been paying attention to him as well during the show, you might have been completely lost about what was causing such a foul mood from him.

Not wanting to lose sight of him, you quickly scrambled up from the couch to hurry after him as he prowled up the stairs.

“Who the hell wants to watch something depressing like that?” he asked, sounding like a bona-fide sulking teenager as he headed straight for your room.

Well, that didn't sound right. If he hadn't liked the show, he wouldn't have sat through the whole thing, surely? So he couldn't have hated it. Maybe just some of the themes made him uncomfortable? Something about it had upset him, clearly.

"Levi, are you all right?" you asked in concern as you followed him inside your room, shutting the door behind you.

"I'm fine," he snapped back, as if it should be obvious. The gruff edge to his voice suggested otherwise.

That was a blatant lie. His attitude was a clear indicator that everything wasn't fine, and yet, he was trying to bottle up whatever was bothering him. He did that a lot, from what you could tell--put up a front, pretended nothing fazed him, hid when something was bothering him, buried his emotions and kept them from rising to the surface. Something about the show downstairs had really bothered him. You didn't know what, and you didn't think he would tell you, but you doubted keeping it buried was going to help.

Who knew what else he was trying to shove into hiding, what else he was suppressing.

And that front of his--how many times had he said he was fine, it was nothing, when whatever it was, was clearly something. You'd seen him starving, roughed up, attacked, and even caught flashes of emotional distress on his face every now and then. You knew his life wasn't an easy one, and that it was actually pretty scary. You knew, so why did he feel like he had to put up this front that everything was fine and nothing could faze him when he was with you? Did he feel like it was protecting you in some way?

You didn't want him putting up that front around you--didn't want him to feel like he needed to.

But how could you tell him, how could you /show/ him he didn't have to put up that act with you, in a way that would make him listen and understand?

*Levi’s POV*

Still sulking from all of the thoughts and emotions that damn show had stirred up inside him while he was watching, Levi didn’t initially notice when she was approaching him. Normally he would berate himself for letting his guard down, even around her, but he was caught off guard when instead of hearing any kind of vocal answer to his fuming, he simply felt her hand rest gently on his shoulder.

His attention pulled from the dark places his mind kept trying to lead him, Levi turned to look at her, a question on his eyes and about to fall from his lips when he suddenly realized how close she was, directly in front of him and moving closer. Instinctively, Levi took a few steps back before his legs hit the edge of the bed and he stopped, glancing behind him to confirm that’s what he’d hit. When he looked back at Y/N, she hadn’t stopped moving closer to him, and he found himself leaning back until he was sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands moving to his shoulders.

His heart was pounding in his chest, face showing clear confusion at the concentrated look that she was displaying despite her odd actions. Her hands started to move methodically over his arms and was coming towards his chest, and he had to speak up. “What are you--”

“I want to show you something...but...you’re gonna have to trust me and let me do it, okay?” she said, a suspicious blush coloring her cheeks. What was she trying to show him? It wasn’t anything untoward, was it? His mental image of her was a bit too innocent for that to be a feasible thing for her to be doing right now in his mind. Besides, if it was that, he was pretty sure she would have already--

Her slowly moving touch suddenly stopped in one of the places Levi kept a knife hidden up his sleeve, and her hand dropped to slide under his sleeve and wiggle the knife out of its hidden holster.

“Hey, leave that alone--” he started to say sharply, the thought of her and knives not mixing well in his mind, or the thought of her disarming him.

Her other hand came to rest on his chest to calm him down, pausing in taking the knife away but not releasing her grip on it. “It’s all right. Just trust me and let me do this, okay?” she reassured him again in that same soft tone of voice.

But why take the knife? What did she want it for?

As he reluctantly allowed her to take the knife from him, he watched as she dropped it over the side of the bed, out of either of their reach. He gave her a disapproving look, still not sure what she was going for here as her hands resumed the wander they’d been doing before she’d found that hidden knife.

“It’s fine--it’ll be right back where it belongs when you go back, anyway, right?” she said pointedly. He never should have mentioned that detail of what happened when he blipped back to his world if this kind of mischievousness was going to be the result. “Just trust me.”

There it was again--her soft spoken plea that he trust her, like she was trying to coax a frightened cat out of a corner she couldn’t fit in or reach it from. Why? What was her sudden fascination with…

She found the more obvious knife at his waist and undid it as well, doing the same with that knife as she had with the first, putting it out of reach. A tightness seemed to be welling up in his chest, and he couldn’t quite figure out why yet. He felt...vulnerable and exposed. And that could be a death sentence in the Underground. Maybe that was it.

Her hands continued to wander lower, passing his waist and starting a gentle and slow search down his legs. The pounding in his heart became much louder and intense as he finally realized at least what her more immediate intentions were. He still didn’t understand why, but he knew she was trying to disarm him, to get rid of the weapons he was keeping hidden on his person.

It was terrifying, being so suddenly faced with the prospect of being without a weapon. Ever since meeting Kenny, he had never been without a weapon, had never been willingly disarmed. The thought was panic inducing, and as she reached for the last hidden weapon he had on him at the moment, his hand suddenly shot out to stop her, closing tightly around her wrist and holding her arm firmly where it was, refusing her movement a millimeter further.

He had to lean forward to do it, and when she looked up to see why he’d stopped her, her face was close enough to his he could feel her warm breaths against his cheek. No doubt she was close enough to feel his shallower breaths, as if the for-once wide-eyed look he gave her, the look in his eyes and the slight tremble in his grip wasn’t enough of a sign for what this made him feel at the moment. It was the hardest he’d ever held onto her...well, consciously.

*Reader’s POV*

What Levi wasn’t aware of was the fact that the look in his eyes and the way he was holding onto you so tightly reminded you of the day the two of you were preteens in the middle of that forest. Well, it wasn’t nearly as tight of a grip as it had been that day, considering he wasn’t drawing blood. It was more a shadow of the grip that day, but it was still strong enough to remind you of it.

You covered his hand with the one he wasn’t currently keeping from removing his last hidden weapon, giving his hand a small squeeze to try and give him some reassurance.

“It’s all right. Trust me, you’re safe,” you said softly, staying calm and patient, waiting for him to show that he would let you before you continued any further. “You’re okay.”

What you were trying to do, you weren’t trying to be mean, or to force him into anything. It wasn’t about that. What you were trying to do was about trust and safety, about vulnerability. You wanted him to feel and know that he could trust you, really trust you, enough that he could let his guard down when he was around you. You wanted him to know it was okay to be vulnerable, unarmed in all senses of the word when he was around you. He didn’t have to constantly be on guard against people that were out to get him when he was with you. He was safe when he was here with you, and you wanted him to know that, that he wouldn’t be made to regret it whenever he let his guard down around you.

Your mind could have very easily gone to other things with how close you two were, the heat and the feel of him underneath you, but you were too focused on helping him feel safe with you that it didn’t even occur to you, not at the current moment.

A few moments of tension passed between the two of you where you both held your positions, before you carefully and slowly attempted to move your hand closer to the place you’d found this last knife, somewhere around his ankle, probably tucked into his boot. His grip tightened on your wrist again, and you paused, still holding eye contact with him.

“It’s okay,” you told him softly, the thumb of your other hand, the one resting atop his, gently brushing along the back of his hand. “Just let me do this. Trust me, okay?” you murmured softly to him.

This one you weren’t going to drop over the edge. It was the last one, and with how tightly he was clinging to it, you knew better than to rip it from him. You were going to have to be slow and mindful with this one.

Levi hesitated, and you felt the grip on your wrist relax marginally. Encouraged, you carefully pressed a little further, hearing his breathing growing shallow, signifying just how scared this was actually making him. If his hand wasn’t gripping so tightly to yours, it would probably be shaking.

Carefully, you reached for the last knife, pulling it slowly out of its holster, but making sure it was in constant contact with him, even if it was slight. Up along his leg before you angled it so that it was resting against his wrist. Levi’s eyes started to cloud with confusion again, which meant he was a little less resistant to what you were doing, hesitantly following your lead as he tried to figure out what you were doing, what this was all for.

As gently as you could, you pressed the handle into his palm, his fingers instinctively tightening around it instead of your wrist as you pushed him back onto the bed. Despite his confusion, his cheeks were tinged the slightest shade of pink, which caused you to blush in turn as you realized what he must be thinking given their current position. Trying to push those thoughts out of your mind again, you covered his hand with your own, the one holding that knife still, so his palm was on one side of the handle, yours was on the other.

You let him sit like that for a few moments, murmuring out the occasional it’s okay, you’re safe, you’re all right, your other hand resting carefully on his other shoulder. He was watching your every move, listening intently to the words you were saying even though it was the same thing over and over, your voice soft and gentle, meant to be soothing and reassuring.

After a few moments when he started to relax again, his grip slackening slightly on the last knife, you started to carefully loosen his fingers from around the knife. He tensed slightly as you started to try and take it again, holding his gaze and picking up with the soothing words again, the same mantra, the same tone. You stayed patient, stopping when the panic started to show in his wide eyes, continuing when he seemed more hesitant and more likely to give way to what you were trying to do. He never entirely relaxed, but his grip was slowly slackening on the last knife, until at long last you were able to slowly pry it out of his hand, pushing it slightly off to the side.

You could see his fingers twitch, or maybe they were shaking and it was just hard to tell when the back of his hand was lying against the bed. He wanted to grab at the knife, you could tell as much. That was why it was right there and you hadn’t pushed it out of the way yet. At the same time, you made sure your arm was in constant contact with his now empty hand, giving him a continual physical touch with you besides the obvious, giving him something to hold to besides the knife.

Slowly, you let your fingertips push the knife further and further away, inch by painful inch, until the knife fell over the edge with a soft thwump onto the carpet that made Levi flinch slightly beneath you. With Levi finally disarmed in the physical sense of the word, you let him simply...sit there and adjust to the feeling, still holding his gaze, your hand retreating to hold his now that the knife had fallen over the edge and was out of reach with the others. His eyes were wide and unsure, and he squirmed uncomfortably underneath you, but neither of you spoke. The silence stretched on and on between the two of you, and you simply...waited.

*Levi’s POV*

For the first time in a long time, he felt completely and utterly exposed. There was nothing to protect himself if something went wrong, no weapon within reach. His heart was pounding in his chest and he felt jumpy, the strongest desire crashing over him to leap up and grab the blades down below just so he could hold them and have that reassurance that they were there if he needed them.

Now that she’d stripped him of his weapons, he expected Y/N to say something, anything, just something that would give him some idea of what she was hoping to achieve. Instead, she just gazed down at him, watching him closely with a softness in her gaze, her hand slowly twining into his and holding tightly to his trembling fingers, giving him something to hold to in place of the knife she’d stripped from him.

But why? Why do all this? Why strip him of his only means of defense if something went wrong?

The longer he stared up at her and tried to figure out what was going on, the less he thought about the knives on the floor, and the more he focused on her instead. Slowly, he started to relax beneath her, his breathing evening out and his hand tightening slightly around hers, a small comfort in place of not having his knives. The irrational fear of something terrible happening the moment he didn’t have his knives on him started to trickle away the longer they simply...sat there. The silence wasn’t a fearful and unknowable abyss, but grew gradually comfortable, nothing terrible happening, no sudden explosion or door being kicked inward with bad guys appearing from the shadows. Nothing bad happened when she disarmed him, just like she’d promised. It had been a silly little fear of his, but having them on him made him feel safe and reassured, like a safety net. Now that she had stripped him of those safety nets, all he had to hold onto, was…

As he reached a middle ground where his breathing evened out and he was partially relaxed despite the instincts drilled into him by Kenny keeping part of him tense and on edge wanting to grab a weapon, she suddenly smiled at him. It was warm, and for some reason proud and reassuring, like he’d done something grand and awe inspiring, even though all he’d done was lay there and let her take away his weapons.

“See?” she said quietly, her arms shifting to his sides. He still wasn’t sure about this proximity thing, but he’d been doing what she asked and trusting her with whatever this was, following her lead. “It’s alright...you’re alright. It’s okay to be vulnerable sometimes.”

She spoke in the softest murmur, and while Levi’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, she wrapped her arms carefully around him and leaned down to pillow her head on his chest in a hug as tender as her movements and voice had been during this entire experiment.

“It’s okay...it’s alright...trust me…”

There was the mantra again. She was still saying it, even though she’d already stripped the knives away. Why, though, if she’d already taken care of the knives? Did she know part of him still wanted to reach out and grab them to hold onto again?

But the more he heard her say it, especially now, in this position while he felt so exposed and vulnerable, with the silence all around them and after the fresh assault of emotions that damn show had brought on…

Something was bubbling up inside him, something strong and alarming, something new that scared him. Maybe it wasn’t new, but rather something that had been buried for so long and something he hadn’t felt so strongly since that he almost didn’t recognize it.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t something he wanted to feel, it wasn’t something he wanted to confront when he wasn’t alone. He attempted to get a hold of himself again, to shove the surfacing emotions back down and far away from the surface, bury them all over again where they couldn’t emerge when he wasn’t ready for them.

The arms around his chest tightened, Y/N’s face buried a little deeper into his chest as she said it again.

“It’s okay. You’re all right. Trust me.”

Levi’s eyes widened, lips parting slightly as he finally realized this had nothing to do with the knives. Not really. The knives were merely a front. This was about something intangible and far scarier.

This was about letting her in. Letting her see him unfiltered and without his guard up. About trusting her enough that he let her see him when he was vulnerable.

Levi’s breath caught, and he immediately resisted the terrifying thought, trying to retreat rapidly on an emotional front, body tensing like he was about to push her off him and try to leave by choice for once.

As he tensed, her grip on him shifted once again, her face fully buried in his chest. Maybe it was the way he had tensed in her embrace, or maybe it was the way she was holding him just so, but his mind flashed to the tenderness she’d shown him in the past. That first hug she’d given him after Kenny left, how warm and comforting it had been, and even though he’d resisted it at first because it wasn’t something he was used to, after he trusted her and let her hug him, it helped him feel...a little more secure, and a little more safe, despite what had just happened.

Even further back, when they’d first met...he’d been starving, filthy, near death--considering Kenny hadn’t even been sure Levi was alive when he first saw him, he was certain he’d looked like he was already a corpse. He’d been ready to give up and die when he appeared in her world for the first time. And yet, never once did she make fun of or ever bring up his past vulnerability, his past weakness. She’d never ridiculed it, never drug it up at moments when she could have to make a point. She’d simply wrapped him in warmth and care and helped him feel better in so many different ways. She’d helped him feel safe and cared for in his darkest moments, made him feel clean and worthwhile.

And that day. She’d held him without a word of complaint about the pain of his grip, even when he drew blood. He’d glimpsed the healing marks later, and had been consumed by guilt that he’d hurt her, but she’d never said a word about it or shown any sign that she held it against him. After what happened, she didn’t shun him or point out his weakness, or think less of him for finding himself unable to fight back--she’d stayed with him despite her own fear, and she’d given him the strength and resolve to fight back.

She had already seen him at his worst, and never once had she thought less of him for it. Never had she brought up these moments of weakness that he’d show, not during times when he was helpless, not to point out the chinks in his armor, not even when they were having more serious or personal moments. Even now, she wasn’t telling him to be vulnerable with her because he had been vulnerable around her in the past in situations out of his control. Now, she was asking him to choose to be vulnerable around her.

She was asking him to choose to let her in, to choose to trust her that much to feel safe around her. Safe enough he didn’t need to be armed, didn’t need to be guarded. She wanted him to know he could feel that way around her without having to worry about some kind of consequence for being vulnerable. This wasn’t the Underground. Letting down his guard around her wasn’t going to result in death or some kind of emotional scarring.

He already knew from experience that she wouldn’t make him regret it, that she wouldn't betray his trust if he chose to give it to her, because after all this time, she hadn’t betrayed the vulnerability she’d already seen from him on numerous occasions.

This was still very different, though--choosing to let her see things that he usually tried to keep hidden from her, letting her in behind his guard because he wanted to, not because of circumstance. Did he really want to? Normally he kept people at a distance because he didn’t want to lose anyone else. And arguably, she was the one with the highest risk of being lost to him, considering they didn’t know how this worked, or if it would some day stop.

But that didn’t mean these moments meant nothing.

That was the one lesson he’d been learning the hard way, a lesson that was making him cling all the harder to her.

As all of this went through his mind, Levi’s gaze remained fixed upwards on the ceiling, lips parted slightly like he was about to speak, one arm lying forgotten on the bed while the other was twined with hers, her other arm hugging him tightly to her, his eyes half lidded and her head buried in his chest. Slowly, as he came to terms with the reality of his vulnerability, and how much of it she had already seen, Levi finally started to relax, even if it was gradually. That stoic, guarded expression started to soften and crumble, and as he relaxed, Y/N finally peeked up at him, catching a glimpse of his face as those emotions started to bubble up unrestrained. Their eyes met for a few heartbeats, and the look in her eyes shifted as she saw he was about to tip over some kind of edge. She moved up, wrapping both arms around him and pulling him to her in a protective kind of embrace, his head cradled gently into her chest as if she was shielding him from the eyes of the world. He was caught off guard by the sudden shift for a few seconds, before he recognized the protective and shielding position she’d put herself in.

His arms tentatively wrapped around her in turn, and he let his head lean into her as she had done to him so many times before. For the first time in so long, he felt truly and thoroughly safe and protected in her arms, like nothing could touch him so long as he was here in this very spot.

He hadn’t felt this way since his mother died.

His breath hitched, eyes squeezed shut as he started to suck in shuddering breaths, his shoulders trembling against her as arms tightened their grip from the unsure and tentative hug of a few moments ago to something growing in strength. His hands clutched at the shirt on her back, and that pressure in his chest and pain in his throat returned as he still held back the unbridled emotion that was rising rapidly inside him.

It was all a jumbled mess, honestly. He’d been suppressing what he felt for the sake of survival so long, he couldn’t even distinguish one emotion from the other, or where the emotions originated. He just knew they roiled inside him like an unhindered storm--anger and the pain of loss, abandonment, fear and agony, trauma and desperation, feelings of injustice and a slowly jaded view of the world, a sense of betrayal, worthlessness, not being good enough, powerlessness, a loss of innocence. It was all coming up at once, and even though he didn’t think he was ready to cry in front of her, he was allowing himself to start to feel it, and to let her get a peek of what he was keeping bottled deep inside. Even if it was in the shelter of her arms and couldn’t see his face, she could still feel him shuddering violently in her arms, could hear him sucking in unsteady breaths that gave away how he was at the brink of a harsh cry but wouldn’t let himself fall over the edge.

No, he didn’t dip over the edge. The dam didn’t break, not yet, he wasn’t ready for that yet. But he did allow himself to be disarmed, to be held, to show her the cracks in the armor he’d tried to hide before to give her a sense of an unshaking presence at her side.

But he’d been mistaken. She’d never asked for some kind of guardian, or a knight in shining armor. She’d just wanted him, as he was, cracks and all.

He would trust her more. He would let her see more of this side of himself. Especially because he knew now that it was safe to do so, and that she wouldn’t make him regret it. Whatever he showed her, would stay between the two of them. And it would help him get some of this crushing weight off of his chest.

Eventually. Right now, he just let himself feel and be held, shielded from the world--both of their worlds--by her embrace.

(Two Weeks Later)

“I’m bored.”

Levi turned slightly to look at Y/N, his back against the end of her bed with his legs stretched out in front of him. She was lying upside down on her bed, her head dangling over the edge a few inches from his shoulder while he flipped through a booklet she had given him because she wanted to know what he thought about her plans to go to some science college after she finished high school to continue her education.

“You’re the one with all the great ideas. Come up with something,” he said flatly.

Why was he even looking at this? It made no sense to him--his world wasn’t this advanced, and most of the stuff in her world, he just had to roll with it and accept that’s what it was and try not to think too hard about the details, because they would be lost on him. Like that rounded box thing that played music through her room while they were together, filling their companionable silence with something to listen to at least.

He preferred it more when she was playing the piano, but at least he was hearing more music from her world he could try to request she play. Or that he learn how to play, if he liked it enough.

Levi lightly smacked her in the face with the now-closed booklet. “If you want to do it, do it. Don’t let someone else decide.”

She sighed, taking the booklet from him. “It’s going to be really intense. I’m not sure if I’m cut out for it,” she muttered, flipping through the pages halfheartedly. “Mom says I could probably get into one of the really good schools if I tried hard enough. Something like MIT--which means nothing to you, yeah, sorry, I forget,” she grumbled, flipping around on the bed so she was sitting up properly and the blood wasn’t rushing to her head anymore.

Outside, a loud rumble and crack rent the air, and Levi jumped, head whipping around and looking for the danger as a curse left him. Y/N gasped, but it wasn’t the scared kind of gasp--it was excited.

“It’s raining?” she asked excitedly, dropping the booklet and hurrying over to the window so she could pull back the curtain. It was dark outside, but there was water on the window and pattering against it, a sound that became more audible when she turned down the music. “Levi, have you seen rain before?”

“What do you think?” he grumbled, getting to his feet as he sensed the energy coming off her in waves. That feeling usually came before she dragged him somewhere to try something new.

“I know what we’re going to do,” she said excitedly, grabbing his arm and racing down the stairs.

“What was that sound?”

“Thunder--don’t worry, thunder doesn’t do anything but sound scary. It’s the lightning you have to worry about, but even then, the odds of being struck by lightning is like, a million to one a year. Come on this is gonna be fun!”

He wasn’t sure after that comment about being struck by lightning, but it wasn’t like she was going to give him much of an option. Without any hesitation, she threw open the front door and drug him outside, the screen door slamming behind them as they stepped off the shelter of the porch and were almost immediately bombarded with a torrent of rain falling from the sky. It was quickly cutting through his clothes and soaking them to the point they were going to hang off his frame, the same as Y/N, but she hardly seemed to care, delving deeper into the weather, straight into the street after letting go of his arm.

Her arms were flung wide, head angled up and eyes closed against the rain that showered down on her with a wild laugh, doing a slow turn. The water was cool, but the weather itself was warm enough that it wasn’t chilling--not yet, anyway.

Attempting to see what she saw when all he could focus on was how drenched he was getting and how much water was everywhere, Levi looked up at the night sky, squinting his eyes against the rain falling down on his face. Looking up, he couldn’t see the stars--just darkness, and in its place were the raindrops, falling so rapidly from above that it looked like water was appearing from the nothingness above them to shower upon the earth, falling like stars in what seemed like slow motion, flashing in and out of view as it fell past the beams of light from the streetlamps and the light of homes.

He had to turn his head back down and brush the water off his face, pushing wet strands of hair out of the way as well as he looked over at Y/N, who had put her arms over her head and was doing a twirl, water flying off her jacket and splashing up in the air from the street where her feet spun her, hair flying around her face with her momentum and throwing more water around her as she giggled, not a care in the world.

Her eyes caught his, the brightest grin on her face as she reached out for his hand again.

“Dance with me!” she insisted, pulling him surprisingly close as water splashed into the air from their footsteps, the hand linked with his held up to the side while the other reached for his shoulder.

His mind blanked for a moment, a thousand questions and reasons not to, including that he didn’t know how, flashing through his mind. What he came up with was a simple, “There’s no music.”

She just laughed. “Like we need it,” she said as if it was obvious, her hand pulling him along in a purely improvised dance that had no real direction, no music. The rain didn’t feel so cold anymore--if anything, it felt cooling, refreshing, soothing against his skin, even if he occasionally had to blink it away. For the most part they simply twirled in aimless circles. Occasionally she would lift his arm and spin under it, flashing him another wide grin along the way to show how much she was enjoying this impulsive escapade. Other times she would lean into him, looking up at the rain falling from the sky in wonder, as if she hadn’t seen it a million times before, her eyes dreamy and far away.

“They’re like stars falling to the earth when it’s dark, don’t you think?” she asked, stretching out with the hand that had been on his shoulder to let some of the droplets fall onto her palm. “It’s like being in a whole ‘nother world for a few seconds.”

Levi wasn’t looking at the rain anymore--he was looking at her, at the shine in her eyes, the glisten of the rain curling down her skin, clothes soaked all the way through like his, hair sticking in random curls along the edges of her face. She was...gorgeous. Brighter than any star he’d find staring up at the sky.

And she was freezing. She might not notice yet, but she was trembling in his arms, the slightest hint of blue coloring her lips. As beautiful and awe inspiring as it was for her, it was time to head inside.

Levi tugged at her arm. “Time to go inside--you’re freezing,” he told her, pulling her closer to the house and closer to him in turn, an arm around her shoulders while her hand clung to the soaked fabric of his sleeve, both of them hurrying towards the door.

For a split second, a light flashed through the sky, spider-webbing across the darkness like a fracture in glass in brilliant white and blue light, and a crack of thunder made Y/N squeal in exhilaration and run faster up to the house.

The door slammed shut behind them once more, both of them now feeling the chill of their soaked clothes now that they were out of the rain, Levi taking in how quickly the carpet was turning colors while they dripped all over the place. After he grumbled something unintelligible about water everywhere, Y/N simply laughed, ruffling his sopping wet hair without warning and darting away before he could grab her.

“It’ll dry--come on, dry clothes and towels in the bathroom for you!” she promised, hurrying up the stairs and leaving a trail of wet carpet along the way as she disappeared.

For a moment, Levi smiled to himself in the quiet to see her so happy, even with the brief water mess.

Next Chapter---->

(Strikethroughs Couldn’t Be Tagged)

Levi Tags: @clary-quinn @humanitys-hottestsoldier @whalerus @sunny-flo @thirstyforsometea

Through The Looking Glass Tags: @artist-bby @kaz2y5-pie @tartheyes @super-peace-fangirl @huntersbunker @nefelimalfoy @soft-levi-girl-blog @honeygivemeachainsaw @regalillegal @sugas-daddy7 @cathyannecookie @chaoticshepardplaid @roayaloveslife @sanrioclit @wvnderfvllyalvne @sparkling-gayyyy @do-not-feed-sugar

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ailec-12 · 3 years

Note

Ahhhhhhh congrats to reaching 100!!! It‘s super deserved! Could I request something for House Potter, please? Like, maybe something with Sev and Sirius along the lines of hurt/comfort? But no pressure, if that is too much or would be too fast-forward into the story! :) thanks!!

Thank you so much, Anon, you're so sweet! I'm sorry you've had to wait so long to see this prompt done —I hope you'll actually see it!—, especially since it was the first one I started to write back in October. I just got a little stuck with it halfway through, but I loved it and hope you'll enjoy it, too.

I decided to take today off to rest and, though I know I probably shouldn't have, I couldn't help sitting down and finally finishing this prompt. I don't have the energy to edit it, but I wanted to post it anyway.

So, this is set in the future, but let's imagine Sev and Sirius have made no progress whatsoever in the meantime. Also, the Potters have either moved out or gone on holiday.

Also on AO3.

No Harm Done

He told himself, as he took James’s broom without breathing a word of it to anyone, that it was okay. James did let him have it, so it was none of Sirius’s business what Severus did with it. A voice in his head begged to differ, but he ignored it and ploughed on.

He was nervous and excited, although, in all honesty, it was hard to distinguish one feeling from the other. After all, the clench in his stomach and the tingling in his fingers seemed to fit well together. It was the first time he would be flying alone and his mouth had become completely dry long before he had sneaked out the broom. Still, he had no doubts about wanting to carry on with his plan and Sirius, who had come to watch over them and was currently sleeping on the sofa with Harry, did not ever need to know.

The day was clear, if a little windy. Severus mounted and kicked the ground once, firmly. The broom took off at once and he gripped the handle tightly before relaxing his grip ever so slightly.

Flying felt great, exhilarating. Any fears he may have harboured stayed well below him.

He was not confident enough yet to try some of the stunts that James performed as easily as breathing. However, he enjoying riding higher than any of the adults would likely have allowed as well as going round and round in progressively smaller circles. He was enjoying himself so much that, when he started to descend, he miscalculated the higher speed he had achieved. When he saw the ground come closer far too fast, he pulled up the handle abruptly and the broom responded with a sharp jump. Startled, Severus saw his own fall in slow motion: the way his hands failed to regain hold of the wood, how his body flew a bit higher than the broom and how the ground greeting him face first. The world around him went deadly silent.

The impact left no air in his lungs. He tried to take a breath and succeeded after a few desperate attempts. The pain came afterwards. Gingerly, he sat up to examine the damage. Although the grass had surely softened his fall, one of his arms hurt from the wrist to the elbow. His jumper was covered with green stains, as were his jeans. Luckily, he had not ripped anything off, but his knees hurt when he stood up.

All these thoughts were forgotten once he spotted the broom. James’s racing broom, the once he had used for matches at Hogwarts. Severus’s blood ran cold. If he had broken the damn thing…

His hands were shaking uncontrollably when he took it, but his heart began to beat again as he observed no major damage. There were some sticks that stuck out of place and a few scratches on the handle that would not look amiss in a well-worn broom —that is, if James did not keep his in prime condition. He was bound to notice, Severus knew, fearing the moment. He might be lucky enough that James may just think he forgot to fix it before putting it away the last time he rode it. Severus was aware that he was not half bad at lying and, although it left a bitter taste on his tongue sometimes, he was too much of a coward to take the blame if he could avoid it.

And yet, his thoughts were useless, for he never had the chance to do any of it. Halfway through the house, the back door slammed open and revealed Sirius, thus freezing Severus on the spot.

“Where the—” Sirius started to yell. Then, he saw Severus and strode in his direction. The boy gripped the broom, but did not move. “What the fuck, Snape? You were flying?”

His hands were trembling again as he offered the broom. He had been caught, so there was nothing to do but manage the damage.

“I didn’t break it, it’s fine,” he said mulishly, as if that could cover up the fact that he was unable to look up, instead keeping his eyes focused on Sirius’s tight fists.

“What the hell happened to you, though? Did you roll down a hill? Wait, did you fall while you were flying?” Sirius did not snatch the broom while berating him, as Severus had expected. “Fuck, you’re hurt.”

His tone became strangely flat when delivering the last sentence and the boy was unsure how he should interpret it. What could Sirius plan to do with that information?

“I’m fine,” he snapped, just in case.

Sirius’s fists relaxed a little.

“Really? So blood just comes out of your knee on occasion?”

His black eyes snapped down and he saw a darker stain than the ones from grass and dirt. His cheeks became warmer and he faced Sirius’s smirk, offering a scowl of his own.

“I’m fine. May I go to clean up?”

His heart was beating very fast. What if Sirius said ‘no’? Severus did not understand why that was so frightening. The most the man could do was not let him get out of his dirty clothes, maybe force him to stand in a corner all day until Lily and James got home past his bedtime. Sirius could not hurt him, they would not allow it —they had promised. And yet, Severus waited with bated breath for the answer.

“Let me check first. I don’t need anyone come down on me ‘cause I neglected you.”

For some reason, that did it. Severus dropped the broom and made a dash for the door that led inside the house. ‘Stupid,’ he would think a second later, when he realised he should have run in the opposite direction, even if the open field did not feel any safer when the other was a grown wizard with a wand.

Before he was aware of what was happening, there was something encircling his waist and trapping him.

“L– Let me go!” He could not help the way his voice sounded high pitched and scared. He did not want anyone to know he was scared.

He hit Sirius’s arm and tried to kick him, too. He struggled for a while and did not stop to see whether he was doing any real damage. He felt numb and detached and maybe fear was still there despite his best efforts.

“Ow, ow! Snape, stop! Bollocks, you twat, I was j– Okay, that��s it!”

And then, the ground under his feet disappeared. He may have let out a pathetic shrill until he got hold of himself, shut his eyes very tightly and kept still. His breathes were the only sound for a short second. Then, a likely livid Sirius carried him inside the house, stomping all the while. He took him to the living room and put him down in front of the couch. Nearby, Harry was playing with his moving animal toys.

“Sit down,” Sirius growled and Severus obeyed.

At the same time, Harry stumbled over them and demanded,

“Sev, play!”

The older boy only shook his head, leaving Sirius to explain just in how much trouble he was at the moment.

“Harry, I’ve got an important mission for you,” Sirius said, solemnly but still warmer than he ever addressed Severus. The toddler looked up. “You watch that Snape stays put till I come back, all right?”

Harry nodded, reciprocating the solemnity, and turning back around, repeated his request to play together. Severus refused in silence, letting his hair fall on his face and focusing on not letting fall the tears that had started to gather in his eyes.

He had mucked it up really badly that time. He had panicked and attacked an adult —a man that James considered his own brother. The world was a blur and his ragged breaths flooded his ears.

“Snape.”

An impatient voice broke his train of thought. Minutes could have passed, or perhaps hours. He looked up and saw a very irritated Sirius holding up a familiar blue bottle in one hand and his wand in another.

“Calmer now, aren’t you?” the man huffed. “Roll up your trouser leg, let me see what we’re dealing with.”

Severus shook his head vehemently. He did not understand what was going on, but his eyes were still fixed on the wand. His breathing was still making that horrible sound.

“Hurt?” pipped up Harry somewhere next to him.

“Yeah, mate, Snape’s hurt and too ruddy stubborn to let me help.”

Help? What did Sirius understand for help when it came down to a brat like him?

“No ‘Nape, Sev!” Harry corrected all of a sudden, drawing Severus’s attention to the pair.

There was a small chubby finger pointed at him and, when he looked at Sirius —his face, not his wand—, the man had a bemused expression.

“Right,” he said after a moment, turning his terrible grey eyes towards Severus. “Well, Sev, will you please roll up your trouser leg so I can heal your knee?”

Sirius dragged the short nickname with all the smugness he was able to muster and the boy found he did not like it any better than hearing his surname.

“I’m fine,” he tried once again, but his voice sounded small and frightened as his anger failed to rise.

Sirius let out a weary sigh and handed him the blue bottle. After looking between the children, he decided to put his wand between his teeth. Then, with no hurry, he proceeded to pull up Severus’s damaged trousers himself.

The bottle trembled in his grasp. The boy bit his lip and tightened his fingers around it. Staying still was his only task now.

Sirius was excruciatingly slow until he finally revealed the cut on his knee. It had stopped bleeding and clearly did not merit so much care, but there was no comment on it or the mess it had made. In fact, for once, Sirius forwent his habitual cutting remarks and kept mostly quiet, only speaking to assure Harry that everything was okay.

Severus was pretty sure he stopped breathing when the wand came near him. Yet, he did not move. He felt something warm and, when he looked down, the cut had disappeared. A cold feeling ensued as Sirius washed the dry blood away with a cloth under Severus’s fascinated gaze. The bottle was taken from his hands as Sirius began to apply it on his knee, even though the bruise had not appeared yet.

Next, the man rolled up his other trouser leg.

“Does it hurt here, too?”

Severus was about to shake his head again, but Sirius was staring at him intently and the boy knew his lie would be caught.

“Just a little,” he mumbled, looking back down.

Some balm was applied on that area as well without another word. Severus pondered whether he could ask for some for his wrist and elbow, but Sirius proceeded to examine his arms himself. The boy could not help a sharp intake of breath when Sirius took hold of his wrist.

“This has swollen.”

“It’s not broken,” Severus hurried to assure.

Sirius frowned at him, although he did not look angry.

“No, it’s not, but let me…”

And he moved his wand in a different pattern until both the redness and swelling had faded away. Still, he applied some balm there and on his elbow. Severus had no idea whether he should be more surprised that Sirius was healing him or that he apparently knew where to look for injuries.

At long last, they were done and Sirius obliged Harry by sitting him on his lap. A dense silence settled between him and Severus, who tried to still his fingers by burying them in the hem of his jumper. Eventually, the boy was the one to break the quiet.

“The broom…” he started, peeking at the open door, in the direction where the magical object remained lying on the grass.

“Accio Prongs’s broom.”

Harry was very excited to see his father’s broom flying towards them and Sirius let him grab the end of the handle while he examined it. Severus could not relax completely, but at least the man’s face was not giving him any more reason to panic.

“We’ve all fallen on our arses while riding; more than once, actually,” Sirius remarked, almost offhandedly. Then, he looked up, straight into Severus’s black eyes. “There’s no harm done, so I suppose no one needs to know… as long as you’re careful next time and let someone know before flying off.”

The unexpected reprieve from Sirius of all people took a moment to register in Severus’s brain. He hurried to wipe the shock off his face and nodded with all his might.

“I will, I swear!”

The man looked at him for a bit longer, until he turned to his godson with a big smirk.

“Harry, you up for beating Severus at Exploding Snap?”

#Harry Potter fanfiction #Severus Snape #Sirius Black #House Potter for Children in Need #A Hotchpotch of Feelings #HP #My fics #Prompt #100 Followers Celebration #*#I could swear I wrote Severus had bitten Sirius!#I think it's hilarious I've spent months thinking that happened but then I reread the thing and that image was nowhere to be found #It happened tho #Sev just didn't register he had bitten Sirius #Ask Ail #anonymous

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scullydubois · 4 years

Text

Only the Light Ch. 13

As Scully copes with her diagnosis, Mulder joins her for the Scully family Christmas dinner. Plus, Melissa's girlfriend meets the family.

TW for disordered eating, cigarette smoking, references to abduction/medical rape.

-------------

Self destruction is a natural impulse for Dana Scully, though she’ll try to deny it. Take one unexplained abduction, add a dash of premature menopause, and sift out time spent proving Mulder wrong, and you’ll get a struggling Scully.

She can tell she’s entering a bad mental state when food becomes a suggestion rather than a necessity. Every bite is either earned according to whatever trivial rules she’s set for herself in that particular moment, or is not deserved and therefore not eaten. It’s a game where she’s the coach, player, and referee, yet she still loses every time. Nourishment is both prize and punishment, feeding her hunger but vacating her control.

This habit started when she was a teenager and wracked with feelings her petite frame couldn’t contain. It felt much safer than the route her siblings had taken of sneaking out in the middle of the night or using fake IDs to buy alcohol or skipping church on the regular. As far as fifteen-year-old her was concerned, she wasn’t bothering anyone by foregoing some meals. Her mother disagreed and called her out every time, humiliating her into her second coping mechanism, smoking.

There were the times when Scully was really young and enticed by her sister’s cigarettes, but that was simple preteen rebellion. What developed when Dana was seventeen was something different entirely. A survival mechanism with poison inside, snuffing herself out while keeping her alive and sane. She would walk to the gas station and buy packs of Marlboros with coins from her piggy bank. The laws were lax in the 80s, the prices too. She would blow rings of smoke while walking home, then hide the pack in her bra and swish some mouthwash. She’d repeat the process to and from school, steadily acquiring a nasty nicotine habit. It continued until the summer before college, when she made herself go cold turkey so as not to take the habit with her. As far as she knows, neither her parents nor any of her siblings ever knew about it.

It resurfaces in times of stress, though normally for no more than a single pack. Lately she’s accustomed to keeping a pack and a lighter with her at all times. Her building is smoke free so she steps outside, but her car is off limits because she doesn’t want the smell to cling to her. It is a hassle, but then again, so are most things.

Missy knows about the poor eating habits--those are hard to hide from someone who shares the same space as you. Nevermind the fact that the scale shows six less pounds than before, and that adds up when the number’s not that large to begin with. Scully’s edges protrude now...that can’t be hidden.

Missy never says a word. She remembers Dana complaining about their mother’s condescending comments about her weight, and she knows the damage that does to a young psyche. Instead, she offers. Healthy meals, guilty pleasure meals, all her sister’s favorites. She cooks more than she ever has before, well aware that her sister will struggle to refuse her.

“I recognize what you’re doing,” Missy told her sister when she tried to turn away a caesar salad, of all things. “I’ve been known to do that too,” Missy admitted. “Eat. You’re hungry, you just think not eating will give you some form of control over your body, or your life...but wasting yourself away is letting the bastards win.”

And so she did, that time at least. Scully has enough shame regarding her habit to push it aside whenever confronted---that’s how she insists to herself that it’s not an eating disorder. She can stop on command. That makes it okay, right?

Getting back into the office helped her a lot---you can’t starve yourself and function as an FBI agent. Besides, she would dissolve into thin air if Mulder figured out what she was doing. He was the one who batted around the idea of Scully helping prep each case and supervising any tests he might need the crime lab to do while he’s in the field. He understood that in lieu of therapy, she needed something to take her out of her own mind.

It was as much for him as it was her; at this point, it’s almost incomprehensible to him that the X-Files had existed before her. Of course he was the laughingstock of the FBI! He had huddled in the basement by himself with UFOs and blurry Bigfoot sightings pinned on the wall like a shrine to his own delusion.

Her fall from grace was his absolution. He’ll make an angel of her, somehow. Even if it means he has to meet the devil.

Scully has no interest in becoming an angel, though she’d sure like to avoid hell, and that hasn’t worked out too well. Locker room jokes are one thing. Underestimation another. But assault? Rape? Trauma and torture because she is who she is doing what she does? She is not a quitter, and that is killing her.

Her barrenness haunts her because it was bestowed upon her as punishment, an implication that she only has worth as a walking womb. She wants to be seen as a person, not a pawn.

The arrival of the holiday season is another weight on her shoulders. It used to be Scully’s favorite time of year; now the sight of carolers makes her want to poke her eyes out. It’s the first Christmas without her father, and that is simply unimaginable. Her and Missy spent a quiet Thanksgiving with their mother---small portions and whispered thanks--in preparation for an elaborate family Christmas. Bill Jr. and Tara are flying in from California for the annual Christmas dinner and midnight mass. They will all try to move forward, pretend it’s just like any other year, but it’s not and it never will be again. Happy Christmases are over for the Scully family.

And yet, they will try to enjoy the moment. Missy told her mom that she’s bringing a friend, which is completely true. Trinity is her closest friend that she doesn’t share blood with. That said, she plans to use the occasion to introduce Trinity as her girlfriend, come what may.

Then there was the suggestion that their mother made, which caught her youngest daughter completely off guard. “Why don’t you bring Fox?” Margaret Scully proposed demurely during their weekly phone call. “I’m making a zoo’s worth of food, I could use another mouth to feed. I hate to see any of it go to waste.”

“Mulder’s spending Christmas with his family, I’m sure,” Scully had replied. “But I’ll pass along the offer.”

That was how Scully learned that Mulder’s family isn’t much for celebration, that he usually spends the holiday flipping between It’s A Wonderful Life and the 24 hour marathon of A Christmas Story, and that he has a particular fascination with the idea of midnight mass.

“I just don’t get it,” Mulder mused. “You believe that a jolly old man with flying reindeer leaves presents in your house, but you think he waits until after you’ve gotten home from celebrating Baby Jesus’ birthday? Didn’t you ever look for his sleigh in the sky on the drive home?”

“No, Mulder,” Scully sighed. “I just believed that he knew when we were tucked in bed. Santa’s all-seeing, you know,” she teased.

Mulder chuckled. “Kind of presumptuous to assume he functions on your schedule, huh?”

Ultimately, Mulder said yes. He figured attending the Catholic equivalent of Jesus’ birthday party would be another check off his supernatural bucket list, though he did not say this part out loud for fear of Dana Scully’s wrath. Besides, what else was he gonna do on Christmas Eve? Shake the shoebox of junk he stuck under his mini-basketball hoop so he felt like he was getting a gift?

And so the fateful day arrives. Mulder flips his Garfield page-a-day calendar to December 24th, chuckles at the comic strip of the orange cat eating all his owner’s Christmas cookies, and makes his way to his partner’s increasingly familiar doorstep. The sun has already slipped behind the trees by the time he arrives. It gives up easily in the winter.

He rings the bell and hears Scully’s dainty footsteps on the other side. She’s snuck up on him enough times for him to have developed a keen sense of her light footing--no more jump scares for him.

“Hey Scully,” he stammers as she opens the door. She had told him to look “festive,” so he donned his nicest green sweater (a gift from his mom from J. Crew...he had never worn it) and slacks. Scully rounds out their show of holiday spirit with a velvet red blouse and black trousers.

“You look lovely,” Mulder says reflexively, unsure when he started using such a word. Scully pulls at her shirt, obscuring the bit of cleavage that has revealed itself. “Thanks Mulder,” she mutters, ushering him inside.

He holds up the shiny silver gift bag he hastily stuffed with tissue paper. “Some candy canes I picked up at the gas station. I figured the whole family could enjoy them.”

Scully nods, amused by his feeble attempt at gifting. “I’m sure they won’t go to waste.”

A fire crackles in the fireplace. It’s so hot in the apartment that Mulder is surprised it hasn’t melted the snow outside on the sidewalk.

“Where’s Melissa?” he asks, hoping they will hit the road sooner than later.

“She’s picking up her girlfriend from the airport. She couldn’t get an earlier flight.”

“Dulles?” He sure hopes not. It’s all the way across town.

“No, Reagan.”

Whew. Much closer.

“She should be back any minute now,” Scully continues. “Trinity’s flight got in at 3:30.”

Mulder rolls his sleeves up. “So your family doesn’t know about Trinity?”

Scully shakes her head.

“Do they know that Melissa’s…” He gestures, unsure which word to fill the space with.

“Bi? No.”

“So she shows up with Trinity, and then what?”

Scully shrugs. “She introduces her as her girlfriend. Mom already knows Missy is bringing a guest so she’ll have a plate for her.”

“You’re not worried about how the family’s gonna react?”

“Well, I’m sure Bill is gonna be a dick about it, but that’s normal. We only see him once a year, so it doesn’t really matter.”

“Bill’s your brother?”

“Uh-huh. And Tara is his wife. They got married about a year and a half ago.”

Even as he pushes into his thirties, it still surprises Mulder that anyone close to his age could be married. He doesn’t even sleep in a bed.

“You think your mom’s gonna be cool with Trinity?” he asks.

“I think she loves her daughter enough to be.”

“Mmm.” Mulder sticks his hands in his pockets. If only he had dilemmas like this. He imagines him and Samantha speculating about their mother’s reaction to Sam’s nose piercing or dyed hair or...anything really. He would give so much to have someone to laugh about his uncle’s sideburns with.

His emotional deep-dive is promptly cut off by the entrance of Melissa and a brunette woman whose bangs graze her eyebrows, her hair falling just below her shoulder. “Hi!” she chirps, taking in the magnificence of Dana Scully. “Dana, I presume?”

Scully nods.

“May I hug you?” Trinity asks, hazel eyes shining.

“Sure,” Scully says, feeling the brisk air against Trinity’s coat as she’s pulled in.

Scully lets go first, and Trinity takes that as a cue to pull away. “You look just like Mel, wow,” she remarks, fighting the urge to run her fingers through Scully’s hair.

Scully smiles softly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Oh, it is,” Trinity assures, exchanging a gooey gaze with Missy. Next, her attention falls upon Mulder, who does an awkward half-wave. “Hello!” She points between Mulder and Scully. “Boyfriend?”

Mulder chokes. Scully picks up his slack--”Oh, no. This is Fox Mulder, my partner at the FBI.”

“Ahh,” Trinity smiles knowingly. “Yes, I’ve heard about you. I didn’t know you would be joining us for Christmas.”

“Christmas is not exactly my family’s cup of tea, so I figured I’d get an authentic experience with the Scullys.”

“Same! I’m looking forward to Mama Scully’s ginger snaps. I’ve heard fantastic things about them.”

Mulder elbows his partner playfully. “Damn, Scully! How could you leave me in the dark about ginger snaps?”

Scully rolls her eyes but smiles. “I apologize, Mulder. Though for the record, the fruitcake is better.”

“Says no one, ever,” Mulder teases.

She grins. Now this is Christmas.

---------------------

Taking a seat at Margaret Scully’s dinner table feels like existing inside a Christmas movie, in Mulder’s mind. Fancy china, green and red serving platters, paper mache snowflakes hanging from the ceiling, and a porcelain nativity scene; the dining room has it all. Not to mention the heaping piles of food there for the taking...if this is Christmas, Mulder wants in every year.

Scully does not share his cinematic fantasy. She knows better, having actually attended one of her family’s dinners before. Bill will get too drunk and start saying whatever comes to mind, their mother will laugh along like he’s still a five year old babbling about nothing (as opposed to the thirty-something spewing bullshit that he actually is), Missy will attempt to debate him to get him to shut up (which never works), and she will sit there and wish to be somewhere, anywhere else. And all without their father to hold the reins and keep a fight from breaking out.

The night has gone smoothly enough, Scully supposes. Missy introduced Trinity as her girlfriend in a very non-ceremonial way, forcing Bill and their mother to nod and accept it, in the moment at least. Mulder received a hug from Margaret and a pat on the shoulder from Bill, so pretty much the highest token of approval. Mulder’s candy canes earned a place in the center of the dessert table, which gave him way more satisfaction than it should have, and he couldn’t help but feel that if they were to vote on favorite man at the party, he would win. A room with Bill Jr. in it is probably the only place he would ever earn this honor, and he’ll take that.

Yet everything unwinds as Scully suspected. Bill waits until everyone has packed plates and full mouths to unleash his particular hyperfixation for the night.

“Trinity?” he questions, raising his fork diagonal across the table toward her. “Is that your name?”

Trinity smiles and nods, oblivious to what she’s in for.

“And you know Melissa how…?”

She pats a napkin to her mouth. “We worked at the same restaurant in Oregon.”

He chuckles gruffly. “What was it, one of those gay bar things?”

“No, an Italian bistro,” Trinity continues calmly.

Missy, however, is not so calm. “Gay people can go places other than gay bars,” she retorts. “We’re not segregated. Though I’m sure you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Bill sets a fist on the table, clanging his silverware. “Yeah, that’s what I said. Why the hell do you insist on being so politically correct all the time? I’d shoot myself.”

“Gee, maybe you should try it sometime.”

“Now Melissa…” Margaret Scully’s voice rises above the clamor.

“I have the right to defend my girlfriend and I against Bill’s thinly disguised homophobia,” Missy responds.

“You act like I give a damn what you and your friend do,” Bill sneers. “That’s not my business.”

“Then stop pretending like it is.”

“Oh boo-hoo, little Missy thinks the world revolves around her.”

“Bill, honey, I think that’s enough,” Tara says, laying a protective hand on his arm.

“You’re right.” He raises his can of beer toward Mulder. “Whaddya doin here, hot shot? Trying to seduce my sister?”

Scully frowns, but doesn’t say anything, pushing food around on her plate.

Mulder seems rather unbothered by Bill’s advances. He chuckles. “Actually, I think it’s the other way around.”

Bill snorts. “That’s a likely story.”

“You don’t think I’m worth your sister’s time?”

“I don’t think Dana thinks you're worth her time. You’re not her type.”

“I am sitting right here, you know,” Scully says, staring daggers at her brother.

“Then tell us Dana! Is hot shot here your type?”

Her eyes brush Mulder’s face. His cheeks flush, reddening like a stormy sunset. She wishes she could read his mind. The safe answer and the true answer are not often the same. “I think Mulder is a wonderful man. I’m very lucky to know him,” she answers stiffly, her annoyance aimed at Bill.

“Oh, the old run-around!” Bill scraps his fork against his plate. ”Typical.”

Scully grabs her now empty canned cocktail and sulks into the kitchen, leaving her chair pushed away from the table. Everyone watches her go, but Bill gives off the only visible reaction. He laughs. “Scared her away. Thought it would take more.”

Mulder and Melissa exchange a glance. She nods, granting him permission to play knight-in-shining-armor. Quietly, Mulder slips out of his chair and pushes it back into place. He catches the kitchen door as it swings closed behind his partner.

Her anger concealed from the rest of the family, Scully drops her can in the recycling bin with a bang. She ignores Mulder, instead opening the refrigerator and pulling out another cocktail, saying nothing.

“What is this, your fifth drink?” Mulder brushes his hand over her shoulder, and she recoils. “Leave me alone, Mulder.” She slams the fridge and tries to turn around, but he’s cornered her.

“C’mon Scully, Bill’s harmless. He doesn’t bother me.”

“It’s not fucking about Bill,” she fumes, alcohol fizzing through her bloodstream. She inhales, trying to keep it together in front of the man who has done nothing wrong to her. “Please get out of my way.”

“What’s wrong?” He frames her shoulders with his hands, creating their own little bubble.

“Don’t touch me!” she growls. Mulder knows as soon as hears it: he will never forget the pure anguish in her voice. As she retreats to the corner, he looks down at his palms, the stovetop that burned her...he would cut them off if he could.

Unfortunately, the commotion attracts the Scully’s like a dog whistle. Bill leads the charge into the kitchen, getting a full view of his sister hunched over by the back door while her partner stands by the fridge like an idiot. “Ooo, a lover’s spat!” he exclaims, only nominally concerned about Dana’s well-being.

“Shut up, Bill,” Missy hisses. To everyone’s relief, he does.

Mrs. Scully comes forward, maneuvering around Mulder to get to her daughter. “Are you alright, Dana?”

Scully keeps her back to the crowd. “I just need a minute.” She taps her pocket, confirms that she slipped her pack of cigarettes in. “I’ll be outside. Everyone can go back to dinner, please.”

She twists the doorknob and steps onto the back deck without waiting for any response. Mulder feels the tug of tears in his throat, like a dormant animal waking up in him. He is used to being hurt (though not by Scully, never her), but inflicting the hurt is a whole other beast. He doesn’t know what he’s done, but he doesn’t need to. The look in her eyes, put there by what he thought was a harmless touch, made his heart tremble. He is frozen in place, grateful when Melissa appears at his side as the rest of the party returns to the dining room.

“I didn’t mean to upset her, I was trying to make her feel better about Bill…” he laments.

“I’m sure, I’m sure. It’s not you specifically, she’s going through a lot right now--you know.”

Mulder rubs his neck. “I don’t know if I do.”

“She hasn’t shared her diagnosis?”

His eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. “Diagnosis?! Is she okay?”

Missy sighs. “I think you two need to talk. If she gets pissed, tell her I sent you.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Tell me if she’s okay.”

“She’s okay. It’s not fatal or anything.”

“She would tell me, if it was...wouldn’t she?”

Missy bites her lip. “I don’t know, Fox---Mulder. I would hope so, but I was under the impression you already knew about this, and you see how that’s gone.”

Mulder turns toward the back door, desperation living in his voice. “I’ve gotta go. I’ve gotta check on her.”

Missy nods. “Don’t let her weasel her way out of this one. I’m expecting a heart-to-heart, mushiness and all.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

He turns the back doorknob and slips through the door, trying to imitate his partner’s ninja skills. The old wood on the door frame shakes as he shuts it. He winces--so much for the sneak attack.

Mulder follows the arc of the deck, winter’s bite colliding with him. He didn’t have a chance to grab his jacket, and now that he’s thinking about it, Scully didn’t either. He can grin and bear it but she is all skin and bones, now more than ever. It scares him to see her like that, but it’s none of his business, he feels, to comment on her body. He can break her fall, but he must not provide an extra push.

The wind has no friends to protect nor foes to defeat, so it will give away anyone. It carries the unmistakable tarnish of smoke to Mulder’s nose, an ashy haze that has come to remind him of Skinner’s office and the shadow lingering in the corner. He almost expects to find him there with his Morleys and his sadistic laugh. Instead, he finds a redhead and her Marlboros shrinking against the December cold snap.

“Bum a cig, ma’am?” He scoots up to her, ready to retrieve his own smoke from her long, slender fingers.

“Mulder!” She pulls the cigarette away from her, holding her last puff captive in her lungs.

He wiggles his fingers like an impatient child. “We’re all gonna die someday, right?”

Her jig up, she rolls her shoulders back and releases the smoke with a great rise and fall of her chest. It mingles in the air with the chill of her breath, becoming one and the same as they leave the contours of her body. Head tilted back and lips parted, she is alive with nicotine’s ease and intoxication’s freedom.

It is better than porn, according to one Fox William Mulder. He’ll keep this observation to himself for now.

“Did your parents never teach you that sharing is caring?” he rambles. “C’mon, give me a light!”

“It’s a nasty habit, Mulder.”

“I’m a connoisseur of those,” he replies loosely. “Now, you’re not gonna make me put you in a headlock are ya?”

Scully rolls her eyes. She’s never felt less threatened in her life. “You’re exhausting, do you know that?”

“I’ve heard it a time or two.”

She pulls a cigarette from her carton and slips it into his fingers. They are warm; hers are ice-cold. “I wanted to be alone.” She hands him the lighter, watches as he generates heat from thin air.

He lights his cig and sticks the lighter in his pocket rather than handing it back to her. “According to my calculations, you should be very drunk right now. Other than your Oscar bait performance back there, you’ve got things pretty under control I’d say.”

Scully gestures at her cigarette smoking, teeth chattering self. “Yeah, I’m the picture of health.”

“Do you have some exceptional alcohol tolerance I should know about, because that’d make you very valuable in undercover work.”

Scully gazes out into the distance. She’d smile if she were to look at him right now, and that doesn’t feel right for the situation. “Those drinks have low alcohol content, Mulder. You can buy them at Dollar General.”

“You ever looked at their hand sanitizer? It’s like 95% alcohol.”

“Well, now I know where you go to get your fix.”

He chuckles. “You got me.”

She stuffs her hands in her pockets and he wishes, god he wishes, that he had grabbed his jacket. He’d take off his sweater if she wanted him to--stand there with his bare chest to the cold--but he has a feeling that would only exacerbate the situation.

He tries a more gentlemanly route. “Do you want me to grab your jacket? I won’t give away your trade secrets.”

She folds herself together. “No, it’s okay. It’ll make me get a move on at some point.”

They stand united in their rebellion, blowing smoke and freezing their asses off. Who needs Christmas cheer when you’ve got Christmas resentment?

Mulder sways a bit to keep his blood circulating. He is careful not to bump her. “You wanna tell me why you’re out-Scrooging Scrooge this year?” he prompts as gently as he can.

“In case you haven’t noticed, it hasn’t exactly been the best year of my life.”

“I gathered that, yeah.”

“And it’s the first Christmas without my father…” her voice warbles.

“Shit, right. I’m sorry,” Mulder murmurs.

“...So it just doesn’t feel very celebratory.” She takes a long drag. Mulder can tell that this secret smoking habit is not new to her, and he wonders when she picked it up, how long she has kept it from him.

He takes a deep breath, watches as it is written in the air. “Melissa told me you received a diagnosis, and I think we’ve already established that sharing is caring…”

Scully looks him in the eyes for the first time since he joined her. It has the sudden intensity of a black-and-white film, Scully the 1940s scarlet and he the leading man who pales in comparison to her. There is no one he’d rather be overshadowed by.

“It’s humiliating,” she croaks. “Missy and my mom are the only ones who know.”

“I’ve got the monopoly on humiliation in this partnership, so I wouldn’t worry about that,” he says, flicking some ashes to the ground.

“This is a particular form of humiliation you can’t experience, I’m afraid. Or at least, it wouldn’t impact you the same way.”

“Let’s hear it.”

She sighs. “My abductors removed all of my eggs, causing my menstrual cycle to shut down and me to enter perimenopause.”

His breath catches in his throat. “Jesus christ.”

“Uh-huh.”

He throws his cigarette on the ground and stamps it out, though it could have burned longer. “That’s fucking horrifying, Scully. You’ve got to inform the Bureau. We’ve got to catch these--whatever they are. We’ve got to make them pay.”

“No, Mulder. It’s too much. I don’t want to keep reliving it, I want to be able to move on with my life.”

“How can you move on when they’re still out there, probably doing it to more women?”

She shakes her head, feeling the snag of tears and holding them back for fear they might freeze on her face. “I don’t know, but I can’t think about it like that. It sort of...shatters everything, the idea that this could be a phenomenon happening to other women in secret. I wouldn’t believe it if it didn’t happen to me. I still don’t believe it.”

Mulder shudders. He can’t discern whether it’s from the cold or their conversation. “Do you think it was men who took you? Or do you believe Duane Barry?”

“It seems like a level of monstrosity that only man could achieve. It requires a certain understanding of society, gender roles...dehumanization that only humans could perpetuate.”

Mulder nods. Her reasoning tracks, but the thought of him failing to outsmart humans who stole away his partner is something he cannot fully process. It makes sense that he couldn’t find her if she was in space, but if she was on the face of the Earth, he had no damn excuse.

“You were just gone, Scully...you were just gone.” His aching is so palpable, his voice a cliff’s edge they could both tumble down.

“I know I was.” She takes one last puff, then lets her cigarette fall to the ground. She crushes it with her heel, her force premeditated and brutal. That pain is for the ones who took her, the ones who have obviously never loved a thing at all.

Head bowed, she moves toward the door, but not without grasping for Mulder’s elbow, assuring that he is following behind. He is and he will be, for as long as she lets him.

Inside, the home’s manufactured warmth hits them, unreal in comparison to the cold they have known. The kitchen is as quiet as it was before their ordeal, the dining room empty aside from Mrs. Scully clearing serving platters.

“Where did everyone go?” Scully asks, momentarily alarmed that she may have ruined the entire gathering.

“We’re going to drive around and look at lights before mass. Everyone’s getting ready.”

“Oh.” She looks to Mulder, as if to check that he hasn’t left her stranded. “I think I’ll stay here,” she tells her mother. “Make a cup of hot chocolate and relax for a bit.”

“Well, you’ll be missed. Fox, would you like to join us?”

He takes a leap, hopes he’s got the right idea. “I’ll stay here, but thank you.”

“As you wish,” Mrs. Scully says with a slight smile. Mulder had never noticed her resemblance to her daughter until that moment. It was like looking at a sketch of a famous painting; the lines are there but the colors missing.

Soon enough the crowd leaves and Scully and Mulder settle on the couch with mugs of hot cocoa. Margaret Scully’s tree forms the centerpiece of the living room, and it’s hard not to admire its gold and red decorations and the shiny angel on top.

“That’s gorgeous. Does she do it every year?” Mulder asks, ignoring the steam rising out of his mug and going right in for the kill.

Scully nods. “Every year since we were kids. There used to be a lot more homemade ornaments, but I guess she swapped those for a more elegant look now that we’re grown.”

“Well, it’s beautiful.” He looks at her, curled up with the glow of the fireplace falling upon her, and he feels warmth and safety like never before. It would be so easy to slip in “and so are you,” it is practically begging to be said. But she wouldn’t believe him if he said it now; she would think it was a pity compliment. Instead, he mouths the words, and she is not looking, and that is okay.

She snuggles deeper into the cushions, closing her eyes and letting her mind wander. She is the most at ease she has been in months--here in the house she lived in during high school with the fireplace crackling and her partner by her side--and that’s not what she expected from Christmas Eve. Heaven strokes her skin, and she blinks her eyes open to find Mulder tucking her in with her mother’s microfiber blanket. She smiles her soft Scully smile. “Thank you,” she coos, burrowing herself deeper into the blanket’s embrace.

“You’re welcome,” Mulder whispers into her ear. His fingers tangle in her hair as he pulls her toward him, his lips meeting her temple. She catalogues the feeling for her memory bank: chapped but carrying the hot chocolate’s warmth. She will spend the next while convinced that it was a dream, a fleeting image in the moments before sleep, but she will carry the feeling until she feels it again.

#in true x files fashion it's an angsty christmas with some fluff at the end #just pretend that christmas hasnt passed haha #guest starring: bill jr being a dick #and missy's gf <3 #if you continue to follow this I'm literally in love with you thank you #the x-files #only the light fic #txf #txf fic #missy and scully fic #fox mulder #dana scully #melissa scully #mine

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eastertag · 3 years

Text

Jasmine and Jade

@katblu42 gift for @bonsaiiiiiii

—

“International Rescue, we have a situation,” John’s holographic figure announced as the last echoes of the alarm died away. Once he was sure he had the full attention of his brothers and sister he filled them in. “An EPIRB device has been activated in a remote section of a national park in Vietnam. Local authorities have requested assistance. The remote location combined with challenging terrain makes access to the area difficult. There is also a weather concern. Heavy rainfall expected to hit the area soon and continue over the next 12 hours will likely cause rock falls and mud slides as well as flooding in the cave systems.”

“How many people are we looking for?” Virgil asked, already on his way to his launch chute.

“The EPIRB device is registered as belonging to a pair of visitors who entered the national park two days ago.” John replied. “This rescue could turn ugly quickly. I suggest you take Alan and Gordon with you on this one. Thunderbird 4 may be required to traverse the river system that runs through the caves and canyons.”

“FAB,” two voices responded as the youngsters raced off to suit up.

“I’ll head out there too,” Scott suggested. “I’ll liaise with the local authorities and park rangers and co-ordinate on site.”

“FAB.”

And with that Kayo was left alone in the sunken lounge to wait and watch as her brothers took off towards Vietnam.

Jasmine was exhausted. The fall had left her battered and bruised, scrapes and scratches all over her hands, knees, forearms and shins from her attempts at grabbing hold of something on the way down.

Initially when they had cut the rope she thought she had a chance of making it to the top without the safety of Jade’s belay. Then she’d heard the gunshot. She hadn’t dared look down to where she could hear Jade yelling for her to get out and get help. But when she’d looked up there was someone waiting for her, a stranger with a vicious grin and a gun.

Fear had frozen her to the spot as she’d tried to figure out whether to go up or attempt to climb back down and help Jade. In the end fate decided for her as her hand had begun to slip on rocks already slick from earlier rain. Her attempt to adjust her hold failed and she slid several feet before hitting a protruding rock. Hard. She’d jarred her right hip but managed to hold fast and catch her breath.

She had caught sight of the canyon floor below her and seen Jade being dragged back toward the cave entrance by two men dressed like Indiana Jones wannabes. She could hear a voice above her but she hadn’t thought he was talking to her – maybe the guys below that had Jade were talking to the guy above through some kind of radio. Jasmine had tried to haul herself into a sitting position on the rock, but her foot had hit loose stones and she’d slipped again, this time bouncing and scraping down the cliff face until reaching the bottom.

“You still alive down there?” a male voice had bellowed from the top of the cliff.

Instinct told Jasmine not to answer. Instead she had taken time to asses her injuries. Nothing broken, so far as she could tell. Her hip was complaining, there were tears in her clothing and blood stains beginning to appear in places, the cuts in her left leg needed dressing, but didn’t look too deep, and her right ankle was tender, but otherwise she considered herself very lucky.

Taking stock of her surroundings she realised she had landed a few metres away from where her original ascent had begun. Jade’s backpack was still lying on the ground next to the severed belay line. When Jasmine attempted to retrieve the backpack another gunshot rang out, and the bullet ricocheted off the rocks a few feet to her left. Looking up she spied the gunman far above her and her heart lurched in fear – for him.

“Get back from the edge!” she yelled up at him. It was mere seconds later that the rock he stood on gave way and he was tumbling down the rockface.

Now she was sitting with her back against rocks, tired and sore, beginning to shiver as the cloud cover increased, trying to keep an unconscious, unknown enemy alive. She had activated the EPIRB alarm from her own pack, and used the medical kit Jade had carried in hers to treat what she could of the man’s injuries as well as the cut on her own leg. She had tried the man’s radio, but it seemed to have been broken in the fall. She had considered leaving him and going after Jade, wondering why the other men had taken her, and what they might be doing to her, but staying put was safer. She just had to trust that someone would come in answer to her beacon in time to find and rescue Jade.

The canyon was rapidly growing dark. A look skyward confirmed the ominous threat presented by the gathering storm clouds. Jasmine could hear the rumble of distant thunder as the rain began to pelt the surrounding rock and the surface of the river that ran through the canyon. This was why she and Jade had given up on their quest for the next clue in the treasure hunt and decided to make their way back out of the canyon. They were right on the edge of the rainy season, and once the rain began it would not take long for the water level in the river to rise. The cave system was known to be prone to flooding. Water would come at you from below, with the river and its network of creeks and streams winding through the various caverns, tunnels and caves, and from above trickling down through cracks, crevices and swallow holes in the rocks and earth overhead. Rock and mudslides in these caverns and caves were common in heavy rain and Jasmine and Jade had stayed as long as they dared before this weather system had arrived.

Despite the cold and the rain and the intense worry about the wellbeing of her closest friend Jasmine must have fallen asleep. She didn’t remember closing her eyes, but now she was struggling to open them. She was aware that the distant and intermittent rumbles of thunder seemed to have become much louder, closer. There was something not quite right about the deep rumbling sound reverberating through the canyon. Between the loud cracking booms that came seconds after lightning the rumbling sound never completely died away, and instead of fading it seemed to be growing consistently louder. It was the oddness of the sound that gave her the mental strength to drag her eyes open. The river had moved closer to her – or rather the water level had risen significantly and she wondered how long she’d been asleep. She could feel the rumble of the thunder now, vibrating through her bones, unceasing and growing in intensity. The realisation that this wasn’t thunder came milliseconds before she saw the flash of blue and silver overhead. Not thunder – a Thunderbird.

“Thunderbird 5, I’ve arrived at the coordinates and have a visual on two small all-terrain vehicles and what appears to be a campsite,” Scott reported. “Commencing bioscan now.”

John was keeping a close eye on the weather. His own scans were being hampered by the storm activity. The topography of the area didn’t help either with the deep, narrow canyons surrounded by steep cliffs and rocky outcrops, and the complex cave system beneath the dense rainforest requiring complex 3D ground penetrating scans.

“John, I’ve got two biosigns. Looks like they’re at the bottom of the canyon, just below the campsite. There’s nowhere to land Thunderbird 1, so I’m going to jetpack down and take a closer look.”

“FAB Scott. Be careful. I’m detecting some unpredictable wind gusts in that area.” John’s eyes flicked across the various projections of information before him. “Thunderbird 2 should reach your location in 4 minutes.” He knew that information would not stop Scott from racing into danger, but he hoped it would help moderate any risky behaviour.

Scott set Thunderbird 1 into a hover over the canyon, opened the floor hatch and swung down before launching himself out into the rain and wind. Seconds later he was crouched beside a shivering young woman with a thick, long, dark braid protruding from her climber’s helmet, and deep-set dark brown eyes that seemed to take a second to focus on him.

“I’m from International Rescue. Are you injured?” As he spoke Scott was visually checking for obvious signs of injury, noting the bandaged leg and the paleness of the girl’s skin.

“I-international Re-rescue?” The shivering affected her speech, and her trembling fingers tried to grab hold of Scott’s arm. “Jade! Y-you have t-to help Jade. They took her. P-p-please find Jade!!”

“Woah, let’s look after you first. What’s your name?” Scott already had a med-scanner out and proceeded to check her vital signs.

“Jasmine,” she stated simply. “But J-jade …”

“I promise we’ll take care of Jade, but we’re gonna need to get you somewhere dry and warm and look after that leg of yours.” Scott looked over at the jumble of rocks and dirt to his right and asked “Who’s your friend there?”

“N-not my f-friend. H-he’s one of them!” Jasmine’s eyes were wide with fear or anger, Scott couldn’t tell which. “He had a gun.”

Scott needed more information, but his primary focus at that moment was the unconscious man. His injuries were many and severe. He needed Virgil’s medical expertise, and an urgent evacuation.

“Thunderbird 2, what’s your ETA?” Scott now had the med-scanner on the pasty white guy who was barely clinging to life. “I’ve got a critically injured man here who needs immediate evac, and a second patient with minor injuries but showing signs of shock.”

“We’re about 30 seconds out, Thunderbird 1.” Virgil’s voice seemed quiet beneath the roar of the rain and Thunderbird 1’s engines as she remained hovering above. “I’ll send the cradle down and get you all safely aboard.”

By the time Virgil had finished speaking Thunderbird 2’s engines had been added to the symphony echoing through the canyon. Scott adjusted his ‘bird’s position so Virgil could hover directly above them and lower the rescue cradle as close as possible.

“Thunderbird 5,” Scott almost shouted over the background noise, “we need to locate an unknown number of people who entered the caves from this location. One was taken in there against her will.”

“FAB, Scott. I’m scanning now.”

Scott helped Jasmine to her feet as Alan and Gordon descended from Thunderbird 2 aboard the lowered rescue cradle. Virgil had to fight the wind gusts to hold Two steady and prevent the cradle swinging sideways too much. As soon as the downward motion stopped Scott assisted Jasmine into one of the seats and secured her restraints, while Alan and Gordon readied the hover stretcher.

Jasmine watched from her seat as the three rescue operatives carefully transferred the man to a hover stretcher and secured him to the cradle. The one all in blue and silver with the dimples and blue eyes had made sure she was aboard and safely harnessed before turning his attention to the other patient. She knew they had to help the man, but everything in her was insisting that they needed to be looking for Jade.

The instant the hover stretcher was locked into its secure position in the cradle they were ascending towards the belly of the great green beast above them. Scott directed his attention back to Jasmine, placing a comforting hand over hers were it sat trembling on her knee.

“We are running search scans to try and locate your friend,” he assured her. “We will find her.”

She was still losing herself in the depths of those blue eyes that spoke of hope and reassurance when the cradle came to rest inside Thunderbird 2 and the hatch was closed. There was movement around her, Scott helped her out of the seat and over to a fold-down bed in what she assumed was some kind of medical bay, while others fussed over the stretcher. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought one of the men who had come down into the canyon had been replaced by one she hadn’t seen before. Voices seemed to float through the space around her, but her attention was still held by the man who had come to her rescue. He handed her a towel and had dry clothes for her to put on and a blanket to wrap around her. He checked her scrapes and bruises, removed the bloodied bandage from her left leg, cleaned and re-bandaged those cuts and even handed her something hot to drink. Tea. Weak and sweet, but importantly hot enough to warm her hands as she held the cardboard cup, and spread warmth through her with every sip.

On the other side of the medical bay Virgil was busy assessing the condition of the man who had fallen some 15 meters down a ragged cliff face. Alan had assumed piloting duties, freeing Virgil to do what he could for the man, assisted by Gordon. There was a great deal of frowning and mumbled phrases that might have been curses between instructions and medical jargon.

“Scott,” Virgil turned to address the commander, “we need to get him to hospital now! I’ve stabilised him as much as I can, but he needs much more than I can provide here.”

Before Scott could answer a flickering of holographic blue light burst forth from Scott’s forearm.

“I have a probable location for your missing people,” John informed them. As he spoke a map of the area appeared in hologram form. Three little red dots seemed to indicate life signs. “They appear to be well inside the cave system, quite deep beneath the surface and not making much progress. I’m trying to map the caves and tunnels as best I can, but there are difficulties. Thunderbird 4 has the best chance of being able to reach them, but you’ll need to head downstream of your current location to launch.”

John showed them the location they’d need to head to in order to deploy Thunderbird 4, some 4km downstream where the canyon was wide enough to lower the module. He also showed them the location of a doline located upstream of the position of the three life signs where an explorer POD could gain access to the caves.

“The water level in the caves is rising quickly,” John said, reappearing where the map had just been displayed, “and I have detected some rockslides in the vicinity. These people may not have much time.”

“FAB, John.” Scott looked across at Virgil and Gordon, formulating a plan of action as he spoke, and checking that the comm channel to Alan was open. “Alan, take us downstream for module deployment, Gordon you’re heading out in Four.”

“FAB,” the two youngsters replied as one, Gordon rushing out to prepare for launch.

“Virgil, can we safely transfer your patient to Thunderbird One so I can get him to hospital? You’ll need to head to the doline and drop off Alan in the POD then stand by to assist with the rescue when we find our three cavers.”

“We should be able to make the transfer at the location where we drop the module to launch Thunderbird 4.” Virgil’s reply was delivered with a frown as he mentally calculated risks and logistical practicalities. “I’ll have to transfer some equipment with him or he’ll never make it, even taking One’s speed into account. I’d prefer it if I could go with him, but under the circumstances, we have little choice.”

The two men exchanged a look of determined resignation and a nod. Virgil’s eyes flicked across to Jasmine and back to Scott, a silent question.

“Jasmine,” Scott said softly as he returned to her side, “I’m going to take you to the hospital with me in Thunderbird One …”

“No, please!” she pleaded. “Let me stay here. I need to know what’s happening. I want to be here when you find Jade. Please!”

There was another silent conversation between the two men, seemingly conducted purely through eye contact and the smallest shrug from the shorter one with the green sash. It was that one who answered, addressing her for the first time.

“Okay,” Virgil said. “You can stay here, but I need you to tell me straight away if you’re not feeling well.” She nodded emphatically. He went on, listing symptoms she was to notify him of if she felt even a little. His deep baritone voice was soothing and his warm brown eyes held so much concern she almost wanted to reach out and hug him.

The next few minutes were a blur of activity around Jasmine. The aircraft she was in – Thunderbird 2 she had to remind herself – was able to land almost straddling the river as it lifted on its landing struts to let Thunderbird Four launch from the module. The man on the stretcher was taken away, presumably so he could be securely loaded into Thunderbird One along with some complicated looking medical equipment the man with the green sash and gentle brown eyes removed from the medbay. Minutes later she heard the rumbling of Thunderbird One’s explosive take off, and soon after that Thunderbird Two lowered back down around her module and made her own take off, with the green-sashed man at the helm. The smaller man with the red sash rushed past her on his way to prepare the machine she’d heard them call a POD.

After a very short flight Jasmine felt as much as heard the changes in the ship’s engines as Thunderbird Two descended slightly, hovered for a moment, circled and landed. Once again the ship rose up on its legs to allow a vehicle to exit the container they called a module, then settled back down into her natural turtle shape. By the time all the mechanical clunking and whirring of pieces moving into place had ceased, leaving a few clicks of cooling, contracting metal and the dulled sounds of rain against the hull, the green-sashed pilot was approaching her.

“Hey, Jasmine,” he said softly as he took a seat beside her. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” she answered a little more emphatically than she perhaps really felt. Those kind, gentle eyes were pinned on her and she was compelled to say more. “A little shaky maybe. Mostly I’m just really worried about Jade. It’s so dangerous to be in those caves with the rain like this. Jade knows that, but the men who dragged her in there …” Words failed her and she took in a ragged breath.

“Who are they?” Virgil prompted. “You told Scott they forced your friend to go back into the caves, why would they do that?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know who they are, and I’m not sure what they want but I guess it must have something to do with Patterson’s Treasure.”

“Patterson’s Treasure?” The raised eyebrow gave him an expression of curious puzzlement, and Jasmine was reminded of the fact that not everyone in the world was as obsessed by treasure hunting as she and Jade were.

“A few years ago this rich guy named Manfred Patterson decided he wanted to give away a chunk of his fortune,” she explained. “He was really into old pirate treasure stories and stuff, so he created this elaborate treasure hunt, promising that whoever could find and solve all the clues he’d hidden in some of his favourite places all over the world would be led to a mysterious hidden treasure worth a quarter of his net worth.”

“Oh, yeah. I remember hearing something about that. He released a set of navigational coordinates for the first clue and there was practically a stampede of nu- uh, people trying to find whatever he’d hidden there.”

“Nutcases. You were going to say nutcases.” She caught his guilty expression, and a hint of apology in the way he leaned his head sideways and shrugged. She laughed. “It’s okay. I would have used stronger language. A lot of them thought he’d hidden the treasure there rather than just a clue. When they found out the coordinates led to a hidden data hotspot that revealed a cryptic clue a lot of those idiots gave up. There is still a small but dedicated community of treasure hunters like me and Jade who have kept searching, but most of the money hungry get-rich-quick types lost interest a long time ago. Seven clues have been discovered so far, but Jade and I are the only ones to have found the seventh.”

“How do you know that?”

“Patterson created a kind of online scoreboard. Every time a clue is found for the first time its coordinates appear on the scoreboard. When the hotspot at each location is activated it triggers a counter next to each clue’s location. Clue seven’s counter still reads 1, so Jade and I are the only ones who have activated it. You have to find the actual hotspot to access the clue though, those don’t appear on the website. So If these men are after us because of the treasure hunt I don’t know how they knew to look here.”

Just then some kind of alarm pinged from Virgil’s comm. He excused himself and moved back over to the ship’s cockpit to activate the holocomm there. Jasmine could see the glow of the holographic light, but not the details of what was displayed there.

“I’ve detected vehicle activity not far from your location,” John reported, his eyes constantly darting and flicking between the numerous sources of information he was monitoring. “Park rangers have reported that they don’t have anyone currently in the vicinity, and local search and rescue have recalled all vehicles due to the weather.”

“Could it be related to these mystery men who kidnapped Jasmine’s friend?” Virgil asked.

“That would be my guess. The vehicle appears to have very similar markings to the ones Scott saw at the campsite. Eos has already identified the markings on those vehicles and uncovered the company that manufactured them, and Kayo is on the way.”

“Kayo?”

“That’s my name,” the woman in question joined the conversation. “Scott filled me in on the kidnapping and the fact that guns had been mentioned. Neither of us like the implications of that, so I figured I’d be more use in the danger zone than sitting at home. Does your victim have any information about what these guys are after?”

“Jasmine thinks it has something to do with Patterson’s Treasure,” Virgil replied. “She and her friend Jade were here looking for the next clue.”

“A treasure hunt?” Kayo sounded incredulous. “What exactly is this treasure that makes it worth risking lives to go searching in caves?”

“That’s just it,” Virgil explained, “Jasmine says they were looking for another clue, not the treasure itself. The odd thing is that no one else has the previous clue, so if the next clue is here its location hasn’t been revealed yet.”

An ominous rumble shook through the hull of Thunderbird 2 at the same instant warning signals started blaring at John, and both Alan and Gordon’s voices could be heard exclaiming in alarm over the comm.

“John?!” Alan’s voice was edged with panic. “I suddenly have a lot of water and a bunch of rocks coming down in front of me!”

“We’ve got cave-ins down here!” Gordon shouted at the same time.

A view of the map John had been monitoring appeared in front of Virgil, highlighting the positions of Alan in the pod, Gordon in Thunderbird 4 and the three biosigns they were trying to reach. Gordon was deepest in the layers of tunnels and caverns, but not far from the location of the three. Alan was in a cave that ran closer to the surface and approaching a position that would be directly above them. Thanks to the combined sensor information from Thunderbirds Four and Five the map now provided a fairly accurate and detailed picture of the labyrinthine subterranean landscape.

“Alan! Are you clear of the rockslide?” John called out.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good, but that was close!” came the breathless reply. “I’m gonna have to shift some of this stuff to get through though. Gordon, what’s going on down there?”

“I’m fine Alan, but it looks like one of the side tunnels near here just collapsed. John, tell me how much more use I can be down here. This river’s getting to be a pretty tight squeeze. I’ll need to leave Four here and continue on foot soon. But I’d rather not do that if we’re gonna get more collapses like that one.”

“We have a fairly detailed map of the tunnels and caves now,” John confirmed. “Head back out to the canyon river, I’ll manage the rest of the topographical scanning without the additional information from Four’s scanners. Get to safety, Gordon.”

“FAB. You don’t have to tell me twice!”

“John?” Virgil interjected, needing to get John’s attention. His voice was quiet but had an edge to it. His eyes were darting over the instrument panel checking readings from various sensors and visual feeds from outside his ‘bird. “How close can I get to Alan’s location in Thunderbird Two, and where is that vehicle you mentioned earlier?”

“What’s on your mind, Virgil?” John was also eyeing his various sources of information, looking for their mystery vehicle and wondering where his engineer brother’s concern was coming from.

“Sinkholes, unstable ground … and explosives.” As if in answer to Virgil’s statement there was another rumbling tremor in the earth. He turned and looked straight at Jasmine, who had crept closer to see what was going on. “You better come over here and strap in. We’re taking off.”

Jasmine limped over to the nearest seat, just behind her pilot, sat and secured the restraint.

“John?” This time Virgil’s tone, low and almost menacing was a demand for information.

“I’m sending you coordinates. Looks like you’re right about the sinkhole, and it’s close to the last known location of the mystery vehicle. Alan’s position is slightly east of there and around 18 meters below the surface.”

Jasmine found herself rapidly overwhelmed by information coming in different voices and holographic images as Thunderbird Two roared into life around her and took to the air. Female voices talked about custom modifications to vehicles which somehow meant they now knew the company the men that had Jade worked for. The voice she associated with Thunderbird Five said something about a vehicle descending into the caves through the sinkhole. Another voice – she thought it might have been the red-sash man – was reporting a cave collapse where it seemed the floor had dropped away a short distance in front of him, but the roof above him seemed unmoved this time. There was a low throaty noise from the pilot in front of her, like a growl.

“They’re blasting their way out,” Virgil grumbled. “Don’t they know how dangerous that is in these conditions?”

Jasmine’s heart leapt into her throat. She knew how dangerous explosives in the caves would be right now, and Jade was down there with these idiots who had no idea what kind of problems they might create.

“Jade!” she gasped, barely realising she’d spoken aloud. That earned her a concerned glance over the shoulder from the green-sashed pilot, but his attention was quickly torn away.

“Whoa! What was that? Did I just see a …”

“I saw it too Alan, and yes that was a small airborne vehicle that just shot out of the sinkhole.”

“I’m on it, Virgil!”

As the female voice spoke Jasmine could have sworn she saw something black streak across the sky in front of them, and heard the loud, close-by swoosh of jet engines.

“The GDF has been notified and are on their way, Kayo.” John’s voice was calm amidst the chaotic flurry.

“Hey, guys? I’ve reached the edge of the hole in the floor here,” Alan reported. “It’s a long way down to the bottom of that pit and the sides are still pretty unstable.”

“I’m still reading one biosign down there,” said John. “Do you have a visual?”

“I’m doing my best, but it’s too far and too dark down there for me to see much. What I wouldn’t give for one of Thunderbird One’s drones right now,” Alan lamented.

“I might be able to grant your wish little brother!”

Suddenly Thunderbird One was zooming in to hover close by Thunderbird Two, somewhere above the sinkhole that led down to Alan’s current depth below the surface.

“Nice to have you back with us Thunderbird One.” The pilot of Thunderbird Two seemed relieved to have the commander back at the scene. Even from behind him Jasmine could not fail to notice his smile at the new arrival.

It seemed that in no time at all a drone had been launched into the hole, and the view from its camera was being projected in the cockpit of Thunderbird Two (and, Jasmine presumed, also in the vehicles the other International Rescue operatives currently occupied). It was difficult for Jasmine to make out exactly what she was seeing at first. The drone seemed to descend so quickly into the darkness of the cave tunnels. She caught a glimpse of the yellow pod vehicle as the drone approached the pit it sat beside, then the drone was once again descending. As the young man had said, it was quite a long descent. The drone’s lights illuminated streaks of mud running down the slick, shiny rockface, and the occasional tumble of small stones dislodged by the dribbling water. Then the lights hit the bottom of the pit.

Jasmine gasped. There amid a jumble of rocks and dirt appeared an outstretched arm, a shoulder partially covered by a tangle of dark red curls emerging from beneath the back of a blue helmet, and a scratched and dirty leg that led to a sturdy hiking boot clad foot.

“It’s Jade,” Jasmine cried in sheer relief. “Look, you can see the tattoo!”

Sure enough, there on the wrist of the extended left arm was a tattoo of an elaborate key attached to a chain. Jasmine held out her own right wrist to show Virgil a tattoo that appeared to be a continuation of the same chain attached to an equally elaborate treasure chest.

“I’m going down there,” Virgil stated emphatically. “Alan, I’ll come down to you via cable from Two. Scott, can you come stay with Jasmine? I’ll slave One’s controls so you can keep them both in the air from here.”

“You gunning for command, Virgil?” Scott asked with a laugh. “I’m on my way over. You have control of Thunderbird One.”

Once again Jasmine was struck by how fast International Rescue did things. No sooner had decisions been made than things were set in motion. A hatch above her was opened and the man with the blue eyes and dimples flew in by jetpack. The green-sashed pilot with the gentle brown eyes vacated his seat and ran off past her, while the other man took his seat at the controls of Thunderbird Two. It seemed like only seconds later she was watching vision of the man they called Virgil, who seemed to be attached to some kind of contraption that gave him mechanical arms, lowering into the hole below them on a cable which swung slightly in the wind and rain.

It was not long before he reached the pod vehicle and climbed aboard. She listened along with the IR commander as the man in the mechanical suit gave navigational instruction to the pod driver. Their progress was cautious, and there were some anxious moments as they descended deep into the earth.

When they reached the bottom Jasmine waited with bated breath as they approached her unresponsive friend, and cried with relief when Virgil reported that she was alive. He said they would have to be extremely careful digging her out, that her injuries were many, and some serious, but none life-threatening.

“She’s gonna be okay.”

Jasmine hadn’t noticed the commander of International Rescue muting the comm and coming to kneel in front of her. She had jumped when he spoke. He took hold of her hand and looked up at her with so much reassurance contained within the sparkling blue eyes and the soft smile. She nodded and tried to smile back as tears trickled down her cheek.

“She has to be,” Jasmine choked out past the lump in her throat. “I couldn’t … I don’t know what I’d do without her. She’s my best friend, my closest – I mean closer than family. She means – I mean, she’s my everything. If I lost her …”

“You would feel lost,” Scott finished for her. “I know that feeling.”

While Virgil and Alan worked at freeing Jade without causing more rock and rubble to fall around them, Scott kept Jasmine talking. He was able to keep an eye on vital information about Jade’s condition and the progress of the rescue, as well as the occasional update from Kayo and John while he kept her distracted.

Jasmine mostly spoke about Jade, detailing how they had met as young girls whose families shared an interest in geocaching. The fun of following a geographical clue to find a little hidden gem had sparked something in each of them that they had never lost. As they got older the two girls began creating little treasure hunts for each other, complete with clues and sometimes maps. Then they had begun fostering each other’s love of outdoor adventure and exploration by learning about real treasures they might be able to hunt for, and setting out to track some down. Patterson’s Treasure Hunt had come along at the perfect time for them, and they were determined to find and solve every clue, even if they weren’t the first to find the treasure. It was enough for them both just to share the adventure of the hunt.

With a little prompting from Scott she explained the matching tattoos.

“We both always felt there was a bond between us, even when we lived far apart. Right from when we were ten years old, anytime we were together we’d end up holding hands. It was almost always my right hand and her left, like we were tied together. When we finished high school we both took a year off to travel (and look for treasure) together before we would go our separate ways again for college. Towards the end of that year together we decided to get the tattoos as a physical reminder that no matter how far apart we might be we are always tied together. She’s the key to all the things I treasure, and she says I’m the most valuable treasure she ever found.”

A beeping sounded from Scott’s wrist and he unmuted his comm.

“We have the patient stabilised for transport and we’re on our way up,” Virgil reported.

“Fantastic news, Virgil,” John chimed in from a new hologram popping into Scott and Jasmine’s view. “Kayo has handed over the two men who kidnapped Jade, and the pilot of their rescue vehicle to the GDF.”

“I can’t take all the credit,” Kayo interjected. “I had some, shall we say, creative help from Thunderbird Four!”

There was a giggle over the comm. “You’re welcome, Kayo!”

“Do I wanna know?” Scott asked.

“Probably not,” Gordon replied. “Now, can someone hurry up and give me a ride home?”

“Give me a few minutes and I’ll see what I can do,” Kayo responded. “After all, one good turn deserves another. You don’t mind being suspended beneath Thunderbird Shadow the whole way home do you?”

“Uh, no? Not what I had in mind, but I’ll take it.”

“By the way, if you’re still wondering what these guys were doing in the caves, you’ll never believe it. They’re not treasure hunters at all – they’re smugglers. They were sent to collect a stash of goods that had been hidden in the caves. They had a grid reference and a hand-drawn map, but once they got close they realised they needed a guide to get them through the caves,” Kayo explained.

“So they kidnapped Jade to act as their guide,” Scott surmised.

“And threatened to hurt Jasmine if she didn’t cooperate,” Gordon added. “The victim you took to hospital earlier was meant to hold Jasmine hostage to make sure Jade stayed compliant. The GDF have placed a guard at the hospital. He’ll be arrested too, as soon as he’s well enough.”

“Great work you two.”

Soon after that the call came through to say the explorer POD had emerged out of the pit. In some way that Jasmine didn’t understand Virgil took back control of Thunderbird Two, remote piloting from the where he was at the bottom of the sinkhole. He expertly manoeuvred the big green plane into position above the sinkhole and launched a grapple claw to lift the POD vehicle out of the ground and back into the module.

Jasmine was up out of her seat as soon as the POD was secured aboard Thunderbird Two. She watched the three men from International Rescue settle Jade into a drop-down bed in the medical bay. Once she was securely strapped in for transport Jasmine watched the commander of International Rescue leave via the overhead hatch, firing up his jetpack to return to Thunderbird One, while the young man with the red sash took over piloting Thunderbird Two.

Virgil beckoned Jasmine over to a seat next to Jade’s bed, and Jasmine gratefully took it, strapped herself in and tentatively reached out to take Jade’s hand in hers. Virgil smiled at her, briefly diverting his attention from monitoring scanner readings and administering IV fluids.

“I know it looks bad, but she’s gonna be okay,” he reassured her.

Jasmine’s eyes filled with tears. “Thank you,” she said. “For saving her. For saving me. Everything.”

She knew that without International Rescue, without these amazing men and women who had answered her call for help, she might have lost the greatest treasure she had ever found.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2004 #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds 1965 #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #alan tracy #easterTAG #submission

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afewmarvelousthoughts · 4 years

Text

Falling Ch. 4

Master List: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: Bucky X Reader [and a few more to come]

Summary: For a moment you had something good, something wonderful. But moments pass. Now, left with nothing but the ashes of a life and a love you fought so hard for, you find yourself in a free fall. Who will you be once you hit the bottom? [Sequel to Only For A Moment but can be read independently.]

Warnings: Loss, grief, violence, death, blood, just all the things

A/N: Well... Ya know I’m at a loss for what to say about this one. It’s a lot and goddamn if I don’t love me some angry Steve Rogers.

Also, thank y’all so much for the really great feedback on the last chapter! I absolutely love hearing from readers.

OH! If you read my Stay series there is a sad little easter egg in here. Let me know if you catch it.

TAGS ARE OPEN

“I still can’t believe it,” Bucky pushed a stray piece of hair from his face. “She even agreed to take my name.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile.

“Sam can’t believe that one either.”

Bucky chuckled, “Glad he and I can agree on something.”

“I’m so happy for you, brother.” He settled a hand on Bucky’s good shoulder, feeling like his chest was going to burst.

Never in a million years could he have imagined James Barnes actually settling down. He certainly never thought they’d ever be watching a peaceful sunset over the water discussing how happy Bucky was to be settling down. But their lives had been nothing if not a long line of surprises; at least this one was pleasant.

Bucky let out a heavy sigh, a cloud of worry suddenly darkening his features.

“Stevie…” The old nickname shot a pang of worry through Steve’s gut. Bucky didn’t take his eyes off the water as he continued. “If something were to happen-”

“Buck, nothing is-”

Bucky let out a low bitter laugh, “Careful there, pal. Getting dangerously close to a lie.”

“I’m not exactly the most popular guy in the world,” he tilted his head to meet Steve’s worried expression. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m about to disappear.” Bucky shoved Steve’s shoulder with his own, “I’m not you. I have no intention to go lookin’ for trouble.”

Steve scoffed, rolling his eyes, “Jerk.”

“But,” Bucky continued, ignoring Steve’s soft jab, “trouble seems to like me so… Just…” He took a ragged breath, eyes once more on the horizon.

“Just what, Buck?” When Bucky looked back Steve almost lost his breath. The emotion on his friend’s face like a knife in his heart. Fear, worry, shame, and something else all swirl around him.

“Just promise me you’ll look out for her.”

That afternoon with Bucky by the lake plays over and over in Steve’s head throughout the flight back to the states.

Look out for her, was all Bucky had asked.

Take care of her, Okoye ordered.

He wanted to do both.

So why did he keep failing?

Why had he placed his own burdens on you the same night you’d lost your own battle with grief? Why could he keep up appearances for everyone else but not you? Why was he sitting here across the jet while Thor did what he should have been doing?

He would do better. He had to.

When the jet lands at the compound his resolve wavers just a bit. They were all supposed to come home together. He’d promised Wanda that…

“I’m good, Thor,” your voice pulls him back.

Thor stands, making his way out of the jet, Rocket at his heels. You don’t move though, bolted to your seat, eyes on your clasped hands as if in prayer.

Natasha steps away from the captain’s chair, glancing at you then him, an unspoken question on her face. Steve nods in response and she too leaves.

Steeling himself for rejection, he stands, slowly walking over to you and extending his hand.

You look up at him with painfully red eyes, the circles beneath them making the effect all the more harrowing. He thought of what Okoye said M’Baku had called you. Demon.

Surprisingly, you accept his hand.

“Here,” he reaches for the backpack slung over one of your shoulders, “let me.”

“No,” you release his hand, immediately gripping the strap of the bag with white-knuckled force. He tries not to look put off by the action and suspects that he failed, if your follow up was any indication. “You can get my duffle though.”

A half-smile tugs at his mouth, “Alright.”

Shouldering his bag and yours he heads out into the later afternoon sun. It had been almost full night when they left Wakanda and such transitions always shook him. He credited that with the reason he didn’t immediately notice that you remained frozen at the foot of the ramp.

“Y/N?” He asked gently, heading back toward you. With a chill he remembered how you’d stood in the woods that night, unmoving.

“Are you sure I should be here?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper.

His brows knit in confusion, “Of course. Why wouldn’t-”

“Isn’t this technically Stark’s place? I doubt he’d want… Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” They’d cleared it with Pepper, and in his opinion, that was all that mattered. “If anyone has an issue with it they can take it up with me.”

You nod in acceptance and follow him inside.

The room Steve showed you to had the cold but comfortable feel of an upscale hotel. Not a speck of dust or item out of place.

“If you need anything just find me or ask Friday,” Steve said running a hand through his hair. “Kitchen should have a few things according to Rhodey. And-”

“I’m good, Steve.” You didn’t want him to feel obligated to linger.

“Ok, but if-”

“I said I’m good,” your tone was filled with far more bite than you intended. You cringe at the hurt that quickly flashes in his eyes.

“Alright,” he nods. “Get some rest.”

“You too.”

As soon as the door closes behind Steve you can hear Bucky’s voice in your head.

Look out for him. He’d asked that of you not long after you made your marriage official.

God, you’d hated that entire conversation. Hated that even in the safety of Wakanda he was afraid of something happening to him, something he couldn’t control. Now you hated even more that he’d been right.

He’d trusted that you would take care of the only family he had left.

And you were failing him.

Your right hand begins to tremble, thrumming with power, fingers flexing, reaching for the ghost of his heartbeat.

Anger flares in your chest. Curling your hand into a tight fist you slam it into the door, again and again, until the metal finally groans.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your forehead pressed against the door, breath catching. “I’m so sorry, Bucky.”

Suddenly you sway on your feet, a wave of pure exhaustion rolling over you. Cradling your bloody fist to your chest you shuffle to the bed, unable and unwilling to face another moment of consciousness.

When you wake, it’s full dark. Your hand throbs with pain but it’s better than the memory of loss it carried before. You locate a fully stocked medkit in the bathroom - perks of crashing at a superhero base you guess - and bandage your hand. After that, you’re unsure what to do with yourself.

Aimlessly you pace the room, growing somehow more numb and frantic with each circuit. From time to time your packed bag catches your attention; you know you should probably unpack but… The thought of getting the bag, opening it, going through the contents, finding where to put each one. It felt like an insurmountable task.

Finally, the grumbling in your stomach breaks through, forcing you from the room.

There wasn’t a ton in the kitchen, which made sense considering no one had been living here full time, but mercifully there was bread, peanut butter, and jelly in the fridge which was enough.

You pour all your focus into the familiar task of making PB&J. Taking far too much care to get the peanut butter right to the edge of each piece, making a little well for the jelly, not pressing too hard when you cut. So, when someone presses on your awareness you jump in alarm, body hovering about a foot in the air.

“Shit! Sorry,” Natasha holds her hands up trying to be unthreatening. It’s then that you realize the cabinet doors are shuddering. You swallow a breath, feet back on the ground, the cabinets silent once more.

“You’re good. I was just… distracted.”

“I see that,” she looks from the two sandwiches to you. “Never seen someone pay that much attention to a peanut butter sandwich.”

You shrug, “Want one?”

“No. That’s yours. I can-” You float one of the sandwiches over to her. She smiles. “Fine.”

She grabs the sandwich and leans against the counter across from you.

For about half a sandwich you eat in silence. It’s not uncomfortable but the unspoken crackles.

“I lost someone once…” Your eyes shoot to hers. A sheen of unshed tears makes her eyes glitter in the dim kitchen. “She was like you.”

“How?”

“Gifted.” You snort at the word.

“She didn’t view it as a gift either. Charlie,” she pauses, taking a shaky breath, “could read emotions, catch glimpses of memory, even read thoughts if she set her mind to it. Empathetic with telepathic tendencies was what her S.H.I.E.L.D. file called it.” A soft smile fills Natasha’s face, “She just called herself a freak.” She sets her plate down, half a sandwich still on it.

“We… It wasn’t what you could call traditional. We never settled down, couldn’t. But, we made it work in our own way. She… I loved her. I’ve never… Anyway, she-” Natasha’s voice breaks.

You don’t breathe, don’t move. All your effort is focused on listening and keeping control of yourself even as you feel your power threatening to break free.

Finally, you ask, “How long?”

“She’s been gone almost ten years.” That hits you right in the chest. “I wish I could tell you it gets easier, but…” She trails off.

A vision of your future flashes in your mind. Years spread out before you. Empty and aimless without the warmth of his smile or the ring of his laughter.

There’s a scream bubbling up in your chest. Without warning Natasha reaches across the small space separating you, grabbing your hand with ferocious strength.

“I just wanted you to know you’re not alone.”

Her touch shakes you. The warmth of her palm, her fingers shifting between your own.

Neither of you let go.

It just happens. One moment you’re about to drown in the understanding that there was no coming back from this, no healing, no return, and the next-

Your lips crash into hers.

They’re warm and soft. Something real and solid and alive. Her mouth opens against yours, your other hand reaching to cup the back of her head. You want to forget, ashes and heartache and loss - burry those feeling in the heat of her.

“Stop,” she breathes heavily against your kiss.

That one word sends reality crashing back into you. With a sharp breath, you release her, stumbling back into the opposite counter, hand covering your mouth to keep in your shock.

Around you, things begin to hum, a low deep frequency rather than a shaking, as you feel your perception dive beneath the surface. The plate next to you lets out a creaking sound as it begins to crumble.

Too much.

“It’s ok, Y/N,” Natasha grips your shoulders.

“I’m so sorry,” you croak from beneath your hand.

“It’s ok,” she smiles, rubbing your upper arms comfortingly. Slowly you regain some kind of control.

“No,” you shake your head. “That was- Fuck!” You pull away from her, pacing several steps away, gripping your head trying not to lose it.

“I should never have… God, Nat, I’m so-”

“Stop,” she says in a tone that broaches no argument. You turn to look at her, arms crossed leaned against the counter like nothing happened.

“Didn’t I just say you weren’t alone? I get it. I do. I’m not hurt or offended. We’re good.” She walks over to you, forcing you to release your grip, lowering your arms.

“We’re good. Ok?”

You nod in response, not trusting yourself to speak.

“Let’s finish these sandwiches.”

Steve spent the last week and a half on a razor edge.

He managed to retain his composure the few times he found himself among the others. Thankfully, save for a handful of meals and some attempts to scan for Thanos however they could, everyone kept to themselves.

Despite the commitment he made on the jet, he couldn’t bring himself to spend more than a few minutes in your presence. The one time he did, he spent most of the night blowing through punching bags.

He’d been so fucking concerned for you. So worried your grief would be too much. You’d be lost, and he’d have failed Bucky in a way he could never forgive himself for. Clearly, after what he’d seen in the kitchen, his concern had been for nothing. You were moving on nicely.

With one more ferocious right hook, the punching bag lost the fight.

Huffing with exhaustion and exertion he collapses onto the padded floor of the training gym, resting his forearms on his knees.

“We don’t have an endless supply of those ya know?” His head shoots up to see Rhodes leaning in the doorway.

Steve pushes his sweat-damp hair from his eyes, “Seem to be the only one using ‘em so we shouldn’t run out too soon.” Rhodes nods in acquiescence, hovering in the door.

“What’s up, Rhodes?”

Rhodes sighs, “Pepper wants to go back into the city. Start figuring out what to do now.” The more time that passed the more likely it was that Tony, like the others, wasn’t coming back.

Steve nods, “When?”

“Tomorrow.”

It would mean two fewer people to serve as a buffer between you and him - he wasn’t even particularly thrilled to be around Natasha right now - but it was also two less to keep up appearances for.

“You’ll let us know if we can help?”

“Of course. And if-” Rhodes is cut off as the building shudders.

“Friday?” Rhodes asks.

“Captain Danvers has returned and appears to have a craft of some kind with her.”

He still didn’t know what to make of the mysterious woman who’d clearly been close with Fury but they weren’t in a position to be picky - they needed all the help they could get.

Steve and Rhodes rush out, the others right behind them.

No one speaks as Carol lands the ship and steps away.

The ramp lowers and, Tony, supported by a tall blue woman, staggers out.

Without a thought for the past, Steve rushes to help.

“I couldn’t stop him,” Tony says, voice rough.

“Neither could I,” the words feel bitter on Steve’s tongue.

“I lost the kid,” the sorrow in Tony’s eyes is like salt in every wound Steve carries. The kid. The one from Queens…

“Tony,” the words stick, “we lost-” He doesn’t know what to say. There are too many names. Thankfully Pepper runs up, gathering Tony in her arms.

Steve turns away from the moment just in time to see the bitter, pained, look on your face. Despite his anger, he feels his heart ache for you.

True to form, Tony wanted to immediately know what happened in his absence. Seeing the images of all those they knew and loved - everyone he failed to save - lined up as Natasha gave the rundown made him feel like he was being crushed.

“As far as we can tell, he did exactly what he said he would. Wiped out half of all living creatures…” Natasha says, her voice surprisingly only shaking a bit.

Steve glances toward Carol, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

“And what’s with him?” Tony asks, gesturing toward Thor’s slumped form in the atrium.

“He thinks he failed,” Rocket says in a matter-of-fact tone. “Which he did. But seems like there’s a lot of that goin’ around.”

Tony gapes at the raccoon, “You know, until this second I thought you were a Build-A-Bear.”

“Maybe I am,” Rocket says, sounding tired.

“We’ve been scanning, trying to find him,” Steve says. He can feel Tony veering off course. It was a defense mechanism, his wit. While Steve couldn’t blame him now wasn’t the time. “You fought him Tony-”

“Who told you that?” All eyes shoot to Tony in confusion. “He wiped my face with a planet while the Bleecker Street Magician gave away the store. There was no fight-”

“Ok,” Steve tries to say gently. “But did he give any clues, coordinates, any-” Tony cuts him off with a raspberry noise.

“Tony,” Steve is too damn tired to hide his exasperation, “we need you to focus.”

“And I needed you!” Tony swipes at the bowl of oatmeal and the glass of water sending them tumbling as he stands on shaky legs. “Past tense. We lost because you chose to leave. We lost because of-” He takes one teetering step toward Steve before his body stops, rigid. Steve looks at you, your focus squarely on Tony.

“Enough,” you say in a low voice. Tony turns his head, noticing you for the first time.

“Who the fuck are you?” Tony looks around for an answer. “Has she been here-” Steve can see when you release Tony, the action sending his frail body swaying.

“This isn’t on Steve,” you say, dismissing Tony’s question. “You don’t get to come for him like-”

Tony laughs, “Oh! Oh, I remember you now. Barnes’ little-”

“Tony,” Steve says in a warning tone. Tony, ignores him.

“Fangirl. The murderous Sinead O’Connor look suits you by the way.” Tony eyes you, waiting for a response that doesn’t come.

“Why are you here?” It’s impossible to miss the venom in Tony’s voice. “From what I saw, your deranged-” The table begins to shake followed by a low creaking groan.

“Ooo, spooky. This isn’t Wakanda sweetheart. We don’t harbor murderers.” You visibly flinch. Steve’s blood boils.

“Tony! What the hell?” He closes the distance in a beat, beginning to pull Tony away, but serum or not he could never be faster than Tony’s sharp tongue.

“Isn’t that what you are? Reaper.” Tony nearly snarls the moniker Hydra granted you. The floor begins to shake. You look away like you’d been slapped. “Yeah that’s right I read-”

When you turn back you don’t say a word, just spit in Tony’s face before storming out, the tremors going with you.

“Classy new friends, Rogers,” Tony says, wiping his face with his sleeve as Steve grabs his shoulders.

“I think you’re the one who needs a lesson in class,” Natasha says.

“Do I? You know what,” Tony rips the arc reactor from his chest, “here.” He presses it against Steve's hand. “Why don’t the two of you take this and your new best friend and go find Thanos. See if you can do better with-” Tony doesn’t finish before collapsing.

You didn’t know where to go.

Part of you wanted to run. Leave them and all of this behind and never look back. All promises made to the dead be damned.

But you just couldn’t quite bring yourself to do it.

Instead, you find yourself on the roof, staring out into the trees. Futility you try to calm your power pulsing in your body like a caged beast, restless and screaming for release.

Unsure of what else to do, you let it sink into the concrete under your hands, pulling at the tiny particles until a chunk of the low wall surrounding the roof comes free. It hovers before you as you focus all your power into it, feel each tiny atom humming even in this inanimate chunk of rocks and cement.

This time, you force your eyes open, even though your brain stutters with the effort of maintaining this level of perception - visual and whatever you could call this. The concrete begins to crumble, you feel your power plucking away at the pieces, pulling them apart bit by imperceptible.

Deep in the recesses of your mind, you feel the hunger. It’s as though whatever the stones left behind was seeking sustenance in this strange destruction.

Your right hand begins to tremble, the memory of losing your hold on Bucky rising fast to the surface. As your palm flattens - muscles remembering their position at that moment, desperate to return to it - you force your hand into a fist. Immediately, the floating chunk of the wall crumbles to dust.

Dumbfounded, you stare at the heap sitting on the edge of the wall as bits are caught by the wind. Fear rises in the back of your throat, tasting metallic on your tongue.

Thankfully, Natasha arrives before the panic fully grips you, providing a welcome distraction.

Wordlessly she stands beside you, eyes on the peaceful scene. All you can think is that she’s standing so close to danger and doesn’t seem to notice.

“Tony passed out.”

“I didn’t-”

“No! No. No one thinks you did. I just meant… If you wanted to come back in.” You grip the wall, knuckles white, unsure of what you want.

She sighs, “He’s really not-”

“Don’t try to defend Tony Stark to me. Not after-” You don’t have it in you to even think about Bucky.

“Right…” The silence rises like a wall between you.

Rather than speak, Natasha lays a light hand on your shoulder. You sigh and nod.

Rhodes steps out of the small medical room off the lab when you and Natasha make it back inside.

“He’s probably gonna be out for the rest of the night,” he says on a sigh.

“Good,” you throw a raised eyebrow at Carol. “You guys take care of him and I’ll bring him a Xorrian Elixir when I get back.” She turns on her heel as you exchange a questioning glance with the others.

“Where’re you going?” Steve asks, striding after.

“To kill Thanos,” she replies without missing a beat.

“Hey!” Natasha calls after her. “We normally work as a team around here we could-”

“We know up there is more your territory but this is our fight too,” Steve says. The slight exasperation in Carol’s expression makes you smile just a little. You hadn’t spent much time with her but you found yourself liking her nonetheless.

“Do you even know where he is?” Rhodes asks.

“I know some people who might,” Carol says.

“Don’t bother,” Nebula, says. You’re pretty sure it was the first you’d heard the woman speak. “I can tell you where Thanos is.”

Nebula’s story about her father sends chills down your spine. You’d always thought parents couldn’t get much worse than your own but you were clearly way off the mark. But when Rocket pulls up the scan from their ship any remnants of cold flee your veins.

“Hey, hey, hey. We’d be going in short-handed ya know?” Bruce cautions.

“Look he’s still got the stones so-” Rhodes backs him.

Carol meets your eyes, “So let’s go get him.” You nod. “Use the stones to bring everyone back.”

“Just like that?” Banner questions in disbelief.

“Yeah,” you and Steve say in tandem. You meet his eyes.

“Just like that,” Steve finishes.

You’d no sooner made peace with the concept of literally going to space than you were boarding the ship thanks to Carol’s quick fuel trip and Rocket’s adept repairs.

It seemed unreal that you were looking out at Earth. From here, just outside the atmosphere, it looked peaceful and unassuming. When the ship turned, facing space rather than the broken planet you’d just left, you felt like you could stare into that beautiful endless sea forever.

“Okay,” Rocket begins, ending your awe. “Who here hasn’t been to space?” You, Natasha, Steve, and Rhodes, look awkwardly at one another before raising your hands. Carol catches your eye, a smirk on her face. You werene’t sure if you should laugh or be terrified.

“Why?” Rhodes asked, his tone suspicious. Carol laughs.

“You better not throw up on my ship,” Rocket said dismissively.

Nebula’s countdown was hardly visible over the sound of your heart. But the moment the jump began you calmed.

Your mind felt silent, your power, unable to keep up with the movement surrounding you, just gave up. It felt incredible, like a tense muscle relaxing. And the colors.

Space opened up around you, an indescribeably beautiful swirl of color and light.

It was over too soon. But on the plus side, no one threw up.

As Carol goes down for recon you all move about the ship, nervous energy thrumming through the air.

The planet beneath you didn’t look so different from your own. You wonder about the people there, wonder if they realized what kind of monster was hiding among them.

“There’s no one but him,” Carol’s voice relays on the comms. A whole planet. And not one other being… Anger curls in your chest.

After Carol gives a full rundow of his location Steve relays your plan of attack.

You’d approach in teams. You and Carol would go in first since your abilities would give you an advantage. Thor, Rhodes, and Banner would follow - the two suited men assisting in restraining Thanos whole Thor removed the gauntlet. The others would follow.

“We can’t hesitate. If he has even the slightest window he’s going to use it,” Steve says.

“Let’s do this,” Thor responds, weilding his axe.

On the planet’s surface you feel suddenly off kilter. That insidious hunger rising in the back of your mind, reaching for the stones and their power. It ached at the base of your skull.

“Ready?” Carol asks. It pulls your focus away from the strange feeling and replacing it with fear as you remember the last time you faced Thanos. None of you were enough. How could this be-

The fingers on your right hand tingle, the ghost of a heartbeat beneath your palm.

Fuck fear.

“Absolutely,” you say without an ounce of doubt pushing against the ground with your power, sending your body into the air.

Carol blasts a hole through the roof of Thanos’ hut and shoots inside. You follow her down.

The moment she has him in a headlock you push your power into him, keeping his body immobile focusing on his left arm. Rhodes and Banner join moments later, adding their strength to restrain this creature.

Curiously, you realize that you don’t feel the pull of the stones.

Thor arrives as planned, severing the gauntlet from Thanos’ body, hand and all.

You release your hold on him, your power lifting the gauntlet, devoid of stones into the air.

“No,” you breathe, an indescribable dread beginning to fill your chest.

“Where are they?” Steve demands. Thanos only groans.

“Answer him!” Carol barks tightening her grip on his throat.

“The universe required correction,” Thanos wheezes. “After that, the stones served no purpose…” His gaze falls to you, “Beyond temptation.” You shiver, stepping back, letting the empty gauntlet fall to the floor.

Bruce rushes Thanos but you can hardly hear them. The room seems smaller, hotter. Your ears begin to ring, your power throbbing through your body.

“Where are the stones?” Natasha asks in a trembling voice.

“They’re gone,” he huffs, “reduced to atoms.”

The shock of his statement tears through all of you, a near tangible wave.

It only holds you for a breath.

Atoms.

Silently you allow your power to sink into the ground beneath you. Just like on earth you can go deeper, deeper until you can feel the fabric of everything.

You could fix this. You would fix this.

Steve glances at your retreating form. He can’t blame you for leaving, no matter how much he wants to.

The small hut is immensely oppressive suddenly. Just breathing gets harder with each second. He hadn’t had a panic attack since 1943, he didn’t think he was still capable. But right now he felt that familiar rapid pace of his heart, the tightness in his chest… It blurs the voices around him, everything growing staticky until-

With a roar Thor severs Thanos’ head from his body in one clean swing.

He begins to feel the panic recede to make room for the shock. Still he doesn’t move.

“What now?” Natasha croaks.

Steve can’t even attempt a response. Rocket begins to rummage somewhere behind him.

“I know what I’m doing,” Steve turns to see him dragging a small crate. “Taking everything that’s worth anything.” He pries open the crate pulling out something that looks like a wine bottle. The metal top comes off with a tug and he drinks deep. “Including all his booze.”

“Toss me-” Thor is cut off by an ear-splitting crack of thunder.

“Y/N,” Steve says in barely a whisper, cold seeping into his bones.

Carol beats him outside but he’s on her heels. The ground trembles before they spot you.

“What the...” Carol breathes. Guilt and fear begin to stir in his gut.

On the top of the mountain behind Thanos’ hut, you’re barely visible through a growing funnel of dust and cloud, but he knows it’s you.

“Want a lift?” Carol asks, extending her hand. He nods. In seconds they’re on the mountain top just outside the wall of dust. Another loud boom shatters the otherwise quiet air.

Visions of that night in Wakanda whir through his mind as he stares. He remembers your pain, your screams, he remembers the blood… and the blood that streamed from your eyes and nose when he and Okoye found you at your house… and-

“Look out for her.” Bucky’s voice in his head once more.

The risk didn’t matter. He had to get to you. If you tore him apart in the process so be it but he would not let another person he cared about die.

He’d taken no more than a step in your direction when Carol’s hand tightened on his upper arm. He tries to pull free but she holds him fast.

“Look,” Carol says with a note of almost reverence in her voice.

“I see her! And I wo-” The words die on his tongue.

In the air between your hands, he can just barely make out six points of light beginning to pulse like stars through the haze. Blue. Green. Yellow.

“Dear god…” He doesn’t know what else to say.

The others had arrived at some point, though Steve couldn’t say when.

“Can… Is she that powerful?” Carol asks, seemingly unable to look away.

“I don’t know,” Steve answers honestly.

Natasha steps up beside him, “Steve should we-” Your scream cuts her off.

This scream isn’t like the one in Wakanda. It’s not the unyielding cry of mourning. Rather this scream is one of barely restrained agony, a soldier shot on the battlefield who refuses to fall, quick but heavy. His breath leaves him in a woosh as he watches your knees hit the ground.

Your bloody face contorts with pain. Yet your hands remain outstretched, the points of light between them beginning to form ghostly shapes.

“They’ll destroy her,” Thor says.

Once more Steve pulls at Carol’s grip on him.

He panics, “We can’t just let her-”

“No,” you say in a voice that is not quite your own. The awful, powerful, resonance of it shakes him to his marrow. “I can do this.”

“It’s her choice,” Rocket says. Steve looks to each person, eyes begging, but they all nod in agreement.

Filaments of light rise from where the stones are forming like smoke. He notices as some caress your skin, leaving glowing paths in their wake. More and more touch your flesh, searing your outstretched fingertips in zigzagging lines.

Your back arches, your hands tremble, you cry out once more as the stones flash vibrant and whole for one moment - so fast he could have imagined it - before they vanish.

The small tremors that had been pulsing through the ground cease, the dust falls, the clouds dissipate. Suddenly the world seems darker and far too still.

Then there was you, in the middle of a patch of barren ground, sitting back on your heels, body swaying. He’d swear your expression was serene. Something in him knows - even before you release a wet rasping cough, blood flowing from between your lips - that you’re lost.

Everyone remains frozen, unsure of what to do. Until you collapse, breaking the spell.

They all rush forward, pushing past him.

He should help.

Yet all he can do is watch, paralyzed by the realization that he isn’t sad or heartbroken over your loss. The only thing he feels toward you, as he watches Carol lift your prone form to search for a pulse she won't find, is jealousy.

One moment there was only darkness. A foreign yet curiously familiar weightlessness. Peace.

The next you felt like you’d swallowed a forest fire.

Heat bloomed in your chest and abdomen. You could feel the flames crawling up the tiny veins of your eyes and nose, tingling in your skull.

Gasping, you claw at your throat. Trying to understand what the fuck was happening.

“You’re ok,” a woman’s voice said in soft tones. “You’re ok. It’ll pass.” It was Carol, one hand supported your back while the other pulled your hand away before you could break skin.

“Xorrian Elixir, hurts like a bastard but works every time,” she offers you a weak smile.

“What?” You croak.

“Nothing,” she shakes her head. “That was one hell of an effort.”

An effort.

Not a success.

You go numb.

Whatever Carol had given you may have healed your body, pulled you back from the brink, even pushed your power back into its box. But everything you had left, you’d poured into that last act, that final attempt to bring the stones back and reverse this nightmare, no matter the cost.

And you’d failed.

There was nothing left.

Natasha lays a hand on your shoulder, “We’re here.” It takes you a moment to realize what she means. Honestly, you didn’t even remember getting on the ship…

You follow her out in a fog and stand a few paces away from the others numbly staring into the night sky when suddenly you find yourself tumbling through the air.

In your present state, you don’t know how to react consciously, but your power catches you before your face meets the ground, acting like a cushion. A memory of Bucky tingles in your mind before it’s interrupted by a voice.

“Get up!” A rough voice, dripping with rage, bellows.

It doesn’t register as Steve. Only when you roll over, leaning up on your forearms do you realize. His face looms over you, twisted with a dangerous cocktail of emotions.

“Get up!” His hands grip your jacket, the fabric beginning to tear as he lifts you to your feet. Breaking his grip, you stumble back, unsure what to make of the situation.

“What the-” You don’t get to finish.

Steve’s fist cracks against your jaw sending you reeling for a split second. It wasn’t a full-force hit, you sparred with him enough to know that. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell.

Your power pulses over your skin just once, tingling like static. A flicker of emotion rises in your chest, pushing back on the hopeless void just a bit.

“If you’re gonna hit me, Rogers,” you spit blood from where your cheek and teeth met, “don’t insult me by holding back.”

Roaring, he charges you.

Everything after that was a blur.

As it used to do years ago your power fled in the throws of a fight, that part of your mind shuttering itself lest you lose control. You preferred that. True, he was stronger than you, so your power would have helped, but you were quick, smaller, and Bucky had taught you well.

You pay no mind to the shouts from the others to stop. Blow after blow you just keep going. Neither of you concerned about the consequences.

Because this felt… good. There was no denying that. The taste of blood and sweat and adrenaline on your tongue.

“What did you think you were doing?!” He managed to get you in a lock, pinning your arms against your back with your face in the dirt.

“What the hell are you talking about?” You ask managing to work yourself free.

“On that fucking mountain. What the hell-” You cut him off with a solid punch to the gut.

“He said he reduced them to atoms.” It made sense enough to you.

“And?!” He recovers but you pivot away from his next blow. “Since when can you-”

“Do you not remember Wakanda? Big fucking crater in the ground?"

You continue to dodge one another’s volleys.

He shakes his head, “You could have died!” Steve somersaults, landing a kick to your shoulder that you weren’t sure didn’t dislocate it. You hiss in pain.

“So what if I did?” Grimacing you force the join back, nearly screaming. He seems to notice and for the first time, you see his resolve melt, a glimmer of concern showing.

“One life-” you pant.

“Your life, Y/N!”

“My life for trillions.” You get his feet from under him, pinning his arms to the ground with your knees. “Same math you did in 1945.”

He throws you off and you land in a kneeling position. White-hot rage colors his expression.

“Oh,” you laugh bitterly, “I forgot, Steve Rogers, is the only one who gets to make the sacrifice play right?!”

Time blurs. It may have been thirty seconds or maybe an hour before you have Steve on the ground once more, his throat between your thighs. You fight with screaming muscles to keep him down.

“What was I supposed to tell him?” He wheezes.

The question throws your equilibrium, causing you to lose your hold. He sucks in a raspy breath, grips your thighs, lifting you up off the ground and tossing you over his head.

You expect your power to cushion you but it doesn’t. Your hands burn as they catch your fall, the ground tearing at the skin.

Anticipating his next move you roll to the side, barely avoiding the body blow he was about to land. He rolls in the opposite direction from you.

“Guess it doesn’t matter,” he says as he stands, venom in his voice.

“What?”

It doesn’t matter because you’re a failure twice over, a voice in your head whispers. But you want him to say it, want someone to recognize it, to hold you accountable for your weakness.

“You’re clearly moving on just fine,” he spits. You freeze mid-lunge, gaping at him.

His voice drops low, “Call me old fashioned, but I figured you’d mourn your husband a little longer before having midnight trists in the kitchen.”

The power that had evaded you comes back in a tidal wave. It crackles beneath your skull, humming in your veins. For a breath, it’s overwhelming, the world, and its multitude of layers rising in your awareness. Then it settles just enough for you to gain control and slam it into Steve.

He sucks in a breath as your power constricts him.

“How dare you,” you say, so low you don’t know if he can hear. You squeeze, feeling tiny blood vessels burst under his skin.

“Do it,” he huffs, eyes locked on yours. “Do. It.” His anger slips from him with each forced breath replaced by desperation.

You release him and he stumbles back.

“We’re not finished, Y/N!” He screams at you as you turn away. Even without your eyes on him, you feel his rapid approach.

With a thought you lift him from the ground in mid-stride, taking his body several feet into the air before slamming him back down with ground-shaking force.

“Yes, we are,” you say without looking back.