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multiplefandomfics · 3 years

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Kidnapped

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!reader

Warnings: Dubcon, smut, A/B/O dynamics, age gap, underage, forcefully induced heat, mind control, hypocrisy, breeding kink, knotting, trauma, hydra

Words: 3615

A/N: Hi guys, so this is my first attempt at ABO. I’ve read a lot of those so I hope I’ll get this right. So don’t be too hard on me. And now enjoy.

Omegas had become almost extinct. More and more kids were born who turned out betas and the rest were almost always alphas. So maybe it is easy to understand that when you turned out to be an omega at the age of 17 your value to your mother suddenly skyrocketed.

Your other siblings were all betas but you were suddenly special. The first heat your body put you through was a terrible strain on your body and took a lot of strength from you. A whole week was spent in delirium between fever and hallucinations. Your mother, a beta herself, had no idea how to help you and asked your family’s doctor for help.

He was very interested in you and your presentation and handed your mother a number to call.

A week later two very polite men who looked like they had fallen out of a 1940s crime movie, stood in front of your door.

“Mrs. Y/L/N? You have contacted us to take a look at your omega daughter?” the taller of the two asked.

“Yes. Please come in. We are in desperate need of advice. Her first heat was so terrible and I don’t know what to do if this gets even worse.” The men followed your mother to the livingroom and took the seats offered to them.

“Our facility is very well equipped and we are very skilled in dealing with young omegas. We would be able to monitor her closely and give her the right suppressants to quell her natural heats.” one of them explained.

“So you would take her with you?” your mother sounded sceptical. “Would we be able to see her? And when would she return home?” she asked.

The men shared a glance before continuing “She will be able to call once in a while and we will try our best to get her hormones in check and her home quickly.” the man ensured her.

Your mother hesitated and the men noticed so they changed their tactic.

“Mrs. Y/L/N. Your daughter is suffering badly and it will only get worse. We are the only ones who can actually help her. There aren’t a lot of experts in the field of A/B/O dynamics left. We definitely are your best shot. And if it helps to convince you, we can pay you handsomely for taking your daughter and giving her a shot at a normal life. How does 250.000$ sound?” your mother almost choked on her tea. “You want to pay me a quarter million dollars for her? You think I would sell my own daughter?” she was enraged, jumping up from her chair. “I want you to leave my house immediately.”

“Consider our offer for a moment please. We could help your daughter and learn from her case and you could finally sell off the mortgage to this house. We know that if you don’t take our money now you will have to move out soon. Do you want to move into a 3 room apartment with 4 children?” They knew a lot about your family which irritated your mother but she also quickly understood that they were right.

After your father had died in Afghanistan 3 years ago it had not been easy for your family.

As a single mom of 4 and just a part time job at a dentist's office she worried greatly how to make a future for them. The money from the strange men would take a lot of those worries away from her.

“Maybe you are right. She will come back to us quickly, right?” she asked to quell her guilty conscience.

“Of course, Mrs Y/L/N. She would be back in no time at all. We are very successful in what we do.” the men knew they had her in their grasp.

“Alright then. I will go upstairs and explain everything to her and then I think it is best when you take her immediately.” she got up and went upstairs.

A few moments later they heard yelling and then crying from upstairs. But suddenly it was quiet.

Another few minutes later you stumbled down the stairs, cowering behind your mother who held a duffel bag with some of your clothes and personal things.

“Hello Y/N. How are you feeling?” the taller man smiled at you.

“I’m okay, thank you. So I will go with you?” she asked back. “And you can help me with my biology?” You seemed very innocent to the men and they were sure that you had no idea what your intended purpose was in this world.

“Indeed we will make you more comfortable with your presentation. You will be able to return home quickly.” they ensured you too.

“Alright then.” you gave in. “Tell Joe, Lea and Maya that I love them and I will see them soon.” you instructed your mother and she nodded with tears in her eyes.

The men lead you to their car. The whole ride was silent. You looked out the window and saw landscapes passing by. The driver took so many turns that it didn’t take long for you to be completely confused and you had lost your orientation.

The journey seemed to take forever and at some point you closed your eyes and fell asleep.

You awoke disoriented and confused. You were laying on a bed in a sterile white room without a window but an adjoined bathroom. You sat up slowly to take in more of your surroundings. When you had decided to venture out further you noticed that the door was locked. You were trapped. Panic rose in your veins. What did that mean? Was this a kidnapping?

Just when you were about to have a mental breakdown the door was unlocked and a man you had never seen before stepped inside.

“Hello Miss Y/L/N. How are you feeling?” he asked you.

“Y/N is fine. I’m okay but why was the door locked?” you asked hesitantly.

“We didn’t mean to startle you. It was to your own protection. The compound we are currently in is comparable to a labyrinth. We just didn’t want you to get lost. Someone is going to come by later and give you a tour of the rooms you need to know. I am here to check out your vitals and ask you some questions. Is that alright with you?” He seemed nice enough.

“Ehm, yes it’s alright, I guess.” you sat back down on the bed while he took a seat on a chair.

“Very well, how long ago was your first heat?” Those kinds of questions seemed very personal but after all they wanted to help you.

“My first heat was about 2 weeks ago. It was awful. Hurt so much and lasted about 6 days.”

“Good, that is interesting information. Have you been intimate with a male before?”

You swallowed thickly “No never.”

“So no potential alpha around?”

“No.”

“Good, good. Is someone in your family an omega?”

“No, I am the only one as far as I know.”

“That is quite rare. Normally this is hereditary. I will take your pulse, blood pressure and temperature now.”

After the doctor had left someone came and took you to a room where you were served some dinner.

The night you spent tossing and turning. So many thoughts coursed through your head until you fell asleep of exhaustion.

You were rudely awoken by the cold neon lights being turned on. They ripped you out of a nice dream and you inwardly cursed them for it.

“Good morning Y/N. Did you sleep well?” the voice of a tall blonde female doctor- or agent, or whatever, you were still not sure where these people belonged to- reached your ears.

“Good morning. I had some trouble sleeping. I felt somehow on edge. Probably the new surroundings.” you shrugged.

“That is possible. I need you to get dressed. Breakfast is ready and then we will start with your training and testing of different medications.” she smiled and you did as she asked.

Breakfast consisted of fruit and porridge and then they took you into the opposite direction of your room.

You were led down multiple corridors until you reached a doctors room.

“Hello Y/N. Please remove your shirt and lay down.” The doctor said. She was the first person in this organization who smelled different than the others you had met. Everyone else had a neutral scent other than her and it wasn’t a perfume but you couldn’t place it and let it go for now.

“So you are an omega.That’s why they brought you to me. I presented as an omega too when I was 16 years old. My biology dictated my life for years and that’s why I am quite happy that we can make it easier for you before it gets too bad to handle.” that explained the different smell.

“I don’t want to sound rude, but you are not on suppressants right?” she shook her head no. “I thought you smelled different. So that’s one of my superpowers as an omega?” you joked.

“Indeed it is. Do you have any more questions?” she saw your hesitation. “Don’t be shy. You can ask me anything.”

“Ehm… well during my first heat… I felt really hot and I had those very explicit fever dreams and then my body produced this… fluid out of my… ehm… you know.” you pointed toward your groin.

“Yes, I know what you mean. When you are in heat your body longs for a mate. Preferably an alpha to satiate your natural urges. The slick that your body produces is only a natural lubricant to make it easier for the alpha to slide in without hurting you.” she explained.

“So my only purpose in this world is basically to mate and give a few children to some alpha?” you asked unbelievingly.

“Not necessarily. We could find the right meds and suppressants for you and you could live your life alone until you decided it was time for a family or not. Your choice.”

“I like the way that sounds. So when do we start?” you asked exited.

“We will start right now. I am going to administer your first shot of a medication which will make you feel better.”

She put on some latex gloves and prepared a syringe with a clear fluid.

“Alright, don’t move now please. I will give this right into your upper arm muscle.” said done. It stung a little but if that actually worked it was definitely worth it.

“All done. I will bring you back to your room now. These meds need some time to settle and you might feel a little uncomfortable later.”

When you had arrived at your room she sent you inside with the words -“Someone will have an eye on you the next few hours. I will see you soon.” and locked the door behind you again. For your own protection they had said…

Before you had time to think about all of this your head hit the pillow and you were fast asleep.

The next time you woke up you were in terrible pain. Your abdomen was cramping and your throat was bone dry. That could only mean one thing: the heat was back. But that should have been impossible. It wasn’t due for another 2-3 weeks. But here you were, sweating, hurting and in desperate need for something you weren’t ready for.

You didn’t even get the chance to get out of bed before the door flew open and two men grabbed you to pull you behind them. You were too weak to fight them when they pushed you into another cell which looked almost the same as yours. Only in that one someone was waiting for you.

The moment you were pushed into the room his eyes shot toward you, almost hidden under his shoulder long brown hair. His nostrils flared as he took in your potent scent.

“Omega.” he breathed and his pupils dilated.

He looked downright feral so you shrunk into the corner next to the closed and locked door. Though he really tried to hold himself together. You knew that he wanted to give into these primal urges the omega in you tried to push you to, too.

Suddenly he wiped the hair off of his face and you had a first clear glance at his handsome face. And to your amazement you recognized him from your class trip to the Smithsonian Museum in Washington D.C. the year before.

His name was James ‘Bucky’ Barnes and he had fought in the 107th infantry in WWII. He had also been Steve Rogers- or as most people know him, Captain America’s- best friend and later part of the Howling Commandos. The only thing that didn’t add up here was the fact that he was supposedly dead since 1943.

But you were so sure that the man standing before you was not a ghost as much as you were sure that he was not the same man who had gone to war in the 40’s.

“James?” you whispered. He cocked his head so he must have heard you but he didn’t know what to do with your question.

“You are James Barnes born on March 10th in 1917. You don’t remember?” you asked in a louder voice.

“No.” he tried to sound secure but you could hear his voice slightly wavering.

You wanted to help him so you took the risk and stepped closer. It might seem strange, standing in front of this intimidating hunk of a man, and feeling safe. The pain in your body had also almost disappeared.

“What do you remember?” you asked him. He seemed really nervous by now, always trying to scent you.

“Pain. Missions. Training.” was all he said and you felt really bad for him.

“I am sorry to hear that. Do you want me to tell you everything I can remember about you? Maybe you will gain back some memory. And maybe you can tell me who these people are and why they forced me into heat early.” in that moment another terrible cramp invaded your lower abdomen and your legs gave out. But before your body could hit the ground his arms caught you and he carried you to his bed.

“Mhh omega you smell delicious. Can barely hold back.” he mumbled into the crook of your neck and you felt it too. The tall alpha seemed to somehow soothe the ache inside you but it wasn’t enough.

In that moment you just let the omega in you take over. You started pulling frantically on his and your clothes until they were lying long forgotten on the floor of the dusty room.

“Need you ‘mega. You’re mine.” he growled at the sight of your boobs.

“Alpha please make it stop.” you whimpered and he growled louder at you calling him by his presentation.

You let your biology completely rule you and followed your instinct. Crawling onto your hands and knees pushing your face into the pillow and your ass in the air.

“Good omega. Presenting for your alpha.” his approval made you mewl.

He was quick to get behind you. In this state there was no foreplay needed.

His right hand grabbed your buttcheek. It was soft and warm. When the index finger of his left hand followed your spine from the neck down you shuddered at the cold metal.

“Tell me ‘mega, have you ever been with an alpha?” he asked while stroking a flesh finger through your glistening folds.

“No alpha. Haven’t been with anyone.” the realisation that you were a virgin let him hesitate for a second.

“Mhh I’m gonna make that virgin pussy feel so good. You want my cock ‘mega?”

“Yes, alpha please. Make the pain stop.” you begged him.

He took that invitation and slowly pushed the head of his massive length against your opening. “Relax ‘mega. I won’t hurt you.” his pressure got harder and then he slid in. The pain was intense for a moment until he slid in further. It felt like your channel was made for him.

“Fuck doll you’re tight. Squeezing me so good. Gonna breed you ‘mega. You want that? Me filling you with pups.” he groaned and your channel squeezed him tighter in confirmation.

In that heat of the moment none of you cared that this might be a bad idea.

He sped up his thrusts and your moans got even louder when he hit that magical spot inside you.

“Feels so good.” you mewled.

“Come ‘mega! Come for me!” he commanded and something that had waited for his okay snapped. Your pussy clamped around him and he pushed in that bit deeper. His knot popped and he filled you with his cum all the while pulling you up with his metal arm across your chest and biting into your neck hard enough to break the skin, laying claim to you.

When you both had come down from your highs he rolled you over to lay on your side. He was still locked snug inside you and that would probably stay like that for a while.

“You wanted me to tell you why they brought you here. The answer is for this exact cause. They want to keep me- or rather my alpha- in check. And they want to find out if the serum can be inherited.” he suddenly spoke up after a long pause.

“And do you want them to do that?” your question seemed to shock him a little.

“I didn’t expect that question. No one has ever asked me what I thought. And no! If we have pups I don’t want them to be treated the way I was. We would never know what happened to them.” he said sadly.

“Then let’s get out of here.” His knot had finally gotten down which gave you enough room to turn around.

“How? I may be able to vanish on my next mission but I won’t be able to take you with me.”

“Then play the part. They don’t know that you remember who you are. So when you get out of here the next time you get help and get me out later.”

“And who do you think would help me? A murderer.” he let his head hang low.

“Steve Rogers. He was found a few years ago and has most recently been working with a group of people who call themselves The Avengers. I know you have the possibilities to find Steve and get him onto your side to help. Until then you will have to pretend you are still the brainwashed assassin they created because if they notice you will be put on ice or erased again.”

“I gotta admit that does sound like a plan. I will try everything in my power to succeed. I promise that I will get you out of here. Unscathed. You are my omega now. That means something to me.” he kissed the top of your head.

“Thank you- Bucky. Is it fine when I call you that while we are alone?” you asked him.

“Yes sure. I love when you say my name.” and then he gifted you with one of his rare smiles.

The next few days were spent almost the same way. Until your heat was down. They took him away from you and you didn’t see him for at least 6 weeks. Hard to keep track of time without daylight.

They had brought you back to your room and you didn’t see any of the old doctors you had seen before your forcefully induced heat. They probably thought you would attack them.

In week 7 they finally found out that their plan had worked. You were indeed pregnant. Oh, how you wanted to tell Bucky but everytime you asked for him they shut you down.

More weeks passed by. They didn’t tell you anything. Not even about the baby.

By esteemed week 22 you were able to feel the pup kicking in your tummy and you were talking to him or her. You missed Bucky more and more. Up to the point where you thought they had wiped him again and he had failed your mission.

One night you were awoken by chaos outside your door. Before you could get up the door bust in and in the frame stood Captain America himself. The relief you felt in that moment could hardly be measured.

“Captain Rogers. I’m so glad to see you.” you expressed your feelings.

“Good to meet you Y/N.” he smiled at you then spoke into the comms inside his ear “I’ve got her. Room 503. She’s fine.” then he came over and insisted on carrying you out of the building.

Somewhere on the way to the Quinjet you met Bucky again.

“Bucky! You`re alright! Oh, thank God. I missed you. And I’m pregnant. We did it.” you beamed at him.

“You’re alright too. I love you. Let's get you home.” he took you from Steve’s arms and carried you inside the jet.

A few months later you and Bucky moved into an apartment with your son and daughter.

#Marvel #ff #BuckyBarnes #JamesBarnes #Bucky #smut #Buckyxreader #WinterSoldier #a/b/o #au #steve rogers #hydra

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stxrrywildflower · 4 years

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for better or for worse (3)

pairing - spencer reid x reader

summary - when the people they love the most are kidnapped and ripped out of their hands, the bau does everything they can to get them back before it turns dire

warnings - mentions of case, injury details, angst

series masterlist

bloody jewelry and seven smashed phones.

that’s all the bau team had to go off of in the investigation.

just like hotch had offered, he stepped up to take charge of the situation. emily was thankful to be able to step down for the case, the stress was bulding up and she was ready to crack.

hotch fell back into his leadership role naturally, already pulling someone up from the tech department to do their research and computer work. morgan focused on getting everyone back in the mindset they needed.

luke and spencer were most difficult.

for luke, he felt extremely guilty. morgan did the best he could in helping the agent, though penelope missing did affect him as well.

spencer was a whole different story. he couldn’t think straight, they caught him shaking more than once. sure a walk emily had sent him on did help, though coming back started the cycle all over again.

“hey pretty boy,” morgan started. that nickname alone made spencer flinch. “mind if we go and talk?”

the two men stood up, nodding towards emily and hotch who waved them off.

“i feel like a lot of conversations are happening in here,” spencer commented upon entering morgan’s old office.

“what can i say, it’s a good space,” morgan smiled.

morgan sat on the edge of the desk while spencer took the couch, immediately grabbing a pillow to hold against him. “i’ve already talked to alvez but i figured we need to sit down one on one.”

“it’s not your job to be the team therapist.”

both laughed at that. “yeah well as your friend and honorary older brother, it’s my job to check up on you. and i know how hard this case is for you. i may not be a profiler anymore but your body language is all over the place. and i’m sure that-”

“you know what the last thing i said to y/n was?” spencer interrupted.

morgan stayed quiet, not wanting to say the wrong thing to potentially set him off. “i told her i loved her too,” spencer revealed quietly. “i was dropped her off at her apartment and she kissed me goodnight before telling me she loved me.”

the older agent hugged spencer, not exactly knowing how else to console him other than that. it broke his heart at both the confession and the tears that had started to flow down his cheeks. morgan’s hugs were comforting, they always were. “we’ll get her back kid. that way you can tell her you love her again.”

they stayed in there for a little while longer, talking to refresh their minds of the situation. “we should head back. who knows what the team has discovered by now,” morgan offered. spencer accepted the extended hand to help him up and the two headed back towards the bullpen.

all bets must have been placed on the unsubs making contact sometime soon and through a phone call. a phone incase of ransom or demands was set up on luke’s desk, another machine set up to help trace a call.

hotch and emily remained by the desk while the others work, though main focus was on the device.

the second the phone rang, all members of the team’s attention immediately went to the device. hotch held his hand out, letting them know to keep quiet before signaling emily to pick up the phone.

“hello?” the unit chief answered.

a staticky voice, obviously altered in some form, played over the speaker of the phone.

“you will be receiving a note in exactly fifteen minutes. i expect you to choose wisely.”

sixteen words. sixteen words was all the communication they had from your captors. and it still didn’t feel like enough. “good and bad news,” the new tech analyst announced. “i didn’t pinpoint an exact location but i did narrow it down to areas. they’re no where in the city, somewhere west.”

“choose, what do they mean choose?” j.j. rushed out, panic evident in her tone.

“i need everyone up in the conference room.”

just like the unsub has said, anderson entered the office holding a long office envelope. he handed it over to hotch, who placed it on the round table for examination.

a piece of paper was the first thing pulled out, folded neatly and sealed with wax. with gloved hands, hotch pulled at the folds, breaking the seal. inside, in perfect red ink, was the promised note.

seventy million in twenty dollar bills for their safe return. ten million for each person

or,

ten million for one. your choice. you have 24 hours.

“they want us to choose?”

hotch frowned, reaching back into the envelope

spencer held his hand over his mouth, not even close to being prepared for what he, and the rest of the team, saw.

seven polaroids, all glossy and crisp, were layed out on the table. each was a different picture, all from the neck up. you, along with the others, occupied a square. your injuries were shown, displaying the level of injuries everyone had suffered.

you, andrew, and will were easily the worst. your face was bruised and bloody, dried blood on your nose and dripping from a cut on your forehead. andrew had a similar cut, this time on both of his cheeks. will had a split lip and swollen eyes.

the others, had just a few knicks and bruises. they looked relatively fine, just in shock from the situation.

“oh my god,” j.j. was the first to speak, reaching out to pick up the photo of her husband. the rest did the same, no one knowing how to react to the pictures.

spencer was seconds away from running out of the room, his stomach was flipping and he just overall felt sick. he wanted to rip the photo up, never wanting to see it again.

“we need to start from the begining,” hotch announced. “they’re obviously a team. there’s no way they could have taken seven people without assistance. but that does raise another risk, they could potentially split if something does go wrong.”

that sentence didn’t ease the team at all.

“let’s focus on what they left. broken phones is to let us know they’re missing. but i think we should be focusing on the word love,” morgan added.

“that’s obvious,” matt spoke up. “they’re the people we love the most. by taking them away from us, they want us to experience a certain type of pain.

“we could be looking at siblings!” emily exclaimed.

j.j. nodded at that. “that does make sense. usually partnerships like this wouldn’t have the same level of hatred unless they shared the exact same experience. abandonment or losing someone could be a trigger.”

“we need to look at triplets and siblings who experienced some from of loss in the family. it’s going to be a long list but we can reduce it by the property owned,” hotch ordered.

while the tech analyst did their own digging, the rest of the team went through a box of every case involving families in the state.

it was a painful process, taking seven hours before anyone actually found anything. by then, the conference room was a mess of papers scattered around and empty coffee mugs.

the team narrowed it town to triplets, one girl and two boys. their parents had passed when they were teenagers, the oldest boy gaining custody of them. they were forced to live on their own, fending for each other. they had it out for the bau ever since they denied looking into their case.

besides motive, they owned a ranch a bit further outside of the city. a perfect place to conceal their plans. adding on to the lack of paper trail and trigger, it was more than likely that they were the unsubs.

no one from the bau team was allowed to go on the raid, their emotions could greatly alter the arrest. hotch and morgan led it, accompanied by swat.

instead, they were sent to the hospital. it was inevitable that all of you would need medical attention, it was the best option for them to go and wait, hoping for your safe return.

almost an hour went by without any news.

the team sat in one of the designated waiting rooms, all having some nervous quirk to help calm them down.

with little warning, a flood of doctors and nurses passed the room, a few police officers and swat agents as well. at the end of it all were hotch and morgan, both taking off their kevlar vests as they entered the room.

in an instant, everyone was standing up. emily was the first one to attempt to leave the room. hotch blocked the doorway, using his hand to prevent her from going anywhere.

“hotch what the hell. let me through,” emily demanded.

one flick of the eyes back and forth between the two former agents was all the team needed to raise further questions. it was and has always been a telltale sign that they were either lying or hiding information.

“what aren’t you telling us?”

hotch let out a sigh. the tense silence in the room did nothing for anyone’s nerves.

“we only got four of them.”

☆ ☆ ☆

teaser

tags - @zozoleesi @emxlyprentxss @spencerreidfanatic00 @mrs-dr-reid @irjuejjsaa @ogmilkis @sageellesworth05 @mortallythoughtfulgurl @brainyreid @ah-blossom @kissessforharryyy @ssareidbby @spencersglasses @spenciepoo338 @mggstyles @emilouu @loki-an-idiot @reidsmyhusband-emilysmymistress @pianofirepirate @ssa-morgan @afuckingshituniverse @spencerslatte @reminiscing-writer @kianagilder-blog @ssaic-jareau @theatrenerd101601 @drprettyboyreid @emilyxprentiss

#criminal #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #david rossi #penelope garcia #luke alvez #matt simmons #tara lewis

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resinatingbeauty · 3 years

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I’ve had a lot of requests from various people at different times who are just learning how to use resin to create with and wanted some tips and tricks. I have wanted to make this post for a while, but I wanted to acquire more experience myself before giving others help. This first post is just going to go over some really basic tips and tricks and subsequent posts (if they’re found helpful) will elaborate. This is for all of you who are like me and get the least amount of benefit from watching Youtube tutorials these days because EVERYONE has one, and half the time they’re drawn out for ad revenue so an hour long video will only contain 20 mins worth of information with the kicker being you can’t even fast forward through what you know or rewind through ads to get back to where you need to be. So, for those of you who hate that like me, this text post is for you.

If you’re just starting, choosing which resin you want to purchase is intimidating. Craft stores like Michael’s and Hobby Lobby rarely offer more than one or two brands, typically over priced due to the fact that they’re labeled “art resins”.

Epoxy resin is by far the easiest to start with for beginners. It is the most forgiving, has the most consistent results, most brands use the same 1:1 ratio and the overall technique is the same. I am not affiliated with these brands/companies in any way other than I have used their products and have written reviews for several on Amazon.

Start with small packages (4oz-8oz kits / 8oz & 16oz hardener + resin). A quick Amazon search for epoxy resin will give you many results. This is one of those cases where you really don’t get what you pay for- boat, tabletop, etc. epoxy will yield the same results at more reasonable prices per fluid ounce than art resins. I recommend going with brands like FanAut, Puduo, Let’s Resin, Craft Daddy, etc. which often offer kits with gloves, craft sticks / stir sticks, measuring cups, and even additives at reasonable prices. All these items are things you’ll need to start off, so any extras are appreciated. I recommend Puduo, as it is relatively inexpensive compared to similar brands, yields consistent , crystal clear results, and has a somewhat faster curing time than other epoxy resins for the price. If none of these brands ring your bell, here are the qualifiers for a “good” epoxy resin:

Self Degassing- This is pretty much the standard expectation of epoxy resin and one of the reasons it is considered forgiving for beginners. When resin and hardener are combined, gases are trapped and form air bubbles which have a tendency to multiply as you stir your mixture and the combination heats up. But it shouldn’t be taken for granted that all epoxy resin does this, so try to look for “self degassing” in the item description / label.

Self Leveling vs. Doming : Doming resin is great for the magnified look on pendants and other flat projects, but self leveling resin is where you should be starting as doming requires the build up of surface tension to achieve. While “doming “ resin may achieve this easier than others without this feature, it is pretty irrelevant if you don’t know to dome resin in the first place.

Art Resin vs Other Epoxy: Art resins make claims of being ideal or a better choice for arts & crafts, but the reality is that you can achieve the same effects from table top or boat resins such as Mas- are just as capable of casting, coating, doming etc. as art resins especially if you’re looking to take on a larger project you will pay less and get more with these brands than smaller quantities of art resins. Make sure they are crystal clear, hard type, self degassing, and self leveling. Keep in mind that cure time relates to the size of your project and the ambient temperature of the environment, so don’t waste money on products that charge more for touting faster curing time.

What about 2 part epoxy in syringes? (Ice Resin, Gorilla Glue) Personally, these pre prepared epoxy resins are more complicated than they look. You can’t save combined resin and hardener, so once you mix the two or pop the seals to both you have to use the lot of it in one shot. Ice Resin in particular is quite expensive and doesn’t offer the clear, glossy results I expected it to when I used it, so I would avoid these if you are just starting out.

Additives & Extras- Don’t waste a lot of money at the start funding your would be creations until you have at least seen one entire project through from start to finish. I made the mistake of investing in silicone molds, glitters, additives like rhinestones, craft papers, transparency films etc before I really found my niche and what I was really using epoxy for the most. There are some great deals for 100+ piece silicone mold kits that include gloves, stir sticks, silicone measuring cups, and the like available cheaply for those looking to make smaller things like jewelry, keychains, figurines etc. the one I have just linked to even includes the epoxy for under $20. These kits are offered by Amazon and even Etsy and are a great place to start as they provide you with everything you would need to create at least one full project. They are also a great activity to do with your kids (ages 10+ would probably be ideal) as you can add pretty much anything that isn’t silicone, wax, unsealed paper, alcohol, or water based into resin, which opens up a world of possibilities!

Tips & Tricks That Will Save You $

If you’re itching for purchasing pigments to add color to your resin projects, try purchasing or reusing some old or cheap mineral eye shadows. Not sure if your eye shadow is mineral based? I’m willing to bet it is, though some colors may not look the same when mixed in resin as they do on the pallets, they will color it nonetheless, just pick a small amount up on a popsicle stick or toothpick and stir it into a small batch of resin to see how it turns out. Dollar Tree eye shadows will work just as well as expensive pigments, so consider this before investing in expensive mica pigment sets!

While silicone molds are probably the easiest and are reusable, you can also use plastic molds, carve your resin block with carpentry tools or by hand-or even make your own molds! There are simple recipes utilizing dish soap and corn starch out there, or you can use silicone or even hot glue! Flexible silicone molds won’t require a mold release, but plastic and other molds will or you may end up cutting your project out. You don’t have to purchase a mold release product for this, either- olive or vegetable oil spray on a paper towel will suffice, just remember to let your mold sit for a few hours to demoisturize.

Can’t find gloves because of COVID19 hype? Finger cots are even better than gloves as they allow for more dexterity even when they get sticky, are cheaper, and readily available in bulk online!

Pretty much anything compatible with homemade “slime” can be mixed into or embedded in resin, so there is that. However, be careful how much glitter, pigment, etc you add as you can throw off the chemical balance that allows your project to cure properly. Refer to the directions included with your specific resin kit as most will tell you what ratios must be maintained for proper curing.

Everyone that works with resin knows the arch nemesis that is the bubbles. There are times where it seems like, no matter what you do, your perfect clear cast of a dandelion goes to shit because of some stray air bubbles. There are a few tricks to avoid this from the start:

Use a separate cup to measure resin and hardener. Pour the combined mixture into a fourth cup after the first 3-4 mins of stirring (half time) scraping the sides and bottom. This helps what was on the bottom get integrated into what was mixed on top. Always make sure to pour resin first when mixing and mix slowly, scraping the sides and bottom, for the time listed on your instructions. You want your mixture to be almost water consistency, clear, fluid, with little viscosity, and no streaks visible. Allow it to sit for a few minutes to natural degas and get rid of the bubbles.

Use a torch or grill lighter to pop surface bubbles. You can also do each one individually (as the grill lighter suggestion may not always be a good idea- be careful using this on large projects and molds that may ignite) with a tooth pick. Using a blow dryer or heat gun will also help bubbles rise to the surface to be popped.

Make sure that you keep contact with the bottom of your mixing cup with your stir stick-try not to lift it too much as this can introduce air into the mixture (“whipping the resin”) this can also occur if you are stirring too quickly. If you notice a lot of bubbles, let your mixture sit for a few minutes and resume stirring at a slower pace.

Make sure you start your project at a temperature of 74 degrees +, if your bottles are cold to touch, place them in a plastic bag and let them sit in hot water to warm up. You can also roll them (slowly) on a counter top.

You know, if all else fails you could always make ocean or nautical themed projects :)

That’s all for now- let me know if this helped you or someone you know working with resin or experimenting. Feel free to comment with any questions you would like answered in my next post! I also recommend the Resin Obssesion blog- they have a lot of useful information and tutorials with photos that were really helpful for me starting out!

Xo Samantha

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wkemeup · 4 years

Text

By Any Other Name (3)

series summary: When Special Agent Bucky Barnes is tasked with infiltrating the notorious gang Hydra and gathering evidence against its leader, Brock Rumlow, Bucky finds himself drawn to the woman who doesn’t seem to belong in this world of violence, the wife of the head of Hydra… you. pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 6.9k warnings: flirty heart eyes, excessive emphasis on fluff, love is in the AIR, the knowledge that these happy times won’t last forever....... 👀 🌹series masterlist 🌹

“You did what now?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, explicitly ignoring Sam’s full-bellied laugh as he struggled not to spill the open lidded coffee cup on the impossibly small table between them. There were near tears in his eyes and patrons of the Brooklyn based café were all staring in their direction. Bucky tugged the bridge of his baseball cap lower over his eyes.

“Leave him alone, Sam. It was a good idea,” Steve warned, voice low, as he turned to Bucky to clap a hand on his shoulder. He gripped at the muscle, massaging the tender scar tissue, before dropping his grip. “It gave him an in with Y/n. He needs to work on building that foundation of trust before he can start figuring out what she knows about Hydra. Ain’t that right, Buck?”

Bucky nodded, his lips pressing to a thin line, though it felt forced, jarring against his features.

“Yeah.”

He could still picture the shock in your eyes; the surprise and the realization as he placed the book in your hands. He had thought for a minute that you were going to laugh at him and discard the old, worn down copy he’d stolen from his high school library as a sophomore because it in no way compared to the first edition novels worth thousands of dollars sitting upon your shelves, but the smile that lifted your lips had made his heart feel like it was going to burst out of his chest.

Sure, maybe there was a part of him that knew that your library and your clear love of fiction would be an easy target to begin building a connection, a layer of trust, before he could start getting the information from you he needed, but it wasn’t why he’d spent two hours tearing apart his childhood bedroom in search of the book.

He wanted to see you smile again.

He wanted to see your eyes light up and the way you bite on the corner of your lip. There was just something about it that made his stomach twist in knots, that made his own mouth start to curve at the edges, and his heart beat just a little quicker. It was so rare to see it from you, especially in the days your husband lingered around, but suddenly, it was all he could think about.

He could have asked for the funds from the Bureau to buy you the first edition, writing it off as a necessary expense for his cover, but somehow, he knew you’d appreciate the hand-me-down copy more. It had character and a history. It was messy, and a little broken; a glimpse into his life, his real life, something he was never supposed to cross the boundaries of, but it served its purpose.

He’d seen you around the house carrying it under your arm for nearly four days after he’d given it to you. Sometimes he’d spot you sitting in the living room, nose deep in the pages as he walked in the front door behind Rumlow before you’d get up and quickly escape to your library without a word to your husband, though you stopped and caught his eye before you left, holding up the book so he knew you were reading it and giving him that short, stolen smile before you disappeared.

You had run into him on the fifth day and swatted him with the book in a rare moment when he was standing by himself in the kitchen, Rumlow having gone up to the office to gather some paperwork before they were meant to head to the Lernaean.

“What did this poor book ever do to you?” you had teased him, flipping open the pages of his copy of A Farewell to Arms to find stains of Dorito dust in the folds on page 76, mindless doodles done in blue ink pen on the top corner of page 117, and a sticky note taped to the inside back cover of a crude drawing of a lanky, high school version of Steve with big angry eyebrows and a boxing gloves held up by his face.

“Sorry, I guess I should have looked it over before I lent it to you.” Bucky laughed, swiping the book back from your hands and earning a pout in return. “I mean if you don’t want to finish it, I’ll just take it b--”

“I never said I was done with it, you vandal!”

Your laugh was like music to his ears, melodic and captivating, and he hated the moments you cut it off short and closed it away to the darkest parts of yourself; moments like when your husband walked back into the room.

Rumlow had eyed you with a kind of look you must have been familiar with because your smile fell away instantly and Bucky released the book to your grasp. You held it down by your hips, eyes glued to the floor. He had watched as you left the room without another word, book gripped so tightly in your hands, the pages started to crinkle.

He knew what he was feeling was dangerous. It went against every code he swore an oath to. He’d be pulled from the case the second Director Fury got wind of his personal attachment to you – if that’s what he was going to call it. There wasn’t really a way to describe what he was feeling.

Infatuation. Admiration. Longing. Ease. Attraction.

He didn’t know.

All he knew was that he wanted to see you smile more, wanted to knock Rumlow’s teeth in for more reasons than why he was stationed undercover within Hydra in the first place. He wanted to know why you were involved in this world to begin with and how you ended up trapped in a marriage you clearly wanted nothing to do with.

He wanted to protect you from all this; from Hydra, from his investigation.

A few conversations, a couple smiles from across the rooms, and it changed everything.

“Buck? You awake in there?” Sam chuckled, tapping a finger on Bucky’s forehead until he swatted his hand away with a grunt.

“Knock it off, Wilson,” Bucky grumbled, bending down to take a sip of the burning hot coffee resting in his grasp. It stung on his lips but he swallowed it back anyway, the heat of it warming down through his chest.

“It’s been almost two months,” Steve said casually, “how have you been holding up?”

Bucky glanced around at the busy café. It wasn’t unusual for them to meet in public places and talk about the case, as long as they kept details vague and didn’t draw any attention. Hell, Bucky just needed an outlet sometimes outside of the conference rooms and safe houses he usually met the team in. He was thankful Nat typically elected out of their Sunday coffee runs because she was always able to read him like a hawk, and he was certain she’d be able to pick up on his affection towards you in an instant.

“It’s fine,” Bucky shrugged. “Boss is still a piece of shit.”

“Yeah, well, we already knew that,” Sam agreed, pursing his lips with a shake of his head.

“You said there were some guys there who seemed to be blackmailed into their work?” Steve asked, voice a little quieter now.

Bucky nodded. “Seems that way. Not everyone is there by choice. Still working out the details of who but I’ve got a list going for Nat when we meet up next week. I’m supposed to be stationed out on the docks this week so I’ll talk to the guys then.”

“Good, good,” Steve said. He paused for a moment, staring down into his coffee, studying the swirl of the soft chestnut coloring. “You being careful?”

Bucky smiled at that. For a kid who spent his youth getting himself into trouble and leaving Bucky to watch over his back, he sure as hell got protective himself once his body grew into his rebellious and reckless attitude.

“Yeah, pal, you know I always am.”

“Something just feels different about this one,” Steve said, leaning back into his chair. A woman behind the counter was staring at him, and he cleared his throat awkwardly upon noticing her eyes, shrugging the collar of his jacket up to cover the pink blush in his cheeks.

“Well this is the biggest profile case we’ve tackled,” Sam offered casually as he took a sip of his coffee, grinning at the way the girl at the counter shamelessly ogled at Steve.

“I don’t like that he’s in there so deep with no one to watch his six,” Steve shook his head, teeth gritted.

“I’m not alone and you know it,” Bucky responded, reaching across the table to grab a firm hold of Steve’s forearm, squeezing just enough to get him to meet his eye. There was hesitancy there and Steve wasn’t usually one to worry. “I’ve got you guys, remember?”

“You just need to watch yourself, alright?” Steve exhaled, patting at Bucky’s hand until he released his arm. “This is the first time you’ve been put in so close to the target. You spent most of your time in his house, Buck, and with Fury tellin’ you to get close to the wife, I just... I worry there’s too much on your shoulders and somethings going to fall through the cracks.”

Bucky sighed, exchanging a quick look with Sam who’s teasing smile had faded away upon noticing the genuine concern and anxiety in their friend.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to him, Steve,” Sam said, sending a wink at Bucky before he added, “you know he’d never let us hear the end of it.”

Bucky laughed, nodding. “Damn straight.”

Sam punched at Steve’s shoulder, grinning again, and didn’t let up until Steve finally relaxed and sat up further in his chair, the tension clearly washing from his muscles.

“Now that that’s all settled,” Sam teased, clapping Steve on the shoulder, “how about we focus on getting you the pretty barista’s number?”

***

Sundays used to be your only good days.

You used to find solace in warm teas and coffees from Café Ramos and freshly baked bagels from the Marselli’s; freedom in the wind gusting through the open back streets of Queens. Far away from tourists and amongst the bodegas and apartment buildings, you walked dozens of blocks from where your driver dropped you off; an added precaution to keep Brock from tracking down where you spent your time, and who you met up with.

Peter was sitting on the stoop of the brownstone, cheek resting on his hand and slouching up his face as he stared down at his phone. There was a lovesick look in his eye and you wondered if he ever got around to asking that girl out from school he’d been crushing on.

He was a sweet kid. Kind. Compassionate. Intelligent beyond belief. But his optimism and habit of overlooking flaws to see the best in someone, while admirable, was dangerous. It was why you worked so hard to keep him away from Brock. Your husband had a talent of convincing kids like that with an eagerness to please and a family tight on cash to join his ranks.

Peter was like a brother to you, having grown up with him running around your father’s house at all hours of the day when Aunt May was working, but lately, you kept him at an arm's length. You never let him over at the house, kept details vague about Brock’s employment, and insisted on walking the fourteen blocks to his apartment to pick him up, even when he offered to meet you at the subway stop near where your driver dropped you off.

He was a sweet kid, but he was naïve. Young. He had some learning to do. It was what you liked so much about him. You could use a little unending joy and positivity in your life.

“Hey Aunt May!” you called, waving at her as she walked by the front window folding a shirt from the dryer. She paused, turning towards you with a big smile and made her way to the door.

Peter had nearly fallen over on himself, clutching at his chest, his phone on the ground where it flung from his hands upon your sudden arrival.

“You okay there, kid?” you laughed, bending down to pick up his phone. No cracks. You handed it back to him with a wink.

He chuckled nervously, brushing off the screen with the edge of his shirt. “You scared me.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so nose deep in your phone, Z.”

“Yeah, okay, Mil.”

“Z? Mil? You two develop another coded language or am I losing it?” Aunt May folded her arms over her chest as she leaned against the frame of the door.

“Gen Z,” Peter explained, pointing to himself, and then to you, “Millennial.”

You and Peter had some years between one another and, sure, you didn’t always understand the other’s lingo or quirks in their behavior, but it didn’t make much difference to either of you. It was another reason to poke fun at each other. Siblings were like that.

“I still think it’s funny you spend as much time together as you do,” Aunt May smiled.

“Hey, I keep him out of trouble!”

“-- and I keep her young.”

“Okay, watch yourself, kid,” you warned, laughing as you poked him hard in the side, causing him to jump away a few feet to escape another attack.

Aunt May always did like you being around so much after Uncle Ben died. Peter didn’t take it so well, not after losing his parents too, so he spent hours every day at your house when Aunt May was on shift at the hospital. You’d occupy his time and keep his mind from wondering back to finding his uncle in the streets, alone and bleeding. He was so young when it happened, you were surprised that when your father died just a few years later, he had insisted on doing the same for you.

The years between you didn’t matter. Not when it came to a bond like that.

“Will you come say hi already?” Aunt May teased, stomping her foot playfully as she opened her arms to you and you rushed up the stoop to fall into her embrace. She smelled of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and you peaked around the corner to find trays lined up on the kitchen table. Your stomach growled.

“Do I smell--”

“You want some before we go?” Peter asked before shoving his way inside, not quite bothering to wait for an answer as he started grabbing a few cookies from the table, bouncing a particularly hot one between his hands before he shoved it in his mouth.

He grabbed two for you, slipping them into your outstretched hand as you stepped out of Aunt May’s hold. She smiled at you, brushing your hair from your eyes in that motherly way you’d missed since you were a kid. You supposed it was another thing that drew you and Peter together.

“Don’t think I forgot about that science project you have due this week!” Aunt May called as you and Peter started to walk to the sidewalk. He visibly winced. “I want you home before dinner, Peter.”

“Okay, okay!” he groaned, shooing her off with a wave of his hand and sent you a glare as you struggled to contain your laughter.

“Oh, man. I do not miss high school,” you grinned, taking a bite of the cookie and nearly choking on a moan that slipped out. Buttery soft and warm gooiness melting on your tongue. Heaven.

Peter rolled his eyes, nudging you with his elbow playfully. “Don’t rub it in.”

***

Your Sundays were never exceeding exciting. Most of your time spent with Peter was just running errands, taking deposits to the bank for Aunt May, picking up lunch at one of the sandwich shops, getting him a new pair of sneakers he so desperately needed even though he fought you on paying for them for about an hour before he gave in.

They were often mundane and filled with idle chatter, sitting on park benches and watching the people walk by and the tourists taking photos in front of brick walls. He’d sit there and talk for hours because that’s amongst the things Peter did best. He'd tell you everything from his latest science fair project, the progress on his Lego set with Ned, the kid named ‘Flash’ who pranked him again and filled his locker with whipped cream.

It was simple. It was easy and comforting.

It was an escape.

Peter had nearly forgotten he was supposed to pick up a few things from the corner store for Aunt May, so you were on your way to the shop with the black cat who liked to sit perched in the window just to get a good look at her again while he tracked down the milk and bread.

The wind was picking up and you tugged your jacket tighter around your chest. You glanced over at Peter who had his hands shoved into the thin layer of his jacket, cheeks a little pink from the wind and he shivered.

Your heart ached a little and you decided you’d talk him into a new coat on your next Sunday together. He’d never make it through New York winter with holes in his pockets and no protection from the blistering wind.

While Brock didn’t give you access to enough of your father’s money to make it on your own, you had enough to buy things for Peter, to collect your first editions, and to remain moderately comfortable.

It was a ploy to keep you content, a carrot to dangle for the arguments when you’d threaten to storm out of the house you shared and he’d remind you, you had nothing without him, that he could implicate you in each and every one of his crimes, and you’d stay. Every time. You’d stay.

You had no choice.

And for years, you’d grown accustomed to the prison your home had turned into. Until you met James Karpov.

You’d almost forgotten what it was like to feel the twist of nerves in your stomach, to seek someone out amongst a crowd and to feel the relief deep in your bones upon finding them, upon finding blue eyes and dark brown hair, warm smile and that slight nod. So impossibly subtle and somehow it became the best part of your day.

Maybe you were naïve, and maybe it had simply been too long since anyone within that home had treated you with even an ounce of kindness or respect that you clung onto the first man who so much as smiled in your direction and asked about one of your overpriced books, but it gave you back a sense of yourself you’d been missing.

You started smiling again, starting looking forward to the days Brock held his meetings within the house in hopes that James would be there and you could ask him how far along he’d gotten in Fahrenheit 451. You were careful about your interactions with him, knowing that Brock was an exceptionally jealous man, even if your conversations with James were innocent.

And they were.

They had no greater meaning or underlying feelings.

So you told yourself, anyway.

The wind was picking up again and Peter was finishing up a very long and overly detailed recount of he and Ned’s favorite comic book series, when you realized you’d walked nearly five blocks without realizing it.

“Did you give Michele the necklace yet?” you asked him as you crossed the border into Brooklyn. He nearly choked on air, coughing to alleviate his surprise and you laughed into your scarf, trying to hold it back for the sake of his ego.

“Oh, um, not yet! But I’m working on it,” he chuckled nervously. “I’ve got a plan.”

Peter was starting to tell you all of the intricate and perfectly timed details of this ‘plan’ when you spotted someone across the street that caught your eye.

Tall, with long brown hair swept behind his ears and hiding under a baseball cap, hands tucked into the pockets of a familiar bomber, he swatted the arm of a friend on his left while the other scolded him.

You narrowed your eyes, not even realizing you’d pulled to a stop until Peter came rushing back a few paces, complaining he’d kept on walking without you. You apologized quickly, a little out of focus, and asked him for a minute. He nodded with a shrug and pulled out his phone, sinking down to the sidewalk and waited patiently.

“James?” you called over the rush of traffic. He didn’t seem to hear you.

You’d never seen him outside of your husband’s home and it was strange running into him in such a personal environment. He was with friends, off the job, his guard was down. A bright smile, brighter than you’d ever seen it on his face as he laughed loud enough for the sound to carry across the street. It made something in your chest clench.

You called his name again, a little louder this time, but the blare of a horn drowned you out.

Letting out a heavy sigh, you held up a hand to warn oncoming cars that you were crossing the street and quickly wove your way in and out of lanes until you made it to the other side of the road. You glanced in his direction, brushing out the dirt on the thighs of your jeans before you approached him again.

“James!”

You were only standing a few feet from him and he still didn’t respond. You closed your eyes, gritting your teeth and feeling a rush of embarrassment.

This was his day off; he didn’t need to be dealing with his boss’s wife.

All this time, while you were caught up in your own head with fantasies of ‘what if’s’ and finding solace in his short, kind smiles, he was probably just appeasing the wife of his boss. He must have known how lonely you were, could sense it a mile away, and he was simply being polite. You just misinterpreted it for interest or kindness or something, but it was clear your stolen moments over classic fiction and subtle glances across the room were exclusive to the walls of your home.

You turned to leave, clenching your hands into fists and puncturing the skin, when you heard your name called from behind you.

“Y/n?”

You spun around to find James staring at you with wide blue eyes. He was clearly surprised, caught off guard in a way few men of his rank within Hydra ever were, and he glanced back at his friends hesitantly before they quickly departed, retreating to a table on the edge of the café they had left from. He walked closer to you, enough so neither of you would have to shout over the rush of traffic.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to see you,” James said, that smile tugging on the corner of his lips as he everted his eyes. He was nervous, swaying in his stance and running a hand through his hair.

“No, it’s okay!” you replied quickly. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything with your friends.”

He clenched his jaw at that, the smile fading from his face. “Friends? What friends?”

You peered around his towering shoulders to find the two men he was just standing with sitting over at a table at the café, talking to one another and stealing glances in your direction over the tops of newspapers they had just nabbed from the adjacent table. It was endearing, if anything.

“So, the guys siting over at that table pretending not to watch our every move aren’t your friends?” you asked, a slight laugh in your voice as James shook his head.

“No,” he responded shortly, though when you narrowed your eyes on him, grinning, he sighed, “yeah, ok. I know ‘em.”

You pursed your lips, glancing between James and two men sitting over at the table; the dark-skinned man with the toothy grin seemed to be thrilled to watch James fumble his way through half of a conversation, while the tall blonde one punched at his friend’s shoulder, seemingly warning him quietly to knock it off.

You sighed, noticing the way he kept glancing back at his friends, shuffling his feet like he wanted to be just about anywhere else than this conversation. You tried to ignore the free-falling feeling in your stomach.

“Look,” you started, feeling a little uneasy in your stance now, “it’s totally okay you don’t want me to know about them. I get it. You want to keep your personal life separate from work. It makes a lot of sense, especially with, um, with what you do and, um, I’m part of work, right? Different worlds. Don’t need to be bothering yourself with the boss’s wife in your free time...”

His whole body seemed to freeze and his eyes went wide.

“What? No, that’s not it at all!” he quickly explained, but he seemed to relax for a moment, glancing back towards his friends. “They don’t know what I do outside of the cover at the club. I just don’t want them catching wind.”

You nodded, knowing full well how that felt. A wave of relief swept through you; like a rush of water pushing away the aches and twists and breaks in your chest, leaving behind only that pleasant little tug you felt every time he walked in the room.

“You must be the new guy!” a voice chimed from behind you and you nearly flinched from the shock of it.

Speak of the damn devil.

Peter was suddenly at your side, a little out of breath as he looked James over, wide eyed and grinning. “Holy cow. He really is all muscle, huh?”

You shoved Peter hard in the side, cheeks flushing with heat as James laughed a little under his breath.

“I thought you were gonna stay on the other side of the street until I was done?”

“Got bored,” he shrugged, pushing you aside and turning to James. “So! What’s the likelihood you’ll let me sneak into the Lernaean? I’ve got an in with the owner and Y/n never lets me get anywhere near that place. Tell me you’re cooler than my cousin, man, I’m beggin’ you.”

You must have stopped breathing because your lungs felt like they were on fire. Peter had never been so brazen as to bypass your carefully constructed boundaries like that, but then again, he’d never met anyone from Hydra before. It was your mistake to confide in him about the strange new ‘bouncer’ with the blue eyes and the unexpected appreciation of fiction. Peter was curious by nature and he just liked seeing you happy.

James must have sensed your distress because he raised a brow at you, but your jaw was wired shut. Peter couldn’t know about this world. You had to keep him out of it. You tried to convey that to James with a simple glance, but he didn’t owe you anything. What would he care if this lanky kid knew about Hydra and the world you lived in? He was still Hydra himself and you had to constantly remind yourself of that.

“Please, man,” Peter begged. “It’ll make Flash so jealous and I need a win over that jerk.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, kid,” James replied. Peter let out a very dramatic groan and it got James laughing. “It’s not a good place for a minor to be hanging out, anyway. Listen to your cousin.”

The fear didn’t escape you, even as Peter seemed to let the topic go. You liked James, that much you were able to admit to yourself, but did you trust him enough to protect Peter from Brock’s world... you weren’t sure.

Trust wasn’t so much a step as it was a cascading waterfall into an abyss. It didn’t come easy to you.

“Fine. But I’m not giving up that easily,” Peter huffed, folding his arms over his chest. He caught sight of the watch on his wrist and pouted. He turned to you. “I should head home anyway.”

You nodded. “Okay, I’ll walk yo--”

“No, you won’t,” Peter argued with a massive smile. “I know you still have stuff to do before you head home. I’m fine on my own, you know that.”

You did. Didn’t mean you liked it.

“Besides,” Peter continued, that cheeky grin tugging on his face, “I’m sure Mr. Karpov here wouldn’t mind escorting you the rest of the way.”

Your throat ran dry. “T-That’s entirely unnecessary... Peter.”

You sent him a glare but it only made him laugh harder as he started to back away down the sidewalk. He winked and quickly turned his shoulder and jogged down the remainder of the block just to deprive you of the chance to argue back. The little shit.

Spinning back around to James with an anxious grimace on your face, you quickly held your hands up to apologize but he was laughing to himself, causing you to lose your train of thought.

“I really don’t mind, you know,” he said, and of course he didn’t, because he simply couldn’t make it easy to disregard that nervous feeling in your stomach when he looked at you.

“It’s super boring,” you warned and he shook his head with a smile, some stray pieces of hair falling into his face. Damn that smile of his.

“What are we doing?” he asked, like it wasn’t even a second thought.

“There’s a café a few blocks from here,” you started, carefully watching his face for signs that he was surely making fun of you or appeasing you to be polite, but came up empty. “They sell paintings by local artists and I’ve been wanting to replace this godawful modern abstract Brock’s interior designer hung in one of the spare rooms. He wouldn’t notice anyway, don’t you think?”

James shrugged, a nodding slightly as he chuckled. “I don’t suppose he would.”

You chewed on the edge of your lip, gesturing for him to follow you down the street and he did so without hesitation.

There were only a few minutes of silence, of walking side by side with hands tucked carefully into jacket pockets and side stepping pedestrians with their noses stuck in their phones, before you worked up the courage to say something.

“Peter doesn’t know about our world,” you said suddenly, keeping your eyes trained ahead of you, scared that if you even looked at him, you’d lose your nerve. “I work really hard to keep it that way, so if you could-- if you could avoid mentioning to Brock that I was with him today, I would – I would really appreciate that. You know how Brock can be; always trying to recruit kids on the street to push his product and I don’t-- I don’t want Peter anywhere near--”

“You have my word,” James said simply, genuinely, and you let out a heavy exhale that released like flood gates. “No reason to tell the boss what I do on my days off and who I run into, right?”

You nodded, a little lost for words. “Right.”

You paused at a stop light, stealing glances at him as he mumbled a soft apology to the elderly woman who was attempting to push past him to get to the front of the sidewalk. She was uneasy on her feet and using her walking cane as weapon as she clicked it against his ankles and he quickly stepped out of her way. He winced, rubbing at his right ankle with the back of his left shoe.

As the light turned green and the old lady pushed past, shoving a few other pedestrians out of her way, you turned back to James, grinning so wide it hurt in your cheeks. He was chewing on his lip.

“This could really damage my rep, huh?”

“Just a little,” you laughed and you were certain if your hands weren’t shoved deep into the pockets of your jacket to hide from the cold, you may have offered your hand to him. Just instinctively. His hands were so big, they seemed warm, safe.

“I finished 451, by the way,” he said as the two of you rushed to cross the street before the light turned again.

“What’d you think?”

“Never as good as the first time,” he shrugged but there was still a semblance of that smile on his lips. “Still pretty great though. Didn’t even spill coffee on it or anything.”

“I suppose I should be impressed, considering the way you treated Hemingway,” you laughed, shoving at his arm with your elbow, and though a hit like that would have had Peter stumbling a few paces, James barely even flinched, but he did start to laugh.

“Come on now, you know I was in high school when I last touched that thing and you can’t trust a teenage boy with shit,” he teased and you found yourself grabbing onto his arm for support from that laughs making your unsteady on your feet. He didn’t seem to mind at all, not even as you suddenly realized what you were doing and quickly released him with a quick nervous brush of your hair from your eyes.

You cleared your throat, continuing to walk down the sidewalk. “I finished it last week, actually. I can return it to you tomorrow if you--”

“It was a gift,” James said simply. “Keep it. If you want, I mean. I know it doesn’t exactly fit in amongst all the first editions and fancy copies so you can get rid of it if you--”

“No! It’s, uh, it’s perfect. Thank you,” you said and he pressed his lips together to keep himself from rambling.

He was right. It certainly did stand out amongst the novels on your shelves with the cracked and broken binding, the doodles in the pages, and the stains on the cover, but it was so entirely human. It was a relief to have something of imperfection amongst masterpieces.

***

Bucky wasn’t quite sure what to make of you.

It was the most relaxed he’d ever felt on an assignment as he walked alongside you down the busy streets of Brooklyn. You tried to lead him down less crowded alleys and avoid the cross-section of tourists taking photos in the street because you noticed the way he tugged at the bridge of his cap to pull over his eyes but it was near impossible. You must have mistaken his attempts at concealing his identity in a part of the city that knew him well for anxiety around the bustle of people.

It was sweet, he thought, that you were observant enough for things like that and tried to make it easier on him without saying a word. You’d give him silly excuses to travel down abandoned streets and act like it was you that wanted the space away from the crowd, but he knew you were doing it for him.

You told him about the café you liked to visit with the family you’d grown to know well over the years and the bagel joint a few blocks away that Bucky spent many years grabbing breakfast at as a teenager. You talked like you knew the owners, spent time with them and caught up on their weeks when you waited for your orders, and somehow that didn’t surprise Bucky at all.

He felt an ease by your side he’d never felt in all his years in undercover work. He was used to be on edge, to watching his every move and purposefully concealing parts of himself to create firm boundaries between his cover and himself.

But not with you.

The rare moments he spent alone with you were the only times he felt like Bucky Barnes, even under the guise of James Karpov.

But he still had a job to do.

You were smiling, telling him about a pain-in-your-ass student from your time teaching at Columbia and he could tell how much you missed it. There was a brightness in your eye, a flicker of nostalgia, of loss, and he hunched his shoulders against the cold with a steady breath.

“Why’d you quit?” he asked when you’d finished your story. Your smile fell away quickly and he nearly regretted asking. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I mean, it sounds like you really loved what you did. With all the books you collect and all, figured you’d quite enjoy an outlet with people who are as obsessed with fiction as you are.”

That got a slight laugh out of you, but it was tense. Your eyes were on the sidewalk, jaw clenched.

“Oh, I… um…” you were struggling to come up with an answer, one to bullshit to him. You weren’t ready to trust him and he should have known better than to ask so soon. “I stepped down when I got married. Brock has more than enough money. I don’t need to work anymore.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t want to,” Bucky offered because part of him simply just wanted you to know that not every man would isolate you from the things you loved and demand you give your entire life to him. The other part, the one screaming in the back of his head, knew that validating you like this, giving you the support you so clearly craved, would only build on that trust; trust he would need to use you as an accessory to bring Hydra to ash.

He hated that part of him. He never used to.

You nodded, chewing on your lip. “Doesn’t mean I can.”

He changed the subject quickly after that.

He knew well enough that it wasn’t a good sign that he was putting your feelings over his commitment to the job. On any other assignment with any other target, he would have pressed harder, would have asked how you met Rumlow and why you married him at all if this was the life you’d end up in, but he bit his tongue.

You were talking about a local kid’s high school musical you wanted to attend and suddenly you were smiling again. The tension left Bucky’s chest and he felt at ease, pushing aside the nagging voicing in the back of his head, reminding him why he was stationed next to you in the first place.

It seemed to quiet down the longer he walked with you, the more he stole glances at your smile, the more his stomach seemed to twist to pleasant knots whenever you look at him.

***

“What do you think of this one?” you asked, pulling his attention back to the painting hanging above two teenage girls huddled around a single laptop, sharing a pair of headphones as they struggled to contain their laughter.

The painting you were looking at was filled with reds and oranges, yellows and dark blue, soft brush strokes in gentle waves across the frame; it looked like a sunset, warm and comforting. It was in stark contrast to the cold and isolating nature of the house and he supposed it was why you liked it.

“It’s nice,” he said. He wasn’t as attuned to the arts as you were, but he knew it was nicer than the one you were trying to replace. It was one that made you smile. That was enough, he thought.

“Think Brock will be mad if he finds out I’m replacing a $50,000 painting with one done by...” you squinted your eyes, leaning in closer to read the tag, “a lovely young art major named Wanda at NYU?”

“Not if he never notices it.” He winked, nudging your arm.

You smiled, the lines of it wrinkling up by your eyes and Bucky had a hard time tearing his gaze away from you as you politely waved over the owner and pointed to the painting on the wall.

Bucky leaned against the counter, watching from a distance as you conversed with the owner for a few minutes, and after a while, he gasped, staring at you with wide eyes. You must have told him how much you were willing to pay for the piece.

Steve and Sam were going to rip him a new one at the next meet up, he was sure of it. There was no way they didn’t catch on to how easily he retreated back to Bucky Barnes, highly capable FBI special agent and nervous wreck amongst pretty women, from James Karpov, enforcer to the world’s deadliest mafia.

You turned back to him, raising a thumbs up with the biggest smile on your face he’d ever seen as the owner moved to take down the painting. You were practically giddy with joy and he found himself smiling until his cheeks hurt, even long after you turned away to start writing the check.

He was such a goner.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes one shot

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aizawaskittenwhore · 3 years

Text

𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐭

words:3.7k

pairing: aizawa x fem!reader

warnings: tw mention of blood, tw mentions of death, mentions of drugs in case you forgot this is a cartel au, murder, swearing, keigo being a cocky lil fucker, sexual harassment towards the end cause yakuza men suck

rating: 18+ cause shit gets real this chapter

a/n: i FINALLY FINISHED IT FUCK YES chapter two mothafuckas!!! i’ve been having so much fun brainstorming everything to come, and here you’re gonna really get a feel for how big this cartel is. player two, f/n l/n, you’re up! <3

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭��𝐨: 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝’𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 ↳ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞

September 13th, 2181

2:56pm

Musutafu, Japan

“Hold the fuck up. This doesn’t make any sense, I mean—these are Pros. Well known and well respected Pros, at that. The hell would they be tryna’ run a fucking cartel for?!?” Ken Takagi (more commonly known as Rock Lock) rubbed the bridge of his nose in confusion, not understanding the motive or correlation. “I mean think about it. These motherfuckers got more money than they know what to do with. Endeavor is a shareholder in goddamn Nintendo, Hawks owns his own fucking agency and line of sports cars, and I could’ve sworn I saw Eraser getting Shinsou fitted for a fucking Cuban on his birthday a few months ago. It’s not like they’re strapped for cash these days.” Ken huffed, the agent’s arms crossed as he leaned back in the conference chair.

In an attempt to try and broaden the range on your current investigation, your department recruited the help of several Pros to provide reinforcements in Japan, the States, and wherever else sales were being made. Going undercover was already plenty dangerous, and going alone was the equivalent of signing your own death warrant. Enlisting the help of Rock Lock, Ryukyu, Miruko, Fatgum, Edgeshot and plenty of others was relatively easy; these were Heroes that had experience with smugglers and narcotics-based operations, so when you’d approached them with the task at hand, they’d happily agreed.

However, some needed more convincing than others.

“Takagi. Think about it. Sure, they may not be living paycheck to paycheck, but look at the timeline.” You state, looking over your shoulder towards the holographic board displaying an interactive timeline of the investigation, including photos, invoices and even audio recordings pulled from surveillance cameras. “Two years ago, we seized a truck containing approximately 78 kilograms of crack cocaine. When we questioned the driver on where he was taking it and where he got it from, he didn’t budge. Luckily for us, the dumbass wasn’t smart enough to avoid a paper trail, leaving the insurance documents in the glove compartment when we’d taken him into custody. The insurance company was under the name “Target Lance”, but after doing some digging on the name we found out the corporation went bankrupt six months before and was eventually bought out by Chevrolet.” Pausing to return to the screen welded to the wall behind you, your hands swiped as you searched for the file reading December 5th, 2178: A live video feed of a towering skyscraper being built, the building’s name reading “Chevrolet Corvette Inc.” as it hovered above tens of stories above each worker.

“But you all haven’t heard the name Chevy in a while right? That’s because two weeks after that building was built, the hundred-million dollar company was bought out by Takami Corporate-”

“-who owns Takami Motors. Which is the brand associated with the Peregrine Speedsters, Hawks’ damned sports car line.” Ken finished for you, brown spheres twinkling in sudden clarity. “Now you’re speaking my language.” You nod, hands waving as you continue to brief the room of Pros.

“The Todoroki and Nintendo console collaboration didn’t happen until about earlier this year, March to be specific. Which is quite convenient..since around that time the price of cocaine per gram stabilized in both America and Japan, rising from $112 to $138 bucks a pop. I’m nobody to speak on looks either, but for as long as we’ve known of him, Eraser has dressed like a depressed college student with insomnia that doesn’t understand the concept of soap or a pair of clippers. Now he’s got his wife in Cartier bracelets and getting his shirts tailored because the collar “doesn’t allow him enough room for his capture weapon”?!? Bullshit.” You huff, stifling a smile as you watch Miruko and Edgeshot snicker in their seats at your...blunt observation.

“It makes sense. Three years ago all our agencies, including those overseas, started cutting our checks down by half. They can barely afford to pay us a quarter of what we used to make, and these guys are making these lavish purchases while we all starve?? No way. Something’s fishy, and it’s damn sure not this takoyaki.” Fatgum spat, hands quivering with rage as he struggled to grasp the food with his chopsticks.

“Fatgum’s right. Hero unemployment is at a staggering 8.7 percent. Meanwhile, these men are spending money like it’s going out of style. It makes no sense.” Miruko pondered, Ryukyu folding her hands in her lap as she voiced her approval for immediate action. Edgeshot nodded in agreement, brows furrowed in frustration at this blatant disregard for the law. “So we’re all in agreement that our own people have resorted to breaking the law. Cool, got it. Question is, why? And what the hell are we gonna do about it?” Ken demanded, his patience having worn thin from all this speculation.

“Good question. I think they’re trying to take advantage of the tough spot the Hero Commission is in right now, manipulate that vulnerability and use it for their own gain. They’re not invulnerable to the tough times Pros are facing in the workforce. So they’ve gotten together to try and make it work for them, even if it means breaking the law.” You query, hands typing furiously at the virtual screen to pull up the files of each Hero, displaying all the current information on them from their blood type to each known family member. “These three banding together though? Along with other people? There’s no way. They hate each other. Or at the very least couldn’t get anything done even if they did have a common goal in mind.” Edgeshot murmured lowly.

“I thought so too. But then it hit me: it’s not just some flimsy group project. Sure, crime has gone up since the formation of this cartel, but nobody who holds any rank has been murdered or harmed in any way. No no no, these guys are singing in tune for now...which means there’s a damn good choir director among them. So I’ve volunteered to go undercover, work my way through this organization and figure out just how high up this goes.” You assert, shoulders rigid and chin aloft as the harnesses of your costume frame your figure.

“Alone?? Are you outta your goddamn mind? Let me go, you’ll need back up-” Rock Lock sputters, hands fanning out in shock.

“No way. What about your wife, your kid?! This isn’t just some average drug bust, we’re dealing with powerful men in possession of superhuman abilities that have the game on lockdown. You’ve got too much to lose, more than any of us anyway. Edgeshot and I will go, we’ve seen the other side of the law before, and our quirks are better suited for stealth should anything go wrong.” You fire, eyes narrowing into slits. “The rest of you will be working in tandem with the DEA and our resources, and we’ll report back to you with all future developments. We’ll also need you to be ready to fight at a moment’s notice, if we need it.”

A thick silence clogged the air, Ken settling back into his seat across the table. His amber eyes flickered in irritation before huffing in acceptance, the situation being out of his hands. All the conference participants’ gazes fixed in determination, some with anger. The tense aura weighed on everyone present before Miruko cleared her throat, ivory teeth gleaming in a smirk.

“Well we’ve got a solid plan. So all I wanna know is...when do we start?

June 2nd, 2182

In all honesty...you thought the nickname was just a sad attempt to stroke his ego. But seeing the way over seventy commercial-size planes and approximately 30 seaplanes sat aloft balmy concrete in the Guadalajara sun showed you exactly why they called Hawks “Lord of The Skies”. Arrays of laborers with avian-oriented quirks loaded kilo after kilo of coke on to each and every plane, some by hand and others by forklift. Welders were personally hand selected by Keigo himself to eliminate the issue of utilizing every available inch of space; each vessel having been stripped of everything from the seats to the built in mini-bars (much to Keigo’s chagrin). From where you stood in the scalding hot beams, the runway seemed to extend for miles as it brimmed with visible heat-waves.

Dressed in a simple black tank top, black biker type shorts, aluminum plated gauntlets, steel toed combat boots and harnesses that encapsulated the curves of your body before coming to a stop at your thighs, you silently rejoiced in the airflow your gear allowed you in spite of the color. The bandanna atop your hairline helped to absorb some of the sweat, which was a bonus.

“Not bad for a starter fleet huh? The wingspan on these babies almost makes me jealous.” A rich and decadent voice called from your left. Sleek carmine appendages and brassy blond hair entered your peripheral vision, giving way to the man who ran the show: Keigo Takami. Adorned in a pair of low rise denim jeans that were so incomprehensibly tight they accentuated every bit of his dick (which was likely intentional), a plain white tee and ebony cowboy boots that looked like they cost three times what you make in a week; he most definitely looked the part of the People Magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive” and Playboy’s “Player of the Month” titles he’d earned. Luminous olive skin glistened with sweat, droplets sliding down the deep v neck of his shirt with ease; the way the daisy-hued fabric stuck to his crafted abdomen leaving nothing to the imagination. Tourmaline and Argentium piercings dangled effortlessly from both ears, and if you weren’t so hell-bent on putting the motherfucker in jail you would’ve had no problem admitting how attractive he really was.

“Starter fleet? You’re about to put Delta out of business, look at this shit!” You guffaw, arms folded, an eyebrow raised in astonishment at his “humble” admission. “Flattery will get you everywhere, and then some.” Keigo chuckles, breath hot against your ear the instant he bends at the waist, hands settled in his pockets with that cocky aura about him.

“-And having your damn breath against my ear in 107 degree weather will, respectfully, get you my foot up your ass. I didn’t fly down here to get treated like one of your poor interns. I came here to make money, so let’s talk it.” You lash, the climbing tempature slicing your tolerance for bullshit to shreds.

“Shit. Straight to the point huh? I like it. You wanna talk shop, say no more. Over lunch though, I’m starving out here.” Keigo clicks his teeth with a grin, escorting the two of you towards the very jet he’d arrived in. “A little unknown fact about me, usually I hate flying ”conventionally”. Gives me anxiety, and I’m awful company when I’m nervous.”

Settling into the light taupe hued cabin, you observe the not-so-subtle elements of class. Ivory shochu bottles with intricate crystalline glasses to match, the bar fully stocked with gold accents along the upholstery. Plates of costly Kobe style beef rested atop spotless porcelain, romaine lettuce coupled with grilled applewood bacon, chicken, avocado and buttermilk dressing settled into envy-inducing black marble bowls. The plane was spacious, and certainly cost a pretty penny or two. “You’re upfront, so I’ll be honest with you. As of right now, this plane is the last thing I’m worried about-” Hawks mutters lowly, dijon eyelets tapering into thin slivers.

“-It’s the Shie Hassaikai making their encore appearance, and with the Colombians at that.”

You choke on a sip of Vega Sicilia, pupils dilating at the thought.

“Now you spoke about wanting to make some money, right?” You nod, heart rate steadily rising.

“What if I could offer you something more? Something of...extensive value.” Keigo drawled, dark undertone flooding the air like a thick smoke. “Like what, Takami?” You inquire.

“A seat at the table.” He shrugs, like one would if they were discussing something as trivial as ice cream flavors or Friday night plans, not the reorganization of a crime syndicate. “You’ve been workin’ for me shy of a year now right? Somethin’ like that? Anyway..”

He takes a deep, contemplative swig of the chestnut liquid, eyes boring into yours.

“You’re efficient, and you don’t take anyone’s shit. Good help’s hard to find in our line of work, and before you know it, this little hierarchy is gonna go under some..reorganization. Only the people who aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty will have a place in the new order, so I want you there.”

“What’s the catch? I’m not dumb enough to just assume this is some promotion for busting my ass.” You tread, brain working double-time to try and decipher just what Keigo’s getting at. “Clever girl. It’s a simple task, in and out.” He assures, middle and ring finger sliding a matte-finish photo across the mahogany. Displayed was Kinan Zango, a member of the Shie Hassaikai’s middle rankings shaking hands with Joaquin Fuentes, a Columbia native known for having a body count in the double digits.

“Another fact about me: Only one thing heightens my anxiety more than planes...people who fuck with my money. This asshole Kinan’s been selling my routes to the fucking Columbians and pocketing the profits, and getting 20% of the product as a little “thank you” when he knows nobody moves coke through the Gulf other than Takami fucking Keigo. He’s becoming a problem, and I don't like those.” Kei growls, left eye twitching minutely. His nails are sinking into the polish of the wood, his energy vehemently furious.

“Take care of this for me, and you’ll be my plus one to Guadalajara tomorrow.”

The general public often made the mistake of writing Keigo off as just your average “pretty boy”. Whereas a trained eye could see that while he may be pretty, he was nobody to be tested. The sheer intellect he possesses to seek, hand-craft each and every route, assign planes to their designated locations along with alternatives should there ever be an issue? He just didn’t get enough credit.

So he took major offense when someone had the audacity to treat his hard work as though it was theirs.

Besides.. you got a man with looks, money and bloodlust? Tch. You’ve just created a monster.

You weren’t necessarily opposed to the idea of ridding the world of another drug-dealing degenerate, but the idea of casually committing a murder as a DEA agent in a foreign country just didn't sit right with you. Undercover agents weren’t permitted a “license to kill” should the investigation call for it either, so it was between committing a murder as government agent, or declining Keigo’s request and missing out on a front row seat to the cartel’s entire operation.

The silence that followed his sentence was deafening. Ice cubes chimed loftily as they swirled around inside his glass, clear liquid sloshing around while he awaited an answer.

Your jaw sets, eyes piercing into his.

“Consider it done.”

Blood spattered onto the pale concrete, moonlight illuminating the scarlet hues. Your knuckles throbbed with pain, the sensation blossoming through your hand as your lips curled back in a snarl, vigorously ridding your hands of the other man’s bodily fluids.

“ If you really think coming after me for that bird brained motherfucker is gonna change anything, you got another thing fucking coming.” Kinan spat, nose steadily flowing with red. His lip was busted, face splotched with yellowing purple bruises. Tugging at his restraints he thrashed, mouth spewing white-hot venom.

“You’re talking a lot of shit for a middle-ranking yakuza who thinks some new coke routes is gonna keep the Hassaikai from dumping your body on the side of some road in Zacatecas.” You observe, sending a harsh kick between the mans ribs, steel toed boots making an audible crack. “The Japanese are like Dixie Cups to them...”‘use em’ once, then throw em’ away”, right? You’re a fool if you think your days aren't numbered once you wear out your welcome.”

“Fuck you. You’re little boy toy threw a temper tantrum, so he sent you to “take care of things”, isn’t that right?” Kinan coos, eyes softening in a mocking pout.

“Trust me, you're not the first slut Takami’s been sticking it in that he’s sent to kill me. Only difference between you and the rest of those bitches-” He huffs, head craning back against the metal chair to let our a soft breath of laughter. “-is that you’re gonna put up a fight.”

Suddenly his bones began to shift, popping and snapping as his skin began to pool below him; you recoiled in fear watching his body slowly slip from his imprisonment like gelatin exits a mold.

“I’ve got elastic bones kid! Whatever breaks just snaps right back into place.”

Skin stretching and pulling as he regained his original form, legs sprinting towards you. Before you could fire off your Quirk’s sonic blast his grip seized the back of your neck, a blade taking residence just below your left eye; it’s tip pressing uncomfortably into your water line.

“Now, if you're good, I’ll make it quick. Though I’m known for being pretty... through with my toys.” Kinan leers, a hand slowly slithering down your sides to reach for the muscle of your ass.

“Go to hell, and die there while you’re at it!” You shout.

Bile creeping into your throat, you seize the momentary shift in energy, generating a small sound wave that sent Kinan a few feet to your left; giving the two of you some distance. Your Quirk allowed you to absorb sound to power-up your physical movements, or send it out in the form of sonic blasts or sound waves, so the louder the sound, the more power it gave you. Readying your fists in anticipation for combat, you silently willed for a sudden disruption in the deafening silence as he rushed back to your rigid body.

What you didn’t anticipate was that the sudden bang that filled the air, and the lifeless body of Kinan dropping to your feet with a thud, his head...

excavated, for lack of a better word.

“Don’t you know the entire point of having backup while under cover is to... call for backup?” Edgeshot snarked, striding towards you, gun settled back into it’s holster. His foot carelessly nudged the bleeding man before removing a Polaroid camera from his knapsack and snapping a photo of the carnage.

“W-what the fuck?! Look, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful when I say this, but what the absolute fuck did you just do??? We’re government agents, in a foreign country, we can’t just fucking murder these assholes nor do we have the license to-” You sputter, brows arching in frustration.

“This was your ticket into Guadalajara. I just secured you box seats when you were this close to getting stuck in the damned nosebleeds. I believe the correct words you’re looking for are thank you.” Kamihara snaps, shoving the photo into your hand.

“We’re in a world completely different from our own. It’s forgiveness first, and permission later down here. I don’t like it either...but it’s just the way things are.” He sighs, hanging his head while his shoulders settled like the solar system rested on them.

“I’ll take care of this. Now take that to Hawks, and don’t you dare fuck it up. Don’t let me have killed this poor asshole in vain.”

You nod, stepping over Kinan’s body.

Good riddance.

“Thank you, by the way.” You putter. Kamihara returns the sentiment with a nod, before turning to the corpse before him, phone raised to his ear as he spoke with whoever was on the opposite line, eyes that were once grey now swam with deep scarlet.

“Excellent work! I won’t lie, I had a feeling you were hardcore, but damn, this is some seamless shit! You deserve my praise.” Keigo beams, pearly teeth sparkling in the light of the cabin. Nodding in acceptance you grasped his hand upon his offering, permitting him to escort you towards your respective aircraft.

“Well, a promise is a promise. And if nothing else, I’m most certainly a man of my word. Meet me at this airstrip same time tomorrow, 8am. Pack light, Mexico’s a bitch in the summer, though you already know that.”

“Got it. Pleasure doing business with you, Hawks.”

“Call me Keigo, if you want. I hate all the formal shit, long as we got respect, that's all I need.” He shrugs.

“Understood. See you tomorrow, Keigo.” You affirm, climbing the ladder to your jet, body visibly relaxing at the thought of rest.

“Wait--before you go, I wanted to ask ya. What’s with the whole ancient hieroglyphics tat you got goin on, on your spine? It just looks familiar, is all.” He queries.

Home.

November 12th, 2174.

“Y/N! I found somethin’! It’s this super cool protection rune I found in grandma’s things. Check it out! It wards off all evil, and whoever’s in possession of it can, like, balance their energy with the divine power.”

“You’re such a hippie, I swear to god.” You grin.

“Don’t hate because my chakras are balanced and yours aren’t, bitch.” She grinned, index and thumb coming together to flick your forehead.

“At least take it with you for your exam, for good luck! Pleaseeeee! I think it’ll really help.” Her doe eyes melting your steely resolve. You could never deny her, those eyes constantly solidifying her role as the younger sister.

“...Only if you’ll clean my room for me when I come back for Christmas.” You demand, an eyebrow raised in mirth.

“Deal.”

And even though you never did admit it to her, that tiny piece of paper tucked into your bra did more for you during that exam than any late night cram session ever could’ve.

“It’s a protection rune. To ward off all evil energies, spirits and all that shit.” You mutter.

“Hm. Looks like it works, seeing how well tonight panned out for ya. Could use me one, would probably keep old man Todoroki out my fuckin’ hair.” He chuckles, hands releasing from the railing as he threw you a wave.

“But I wouldn’t worry too much about tomorrow, anyway. I got a feeling you’re gonna fit in just fine with us.” He smirked.

Ah.

If only that were true, Keigo.

taglist! : @liliesoftherainmain @therealwalmartjesus

#aizawa x female reader #mha x reader #aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa x you #mha #bnha x reader #hawks #nyafterhours

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navyhyuck · 3 years

Text

week one | previous | masterlist | next

𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐄𝐃, 𝐉𝐀𝐘.

↳ a love letter a week, and it has you wondering who’s your secret admirer. you have nine weeks, eight candidates, and one story to live. will you find out who your ‘jay’ is?

a/n :: hi hi hi fellas here’s the first part (technically, since the other one was an intro) <3 uhh a little fun fact! this project mentioned in this chapter was one that i actually had to complete last year (before corona lol) and i thankfully got a good grade on it even tho my teacher swore on all gods that it was very difficult,, he also let me put up nct posters in the classroom <3 enjoy :) [also, i may have missed some tags!!! if you aren’t here and you sent in an ask before, please do so again since it’s been some time since i last updated this!! ty mwah]

wc :: 2.2k

taglist: @childofthecycle @takoyakkun @the8luvr @staywrites @chocolattees @cherry-jaemin @cloudzume @babytoadz @cherrystay @sandaigdigan-reads @hoes4hoseok

couldn’t tag: @x-dawna-x

let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

There have been far too many unfortunate events unfolding in your day so far, starting off with the stupid guy that had parked just a little into your spot (that still had you thinking more than you had to do for any science test, and you were highly tempted to just smash the car instead) and then moving onto your English class where you were given a pop quiz on the third act of Romeo and Juliet, and then finally, the situation you’re in now.

It’s the last period of your day, which is supposed to be the most laid back in certain cases, but you’re slumped in your desk in the AP Chemistry lab room for a new assignment of partners. You’ve already attempted to convince Mrs. Choi to let you continue being partners with Chaeryeong, who was looking equally as gloomy from the opposite side of the room, but she had passively dismissed your request with something that went along the lines of ‘expanding our knowledge as a class.’ Not only did that sound like bullshit to you, it actually was, but you didn’t do anything more than stay put as she called out the assignments of partners.

“...Chaeryeong and Jisoo. Beomgyu and Yuna. Y/N and Jisung.”

You’re frozen at the sound of your partner’s name, slightly expecting your teacher to pair you up with one of the overachievers that usually sat in the back and talked shit about the ‘untalented’ kids, but you’re also pleasantly surprised. Turning your head, you meet the said boy’s eyes from a distance, shining into yours before a smile spreads across his face almost immediately. You return one back (probably forcibly from the shock you’re experiencing of the Han Jisung actually recognizing you and smiling at you) before whipping your head back to the front, gulping deeply.

Fuck.

“Now that we’ve split into pairs, there is a list of chemical compounds on this table. Come up with your partner and choose one wisely. After everyone’s chosen, I will tell you what your assignment is.” Mrs. Choi gestures vaguely with her hands, turning away as the rest of the students move around to find their partner. You stay planted in your seat, eyes barely staying open as you quietly continue to try and calm the beating of your heart. You’re sure that it’s not healthy, the erraticness overflowing to every single vein and artery in your body until you’re filled with the filling remembrance that your teacher just paired you up with the single most attractive boy in the school. Well—you purse your lips, thinking about that Hyunjin guy from yesterday—Jisung still causes more heart palpitations than some new guy could ever.

When you deem yourself safe enough to finally use your legs without thinking about falling, you stand up, meeting your partner halfway in the middle of the classroom. He doesn’t say anything at first, possibly because you’ve found a newfound interest in your dirty Converse, but he chuckles as a few seconds pass by, making you look up. “Hey there, thanks for looking at me. Wanna go choose a compound?”

You blanch at his choice of words, but you nod slowly. “Uh-huh, yeah. Sure.”

You learn later, alongside Jisung, that your assignment was to successfully convert your chemical compound into another, with exact proportions being massed properly. Just as you listen to Mrs. Choi going on and on about proper dilution, you slowly start blanking out into the space of ‘why did my dumbass decide to take this class’ and ‘this isn’t worth the pain that I’m receiving.’ Thankfully, Jisung has an equally shocked look at his face as the explanation continues, and you’re sure that there isn’t a way the two of you would be able to complete the assignment properly. There was no way; it was practically impossible.

“I just want to remind you guys that this is definitely possible! Students have succeeded well in the past years! You and your partner should be working together as efficiently as possible, which is why I mixed it up a little this time. There should not be any distractions, understood?” Mrs. Choi finishes, nodding as if someone had actually answered her rhetorical question. “Also, I’ll be grading you on how well you manage your time, so if there’s unnecessary chit-chat, that’ll be points deducted from your grade. No exceptions. Got it?”

You think maybe she’s referring to the time you and Chaeryoung accidentally fucked up the entire experimental process by forgetting to set a timer (it was because the two of you were preoccupied by a TikTok dance, though you would never admit it to anyone), or maybe the time that Jaehyun guy almost set half the chemistry lab on fire by not disposing of chemicals properly. You’d think the school would be a little more careful considering they’re letting teenage students handle dangerous chemicals, but thinking of the time that your teacher told you it was fine to handle acid without wearing gloves, it clearly was never a practice.

You and Jisung start to prepare, with you carefully reading through the reaction process several times and measuring out the chemicals as precisely as possible while Jisung handles the rest of the equipment, bringing over pipettes and scales. As the two of you continued working for the rest of the class period, only till the very end did you notice that you were, possibly for once, actually using all of your class time properly.

“Are you going to homecoming?” Jisung asks as you set down the beaker on the scale, startling you with a non-chemistry related question. If you were being honest, you hadn’t thought about it; homecoming wasn’t too big of a thing at your school to begin with, plus, there wasn’t even the cliche dance that everyone thought they’d get as kids. It was one of the first home games played by the football team (which was pretty shitty, for the record) and they crowned a homecoming king and queen every year. Honestly, it was usually a bore.

“I don’t know,” you say honestly, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible. Maybe constantly reminding yourself every two seconds that Han Jisung was speaking to you would help, but you couldn’t get over it. At least not today. “I haven’t really thought about it.” He hums thoughtfully, taking the beaker from you as you pass it along.

“Have you ever gone to a swim meet before?” His question sounds rather interrogative in nature, and he seems to notice, stumbling over his words for the first time. “Um—I mean, have you gone to any of our swim meets before? You see, I’m on the team and I feel like I’ve seen you before at one of them, and it’s fine if you have gone! I’m just curious.” He holds up his hands in defense as if he’d said something wrong, the chemical splashing around in the beaker as you widen your eyes.

“Fuck, be careful,” you retrieve the object from his hand, placing it down safely on the table to ensure you weren’t going to take after the setting-the-classroom-on-fire guy. Jisung watches as you do so, perhaps overanalyzing the fact that your gloved fingers brushed past his in that moment, now an apologetic look forming over his face. “Sorry, you were about to spill it on yourself.”

“No, it’s fine!” He replies, the volume of his voice attracting attention from the nearby classmates, including Chaeryoung, who gives you a small smirk. You return a pointed glare in her direction, trying to calm down as you realize you’re overheating from the situation at hand right now. “Shit, sorry, that was kind of loud.”

“It’s okay, Jisung,” his name tastes unfamiliar on your tongue, only having been used around Ryujin earlier. Ryujin, you remember, my best friend that’s practically in love with the boy standing in front of me. “I’ve been to your swim meets before, I mean—no offense but—who hasn’t? You guys are undoubtedly the best team in school, who wouldn’t want to watch?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he chuckles wryly, sounding a bit forced. You decide to ignore it and continue working on the project. Thankfully, your teacher gave the class a few days to work on it, or else it would be essentially impossible to finish. “Wait, aren’t you usually there with your friend? The one with the blue hair?”

You raise your eyebrows, somehow already feeling just a little more comfortable around him. He isn’t as stuck up as you expected, and he definitely doesn’t act like a cocky little shit either. Most importantly, he seems to be just as nervous as you. A small smile forms on your lips. “You mean Ryujin?”

“Ah, yeah! Her.”

“Ryujin and I usually go to watch swim meets together, or at least, she drags me around everywhere and that’s one of the places I’m forced to go.” You chuckle at the memory of her towing you towards the pool, swearing that she’ll buy you a hundred dollars worth of milkshakes for the next month if you keep her company. She never kept the promise, but you still remember the feeling of watching people competitively swim. More importantly, the seven most popular boys in the school at the time. “But I go voluntarily now. I think everyone has to have some sort of school spirit, right?”

You look up at him, your eyes sparkling under the fluorescent lights and you don’t notice, but Jisung gulps, avoiding your gaze after a split second. “Yeah, yeah, absolutely. Totally, definitely.”

The conversation awkwardly ends there, a little weird but better than having to continue talking about how many times you’ve seen him backstroke his way to a medal. You’re not sure if Jisung even knows how popular going to a swim meet is, because when you ask him, he answers with: “I thought all sports got the same audience.” They don’t, that’s confirmed, unless the dance team was performing as well.

The bell rings a few moments later, finally signalling the end of the day with a deep sigh from you. You clean up as quickly as you can, bidding your new partner (and maybe friend) a goodbye to the rest of the day. As you yank out your phone from your bag, going out into the hallway towards your locker, you spot Chaeryoung from the corner of your eye, brushing past you dramatically with a whisper of:

“You’re whipped already.”

dear y/n love,

this is my second letter to you. hopefully, unless you didn’t receive the first one for some reason. but if this is the second one, hi! i hope you had a great day today and if you didn’t, i hope you feel better. i think you probably find this weird, the love letter sort of thing, it’s super cliche and everything so i’d get it if you decided to take this and, like, throw it out or something. but please don’t! please don’t throw it out, i’d be very upset. not that you’d know anyway, but :)

you’re also probably wondering, ‘why is this guy sending me stuff without telling me who he is?’ well, i’m glad to say that i have a purpose. it is, well, just to make you happy. life is hard, ya know, and i don’t think a lot of us would be able to get through everything without someone by their side. not that you don’t have anyone by your side! i’m sure you do, you have friends and family that support you as well, but since i unfortunately do not fall into either of those categories, i have to resort to written letters.

anyway, i’m ending this letter quickly considering my class is ending in hmm, like four minutes? i want to make enough time to get to your locker and give it to you, hopefully without you ever noticing, but if you did end up finding out who i am…just forget about that part. yeah, like my face and all? erase that memory from your pretty head. i’m so sorry, i just realized how much i just didn’t get to a point with this letter at all.

in a few days is the homecoming game, and i may or may not have a little surprise waiting for you there. if you’d like to come, that’s awesome, if not, that’s perfect as well. i know the last thing you’d do is trust someone you don’t know, and it might be a little hypocritical of me to say this, but trust me. in the least creepy way, i will say that yes, you do know me, maybe not as well as i know you. shitttt that sounds so creepy, i deeply apologize. i’m just your secret admirer, that’s it, not a stalker omg. now it sounds like i’m a stalker. okay, anyway.

please come to homecoming, i won’t reveal myself to you just yet (maybe not ever, but it depends) but i have something waiting for you. it’s NOT a death wish, cross my heart, for real.

signed, jay

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meetthefantasticmrfox · 3 years

Text

The Librarians

Summary: Jeremy Scalera (Jeremy sounds more natural than Janus...seriously who would name their kid Janus?! Sorry to anyone named that but you deserve better. JanICE does not count.) is the head librarian at Hawthorne Library and antisocial intellectual with a taste for being alone and silence. Logan Constell (short for constellation, not his actual last name in this fic) is strikingly similar. So what happens when these two antisocial and intelligent loners cross paths in an interview that was sure to change both their lonely souls.

Pairings: Loceit

Alternate Universes: Human Au, Vitiligo Au (Human! Janus Headcannon technically)

Warnings: Mentions of disabilities and a few mild swear words. A smidge of angst at the very end. Let me know if anything else needs to be added.

Hope you enjoy my dears!!

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Edit: Chapter 2 is here! The Librarians Chapter 2

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The Hawthorne Library was run by a bitter and short tempered know-it-all named Jeremy Scalera...He was exactly 5 foot 3 and 120lbs with a thin frame and even thinner shoulders. His skin was the color of milk chocolate but his smooth sweetness of skin was interrupted by a clash of white splotches scattering his body. Jeremy had been born with vitiligo which resulted in a crude nickname of ‘Dairy Cow’ all the way through his middle school years. This influenced him to hide as much skin as possible using gloves, scarves, and extensive wool jackets and sweaters. This wasn’t entirely odd since at the time he had lived in Minnesota and it was freezing all the damn time. Now he lived in Florida where you either were sweating or shirtless.

“Please let this be a quiet day...” He muttered as the door to the library slammed shut behind him.

It was exactly 7 ‘o clock in the morning and the library was in need of opening. Jeremy was the only employee of the library and he practically lived there. Sure he still owns an apartment and everything, but he prefers the guaranteed silence at night with the library. His office had a small cot in it with a bathroom and a small kitchen fridge and a few counter-tops to hold his microwave, sink, and single cabinet.

Jeremy’s morning consisted of walking down to the RelativiTea coffee shop down the street that was operated by one of Jeremy’s old classmates. One who hadn’t mocked him because he himself had a disability, Roman Sancleur had turret syndrome (is that right?). Jeremy might have even considered him a friend had they ever talked to each other than exchanging a coffee order.

“Morning Jeremy.” Roman said out of reflex. His fingers twitched every now and then along with the skin under his eyes, but that was more on the fact that Roman had had no sleep last night because he was too busy drinking coffee and teas left over from the day before and watching Disney movies.

“Just the iced chocolate mocha today.” The librarian sighed and leaned on the counter. He always got here early to avoid the morning rush.

Roman set a drink onto the counter already prepared.

“You’re too predictable Jerry. Why don’t you ever shake it up a bit?” Roman leaned over the counter getting a little too close for Jeremy to like. No romantic signs came from the barista, more so curiosity.

“First of all don’t call me ‘Jerry’ please, and second I like consistency. This doesn’t take too much out of my paycheck from the city and it’s tasteful.” Jeremy hissed and put a five dollar bill on the counter as he always did. The drink was actual $2.73 but he didn’t ever like change so Roman always got a pretty generous tip.

Jeremy walked out of the coffee shop without another word and entered back into his solitary space just a block away.

The head-librarian set down his coffee on the horseshoe desk in the center of the library and the jingle of his keys echoed.

“I hope I’m not intruding.” A smooth voice laced with calm sounded behind Jeremy and he jumped.

“Mother of damnation who the hell are you?!” The librarian spun around and gripped his hand on the can of pepper spray he kept on him at all times.

“I-I suggest no hostility, and I advise you keep your voice down...we are in a library after all.” The stranger raised his hands in defense. “I’m sorry to have startled you, but the door was unlocked and I assumed you were in your office.” The man was oddly calm despite the can of pepper spray aimed at him and the clearly hostile look in Jeremy’s eyes.

“My name is Logan Constell. I came to apply for a job here.” The presumed ‘Logan’ folded his hands behind his back and only then did Jeremy begin to notice his features.

Logan wore tight black framed square classes, a smooth black dress coat and a navy undershirt with a star-flecked tie across and brighter blue fabric making up the tie itself. His shoulders were broad and his chin sculpted almost so finely one could mistake him for a statue if he had been gray.

Speaking of gray, his eyes were a brilliant icy blue-ish gray that sparked with intelligence Jeremy had never seen before. Then there was his hair, pitch black it seemed to be made of the dark matter of space itself. The lightness at which it was folded back and not a single sign of gel or any other product other than a mint smelling shampoo and conditioner. He was so put together with his black slacks and dress shoes to top everything off.

“It doesn’t make much...” Jeremy said steadily despite the rushing feeling running through his veins. He set the pepper spray down next to his coffee and Logan began to approach him which with every inch closer the head librarian’s heart beat a little quicker until it was skipping.

“I have no one to provide for but myself and my hydroponics garden.” Logan stated and held forward a piece of paper with a series of qualification statements and columns.

“I don’t need a resume...I just need you to answer a few questions.” Jeremy quickly said and slipped behind his horseshoe desk.

“I would be happy to answer them.” Logan said blankly.

“As I would hope.” Jeremy glanced up at him as he sat down in the old roller chair with a creak.

“Age?” He started.

“Twenty-Three years, seven months, and fifteen days.”

“Are you organized?”

“To a fault some might say.” Logan replied cooly.

“Do you have balance well on a 14 foot ladder?” Jeremy shot back.

“I’ve never tried, but I have a high pain tolerance and have been reported a fast healer.”

“Then you’re hired.” Jeremy rose from his chair and stuck out his hand. Logan took it in a firm grip that shot sparks through Jeremy’s arm and heat shooting up his face then he let go and the sparks vanished.

“When do I start?” Logan’s eyes held the slightest hint of joyous feeling but it was masked behind the gray and blue storm.

“The library opens in five minutes which should be enough time to get your tag done.” Jeremy offered a smirk which was met with only the slightest twitch of the others lips and the flicker of those eyes casting over the librarians face.

~Time Skip~

It’d been three weeks since Logan had started working at Hawthrone and every glance or movement seemed to attract Jeremy’s attention. He had considered going to see a doctor at this point but the Library’s salary and the fact Jeremy didn’t have insurance wasn’t exactly ideal.

“Good morning Jeremy.” Logan said one day as he walked in.

“Morning Lo.” The other responded calmly. This was about all that was exchanged by them verbally on most days.

The first three days at the library Logan had worn a simple silver band on his ring-finger then it had disappeared. Today seemed like an okay day to finally question his new employee about it.

“So...I noticed you stopped wearing the ring.” Jeremy said casually one day as he stocked the shelves. It was closing time and Logan was better at checking back in books than Jeremy.

“What ring?” Logan asked blankly, barely glancing up at the brown and tan head librarian.

“The silver band you wore the first three days you were here.” Jeremy clarified.

“I didn’t think it had any significance to my work here.”

“It doesn’t.” The conversation fell quiet for a few seconds before one of them spoke again.

“If you don’t feel comfortable with telling me it’s fine. It was just a silly question worth a bit of satisfied curiosity.” Jeremy said hurriedly as he started to ascend the ladder. The book he had in his left hand belonged at the top shelf.

“No...it’s just I don’t wish to make you uncomfortable or loose this job.” Logan rushed out.

“Why would I fire you? Or feel uncomfortable?” Jeremy asked slowly as he reached the fifth level.

“Because that ring was my tie to my ex-husband.” Logan said quietly, barely loud enough for the man on the ladder to hear.

“Oh...” There was a pause with only the sound of clicking keys and the steps of Jeremy climbing the ladder. “Well that’s nothing to ashamed of. Some people just don’t fit.” He quickly said after an extended period of time that felt longer than it should have and he reached the top and began moving books around to shelve the one in his hand.

“You’re not...going to judge me?” Logan seemed surprised.

“Well no. Who you choose to love is not up to me, and it’s not like I have anything against gays or bisexuals or any of the LGBTQ community. I myself am apart of it.” Jeremy reassured him and started climbing down slowly. The ladder rings dug into his worn shoes and hit against his old socks, further sinking into the bottom of his feet.

“Fascinating.” Logan muttered. Jeremy pretended not to hear and as silence once again claimed the room the sun began to send a orange glow over the dark gray carpeted floors of the house of books. Jeremy looked up to see the tangerine and apricot that now spilled through the windows like a waterfall to a lake.

Jeremy didn’t stop his descend though and his foot caught on a ring, but before he could notice he slipped and fell. All the way from the seventh level down to Earth and before he hit the ground something snapped and pain rocketed through his left leg as black crowded his vision. Nothing existed except the abyss.

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AAAAAAaaaaaand that’s Chapter 1. If this chapter gets some love or I get bored then I’ll check out getting a Chapter 2.

Until next time my Foxlings! <3 <3 <3

#logan sanders #janus sanders #sanders sides #loceit #human au #fanfiction #librarian au #vitiligo #LGBTQ+#Ending in angst

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chaniters · 3 years

Text

Busy night

Launching a petty campaign to get back at Owl, Ash begins to quickly clear Los Diablos’ criminal elements.

Also, he doesn’t really have anything better to do with his time, so there is that too.

Some minor spoilers for Rebirth and Retribution.

___________________________

Date: April 17.

Hour: 6:45 pm

Notes: Covert operation

Location: Newport Beach.

Current assets: Low. 500 dollars.

Status: Acquired chemicals and materials for upgrades. Secured a base of operations (Motel Room). Constructed special equipment for the current operation.

Objectives: Retaliation and intimidation tactics against the subject (OWL) by means of rendering all of the subject’s current investigation plans obsolete. Capture of all individuals targeted by the subject’s investigation. Acquisition of additional funds through the pursuit of the bounties on each of the individuals.

You sneak closer to the lonely house, stopping at the edge of the alarm systems. This is the house of Clobbering Queen, an enforcer that Owl links to Hollow Ground, living under an assumed identity on an underdeveloped side of the city.

If your intel is correct, Newport was erased from the map by a Tsunami, so it’s no surprise that only a few houses have been rebuilt here, given the frequency of the aftershocks. Not the safest place to be, unless you’re hiding, like your target is.

The lack of other housing around her home makes the approach more complicated, but the shadows are already growing larger. Taking position behind a dumpster, you take note of all the movement trackers with your binoculars, before tracing the correct path of entry in your mind.

Your hands keep trembling so you slide them under your armpits and press with your arms, wishing it wasn’t so hard to keep calm without your pills as you wait for the sunlight to die out.

It doesn’t take long, and soon you’re preparing your breathing technique… getting ready to spring.

Count to 10, and you start the race, avoiding the sensors until you reach the wall.

So far so good… You can already feel her presence inside, watching TV.

That’s no good… perhaps… perhaps she should take a shower and get to bed early, how about that?

You present these suggestions to her subconscious, and they seem to be quickly accepted. How can her mental defenses be so weak?!

Carefully, you slide a metal disk against the window, magnetizing and disabling the sensor, allowing you to open it. From there, it’s really just a matter of sliding inside, towards the bathroom, with its door half-open, you only need to keep out of sight.

Clobbering Queen is singing happily in the shower as you slide your home-made sleeping gas bomb rolling through the floor.

You can hear the yelp as it explodes, and her rush towards the door, which you slam in her face. She struggles to open it, but you keep it shut from the other side until her fighting gets weaker… and you finally hear the bump on the other side as she falls.

Good.

Waiting a few more minutes just to be sure, you open the door, handcuff her, then drag the wet villain on top of the large carpet on the living room, and roll her like a burrito, tying it all up again with solid rope.

That should keep her from clobbering anything… not that she can do it without her power suit that is.

A quick search of her house reveals the secret compartment where she keeps her armor. You take it all, tossing it by her side -she’s awake by now, and cursing very loudly at you- and take the power gloves.

Those will come in handy.

Then you sit on the couch, calling for the police to take her away. --------------------------------------------

Date: April 17.

Hour: 10:41 pm

Notes: Covert operation

Location: Downtown Los Diablos.

Current assets: Medium. 10.500 dollars.

Status: First target captured and handed over to LDPD. Officers surprised the whole house wasn’t destroyed by Clobbering Queen. Acquired Power Gloves. (They are so bad… require an immediate upgrade)

Objectives: Retaliation and intimidation tactics against the subject OWL (Continued). Acquisition of additional funds through the pursuit of the bounties (Continued).

Your next target promises to be a real challenge. Lord Ember supposedly can control flames and has left a trail of scorched bodies in his wake. According to Owl, he doesn’t work directly for Hollow Ground but has had several dealings with him.

He could be a real headache to deal with…

You see him having a smoke with a pair of his henchmen by the back door of the club.

Time to get it done…

You approach them head on, ready for anything. They notice you, and their gazes all focus on you, hands reaching to their holsters.

“Hey can I have a light?” you ask, holding a cigarette on your fingers, planting the suggestion that you are the most harmless person in the world. Just some cosplaying fool walking by.

Ember looks at you, and laughs. All of his henchmen laugh with him.

“A light? Are you hearing this kid? He’s asking me for a light!” he says turning to them.

Critical mistake.

A quick forward uppercut and Clobbering Queen’s power glove activates, exploding with pink energy in his stomach, sending him flying against the club’s brick wall.

The henchmen just stare at you in horror as it happens.

Another critical mistake, you think as you jump at the closest one.

Perhaps these power gloves are not that bad after all…

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

Date: April 18.

Hour: 3:41 Am

Notes: Covert operation

Location: Fashion District.

Current assets: High. 46.000 dollars.

Status: Second target captured and handed over to LDPD. Same officers VERY surprised to see two villains captured on the same night by “Some random teenager”. Asked for my hero name, I told them that they can call me whatever they want as long as they pay me.

Objectives: Retaliation and intimidation tactics against the subject OWL (Continued). Acquisition of additional funds through the pursuit of the bounties (Continued).

Your final target lies ahead, in an old abandoned garment warehouse.

According to Owl, he is extremely powerful, but with these gloves and your fighting skills, so are you. Allegedly, he oversees one of Hollow Ground’s largest stashes of boost drugs, something that she’s never managed to prove.

The power gloves make you far more confident in your abilities, so instead of sneaking, you will go for overwhelming force this time. Drawing Owl’s grappling hook, you aim for the rooftop, sending the hook flying, before pulling you in, only that you aim lower this time… for the window.

You crash through the glass, coming inside, fists already glowing pink, ready to reduce any henchmen to a pulp…

And that’s when you realize something’s gone terribly wrong.

“Hello, kid. I’ve been expecting you” A plump standing figure greets you, white makeup on his face, wearing a colorful outfit with red and white stripes, striped squirt, and high heel shoes, holding a gigantic lollipop. He gives you a bright smile full of completely white teeth.

“Candymaster.” you speak his name, taking a defensive stance. __________ If you want to read more: My Fanfiction: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

#fallen hero: rebirth #Ash #fallen hero spoilers #fanfiction #Petty hero #fallen hero

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sarfdh · 3 years

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Two fat tallow candles gave a meagre

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The team was wise to give Goff additional weapons by selecting a pair of tight ends and two wide receivers.. Aliases can be created and placed in any folder on your Mac to provide access to the original item. Ah, you sentimental girl!” he added, patting his Natasha on her flushed cheek, as he was fond of doing on every convenient occasion. Anyone with a cable subscription could watch the athletes on NBC and other channels and use NBC's sports app, but Comcast cable customers could search for their favourite sports, athletes and countries, and see medal counts, hanorace panda barbati stats and athlete profiles on their TV.. We will take for them two thousand eight hundred dollars. Just a few feet away, Lionsgate tables were noticeably and understandably absent of La Land stars Emma Stone and Ryan Gosling and the mochila apex puma 35 l puma film key crew, including director Damien Chazelle. 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He s a traditional Republican with close ties to Speaker of the House John Boehner, and a likely favorite among the more moderate members of the party.. That's not to say the Astra is an ugly car. She loved her family and grandchildren dearly. Arya! Bran thought eagerly, as he watched her leap up onto a rock and cut at the boy. I will give the above reward if taken out of the county, and secured in jail, so that I get him again, or $10 if taken in the county.. While it may be well meaning, these sorts of technologies may give the feeling of an invasion of privacy, so the new 4.2 spec will allow the MAC address of Bluetooth devices to be masked unless connecting to a trusted device. The red woman could see the future in the fire, but all that Davos Seaworth ever saw were the shadows of the past: the burning ships, the fiery chain, the green shadows flashing across the belly of the clouds, the Red Keep brooding over all. The knight tensed, waiting.. Others had been attacked on the way back to the city. They are far more attractive as a regular means of travel to work than a car, provided there is a service which goes conveniently near both ends of the journey, as you can go to work on the bus and you don't have to find a parking space.". She was a runner up in the Miss Jamaica World 2008 pageant, which sends the country's representative to Miss World contests.. He webehigh sri lanka worked construction, making four dollars a day. Back when the Night’s Watch had been much larger, its walls had been hung with rows of brightly colored wooden shields. Septa Unella was big-boned and mannish, with callused mustang női cipő árgép hands and homely, scowling features. Poetry is nonsense, my boy; don’t you argue, but believe an old man like me; I wish you nothing but good. 'The Odd Couple', a remake of Neil Simon's much adapted work will star Matthew Perry in the lead role along with Thomas Lennon and Lindsay Sloane.. 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thewinedarksea · 4 years

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thief/assassin au pt 4

ft. (the mention of) handcuffs and a river. also liel’s flip-floppy emotions. mildly suggestive.

(part 1, part 2, part 3, part 3.5)

Sirens drifted through the air, faint from distance. There were at least five blocks between them and Liel but she walked faster nonetheless, gait casual as she strolled down the chill city streets.

A cold wind skittered after her, slicing through her thin shirt; she’d been counting on a getaway car to provide warmth, so she was clad only in a pair of leggings and a top made for attraction and not practicality, her toes frozen inside the thin leather of her boots. Another gust of wind and she curved her shoulders inwards, tightening her grip around the hot chocolate cup in her hands. Warmth bled through the cheap cardboard and into her fingers, a mild protection against the temperature. It was the only thing keeping her going.

Well. That, and the promise of getting revenge on Johann’s worthless hide ten times over. Liel was thinking a lifetime subscription to some truly awful porn mailing lists, maybe a stint in a minimum security prison depending on how long it took for her to get back to her hotel. Half a million in diamonds, ripe for the taking, and she’d had to abandon them all. Idiot kid. She didn’t know what street corner Emory had picked him off of, but he could damn well put him back.

She stepped off the street and onto a bridge, blending with the horde of pedestrians making their way across. And there, propped up against the railing, her long black coat whipping in the wind, stood Celine.

Despite the cold and the bustle of people flowing past her she looked unbothered, eyes on the river’s banks, just one of the many citizens taking a break from her everyday life to admire the view.

The sight of her sent a confusing tangle of emotions rushing through Liel: fear, always and ever-present, because she hadn’t survived ten odd years as a criminal without a healthy dose of being able to recognize a predator when she saw one, and wanting, too, sharp and immediate as a knife to the gut. More than both of those though was the annoyance, a matchstick flare that promised to ignite.

Liel should walk away. She should go back to her hotel, drink a staggering amount of wine, and sink into the suite’s luxurious tub until the water washed away all the frustrations and disappointments of the afternoon. She should. But Liel had just had two weeks of planning go up in smoke thanks to a jumpy kid and an early guard patrol, and all that irritation was just begging for an outlet. Celine would do nicely.

She tossed her cup into a nearby trash can and wandered over, propping herself up on the railing, so close her arm brushed Celine’s sleeve. The river below was a chaotic swirl of dark water, shiny bits of aluminum and old coffee cups caught tumbling in its hold. On its banks the sidewalks teemed with life, awash with shoppers catching up on last minute holiday gifts.

“I was going to complain about the cold, but I find I’m plenty warm just by being around you.”

Celine didn’t so much as glance at her, her eyes fixed on one of the cafes lining the waterway. Liel squinted, trying to make out what she was looking at, but saw nothing besides some red striped umbrellas and a few customers enjoying a meal in the freezing cold. Masochists.

“Because you’re from hell,” Liel elaborated. “Like a demon. Hellfire. It’s very amusing.”

A faint smirk touched Celine’s lips, but that was the extent of her reaction. No teasing, no clever remarks. Not even an acknowledgement that the last time they’d seen each other Celine had had her hands around Liel’s neck, before they’d shifted to other, less mentionable places.

The annoyance flared brighter the longer she ignored her. Liel wanted to draw a reaction, to claw some control from her perfect grip. Crack it, like she had the night of the party, Celine’s mouth on hers, gasping and half-breathless, teeth and tongue and sweet words that had spilled like a river from her lips.

Liel smiled up at her, batting her eyelashes in the way that normally made people fall all over themselves to give her what she wanted.

“What’s a girl have to do to get some attention around here?”

“Try coming back when I’m not working.”

Okay, see, that was just rude. Liel had been working every time they’d crossed paths, but that hadn’t stopped Celine from fucking her over or just fucking her, period. It was called a double standard, and Liel had no intention of letting it get in her way.

“Ooh, are you on a job?” She slid closer, pressing their sides flush together, and made a production of following Celine’s gaze back to the cafe. It didn’t take long for her to hone in on the trio sitting off to one side, their clothes worth far more than the cafe’s old facade warranted. The woman on the left was definitely packing a gun.

“A hundred dollars says it’s the one in pink.” A shot in the dark, but it landed, Celine’s expression going even more carefully still. Liel pressed the advantage. “I could make some phone calls. I’m sure the police would be very interested in knowing someone hired an assassin to go after Miss Dior and Co. over there.”

“And I could snap your neck right now and throw your body over the edge.” Celine’s voice was as cool and dangerous as ice. “But you wouldn’t make me do that, would you pet?”

The fear came back with a vengeance, her annoyance snuffed out beneath the douse of ice water sliding down her spine. It might have been a mistake antagonizing the girl who killed people for a living. A small, small mistake.

“That does sound unpleasant,” Liel said as lightly as she could manage. “My neck is much prettier when it’s in one piece. Tell you what, I’ll just come back when you’re not working.”

Celine’s hand lashed out, gloved fingers wrapping around Liel’s wrist as she moved to step away.

“Oh no,” she said softly. “You said you wanted attention.”

She was watching Liel now, cafe abandoned for more interesting prey. Her eyes slid over Liel’s body, noting the lack of a coat, the goosebumps littering the bare skin of her arms. Despite the chill Liel felt herself heat up, all too aware that the last time Celine had seen her it had been without a stitch of clothing. From the smug slant of her mouth she remembered it, too.

“Poor thing. You’re shivering.” She tugged Liel in front of her, her head against her shoulder. Celine was unfairly warm despite the weather, warmth bleeding from her in far more pleasant ways than the hot chocolate had managed. Damage control, Liel reassured herself as she snuggled closer, allowing herself to melt into the heat. She had to protect her pretty neck, after all.

“And here I thought we were getting along so much better,” Celine murmured. Her breath ghosted against Liel’s ear, lips brushing skin with every word. “Threats don’t suit you.”

“Everything suits me,” Liel informed the sky because, honestly, she didn’t have much more to lose. It stared back, a pale, dispassionate gray that put her in mind of a blade. “Also, I’m angry at you.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Celine’s voice echoed in her ear as she wrapped an arm around Liel’s middle, drawing her ever closer. “Why so upset, sweetling? I thought our evening together went very well.”

“You tied me to a bed.” Liel’s legs struggled to hold up beneath the assault of Celine’s pet names, the scent of her rose perfume curling around her, light as a kiss.

“I did,” Celine agreed. “But I seem to recall that you begged me to do it. Quite prettily, too.”

Liel flushed all the way down, cheeks burning red. Memories stirred, flickers of Celine’s mouth on her neck, between her legs, biting at the skin of her thighs. She’d worn the bruises she left for a week, and the memory of them a hell of a lot longer.

“You didn’t untie me,” she said, fighting to keep her voice steady. One of the hotel staff had found her and boy had that been a particularly humiliating conversation to have. She’d been lucky the maid had proven sympathetic to her tale of a prank gone wrong. Luckier still that Celine hadn’t been cruel enough to call the police.

She could sense Celine’s smirk where it rested against the side of her head. “Consider it your punishment.”

“For what?”

“You stole a drive from me when we first met.”

“That was three months ago!”

A few heads turned in their direction at Liel’s cry, glancing away when they saw the two of them entwined. Liel made an effort to squirm out of Celine’s grip, swearing at the lack of give. Pettiness was her deal. It looked way cuter on her.

With an exasperated noise Celine crowded her forward against the rail, bending Liel over until Celine’s chin rested on the top of her head, her body pinned between metal and flesh with no easy method of escape.

“Stay still,” Celine chided. Her grip tightened until Liel subsided, slumping back against her. “That job cost me a lot of money, to say nothing of what it did to my reputation. You’re lucky all I did was tie you up.”

And threaten to kill her, and actually try to kill her. The list went on.

“Can’t imagine how great your reputation is going to be if you get yourself caught throwing me off a bridge,” Liel muttered.

“Believe me, there are far more interesting things I would rather to do to you.”

That sounded promising. Interesting typically required alive, which was a step up from a watery grave. Liel wriggled even further back, pressing herself into Celine until any distance between them was eaten up.

“Elaborate on that?” she asked, sweet as she could manage.

Across the river Celine’s target stood. Her pink dress, terribly impractical for the weather, swirled around her legs as the wind blew again, a bright streak against the dull pavement. At the motion Celine straightened, stepping away from Liel as quickly as she’d grabbed her.

The frigid rush of air that crept into the space she left set Liel trembling all over again, colder now that she’d found protection and lost it.

“Business calls,” Celine said, composed once more. God Liel hated her. “You have my room key?”

And her bracelet, and half her credit cards. Liel hadn’t taken her gun, though, so honestly she should be heralded as a paragon of self-restraint. She didn’t bring that point up though.

“I’m still cold.” Scared and pissed off, too, but she doubted she would care about that.

Celine’s mouth twisted in amused exasperation, and then she stripped out of her coat, wrapping the garment around Liel’s shoulders like a shawl. The fabric was warm, the scent of her perfume clinging to the silky lining.

“Be a good girl and wait for me in my room.” She leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Liel’s cheek. Her lipstick left behind a mark. “I’ll bring my handcuffs.”

“What if I say no?”

Celine paused in the middle of turning away, an eyebrow raising in mock surprise. “I thought you wanted me to elaborate. Although if you prefer the river, I will have to ask for my key back.”

When Liel made no move to hand it over she smiled, teeth gleaming sharp in the sunlight. “It’s the Royal Suite. Don’t bother with clothes.”

#this is So Old guys #holy shit it has been ages since i touched this stuff. like.#a year or something #two? idk what is time. but also it is almost 2k so! LOnger Stuff as promised #back w/ liel being the world's weakest gay bitch #also fun fact this is actually labeled pt 6 on my drive bc i wrote everything out of order #gtdp writing #gtdp #my writing #mine

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puppetsoftomorrow · 4 years

Text

okay so imagine: the trapped in the tv ep but with only british tv shows - if ur not british i'm sorry!! hopefully this will still be funny for you lol

No one was fazed as the classical music rang out overhead, and Nate and Mick waited patiently for it to finish. The pair were stood next to a low table, set on lush green grass and under a backdrop of a clear blue sky and a large country house, with people milling around and chatting, just quietly enough not to be heard over the music.

The logo flashed faintly in the sky, and Nate coughed, adjusting his glasses slightly.

"Well, here we have a lovely piece - a mantle clock, looks to be 17th Century, possibly Russian," He started, tipping the clock back slightly to get a better look at it. "Can you tell me a little more about how you came to have it?"

"It stole it." Mick shrugged. "It looked expensive."

"And you'd be correct." Nate said, waggling his finger to emphasize his point. "Made by an early pioneer of this type of time-keeping, Rip Hunter, the craftsmanship is just - exquisite, and there's not even - oh, there's a small dent here."

"Probably from when I hit Rasputin over the head with it." Mick said, and Nate nodded sagely.

"Well, even with that, it's extremely valuable - you don't see many of these pieces, I'm very honoured to be evaluating it. What do you think it's worth?"

"From the age and quality, I'd want a couple million." Mick grunted.

"And what would you use the money for?" Nate asked, and Mick shrugged again.

"Put Lita through college. Some for the Legends, buy more condiments."

"That sounds fantastic. Well -" Nate started, then paused for an unnaturally long time. Everyone held their breath. "I think, at auction, it could fetch up to £3 million."

Behind them, the Legends cheered, Ava punching the air. Mick nodded, then picked up the clock in his gloved hand wand walked off, swinging it as he did so.

///

The music faded out, and Sara shut the book she was reading, smiling widely. The nursery she was in was quiet, the children having not yet arrived for the day. "I didn't see you there! I'm Sara - what's your name?" She said, voice bright and bubbly.

There was silence for a few seconds, and Sara nodded, despite no one replying.

"Ah, of course. I'm so glad you're here - I need your help." She stood up, eyes wide. "There's a giant octopus named Tagumo terrorizing the village - and we need a special treat for the bake sale! But who should we ask for help?" She scratched her head in an exaggerated thinking motion, then stood up and walked backwards to the large, colourful map that hung on the nursery wall.

"We could ask - Ava the Bureaucrat?" She asked, pointing at a point on the map.

Ava popped up on screen, dressed in her suit and surrounded by stacks and stacks of papers, threatening to topple at any moment. She gave an exaggerated shrug.

"No, she's too busy. Maybe Nate the Historian?" Sara said in a sing-song voice.

At the top of a pink castle, a hand was waving.

"No, he's stuck at the top of his castle. Maybe Zari, the Cat Chat celebrity?"

Zari was on her phone but started to wave as the camera zoomed in on her.

"Yes, that's it! We'll ask Zari, the Cat Chat celebrity!" Sara said, smiling widely. "Come on, let's go to Zari's house!"

Sara walked through the quiet streets of Waverider, avoiding the large chunks of stone that were being thrown her way by an angry octopus. It was a sleepy seaside town, with brightly coloured buildings and extremely predictable weather, and she loved it. She stopped in front of the yellow house and knocked on the door.

"No! It's mine!" "It's mine!" came the muffled voices from inside.

"Oh no! I think Zari's having an argument with her brother Behrad." Sara said, eyes wide. "Let’s see if we can help."

She opened the door, where Zari and Behrad were having a tug of war with a small bracelet. Sara stood, hands on hips, with an exaggerated frown.

"Z! B! What's this?"

"It's my turn with the totem!" Behrad whined, and Zari stomped her foot.

"No, dummy, it's mine! You used it to beat Genghis Khan last week!"

"Did you two forget our last lesson, when we learnt about sharing?" Sara said, and the two broke apart, looking distinctly guilty.

“No, Miss Lance.” They said in unison.

“Good.” Sara said, smiling brightly. “How about – Zari, you use the family heirloom to capture the giant octopus, whilst Behrad and I make a treat for the bake sale!”

The pair brightened up. “Sounds great! We can make a Behrad brownie!” Behrad said brightly, moving towards the kitchen, when Sara put out her arm to stop him.

“Uh oh, did you forget something?”

Behrad struck his palm on his forehead with an exaggerated sigh.

“Whoops! Here you go, sis.” He said, passing the totem over. “I’m sorry I wasn’t sharing nicely.”

Zari shrugged, slipping the bracelet on. “I’m sorry too.” She said, and the pair hugged. When they broke apart, Zari blinked.

“Wait -”

///

The tannoy overhead started to play classical music, overlaid with the booming voice of an announcer. "DC's University Challenge! With your host - Raymond Palmer!"

The lights went up on the studio and Ray sat at a desk, smiling widely at the audience, shuffling his cards.

"Good evening and welcome to DC's University Challenge!” He said, barely being heard over the sounds of the audience clapping politely. He waited until they’d started to quiet down before beginning again. “Our first team tonight is the Time Bureau, a secret government organisation that has produced several bureaucrats, a multi-million-dollar magical creature theme park and around a dozen clones. The organisation has just under 1,000 employees and ranks number two in the inter-governmental department softball league. Their team tonight includes -"

"Hey! I'm Mona Wu, and I'm reading creature care and getting in touch with my wild side!" Mona said, waving and smiling brightly.

Gary coughed. "Uh - Hello - I'm Gary Green, and I'm studying as an apprentice of the dark arts under John Constantine."

"I'm Nate Heywood, and I'm doing a second PhD deductive historical reasoning and turning into steel." Nate said, giving the camera a mock salute.

"And finally, their Captain -"

"I'm Ava Sharpe, from 2213, and I'm reading how to move on from clone based psychological trauma." Ava said, nodding with a tight-lipped smile. She looked at her team – they looked good, all dressed in the Bureau suits. She hoped it would be enough to beat their opponents.

After the clapping ended, Ray gestured to the other side of the studio. "Our second team tonight are the Legends, founded in 2016 by Rip Hunter. Although seen as the underdogs, they won a comfortable victory against the Legion of Doom in the first round, answering questions on the French Revolution, punk rock and African oral history. With a combined age that's impossible to calculate, lets meet the team."

"Hey, I'm Behrad Tarazi, and I'm studying the air totem - but if my parents are watching, I'm studying .... business." Behrad said awkwardly, fiddling with the bracelet around his wrist.

"Hi, I'm Charlie, I'm from before the concept of time, and I'm reading loom weaving - and also shape-shifting." Charlie said, waving to the audience and adjusting the Beebo mascot they had placed behind their team name.

"I'm Mick." Mick grunted. There were a few seconds of silence before Ray spoke again.

"And their Captain -"

"Hey, I'm Sara Lance from Star City. I did two tours with the League of Assassins and now I'm reading kicking ass across the time stream." Sara said, pointing her finger guns towards Ava and winking, which caused the opposing captain to blush.

Ray set the cards down. "Right, well, we all know the rules, so I'll just get started. Your starter for 10 is - in the novels of Rebecca Silver, how many breasts does the alien queen Garima have?"

Mick was on the buzzer, but Mona was quicker. "Three!" She answered excitedly.

"I'm sorry, in the most recent novel, Death of a Rogue, she is revealed to have a secret fourth breast. Another starter for ten - the 1995 film Swamp Thaaang, written and directed by Greg Berlanti, was based on the memiors of what creature?"

John slapped the buzzer decisively. “Swamp Thing.”

Ray nodded and the crowd went wild. “Correct. Your questions will be on marine life. How many penis’ does a shark have?”

The team formed a little huddle, and Behrad shrugged.

“Anyone got any -” Sara started, but John cut in.

"Two." John said.

“Are you sure?” Sara asked, and John nodded, wincing slightly.

///

“Welcome back to – Top of the Pops!”

The lights came up on the little podium where Astra was standing, holding the slim microphone between her fingers, and she smiled widely.

"So, your top five this week is Doctor Mid-Nite with ‘Year 3000’ at number 5, Ava and the Clones with ‘The One and Only’ at number 4, Rip Hunter and Wally West with ‘Careless Whisper,’ entering the charts at number 3, and that was the JSA, staying strong at number 2 with ‘Kids in America.’ But, coming in hot at number 1, with their new hit ‘American Idiot’, it's the Legends of Tomorrow!"

Astra swept her hand towards the stage, where the lights came up to rapturous cheers from the audience.

"We are the Legends of Tomorrow - and we're here to change your destiny!" Charlie shouted into the mic, just as Mick started up on drums. Nate’s hands hovered over his bass guitar, looking over to Sara, who winked at him as the chords of her electric guitar rang out over the cheering audience.

///

(shows featured are - antiques roadshow, balamory, university challenge and top of the pops)

not featured: ava's very short episode of 'who do you think you are', the legends very chaotic stint on strictly come dancing and a master chef ep where the only food they make is mush variants

okay should i keep going!! should i post this on ao3? i wasn’t gonna but if ppl want me to i can :) thanks for reading!!

#phoebe lifeblogs #legends of tomorrow #legends of tomorrow spoilers #my writing #legends of tomorrow fanfiction #i made myself laugh with this lmao

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rezdogsyonder · 4 years

Text

Not Like You Think

Pairing: The Powered!Reader is married to an OC the marvel characters come in later.

Summary: You and your family are in trouble. What lengths will you go to keep them safe? Go against the Avengers? A gang infamous among CIA?

Warnings: Robbery, breaking the law, lying, murder, cheating

A/N: the reader is like early 20’s, married young to high school sweetheart. With a 3 year old. The reader has super strength, is bulletproof, and is influential. Like kilgrave but can turn it off. Also: didn’t expect it to be so long.. sorry! Couldn’t get back to present day in this chapter

**********

You don’t know how it got to this.

That’s a lie. You do, but you didn’t mean for it to get this messy.

They’re almost here. You need to leave. They’re not close to being done though. The car is waiting. It’s running. They’re probably gonna see you leaving if they’re here quick enough.

We could hide. Blend in. Yeah, that could work.

**********

2 weeks before.

“Honey? What time you gonna be home tonight?” You yelled from the kitchen. Your preparing your babies diaper bag for daycare.

“Right around 8:30 ish? Maybe 9. They pretty much don’t let you take more overtime after 9.” He peaked out the door while doing his tie. He walked over to the counter and began eating the food you prepared for him.

“I’ll keep some food in the fridge for you.” You walked by kidding him on the cheek.

You walk over to the bedroom and to the bed, “Come on baby, time to wake up.” She just rolls over and shoved her face in the covers. “Come on sleepy buns, it’s early enough that you can have cereal.”

That got her sitting up, she reaches out to you and you oblige, bringing her to the kitchen.

“How’s my nakey baby?” Christopher smiles poking her belly. She giggles a little bit but she’s still trying to fight it, still wanting to go to sleep.

You put her in her chair and pour some cereal in the tray. You grabbed her soft little brush and put her hair in two little pigtails.

“See you tonight. Love ya. Love you too my little bean.”

“Love you. See you.” You say halfheartedly, grabbing Leia’s clothes for today.

You hear the door slam. Getting her dressed quickly and grabbing her diaper bag and an extra outfit, you’re soon following.

**********

“Leia is at daycare, they close at 4:30, so I’ll need to leave at 4:15, drop her off with Joey, and head back to work.” You say to yourself in your car. You park in the one employee parking spot that is left and walk inside.

It’s not much, but this restaurant has been the only place that would hire you. It’s kinda like a subway, but for burritos and tacos, and the place tips well. Especially in the Summer, which is approaching right now. Pretty soon you’ll have to find a different place for Leia to stay. The daycare you go to only works during the school year.

You have your apron on and hat to cover your hairnet, but you see your day going down the drain when you see your least favorite person. The store owner. The one person you hate because, for some reason, he sees you as a threat. Maybe because the franchise owner almost gave this place to you. Yeah, gave. Guessing he found out from another manager in another store, he went to the franchise owner and laid down daddy’s money.

Why was he even working here if he was rich? Honestly you think he just has a personal vendetta against you. He has hated you since junior year.

“Ugh what are you doing here?” He said in disgust.

“How professional, Jamie.”

“I don’t need to be professional, I’m the boss Y/N.” He smirked smugly. “Just in case you’ve forgotten.”

A customer walks in, saving you from having to speak to him. You try to serve them fast, but slowly too because once they’re sitting at their table, Jamie is just gonna berate you for nothing. Like always.

“Who is the one that worked shifts last night? Hmm?”

“That was me and Matt.”

“What is this?”he holds his hand up.

“A bill?” It was 100. We catered a small party yesterday, probably about 20 people but that 20 brought guests.

“A counterfeit.”

“Well we used the pen thingy on every big bill that we get.”

“No you don’t. Cause then you would have realized it was counterfeit.” The door swings open and you expect a customer but Matt walks in.

“Matt tell him we always use pens on big bills”

“We use the pen on big bills. Every time, a habit we’ve gotten from you docking our pay a billion dollars.” Matt said immediately jumping on your side. A bit monotonous and you suspect it’s because of the bags under his eyes.

“If you used the pen then you would have known it was COUNTERFEIT.” He’s starting to lose his shit. Unprofessional as always. “I will dock you both 50 from your paychecks.”

“You’re so... ugh. You know that $50 is nearly a full shift.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Give me the bill.” Holding out your hand. He looks at you suspiciously before handing it over. You grab the pen from the register and write over it.

You hold the bill out in front of you mockingly. “Did you use an actual marker?” Showing the yellow marks.

His face goes beet red and Matt is about to laugh, trying to hold it back. Jamie just took out his own marker and marks the bill, the color turning a dark blue.

“See?”

“Well then this is on you. Maybe you should quit being cheep and get us more detector pens.”

You cross your arms, and Matt can’t can’t hold it back and he’s giggling quietly. You know Jamie is trying to find a way to pin it on you.

Jamie opened his mouth to say something, but he sighed and walked away. Matt fist bumps you.

“You know one of these days he’s gonna get what’s coming to him.”

“That would be the dream. But right now he is our boss so we gotta dream while we work, come on. We gotta prep the pico and quac.”

The two of you continued your days work in peace, getting a couple regulars. It was a bit busier today than usual, you don’t know what caused it though. You even had to ask Christopher to pick up Leia.

Pretty soon the last group of people left their table and were leaving the restaurant. These guys were really polite, cleaning up after themselves too.

“You get front, I’ll get kitchen and food?” Matt offered.

“Yep, I’ll get the ice ready for you.” You grab an empty bean bin and a plastic knife from your station and walk around to the fountain machine. You jam the knife in the ice dispenser and go to get the mop bucket from the back.

Once back there you hear arguing, they’re shouting and it sounds like they’re through the back door. The door to drop off garbage. You try to hear better by pressing your ear against the door. One of the voices is Jamie.

“Excuse m—”

“JESUS!” It was just Matt. He has a bag of garbage.

“Huho sorry Y/N. ‘Xcuse.” You put your hand on his chest stopping him.

“Here I can take it.” You hold your hand out, he shrugs and gives you the bag. It was warm from the unused meat from today. You scrunched your nose for a second before heading outside.

The arguing stopped as soon as you opened the door. You saw Jamie and a man you recognized as a regular. He’s kinda too attractive to forget. Long brown hair, but it suited him, especially in the man bun he has right now. He was actually apart of the group that just left.

“Hey.” You wave to the customer, “what are you still doing here Jamie?” You said in a less enthusiastic tone. You walk over to the garbage can. Quickly before the meat burned through the heavy duty bag. It wasn’t fun to clean up.

“Just dealing with business Y/N, just head back in.” He snapped. You heave the heavy bag over the edge and into the garbage.

“Whatever you say,” you put your hands up in mock surrender. “Have a good night.” You say to the man with him.

“You too, ma’am.” He took his hand out of his pocket to wave, his shiny glove glinting in the moonlight. ‘It’s nearly summer.’ You thought, but he was still in a long sleeved jacket and gloves apparently.

You went back inside to continue your work, but that weird altercation stayed in your mind. Consuming your thoughts. Matt has the beans cooled back down, good thing because you had forgotten about the ice, he caught it before it started overflowing.

You’re done with the food heaters, the steamer, the tips, and the till. You’re pulling out the garbage from by the front door when you hear a loud bang outside. You go in the kitchen to see Matt.

“What was that?” You keep walking towards the back.

“Y/N I don’t think you should go out there, they’ll probably hit you in the face with a fircracker... Shitkids.”

“Well, yeah but the garbage.” You open the door, or try at least. Something was blocking it.

“Matt? Can you open this?” You push on the door to emphasize your need, even though he can’t see from where he is. Whoever it was probably stacked stuff on the other side. Garbage most likely.

“Yeah, coming.” He walked around you and tried pushing on the door. Even he struggles with the door, which kind of surprised you with him being kinda buff.

The door is open just enough for you to get out and the two of you hear a groan. You and Matt exchange a glance before you squeeze through the door, him trying to pull you back in.

It’s too dark to see anything, the moon had moved higher and maybe behind some clouds, you can’t make out many shapes. You’re holding the heavy bag with two hands so you swing it into the garbage can and grabbed your phone.

“Turn on your flash, cause holy fuck I can’t see anything.” Matt asks, he’s just getting through. The door closing behind him, making it even darker than before.

“K just a second.” You get it on but the phone is having trouble reading your fingers. Whatever liquid was on your hand preventing it. You wipe your phone on your boob and your hand on your hip, it finally reads.

Once you see, the sight has you and Matt standing in shock. It was a body, face down and covered in blood. A good ten seconds has passed before Matt reacts and jumps to the other side of the person.

“Y/N call 911!”

“Yeah.... right.” You dial the number while keeping the light on the two of them. Your slow with your actions, this situation feeling as if it weren’t real. Not paying attention to the monotone voice at the other end, “Get to TacoTacos on main please hurry, send an ambulance.” You keep them on the line, answering the woman’s questions absentmindedly.

“Does he have a pulse?”

Matt’s hands were already on his throat feeling for one. After a couple seconds he shakes his head.

“No, he doesn’t.”

Matt tucks the man’s arm and rolls him over. It was Jamie. He begins cpr.

“It’s my boss. His name is Jamie Ness. I.. I think he was shot.”

“Don’t worry ma’am help is on the way. They should be there in a couple minutes.”

Yep, this wasn’t real. You look away. At the far corner of the shop is a man standing there. He was the man that Jamie was arguing with. He brought one finger to his lips, smiled, and disappeared behind the corner.

**********

“Do you know anybody that would want to do harm to Mr.Ness?” The police officer asks.

“Who wouldn’t?” You look at the paramedic then at the officer, “Sorry, I know it isn’t good to say, but I haven’t seen one person that got along with Jamie.” You pull the blanket tighter around you.

“Do you know what Jamie was doing back there?”

You look the the corner where you saw the man. The paramedic straps that tightening thing around your arm. “No, he might’ve been coming back, but after yelling at us I wouldn’t think he would.... he’s not the kind of person to apologize or say he was wrong. Yenno?” You feel a stethescope being pressed to your chest.

“Mmhmm” he hums, writing in his notepad before slapping it shut, “I should let you go for now, here’s my card. If you remember anything, call me.”

His card said Carl Cohen, and had his number. You nod and tuck it into your apron.

“You’re good to go. I thought you had shock, and you’re blood pressure was a little low and your heart rate was a little high, but nothing too bad.”

The paramedic takes his cuff off of you and you hand him back the blanket. You walk over to Matt who was sitting on the curb. He was looking at the blood on his hands.

“Come ‘ere.” You pull at his elbow. He looks up, you see the tears looking in his eyes. He stands up reluctantly.

You lead him back into the shop. Through the front this time. Bringing him to the sink. You wash his hands for him. It seems he’s the way you were earlier. The blood stained his skin. You do what you can for now.

You lead him back out the front and tell him to get in the car. He usually hitched a ride with you anyways. You run back and switch off all the lights, also writing a note for the opening crew that said call you and you’d explain why the closing didn’t close all the way.

Running back to the car you’re heart breaks when you see him. He’s just looking out the window as tear roll down his cheeks. You shut your door and his attention switches to you, before switching back to the window.

“Do you want to come over to my place?” You offer, thinking he shouldn’t be alone right now.

He nods back to you.

The ride was quiet.

You get to your driveway and notice that an unfamiliar car is parked in front. You park beside Chris’s car.

You open the door for Matt and usher him to the closest bathroom. Grabbing hydrogen peroxide from the mirror, you spray his hands with it. The stains washing away with it. You could tell he feels a little bit better now that he can’t see it, but it’s still bad.

“Hold on.” You rush to your room, upstairs, as quietly as you can so you don’t wake up Leia. You burst into your room, only to find Christopher and a woman in bed.

You stop for a second and you’re shocked, honestly, but Matt is downstairs. You glare and point at your stammering husband “You’re fucking lucky that I can’t deal with this right now.” You grab the shirt you stole from Matt when you were roommates a couple years ago and a pair of your pajama pants from when you were pregnant and huge.

You run back down to Matt. He’s still in the same spot you left him. You place the clothes in his lap and step past him to turn on the shower.

“Clean up. Take as long as you need. I’ll just be outside. ‘Kay?” You kiss him on the forehead.

You leave and softly close the door. Upstairs, the first door on the left is Leia’s room. She’s still in her crib, sleeping face down. You grab another blanket and place it on top of her. She’s practically in a coma if she’s warm.

You close the door softly before going back to your room.

“Well good to see you clothed!” You gesture to the other woman. You know it’s not really her fault, but you’re angry. You pull her closer. “Did you know he was married? Tell the truth.” Using your powers on her.

“No, and I’m really so sorry. He just told me he was a single dad.” She rushed past you, seemingly embarrassed.

“Are you serious?” You’re trying to stay calm. Not wanting to get to angry. “In our house. In our bed. With our baby in the next room?” Each sentence accentuated with one step closer to him.

“You said you couldn’t get out of work, that you were gonna have a late close.”

“So this is justified?” You gesture to the bed.

“I—ugh, I—“ he steps back for every step you take closer.

“Spit it out.” venom lacing your words. He’s backed into the corner.

“We—ugh—we haven’t been together in a while. Um and just, I—”

“Get out.” Not wanting to hear more. You’re backing away now, knowing what happens when you get too angry. Not even he knows, but now you guess he never will.

“What?”

“Get out. It’s that simple. Leave”

“Where will I go? What about Leia?”

“I don’t care, and if you cared about Leia so much then you wouldn’t have done this.” You said matter of factly.

“But—“

“Nope!” You cut him off. “Get out, and don’t you dare think of waking her.”

Knowing him, he’ll stomp throughout the house just to make things hard for you. He seems to always do that when he loses the argument. You watch him step past you and out the bedroom door. You follow, making sure he actually leaves.

Once downstairs you can see he heard the shower going. He grabs his keys and turns to you.

He points to the door then back to you, “Youre such a fucking hypocrite.”

“No, I am not.” You whisper yelled. You began pushing him out the door.

Once he’s fully out you close the door behind him, trying not to slam it, and lock it. You turn around and lean against the door, you hear his car start up and leave. You feel tears welling up in your eyes, you shut them tightly.

This isn’t going to be easy.

#marvel #avengers #powered!reader #marvel fanfiction #not like you think #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes

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