#being away from the computer severely falters my typing

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Never Again

Beau Arlen & daughter!reader

Requested by anonymous

Synopsis: Beau never wanted his life as a cop to affect your safety, but he doesn’t always get what he wants.

“That wasn’t the agreement, Beau, it was—“

“I know what the ‘agreement’ was, if you could call it that, but things have changed!” Beau didn’t often get too heated with his ex wife—he let her do the belittling and he didn’t say much against it. But this was different. This was about you.

“Seriously? What, you get a little overprotective and we just throw out what we agreed on?”

Beau ground his teeth, trying to calm down.

“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just saying that she’s be safer at my place until all of this blows over.”

“Safer? What, with you out all day and—“

“Don’t pretend you’re home anymore than I am,” Beau cut in. “And if need be, she can come to the office with me.”

Silence filled the phone for several agonizing seconds.

“This is really serious, isn’t it?” She said finally.

“I wouldn’t have called you if it wasn’t.”

“And you’re not going to back down?”

“You know I won’t. Not when it comes to her safety.”

“Fine then. She can stay with you, but just until this all goes away.”

Beau sighed. He hated how against his ex was with him having custody, and he knew that soon enough there would probably need to be some sort of custody battle if he wanted more time with you, which he did. But for now, he’d settle with having you safe at his place for a few days.

“Thank you. I’ll pick her up from school this afternoon.”

“Fine.”

Beau was almost surprised that his ex hung up without a crack about you being disappointed when he showed up instead of her. There’d been plenty of those lately. Although Beau supposed she was getting tired of it, especially since they both knew it wasn’t true; you’d always been your dad’s daughter.

…

Beau arrived at your school at exactly three, eager to get you to his place quickly. He waited in his car, looking around for your familiar green backpack. Five minutes went by. Then ten.

It was nearing four o’clock when Beau finally decided to head inside. At first he’d just figured that you were held up by friends, but this was too long.

Beau made his way through the halls, scanning for you through the hoards of teenagers loitering near lockers as he went. He didn’t see you the whole way to the office, and when he went inside he inquired with the first person he saw—a young woman seated behind a computer.

“Y/N Arlen…” she repeated in a mumble, her brow drawn in concentration as she typed on her desktop. “Yes, here it is. Her uncle brought in a note to get her out of classes early. She left during lunch, about four hours ago.”

Beau’s heart sank to his toes, and in its absence his chest constricted. All the breath left his body as though he’d been thrown to the floor, and for a long, agonizing moment he forgot how to breathe.

“Sir?”

The voice of the woman snapped him back to attention.

“You just let some random man take my daughter?”

She looked taken aback.

“He—he had an ID, and his note had your signature on it. That is, if you’re the father—Beau Arlen?” The woman produced the note from her desk, and Beau snatched it up. It was his signature alright—and the forger was an expert. Beau knew deep down that he couldn’t blame the woman in front of him, but he couldn’t quite get that message to his panicked adrenaline.

“And you didn’t think to call me?” Before she could respond, Beau continued. “What did he look like? Where did they go?”

“I-uhh…” the woman faltered for a second before regaining composure. “We have security footage in the building as well as parts of the parking lot. We’ll be able to see him, if maybe not his vehicle.”

“Show me.”

The woman faltered again.

“We’re not really supposed to—“

A quick flash of his badge shut her up.

…

You woke up to the ground rattling beneath you. You tried to push yourself up, but your hands wouldn’t move right. There was a coarse…something, inhibiting your movement. You blinked your eyes open slowly, groaning at the pounding in your head.

You struggled to recall where you were or what was going on. Last you remember, you were at school…

You were called into the office…

You hadn’t been feeling very good this morning, so when the woman in the office told you you were being picked up, you didn’t stick around to hear the rest. You’d gone straight to the parking long, expecting to see either your mom, dad, or Avery; your mom’s new husband. Secretly, you were hoping for your dad.

Instead, a black SUV swerved in front of you. Before you could berate the driver for almost running you over, the side door swung open, and a man with dark hair and psycho-wide eyes grabbed you around the middle and dragged you inside. A foul-smelling cloth was pressed to your nose, and despite struggling for a couple of minutes, the chloroform took over and you were knocked out.

…

Beau got lucky—the security cameras had a good shot of both the kidnapper and his car.

He recognized the man immediately—the leader of a local cartel that Beau had been working for months to put away. It was pretty much the worst case scenario.

Halfway through watching the footage, Beau called up the department.

“Sheriff’s Department, how can I help you?”

“Poppernick, I need you to pull up traffic cameras of every road leading out of the county from the last four hours.

“Beau? What’s going—“

“Now! I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

…

Once realization set in, so did panic. You’d been kidnapped, straight out of school! Not to mention the kidnapper hadn’t bothered to put on a mask. That took a pretty gutsy criminal.

The motive wasn’t hard to figure out—with a cop got a dad and a lawyer for a mom, your family was pretty well acquainted with criminals. Besides, last time you’d visited your dad, he’d acted…off. He’d even hinted at you coming to stay with him for a bit. He must’ve been worried about a criminal case.

But the motive wasn’t your big problem.

“Hey, she’s awake.” A gruff voice invaded your ears as you felt yourself being twisted into sitting up. “Wakey wakey,” the voice taunted, his rough hand slapping your face, making your eyes snap open. “There we go.”

It was the man who’d dragged you into the car. He had short dark hair and a twisted smirk that accentuated the scar running from under his eye to his chin.

You glanced around the interior of the car to see just one other person—the driver. Apparently he was more skittish, because he was sporting a ski mask.

You opened your mouth to speak, only to discover that a thick cloth was stuffed in your mouth, and no sound escaped.

Scar Man’s grin twisted wider at your struggles.

“If you scream, I’ll slit your throat,” he threatened before lowering the gag.

“What do you want?” You demanded after taking in a gulp of air.

“What’d you take the gag off for?” Ski Mask asked after hearing your voice.

“Gotta make sure her dad gets a good look at his little brat.” The kidnapper chuckled. “You think she looks banged up enough?”

The driver spared a glance back before shrugging.

“You could rough her up a bit. But don’t go nuts, we gotta give her old man a chance to do what we say before we really mess her up.”

…

Beau was halfway to the department when it hit him. He would have to call his ex.

“Not until I’ve got more to go on,” he muttered to himself. He knew that wasn’t the real reason; he couldn’t bare to call the mother of his child and tell her that he had let you be taken. He couldn’t admit that to anyone, much less to the woman that broke his heart. It would make it too real.

…

Your body felt like a pulsing mass of pain. If Scar Man had taken it easy on you, you didn’t want to know what him taking it seriously was. Every square inch of you felt bruised, but you noticed that he took particular care to mark up your face and arms—the most visible places. You were now tied to a hard metal chair, the ropes around your wrists far too tight. Moving your arms even slightly sent pain shooting up your wrists from where the rope rubbed your skin raw.

“That should just about do it,” the dark haired man said with a grin. “Now for the finishing touch…”

You tried to move away from him when he pulled out a large knife, but it was futile. You whimpered as he dragged a long cut across your cheek, and you vaguely registered that it seemed to match his own.

“Perfect,” he said with a chuckle. “Now to show it off to dear old dad.”

…

“I’ve got the footage, what am I looking for?” Poppernick wasted no time when Beau entered the department, which he appreciated.

“Black SUV, Honda civic. License plate 23J OV3.”

During the silence while Poppernick went to work, Beau felt his phone buzz in his back pocket. He pulled it out reluctantly, assuming it was his ex wife checking to see if he’d picked you up.

Once he saw the image, he wished it had been her.

Beau staggered back, his feet no longer able to hold him up. Thankfully, the back of his knees collided with a chair, and he fell back into it.

“Sheriff?” Poppernick looked away from his computer, and jumped to his feet when he saw the paper-white tone and utter terror in his boss’s face. “Beau!”

Beau’s hand went limp, and Poppernick grabbed the phone before it could fall to the ground. He took one look at the image and his face turned a slightly greenish tint.

“Oh gosh.”

“What’s going on?” Jenny Hoyt asked immediately after stepping inside, noticing the palpable panic and disgust.

“They…” Poppernick couldn’t even speak, he just showed Jenny the photo. She swallowed, trying hard to keep her composure.

“Quentin, right?” She asked through gritted teeth, referring to the cartel leader that Beau had been after. The very name seemed to snap Beau back into focus. He sat up ramrod-straight in his chair and turned to Poppernick.

“Finish the trace. Now!”

Poppernick didn’t argue, and after a moment longer…

“I got something.”

…

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” Scar Man taunted as he put the camera down. “Soon enough you’ll be back with your daddy, and I’ll have him off my back for good.”

You tried to ignore him, too busy trying to breathe through the pain. But his last statement caught your attention.

“You’re…you’re gonna let me go?”

A harsh grip on her chin had her wishing she hadn’t spoken, but the man just tilted her head up and grinned down at her.

“If our dear sheriff cooperates, and you’re incredibly lucky, then yes.” He dropped his hand and turned to leave without another word.

You wanted to believe him, to hope, but the crazed look in his eyes contrasted his words.

…

Hoyt, Beau, and Poppernick were gathered around Pop’s computer screen, tracking the black SUV, when Beau’s phone rang. He answered the unknown number immediately.

“Beau Arlen,” he said instinctively, then waited with bated breath for a response. While Pop had been working, Hoyt had set up a tap on Beau’s cell phone, and he was prepared to keep the kidnapper on the line as long as possible to get the trace.

“Nice to finally speak to you, Sheriff,” said a voice that chilled Beau Arlen to his core. “I’ve got a sweet little thing that belongs to you who would just love to see you again.”

Beau but back a thousand threats that wanted to escape his lips, and instead went for a smarter question.

“What do you want?”

“Nice and direct, I like that.”

Beau inwardly cursed himself for not stalling—maybe he should’ve went with a threat—but he also didn’t want to make the kidnapper angry.

“What I want—“ the kidnapper continued, “is for you to back off the investigation long enough for me to disappear. It’s reasonable—more reasonable than you should expect in your position. My cartel is out of your little town, your kid gets home safe, and I get my freedom.”

“Yeah, to go terrorize someone else’s town,” Beau spit out.

“Well they’re not you’re concern, sheriff. This is.”

There was silence on the other end for a few seconds, and then—

“Dad?”

Beau’s heart lodged in his throat.

“Baby?”

“Dad, don’t—“

“And there’s your proof of life.” Your voice was cut off, replaced by the kidnapper. “Now do we have a deal?”

“I don’t negotiate with kidnappers.”

A chilling laugh echoed across the line. “Well then I hope you got a good last look at your daughter.”

…

“Dad, don’t—“ Ski Mask covered your mouth as Scar Man pulled back the phone to continue talking. Once you stilled, he let you go. Your gaze never left the phone in the dark haired man’s hand, desperate to hear your father’s voice.

You needed him more than you ever had, and you knew even just a few words from his voice would help calm you. You’d been trying hard not to panic, but knowing that your father was just barely out of your reach had tears pricking your eyes and despair stealing your breath.

You don’t know what your father said to the man, but his eyes were suddenly on you as a terrifying laugh shook his frame.

“Well then I hope you got a good last look at your daughter.”

A knife was suddenly in his hands, and you didn’t know where it had come from.

“No, please,” you whimpered as he advanced on you, lifting the knife above you.

…

“Wait, wait!” Beau demanded as he heard your panicked pleas on the other end.

“Yes?” The kidnapper said.

“I want to talk to her.”

“Don’t stall, sheriff. I know you’re trying to trace the line. I need a yes or a no, and I need it now unless you want me to start carving into this little girl.”

“I…” Beau glanced helplessly at his people, who were waiting for his response. “Ok. It’s a deal.”

“Good. You’ll get the address to where she’s being held as soon as I’m out of the country.”

The line went dead.

“You’re not really gonna let them go, are you,” Hoyt asked.

“Pop, what do you got?” Beau ignored Jenny’s question and focused on Pop’s computer.

“Nothing on the trace, there wasn’t enough time. But I’m still following the route that the SUV took, so far it’s still in sight of traffic cams.”

“So you were just stalling for time?” Jenny tried to clarify.

“We can’t let them go,” Beau said.

“Are you sure?” Jenny said hesitantly. “We don’t want to put Y/N in—“

“You don’t get it.” Beau shook his head. “This guy’s MO, his track record…he’s lying. He’s not gonna let her live. We need to find them.”

…

The kidnappers ignored you for a while after the phone call, busying themselves with packing the meager belongings they had into the back of a truck.

“What about her?” Ski Mask asked, nodding his head at you. “We gonna leave her here for her dad?”

“Let her live?” Scar Man chuckled. “What’s the fun in that?”

…

“I’ve got it!”

Beau jumped out of his seat at Pop’s outburst.

“Where are they?” He demanded, leaning over Pop’s chair to look at his screen.

“Well, I don’t have an exact location, but they turned down this road.” Pop ran his finger along the map open on one side of his screen, while the other side showed the black SUV turning down a dirt road. “And that’s where the cameras stop, they don’t go down side roads.”

“What’s over there?”

“Not much.” Pop shrugged. “A couple of warehouses.”

“Perfect, let’s go. Hoyt, you’re with me.”

…

Knowing that someone plans to kill you is an odd thing. You watch every move they make, no matter how innocent, waiting to see if he’s going to strike. Is he reaching for a knife, or his phone? Is he grabbing his bag, or the gun next to it? You never knew which breath would be your last, which thought would be the last one you’d ever think.

You wondered if your dad would ever find you. You weren’t sure if you wanted him to or not. Seeing your body would kill him, but never getting closure could, too.

You shook the thought away. You definitely didn’t want that to be your last. You’d never thought about it before; what you wanted to be thinking about when you died.

“I think that’s it.”

You were snapped out of your reverie when Ski Mask spoke.

“Great. Now for the fun part.” Scar Man picked up a curved knife from a metal table as he spoke.

You started to struggle against your ropes despite the pain of your raw, bleeding wrists.

“No.” You began to cry as though you were already dead, and you were mourning yourself. “Please, please don’t do this.” Perhaps you were crying because you knew it was futile; there was no sympathy or mercy in this man, you could see it in his eyes. You couldn’t bring yourself to continue to beg, too afraid to even speak.

You’d never thought about what you wanted your last thought to be. Even so, the memory came to you instantly; the perfect one.

You were little, maybe six or seven. Your parents were together and in love, and your father hadn’t been broken by grief. The three of you were painting your room, because you’d finally chosen a favorite color to paint over the white that had been there since you were a baby.

You tried to help, but your parents just ended up painting over the mess you made. Your mom was working on painting one wall, while your dad was making his own version of an enchanted forest on another. He’d already done several mushrooms, and now he was working on a fairy.

“What is that, a flying toad?” Your mom asked with a laugh.

“It’s the fairy princess!” Beau said, staring at her open-mouthed in mock offense.

“It looks like a toad.”

You giggled at your mother’s words, and Beau snatched you into his arms.

“Oh, you think that’s funny?” You squealed and squirmed in his arms as he started to tickle you. “You think it’s funny?”

“Stohop!” You giggled, and after a moment Beau stopped, but he kept you in his arms.

“What do you think, huh?”

“I like the fairy princess,” you insisted.

“See?” Beau grinned.

“That doesn’t count,” your mother countered. “She likes you better.”

“And she understands a masterpiece when she sees it,” Beau said. “Isn’t that right, Y/N?

“Y/N?

“Y/N!”

Your daydream vanished as the very voice you’d been thinking about echoed across the warehouse.

“Dad!” You were still crying, now from relief. Your father was running across the room, gun in hand.

“Get away from her!” Beau aimed the gun at Scar Man, who had the knife clutched in his fist. “Drop the knife!”

Scar Man, psycho eyes wide and enraged, lunged for you, the knife raised.

Two shots rang out, and Scar Man staggered back before slumping to the ground.

Ski Mask lifted his hands in surrender, and Hoyt went over to arrest him.

Beau wasted no time in putting his gun away and running to you.

“Dad.”

“I’ve got you.” Beau offered you a strained smile as he got to work on the ropes binding you. You didn’t realize how much you were leaning against the restraints until they were gone, and you all but fell out of your chair.

Beau held you up, letting you fall against him and bury your face against his shoulder.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he repeated again and again. “You’re safe, I’m here.”

You cling to him despite the way his jacket scratched at the raw part of your wrists. Your body shook with sobs, and Beau held you tightly, rubbing your back and letting you cry against him.

“Hey,” his grip slackened as he pulled back enough to look at you. His hands framed your face, and the cool texture of his hands eased the pain of your bruises. His thumb brushed feather-light against the cut on your cheek, so gentle that you didn’t even flinch. “C’mon, let’s get you out of here.”

Beau kept a hand on you the whole way to the car, unwilling to let you go for even a second.

“Can we go home?” You asked, clinging to your dad’s arm.

“We’ve gotta go to the hospital first,” Beau sighed.

“I’m fine,” you insisted. “I wanna go home.”

Beau stared at you for a long moment. Proper procedure told him to take you to the hospital, then the station for some questions.

But his fatherly instincts were telling him to take his baby girl home and do whatever she needed to feel safe.

The latter won out.

…

By the time Beau reached his place, his phone had been blowing up with texts and calls, probably from Hoyt and Pop, but he ignored them other than a quick text to both telling them he was ok and headed home.

The texts continued after that, but Beau turned his phone off.

“Do you want to go to your mom?” He asked gently, not quite sure what you’d meant by “home”.

You didn’t hesitate.

“No. Your place.”

He got you to his trailer in record time, and he led you inside and to the couch. Your eyes never left him as he went to get your favorite blanket and drape it around your shoulders.

“I’m gonna get you some ice for those bruises, ok?” Beau didn’t give you a chance to respond as he went to get the ice. He returned a moment later, and you put the ice pack up against one of the worse bruises on your face. “Do you want me to make you some food?” He asked.

You shook your head, reaching your free hand out to him without speaking.

Beau got the message. He sat down next to you on the couch and wrapped you into his arms, the soft fluff of the blanket around you brushing against his arms, and your hair tickling his chin as he tucked your head under it.

“I’ve got you,” he promised. “No one’s ever gonna hurt you again.”

“Don’t go,” you pleaded.

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere.” Beau lifted a hand to the back of your head. He found himself rocking you back and forth slowly, and the ghost of a smile lifted his lips when he heard your gentle, relaxed breathing for the first time since you’d been taken.

Time stopped when he was like this, with you. He might’ve been holding you for five minutes or five hours, it didn’t matter to him. He was pretty sure you fell asleep at some point, but he didn’t move, determined to never let you go again.

#beau arlen x daughter!reader #beau arlen #beau arlen x reader #big sky #Beau Arlen big sky #beau arlen x daughter #beau arlen x y/n #beau arlen reader insert

[lincolndjarin]

ride cowgirl! ★ (agent whiskey x reader)

(18+ mdni) pairings : agent whiskey x afab!reader summary : you like to make bets with your coworker for simple things, what happens when he decides he wants to raise the stakes? warnings & tags : no use of y/n, smut, sort of dubcon there's reluctance but everything is consensual, porn with plot, this ended up actually being mostly plot lmao, p in v sex, unprotected sex, forced orgasm, light bondage, use of restraints, fully clothed sex, pet names, size kink, praise, whiskey big dick truther word count : 2.3k a/n : first new fic post on the new blog!!! I had so much fun with this thank you so much to the person who requested it !! one of my google forms anon requests was for anything whiskey!! (I put the request at the end) this was the direction I went in >:) this was meant to be a drabble but I got carried away immediately. enjoy!! (this was edited super fast bc i'm tired after work lmao, so apologies for any mistakes)

It was a stupid deal. 

And you never should have made it. 

Of course it’s a little late for that now, when he’s already tying your hands behind your back with his ridiculous flask belt. 

“This wasn’t a part of the original agreement.” You grumble as he pulls the leather tight. That smug smile on his face. 

“You said, anyway I wanted it. This is how I want it.” He leans back against the headboard to admire his work. His eyes focused on the way your chest pushes out now with your arms forced behind you until you cough to get his attention. He takes his time before letting his eyes crawl back up to your face, still grinning ear to ear. 

“Can we just get this over with?” You groan. 

“Oh come on, gorgeous.” He’s loosening his tie, his smile never falters. “I already told you we don’t have to do this. I’ve offered you several outs and you keep turning them down. Besides,” He flashes his teeth at you in a toothy grin. “it’s no fun for me if you don’t want it.” 

That’s exactly what he’d said when you’d made this deal a week ago. 

“I think I want your hat.” You said rather confidently. The two of you had a long standing rivalry. You were placing bets nearly every week at this point. The winner was whoever had the most successful missions. It had started off simple. The loser has to take the other out to dinner, or pay for drinks after a night out. 

After a few months of that you’d gone out with Whiskey more times then you’d gone on any dates. 

Then you decided to raise the stakes. 

The other person's paycheck that week, a piece of tech the other had, at one point your mothers phone number was on the line. (Thankfully that week you had won.)

This week you were feeling lucky. So you pointed at his cowboy hat, he was never seen without. 

“If I win I want your hat.” You cock your head to the side, smirking. 

“You have a hat already.” He was typing up a mission report, you had come in as you always did on Monday mornings. 

“Nice observation agent, how’d you figure that out?” You took a pen from the mug on his desk, rapidly clicking it in an attempt to get under his skin. “That doesn’t change my mind, I don’t want my hat. I want yours.”

He sighs in irritation, taking the pen from you and moving the mug to the other side of his computer. 

“And if you win you can have mine.” You flick the rin of his hat as you say it and he finally turns to glare at you. 

“I don’t want your hat, I already have a hat.” 

“Someone’s in a bad mood today.” You whisper theatrically as he turns back to his work. 

“I’ve got a lot of paperwork to get through darlin’ so let’s hurry this up.” 

“I already told you. I want your hat, if you don’t want mine then pick something else.” 

He turns in his desk chair completely to face you now. Annoyance visible on his face. 

“If I win, then you wear my hat.” As he speaks he cracks the first smile you’ve seen on him all morning. 

“You aren’t making any sense, are you still waking up? Do you want me to go get you some coffee?” You laugh but he leans forward. Even though you were up on the desk and he was in his chair he was still nearly face to face with you. 

“Darlin’ you can be so cute sometimes.” You have no idea what he means but his voice has a condescending tone that makes you scowl. 

“Stop being coy and just clarify.” His first signs of a smile turn into a full blown grin. 

“Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.” He whispers, you’re about to slap him for making such a crass joke but he looks completely serious. 

“That’s not funny. What do you really want?” You pray he doesn’t see the goosebumps on your arms at his words, you spend so much time with him yet he’s never made a pass at you. You’ve watched him hit on countless women these last few months but he’s never turned his attention towards you quite like this. 

“I told you. You win, you get my hat. I win, you wear it.” He has to be messing with you. You want to believe that he’s just trying to push your buttons but you know purely based on the way he looks at you that he couldn’t be more serious. 

It’s an insane offer. But it’s not like you haven’t thought about it. Who wouldn’t be curious about what he must whisper to get women to come home with him, what he must promise them. 

Stop. You can’t seriously be considering this. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. Obviously I’m not doing that.” You get up to leave. Embarrassed by the entire situation. 

“You win, you get my hat and the Bronco. I win, you wear the hat.” You’re already walking out when he says it and you stumble a bit before turning back to stare at him slack jawed. 

“You’d give me your car?” The disbelief in your tone is palpable. 

“If you won.”

And you just couldn’t say no. It was too good of an offer. 

So you set up ground rules. 

You wanted your clothes to stay on, at least as much as possible for the situation. Which he agreed to, so long as the two of you did it “how ever he wanted.” You didn’t realize until much later what that entailed. And of course there was the fact that he wanted you to enjoy it. An odd request all things considered, but he said it was important to him that you had a good time. 

“It's no fun for me if you don’t want it.” 

He had insisted that if you weren’t into it that he would stop, especially if he thought you were faking it. 

Once everything was decided the two of you shook hands. 

And then, by some cruel trick of fate, you had fumbled not one, not two, not even three, but all of your missions that week. A feat that has never happened to you in the entire history of your employment with Statesman. 

So that’s how you ended up like this. 

Fully clothed other than your discarded panties, straddling your most annoying coworker, who’s sitting underneath you, dressed the same as always except his pants are unzipped, with his belt around your wrists. 

“Just let me know when you’re ready darlin’, take your time. I can wait all night, I've got nothing else planned.” 

You could tell him no. You should. You just don't want to.

The second you did he would take the belt off your wrists, hand you your panties (the ones you pretended you didn’t see him shove in his pocket when you threw them on the bed,) and send you on your way. And he’d do it all with a smile. 

Of course you can’t let that happen, that would just mean that he’s won, again. 

He wouldn’t even tell anyone, not that anyone knew about the deal to begin with. But he’d never tease you for bailing, he’d just make you live with the knowledge that you bit off more than you could chew. 

And worst of all, if you had won, you know for a fact that he would have handed over the keys to his car with zero hesitation. 

So you roll your eyes and nod. 

He clicks his tongue, leaning forward, his hands rub your thighs, pushing your skirt up further. 

“Tell me you want it sweetheart.” He taunts, making you sigh loudly. 

It’s not that you don’t want it. God knows you want it. You crave it. But you can’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

“I want it.” You say, almost comically emotionless which has him frowning, sitting up straighter. 

“Let’s just call it. You clearly don’t, and I’m not interested in an unenthusiastic partner.” He begins to lift you off of his hips but you push against him, properly sitting yourself in his lap. 

“Give me a second, Jesus. I’m not even warmed up, just- I need a minute. We’re doing this.” There’s a determination in your voice that stops his efforts.

There are a few seconds of silence before he speaks again. 

“Do you want me to… warm you up?” It’s the first time he’s dropped the cocky facade since you started this ordeal. 

“No. I think I’m okay. Let’s do this.” You nod a few times, almost like you’re hyping yourself up. The two of you hadn’t factored in a lot of the logistical details of this deal, more specifically foreplay. 

As he pulls himself out of his jeans you’re starting to wish that you had. He isn’t even completely hard yet and you aren’t entirely sure how you’re going to take all of it. 

He unceremoniously spits into his hand before gripping himself at the base, steadily stroking himself. 

It’s like he’s a porn star and you’ve got front row seats to a private show. 

You’re close enough that when he leans forward, softly grunting, his face brushes against yours. His cock becoming fully erect in his hand, you hope he doesn’t hear you gulp. 

As he jerks himself off, his free hand reaches up, removing his hat before placing it onto your head. It’s a little too big for you so it tilts to one side. He gives you a lopsided grin before picking up his pace. You watch with wide eyes. 

He’s too big. 

In every way possible. 

He’s too long, he’s too thick, he’s simply too much. 

And you can’t tell him that. He’s smug enough as is, if you say “actually nevermind. you’re dick’s too big I couldn’t possibly fuck you.” he’ll be even more insufferable than he already is. But much to your chagrin he already knows what you’re thinking. 

“You still sure you don’t want me to warm you up?” His nerves are clearly gone as he chuckles before hissing through his teeth. His thumb brushes over his pink, weeping tip. 

“I’m fine. Ready when you are.” Not true. 

“Maybe I could free your wrists. You can do it yourself if you don’t want me to do it.” He’s reaching behind you and you once again halt his efforts. 

“No. We’re doing this your way.” 

You’re certainly overestimating your abilities, but he doesn’t need to know that. 

You scoot forward in his lap until his cock is resting between your thighs. You sit up on your knees and he lines himself up at your entrance. 

“Last chance to back out, sugar.” With that final taunt from him you sink down onto him without warning. Barely taking more than an inch before you drop your chin to your chest so he can’t see your face as he simultaneously leans back to rest against the headboard once more. 

It feels like he’s splitting you in half. 

His hands return to your thighs. His palms splayed against you as his thumbs rub comforting circles against your flesh. 

The sting is all you can think of but buried beneath it all is a heat that threatens to consume you. 

You lift your head to look at him. He’s lost a bit of his bravado as he runs his fingers through his hair. You don’t give him (or yourself to be fair) a chance to adjust. You have a desperate need to watch him unravel despite the ache between your legs. 

You take a deep breath before you take nearly half of him in one rock of your hips. 

The stretch is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, the heat in your stomach is bubbling over as you let out a moan you’ve never heard from yourself before. His grip on your thighs is tight enough now that you’re certain you’ll have to wear a longer skirt tomorrow. 

“Christ darlin’.” He stutters out, his eyes are squeezed shut and you couldn’t be more proud. 

“Is this enthusiastic enough for you?” You manage to grunt out between your small gasps. 

He mumbles something that sounds like a yes.

You have to wait longer this time before moving again, you wait until the pain eases itself away and is replaced with that heat you’ve been pursuing. Only then do you try taking more of him, you don’t manage all of it but you take most of him after a bit of effort. The entire time his eyes are trained on you, a look of admiration on his face. 

“You are something else, gorgeous.” He whispers.

His low drawl shoots straight to your core and god you’re sure he knows it. He whimpers when your walls clench around him.

You haven’t even started properly riding him and you’re close. 

The way he fills you has you seeing stars. You would love to try and banter with him right now, tease him, but you’re too far gone. Too focused on the way his tongue pokes out to wet his lips as he lets out a soft whine before squeezing your hips.

“Let me touch you, please.” He mutters breathlessly.

You aren’t one to deny good southern manners. 

You give him a nod and he wastes no time as he rubs your clit with the pads of his fingers frantically, like he’s trying to make you cum as fast as possible. You’re confused as to why for only a moment because your climax approaches so rapidly it nearly knocks the wind out of you. Your hips stutter as you sit, finally fully impaled on his length, in an instant your vision is a searing hot white. His hat tilts forward on your head, briefly covering your eyes. You’re left breathless in his lap, when you come down from your high he’s grinning at you.

“I win again darlin’.” 

You groan as you recall the conversation you’d had right before he had tied your hands behind your back. 

“If I finish first you can have my hat, if you do, then I get to finish inside you.” 

“Absolutely not.”

“If I finish first you can have the Bronco.”

“...Fine.”

a/n : requester ily, thank youuu

#lincolndjarin #agent whiskey #jack whiskey daniels #agent jack whiskey daniels #agent whiskey smut #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #pedro pascal #agent whiskey fic #agent whiskey / reader

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Choice - Chapter 2

Summary: You and Din get ready for a mission, while Din takes a moment to reflect.

A/N: Hello lovelies,

Oh I'm so excited to be posting the second chapter, as you may have noticed, the chapters are significantly smaller to how I would usually write, and this is due to time constraints. I wish I could spend hours in front of my computer typing away, but alas real life always interferes.

Hopefully, you will enjoy the second parter, I know I had fun writing it.

Love oo

Warnings: Mentions of canon-typical violence, disguises, fluff, angst, I think that's it, if I miss any warnings please let me know.

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“Djarin, I don’t know about this?” You held Grogu in your arms as you both went over the plan. Grogu’s big ears blocking your vision every so often, as he tried to look at the plans too, which only made you laugh and love the child more. He’d become more and more ingrained in your heart than you thought possible. If you were being honest, it wasn’t just Grogu that had wormed their way into your heart. 

You’d been working with the man ever since you met him, when you were hired by Boba to help him eradicate the Pikes from Tatooine, and once that crisis was done, he offered you a job, you had to say you respected his kind nature, especially the way he looked after Grogu. 

“What’s wrong with the plan?” Din looked from you to the plan, leaning closer to your side as your shoulders touched each other.

“Well …” you scratched your head as you and Grogu looked at each other, “Okay, first there are these sentries that walk around the compound like clockwork. I mean we’ve been watching them for several days, and they haven’t faltered yet. Which is unusual for out of commission storm troopers. Next, you want me to go dressed like a pregnant woman?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle a little, he loved putting you in these awkward situations, after all you could handle it, but mostly because he loved the expression on your face as you tried to wrap your mind around exactly what was needed. 

“I need a distraction”

You quirked your eyebrow as you glared at him, “Really? And that’s the best you got? Why don’t you dress up as a pregnant Mandalorian?”

“I don’t think it’ll have the same impact” he bumped her shoulder, “Plus, you have to admit, a pregnant woman in the middle of a compound, you wouldn’t think that’s distracting?”

“You’re a strange man, you know that, right?” You looked at Grogu, tickling him slightly, laughing at his tiny giggle, “Don’t you agree, your father is a strange man, little one?” Your voice was higher as you talked to him, something Din pointed out time and time again. 

“Patu” was all the response you got, and it was all you needed. 

“See even Grogu thinks you’re odd.”

He simply nodded, “Well, it’s not like I can go as the pregnant woman?” He motioned to himself as he stood, his hand sort of pointing towards his lower half. You quickly averted your gaze, after staring for a second too long, followed by a muffled chuckle from the annoying shiny helmet. 

You cleared your throat, focusing back on his statement, “Why not? I think you could pull it off, if you swing your hips the right way” you winked, smirking back at him. When he didn’t respond, a nervousness fluttered in your stomach, causing you to chew on your lips, a habit you had developed from long. 

He didn’t say anything, simply watched as you focused back on the plans, there was a nervousness in his stomach, that made his palms feel sweaty, he clenched his hands against the table focusing on the task at hand, doing his best not to be flustered by your teasing. 

Din cleared his throat, you always had a way of throwing him off, it was one of the many things he liked about you. 

When he first saw you at Boba’s palace, he couldn’t take his eyes off you, not necessarily out of attraction, but rather because you puzzled him. You didn’t exactly look like a warrior or a mercenary, you looked … well like you, a normal civilian, who simply had shown up at the wrong place and time. He could still recall, when Boba introduced you as his secret weapon, he actually scoffed to himself, thinking there was no way you could live up to any sort of reputation, but then when he saw how you handled yourself, how you fought with passion and determination, he saw your appeal, and why you were a secret weapon.

You were unassuming, and he like that about you. You were a surprise ever minute of the day. 

When Grogu rejoined him, he was impressed by how you automatically began looking after him during and after the fighting was done. You didn’t even know who Grogu was at the time, or how important he was to Din, but he could see in your eyes, the moment you laid eyes on his foundling it was like an instinct woke up inside of you. He knew at that moment, he didn’t have to worry about his child, you would live and breath for him if necessary, and all he could think was that he wanted to get to know you better. 

Next thing he knew he was offering you work, and now all that time later, having you beside him became as natural and normal as having Grogu in his life. He didn’t know if he could go back to a time when you weren’t there. 

His eyes focused on you once again, he was thankful to his helmet, he could observe you, look at you to his hearts content and you’d be none the wiser. He watched as the way your eyes moved across the plans, taking in every detail. The way your fingers stroked Grogu’s tiny hand, reassuring him, you were there and loved. The way you included Grogu in your thought process, even when you didn’t have to, it was making his heart ache, being this close and still distant from you.

He noticed your free hand was just lying there on the table, and for some reason deep within him, he watched as his own hand moved across the table, shifting closer to yours as subtle as he could wanting to hold your hand, however, before he even got the chance, you moved. 

“Well I guess if this is the plan” you initiated as you stood from your hunched over position, “I better put my game face on. Oops, sorry, I mean my belly on.” You chuckled at your own joke, Din never found your joke’s funny, he’d always just stare at you and tilt his helmet, almost saying ‘really?’ 

“Um … anyway, can you take Grogu?” You lifted Grogu, holding him out to Din. 

He simply smirked as he gave a nod, taking Grogu in his arms, chuckling to himself as he watched you purposefully sway your hips towards the bedroom of the apartment he had ‘rented.’ He focused his attention back on his son once you closed the door, as much as he wanted to keep his eyes focused on you, there was a mission to get ready for, “Alright, ad’ika, let’s get ourselves ready.”

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Tag List:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24 @spicymcnuggies @lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @sarcasmismyonlydefense24 @tortor-mcgee

#luke skywalker #din x reader #luke skywalker x reader #star wars #luke skywalker x you #din dijarin x reader #din djarin fanfic #din djarin fanfiction #luke skywalker fanfiction #Luke skywalker fanfic #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #anon request #grogu #mando x you #mando x reader #mando fanfiction #darth vader

[xluciifer]

[ ♡ ] Most incorrectly assume that Robo Fizzes, for the most part, don’t have enough intelligence in their programming to actually act outside their owners’ direct orders. They would only be half right, so to speak… With Kitty, she’s allowed certain types of freedom. And with the amount of time she’s been spending with Lucifer, it’s no wonder her programming is a lot more lenient when it pertains to more intimate matters...

[ ♡ ] Who could have guessed that, as a gesture of ‘goodwill’, well past Valentine's Day, Kitty decides to send certain… imagery to her companion. She hadn’t been able to stop by as much ( Valentino, surprisingly, has been keeping her busier than usual. How she had managed to find the time and the resources is left to anyone’s guess but once she acquired what she needed, she took advantage of one of her outings for errands…

[ ♡ ] What the King of Hell would find ( and hopefully not throw away at first glance, ) would be a simple 4x6 envelope with a slightly heavy feel to it. The front of the envelope merely said: From Kitty, for Lucifer M! — ( being a sophisticated sex robot, but ultimately a computer, Kitty actually has decent handwriting! Though really, it’s just mimicking Valentino’s… ) in pink, glittery ink. Nobody said the Robo Fizz is subtle… In any case!

[ ♡ ] Inside, several… less than appropriate photographs of Kitty in very suggestive clothing ( maid themed, actually! ) in many different poses, which includes a feather duster. One would have to wonder if she conjured the idea herself. Included with all these, there is a letter in the same glittery ink — every “i” is dotted with a perfect heart,

Dearest Morningstar, It has been two weeks since our paths last crossed; the days have stretched on, each one a slow and agonizing step towards the moment we are reunited. I find myself constantly yearning for the warmth of your smile and the gentle touch of your hand. I miss our laughs, our shared moments, and the way you make ordinary things extraordinary. Let's make plans to catch up soon! Please have these in the meantime — Valentino had me take some for practice! I think they turned out rather nice! Let me know what you think! With all the love that fills my ( metal ) being, Kitty ♡

And just when he was starting to get used to somebody's presence in his life, she was gone again. Kitty never much talked about what she did outside of his home nor where she'd disappear to frequently - or maybe she did tell him and it went over his head. Both were plausible conclusions considering Lucifer's state of mind and constant in and outs.

He'd been notified that an envelope was received and addressed for him and it left him confused for a moment. He wasn't expecting anything, he didn't think? Nonetheless, once the envelope was in his hands, Lucifer couldn't help the small smile he held, gazing at Kitty's name. He found it endearing she'd find the time to reach out to him while away, wherever she was. There was some weight to it, so his mind scrambled through thoughts on what this could possibly be.

His answer was gifted to him in the form of ... certain types of pictures of Kitty. He drops the letter and pictures from his hands from initial shock, his face heating up and a hand rose in an attempt to conceal it as if someone else would see his reaction. This definitely took him by surprise.

Though he smiled, feeling flattered. Once he got a hold of himself because he's a man who's seen plenty in his time in Hell - it was different with Kitty. He respected her and saw her far more than who she was so in all honesty; it was a pleasant surprise.

He squatted down to pick everything up, noticing the letter he hadn't read yet in her glittery pink writing. As his eyes scanned the writing, he felt incredibly touched and ... lonely. He did miss his Kitty. Lucifer never realized she had such a way with words.

His smile never faltered as he collected everything neatly into his hands and tucked it away into his inner coat pocket. He'd find a special place for these.

#kttybot #sinner questions. #saved. #( i hope this wasnt completely trash fksbkdj )

[voltagesmutter]

Obey Me x Heat

Obey Me - Satan and Leviathan Head-canons

Prompt: ‘I’m in heat’

Warning: NSFW, Female MC.

Satan:

The avatar of wrath had learned to keep his emotions in-control, harvesting his anger and reining it in. But when heat comes it’s all thrown out of the window.

“Fuck you smell so good,” Whispered between his lips as he presses wet kisses to your weak spot on your neck. The blonde pushing you against the dusty bookcase in the remote corner of the library, a section that doesn’t look like it’s had contact for years, grinding into your waist from behind as he presses his erection to you through the layer of your clothes. “This fucking heat man… I don’t think I can wait to get back,”. One hand pops the button of your jeans, a deep groan from his chest to slide his hands down the fabrics of your clothes to feel the dampness of your underwear, “Oh kitten, it appears you can’t either,”. The shuffling sound of jeans unbuckling and material shifting comes from behind you, cool air hits your skin as he pushes your jeans down just enough, pulling your underwear to the side to feel his pulsing heat pressing against you, “Don’t scream too loud now kitten, we don’t want anyone to catch us,”.

Normally prefers you naked but in heat he’s weak for you in lingerie. Especially white. Feeling as if he’s tainting you and stripping you from your purity. 

Sharp teeth curl around the waistband of your panties, tugging them slightly before letting the material ping back against your skin. A small yap from your mouth follows causing a sinister chuckle from him. “Hush now kitten,” He purrs, teeth now licking down the stream of your underwear until it means the damped material between your thighs. Jewelled green eyes tinted with yellow meet yours, dominance and power pulsating from them as he rips them clean off your skin with an audible growl. Hands spread your thighs so he can delve his face where the cloth was sitting only milli-seconds ago, inhaling deeply before biting his lip hungrily, “You’ve been a good girl kitten, let me reward you”. No chance to register his words as lips suckle against your clit, rolling the delicate numb between his teeth leaving you at his mercy.

Want to see him lose all self-control? Dress up as a kitten, ear pieces, a bell collar, a cream bralette with matching underwear and he’s gone. Call him master for bonus points and you won’t leave the bedroom for the whole duality of his heat.

On the war path when it comes to his emotions, sparks flying between him and Lucifer before Beel’s even had his second breakfast. A lot of these emotions are pent up and spilled into his actions, thrusts fuelled by his attitude.

“Fuck,” It ripples off the walls and ceilings, loose items on the near by desk rattling from the volume on his groan. An argument with Lucifer had set his anger ablaze, demon form breaking through as his chest heaved whilst he gritted his teeth. That anger now reflected into his actions, dragging you by the wrist to his room and within minutes he had you pressed against the wall, bouncing you off his cock with no-end of stopping. “Satan!” You cried but it got lost in your throat, words lost as you felt another wave of release coming over you as he pounded against that delicate spot inside you. Bruising you from the inside whilst his fingertips left marks upon your waist. The sheer intensity ripped through you, leaving you a boneless mess in his arms as he continued to thrust into you. “One more baby, I’m close,” A hint of softness beneath his storm brewing eyes. His tail snaking up your thigh to rub circles of your clit, pace never faltering in a display of his strength continuing to move you over him. Small hands move from the back of his neck to fist his horns, gripping them with urgency as he pushes you over the edge one more. The growl that leaves him would wipe fear into any living being, dark and angry as he spills violently inside you, cock pulsing and twitching until he’s fully spent. 

Leviathan:

He’s the kindest of the brothers when it comes to heat, trying to hide it from you as if ashamed. But it’s only because heat brings out the darker side of him, the fine tuned self-control just slipping from his grasp.

“Levi, I refuse to have this anymore, what is going on with you!” You snap, cornering him in the living room, the first time you’d seen him in days. “It’s nothing I’m fine,” He grumbled unable to look you in the eye, his cheeks flushed red. “It’s your- your heat isn’t it?” You questioned, only to be met with a meek nod of his head. “I don’t want to hurt you, I just- the urges are so much, I- I’ve jacked off several times in the night but it’s not enough,” Levi finally opening up to you. “I mean… I could always help, it’s not as if we haven’t been having sex for months already,” You let out a light laugh, “I miss you, I miss being intimate with you,”. Taking a step forward and leaning into his purple hair, catching his lower lobe beneath your teeth causing a hiss from him, “Beside, I want to see what real demon Leviathan is really like when he gives into his needs,”. No more was said but a groan, Levi gripping you and pulling you down on the nearby sofa with his lips attacking yours.

He tries to continue his life like normal during heat, you and gaming being his number one priority, often mixing the two together for his pleasure.

Riding him in reverse, his tail swiping of your clit as his forefinger and thumb tugs your nipple, his left typing endless commands on his computer whilst playing games like normal. His teeth latch on to your ear, sucking it before tugging it proving to be the end of you as your walls pulse over him, letting your body rock to the waves of pleasure. “Tch, I though I made it clear you wasn’t to come until I finished this level, it’s a good thing my headphones are off, I don’t want anyone hearing the noises but me,” Biting again at your ear before sucking a red mark upon your neck, ‘Guess we’ll have to restart since you put me off,”. “Levi- Levi please,” You whimper, fingers digging into your thigh in desperate ache for him to give up his game and just fuck you properly. “Sorry my love, but you knew the rules, only once this level is finished will I give you what you really need, now be a good girl and let me finish or this time I’ll edge you until I’ve completed the whole game”.

He collects scratches on his skin and wears them like medals of honour, using them as a silent claim to you. After all the god of envy has to prove your his to keep his brothers away, often making them the jealous ones.

“The fuck is that!” Mammon scowled, Leviathan purposefully lifting his arms up so his hoodie would show the deep red scratches peaking from underneath. “Oh nothing, just a few tokens of appreciation from ____” He can’t help but smirk seeing the blood raise into Mammons head. “The human is mine!” He snarled, fists slamming down and standing up. “Funny that it’s my name she’s screaming,” Leviathan threatened, taking a step forward into the kitchen. Just as Mammon was about to throw something quick witted back, you called for Levi. “Babe, I didn’t realise how flexible I was, do you think we could do that one from last night again, it just hit all the right…” You mindlessly rambled, stepping out from his bedroom in just his shirt which skirted back your bum, “Spots… Fuck…”. Your face went as red as Beel’s hair, not realising the audience that was in the kitchen, all of the brothers bugged eyes and opened mouths to see you with deep bite marks tracing up your neck and collarbone. “Sure whatever you want babe,” Levi winked, quickly pushing you back into his room before his brothers could gawp any longer. Him and Lucifer could have swapped demonic titles in that moment, the prideful one lustfully jealous, whilst the jealous was beaming with pride.

Lucifer and Beel - Heat

Mammon and Asmodeus - Heat

Belphegor -Heat

Diavolo - Heat

Obey Me - Masterlist

#obey me #obey me smut #obey me levi x reader #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me levi smut #satan x mc #obey me satan #obey me satan smut #obey me satan x reader #obey me satan x mc #shall we date obey me #shall we date leviathan #shall we date satan #shall we date smut #obey me headcanons

[gl0rious-purpose]

Exciting and Fast Things (Loki x TVA!Reader)

Summary: Life at the TVA was boring. Of course, Loki had to be the one to spice up life there, specifically yours.

Word Count: 3214 Words

Author's Note: There is implied sexual content and light swearing, but there's not really a lot of details.

The TVA. The infamous Time Variance Authority. It was the only thing you had known since you were born. Or at least you were taught that. A man by the name of Mobius M. Mobius, who was obsessed with jet skis, had raised you as his daughter. He was kind, gentle, and very much dad material. You never really went to school, the knowledge just magically showed up as you got older. While you got older, your dad had discovered a variant. The variant had been killing minute men all across the timeline, causing a huge disruption in workflow.

The disruption mostly affected you. You worked as a file keeper and you had to constantly keep updating files as the minute men and women were killed and new ones were trained and brought in, minds clearly wiped. Well, in a sense. As far as you know, you were the only one who had been their your whole life, besides Mobius and Ravonna. 

While you were working one day, an alarm started going off. It was on that didn't go off as often, but it piqued your interest. The light would flash whatever color an identified variant radiated. This one radiated green. Those who radiated green tended to be perfectionists, analytical, conceptual, cool, calm, inventive and logical. They could even be mischievous. The green ones were always rare, or at least that's what you thought. You've never met one. Well, that was until Mobius had identified the variant killing all personnel. 

It was a Loki variant. Out of curiosity, you looked up the Loki variants on your computer. Most of the variants you saw were apparently "pruned." The one they had identified apparently was unlisted because you couldn't find on that was female, but seeing that all of them were fluid with sex and gender, you thought they had just shifted to a different form. As you scrolled through the files, one caught your eye. Loki Laufeyson, Timeline: 2012. You pulled the file up and scanned it. 2012? There's no way they're here now. As you read further, you found the status area. In bright red lettering read 'In Process Of Capture.' 

Your thin brows furrowed lightly before returning back to their relaxed position. We capture them? You inquired mentally, not wanting a response. You shook it all off before closing down all the files and clearing the history. That was the number one rule when it came to computers in the TVA. You log in, get the information you require, and then you would clear out without a trace. You truly hated it, but it wasn't your place to complain about an extremely reasonable rule. Closing the area completely and locking it, you stared into the now dark area. I wonder if I'll ever meet on of these green Loki variants. You mused mentally, sighing as your keys bounced against your thigh as you made your way to your shared apartment with Mobius.

  Several Months Later...

Months had passed since the Loki variant was identified. You've never seen your dad more excited than that moment. Well, besides when he met you and he got new jet ski magazines. You only got them because they made him happy, but you were more into motorcycles. Running the risk of getting thrown off an open bike at high speed just appealed to you. Maybe you liked the idea of it. Or maybe it was the thrill. One of these days, you were determined to ride one at least. 

Today, however, was not one of those days.

A week ago, the minute personnel was able to capture the 2012 Loki variant. While The Avengers going back in time to break the timeline was fate, Loki escaping with the tesseract was not. You stood by the docking bay, waiting eagerly to see the green variant. Your dad had been so excited about this, he wanted you to be there. He wanted you to see that all the hard work paid off. Of course, you had to stay in a corner, far out of harm's way. As the portal open up, the minute personnel pushed the variant through. Your breathing faltered as you took him in. He was menacing, but in a good way. He was extremely tall. If he were to stand by you, he would've loomed over you like a giant. The idea made you shiver, not with anxiety, but with.. anticipation. You wanted that to happen. 

A loud clink caused you to focus back in on what was happening. The personnel was unlocking his chains, leaving his mouth guard for last. As they dropped the chains, they looked at the guard before deciding to leave it on until they got to booking. You stared intensely at the variant. The almost viridian green suit flattered his form quite well. Instinctively, your mouth turned up into a smirk at his appearance, eyes flickering to the sudden movement. Mobius had walked up to the variant, clearly pleased with himself.

"Loki Laufeyson. Glad you could be here." Mobius spoke courtly to him, which caused the man in front of him to roll his eyes. If you didn't know Mobius, you would've thought he would've pruned him right there and then at the action. But that's the thing – you did know him. Mobius would rather work along side this variant and understand him better in person than removing him from the timeline completely. Mobius gave a smile and stepped aside to let the guards through. They walked swiftly, afraid that Loki might try something while not locked up. You staring must've been felt because suddenly his eyes flickered over to your location. If you weren't mistaken, you could've swore you saw a hint of mischief glimmering in his eyes. Once he was out of sight, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. Oh my god...You couldn't help, but mentally swooned over the variant. You had to manually take care of your breathing as you tried to compose yourself as Mobius came over, huge smile plastered on his face.

"Wasn't that awesome?!" Mobius spoke in a breathy voice, overwhelmed by the encounter. You shot him a small grin, happy that he finally got what he wanted. He pulled you into a huge, bear hug, rocking you back and forth. Mobius pulled away, pressed a kiss to your forehead. He shot you a toothy grin before glancing at one of his own personnel. They gave him some type of gesture, you believe it was to indicate that the variant was ready to be interviewed and he nodded before looking back at you.

"Well, I better go over the variant's history. I'll send my findings up to be filed in a bit." You barely nodded at him before you saw him basically run out of there to get to the interview room. Back against the wall, you stood there for a couple minutes. You would've spoken to Mobius instead of giving simple gestures, but it felt like Loki had stolen your voice. Clearing your throat, you pushed yourself off of the wall and walked out of the docking bay to the files room.

As you got settled in and started to dive into your work, your mind kept wandering to the variant. He was just so hypnotizing and he had you spellbound. Without moving your head, your eyes glanced up at the personnel walking by as you remember somewhere in the file that said his mother – well, adopted mother – had taught him magic. Had he casted an incantation on you? You pondered on this for a while before rolling your eyes.

"We all know magic is incapable of use here." You muttered, internally scolding yourself at the thought. You reached over to grab a file you had to digitize and placed it in the scanner. As you watched the devices bar of light through the closed lid, you realized that you weren't going to get a moment without thinking about the variant. You groaned, sitting back in your chair as you waited for the scanning to finish. You thought this was going to be a long day like the rest. However, it was starting to change. A long day? This was going to be a long week.

  Every work day went the same way, but it appeared Mobius was spending more and more time with the Loki variant. Please let Mobius get his work done with Loki. You internally pleaded this for several mornings as you watched him rush from the apartment to meet up with the God. You placed your hands on the counter as your hung your head, mentally exhausted from thinking about Loki. Maybe you should talk to him? You suggested to yourself as you took in a deep breath, looking up. As you looked up, a magazine caught your eyes. You slid your body over the counter as you reached for it, smiling at the motorcycle on the front. 

"Great," you started, slightly sarcastically. "An excuse not to have to file dad's notes yet. Score!" You celebrated a little before grabbing your things and walking down to files. You were going to file those note whether you liked it or not, you were just going to make it the first thing you did. Walking out, you locked the door, juggling the items you had in your hands. As you swung your bag over your shoulder in the hall, magazine in hand, you heard minute personnel talking behind you, boots rapidly hitting the ground loudly. 

"Did you hear? Mobius is actually trusting the Loki variant to roam the place." The first one spoke, clearly astonished. The other one scoffed behind you.

"I think he's definitely gonna help." The second one's snide remark made you pick up the pace a bit, eager to get away from the negativity.

"Yeah, help himself." The first guard replied in a snarky manner before they both let out demeaning giggles rang out, nauseating you. You swallowed the feeling as you picked up the pace and made it to files. Looking up at the clock on the wall, you saw you were extremely early. Maybe I can get more work done. You mused to yourself as you got the area unlocked and ready for business. Dropping into your chair, you turned on the computer and logged in. As it logged in and took you to the homescreen, you zoned out. Was Mobius really letting Loki walk around freely? You pondered on what the hunters had said, jumping at a file being dropping on the counter. You looked at the guard, who in turn looked at you apologetically, muttering a 'sorry' before scurrying off to their post. You shook your head as you grabbed the file and placed it on the scanner. By the way it was going, you could already tell it was gonna be a long work day.

As hours passed, by the fourth hour of work, you had already gotten all your work done. Even though time moves differently here, it could at least speed the fuck up. You thought, grumpily. Normally at this time, you would have more files coming. You had gotten a notification that no more files were going to come until tomorrow due to printing error. As you sat there, wondering what to do, you remembered your motorcycle magazine. Grabbing it gleefully, you eagerly started to flip through the magazine. As you read each page, you basically checked out if the world around you. In fact, you were so engrossed with the magazine, you barely noticed that Loki had walked up to the counter in front of your desk. He leaned over the desk, examining you, waiting for you to notice his presence. His eyes raked over your body, enticed with what he was seeing. You were the most ravishing person he had ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes on. Gods, the things he would do to you if he had permission. He leaned further, not realizing you hadn't seen him. After a couple minutes, he decided to clear his throat to catch your attention. The sound startled you as you quickly closed the magazine and threw it under files, looking at the person briefly. As you adjusted yourself, you did a double-take of the person leaning comfortably across from you. You gulped, hoping your sudden nervousness wasn't apparent. He gave you a smile as he caught your eyes, easing the tensions, but causing your stomach to twist into knots. A sailor's knot to be specific, and it was quite uncomfortable. You turned your body more towards him, not realizing it allowed him to take you in fully. His blue eyes flickered down before they rose slowly back to yours.

"Hello, Loki Laufeyson." You spoke slowly, hoping your voice was as steady as you tried to make it. He hummed in response, scanning your chest for a name tag. 

"Hello..." His voice trailed off, realizing he couldn't find your name anywhere.

"..None of your business." You finished his sentence, wanting to mess with him before you actually let him know your name. You couldn't imagine how wide his eyes would be when he learned who your dad was. You watched him suck in his cheeks, trying to figure out how to respond. His eyes closed as he head leaned back fully, allowed your eyes to slowly trail from the underside of his jaw to the bottom of his throat. It was the strangest thing, but you thought it was attractive seeing him like that.  I'd like to see that more often. You chewed on your lip as some questionable thoughts came to mind. His head fell back down, face covered with determination. 

"Excuse my manners. You know my name, but I don't know yours. What is your name? A woman as ravishing as you must have a lovely name.." Loki's voice seemed to grow deeper as the sentence trailed off, flicking his out against his bottom lip as looking you up and down again, hoping you noticed. Without warning, your cheeks grew a little hot. Your eyes flickered down as you tried to make your cheeks go back to their normal hue, mentally scolding yourself. Loki smirked mischievously at your reaction. He watched your head turn back to him, ready to respond.

"It's Y/N. Y/N Mobius." You paused as you watched the gears turn in his head before his mouth formed an 'o' shape. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. That was definitely not the reaction you were expecting, let alone the one you wanted.

"He talked about you. I didn't connect the dots that you were his daughter until now." Loki shrugged nonchalantly, giving you a warm, cunning smile. All you did was nod in response. Now that these foolish semantics were done, you decide to find out why he was really here.

"Anyway, why are you here?" You inquired, reaching over to clear the computer before logging off. You won't remember to do so after this conversation. You glanced over at him as he quickly put his words together.

"Well, Y/N, I came to see the prettiest person at the TVA." He stated his true intentions, watching your face intently for a reaction. As he watched you stare blankly at him, he realized you might've been oblivious to his flirting attempts. This is going to be harder than I thought. He grumbled internally, throwing a mischievous smile on.

"That would be you, darling." The nickname rolled off of Loki's silver tongue, making your stomach twist tighter. Ignoring the internal war, you have a quick smile before going back to just staring at him. Your unimpressed look threw Loki off completely. He breathed in deeply, realizing he'd have to change the subject to keep this interaction going. He needed this to work.

"Um, anyway... What were you reading? You know, before I distracted you." He wiggled his eyebrows at you, watching your eyes flicker to the finish pile of files. Sighing, you dug out the magazine and tossed onto the counter besides Loki's arms. He eyes the magazine, taking in every detail.

"It's a motorcycle magazine." You explained blatantly, knowing he knew what it was. He hummed in response before chuckling. 

"Your dad likes jet skis and you like motorcycles. Huh." He pondered for a second before continuing. "How interesting." One of his brows raised as he looked up at you, intrigued.

"What can I say? We both are drawn to exciting and fast things. It's our passion." You explained, hoping Loki was going somewhere with this conversation. If he wasn't, you were very much prepared to go home and sleep. He looked down as he licked his lips, eyes peering back up at you through his brows.

"You know, I'm very exciting." Loki stopped his sentence, hoping he had captured your attention. Your attentive eyes stared back at him, head tilting slightly to the right. Make this good, Laufeyson...You internally urged him, eyes squinting slightly.

"And I can go as fast as you like." His eyes flickered to your lips before moving back up, sending you a quick wink as he laughed darkly. You laughed nervously, biting your lip as you brought your hand up to the computer, turning it off. Well, if he's interested. Loki watched you push yourself away from the computer desk, eyes dropping down to your thighs. As much as he tried to stop himself and half some self control, he stared at them, sizing you up a bit. He nodded as his eyes trailed back up your body again, this time he did it seductively, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. You walked over to him slowly, hands slowly sliding up his body before settling on his chest, palm towards him. Loki watched you, eager for your next moves. You moved your right hand to grab his tie, gently tugging him towards you. Leaning your mouth up against the corner of his, the corners of your lips turning up teasingly, eyes fluttering closed.

"If you're so confident about that, let's find out." You whispered to him seductively, reaching out and biting his bottom lip. Loki growled at you, roughly grabbing your hips as he hungrily pressed his lips to yours, his tongue making it's way quickly into your own. You moaned as he continued to battle your own tongue, wrapping your arms around his neck. His tongue grazed against the inside of your mouth, exploring every inch. Suddenly remembering you were out in the open, kissing a variant, you pulled away for air. As you briskly locked everything up, leaving the magazine on the counter, you grabbed Loki's wrist and dragged him back to the shared apartment. You looked behind, winking at him before he hurried to walk beside you, slipping an arm around your waist. The slyness? The mischief? The analytical skills? Loki was without a doubt a green variant, and you were sure his personal skills were going to keep proving that.

You weren't entirely sure of what was going to happen tonight, but you were very eager to let it happen. You just hoped Mobius was so busy talking shop with Ravonna that he wouldn't be coming home.

You can also read this fic here <3

#Loki #Loki One Shot #TVA #TVA AU #Marvel AU #Marvel One Shots #Loki x Reader #Loki x You #Mobius M. Mobius #Angst #Light Fluff #Implied Smut

[pi-cat000]

BNHA: Kakashi dimension hops crossover (6)

Summary: Kakashi gets dumbed into the My Hero Academia universe through random plot devise.

Characters:  Kakashi Hatake

Fandoms: My Hero Academia and Naruto

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence/injury

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As predicted, the day following the seal’s application is miserable. His chest is tight with almost anxiety, pins and needles run up and down his arms making his skin itch, and he is increasingly lethargic. All symptoms of a chakra imbalance and to be expected when one’s normal chakra replacement rate was thrown out. The sensations would pass once his body adjusted as they had with his sharingan.

He is eating three square meals a day, doing the bare minimum when it came to exercise routines and avoiding excess chakra use. It had been literal years since he had had this much bed rest. If he were ever going to slap a chakra collecting seal on himself, this was a perfect time. Okay, so maybe he should have steadily increased the chakra drain over the course of a few weeks for a smoother adjustment period. Hindsight and all that.

What mattered was that he would be fine, and he just had to wait it out. Bright side? No one had commented on the seal yet. Oh, he has definitely noticed serval people throwing the odd confused frown at his shoulder, but that was as far as anyone had gone in acknowledging it. His oh so clever strategy of acting like nothing was wrong worked so much better when he wasn’t surrounded by other shinobi and medic-nin.

“Your blood pressure is still too high. Are you sure you haven’t been experiencing any additional fatigue or other symptoms? Is something about the hospital causing additional stress? If there is something wrong, we should work on strategies to fix the problem.”

Well… it worked on everyone who wasn’t Wada. The man was irritatingly persistent in his doctoring. Apparently, the pressure of adjusting to an increased chakra drain wasn’t doing his body any favours.

“Maybe it’s a part of my quirk. High regeneration. High blood pressure.” Kakashi shrugs loosely not bothering to look up from HEROES and HEROINES May Issue. Unlike his previous reading material, people gave him odd looks when they saw him reading these magazines which immediately upped their entertainment value 100-fold.

Wada undoes the compression sleeve he had been using to measure Kakashi’s blood pressure, lecturing as he goes, “From what I can tell your cells produce more energy-rich molecules, ATP, NADH, then is typical, increasing cellular functions. Where your cells are getting the energy to produce these molecules, I have no idea seeing as you eat about the same amount as any baseline human. What I can safely say is that it should not influence your blood pressure. If anything, your blood pressure should be a bit lower than average. Now don’t dodge the question.”

He pauses, waiting for Kakashi to cave and suddenly confess. Kakashi, an old hat at dodging medical questions, continues reading unperturbed.

“I’ve been at this for over 30 years. An attack like the one you suffered is understandably traumatic, not to mention the stress of severe amnesia. I’m sure, whatever is bothering you, I’ve heard it before.”

Kakashi very much doubts that. “I feel fine.”

Wada huffs, unconvinced, “Young men. You all think that admitting you have a problem is a sign of weakness. High blood pressure can damage your heart and lead to problems  later in life so finding the cause is important.” Good thing a shinobi life spans tended to max out around 30. The odds of him making it to an age where he’d have to worry about the long-term effects of anything were pretty low. He doesn’t voice this opinion, continuing to read.

Wada continues talking with greater gusto, “No matter, I’ll prescribe you something for stress hopefully that’ll help with your blood pressure. However, this is no replacement for healthy habits both physical and mental. You should consider professional therapy.”

Kakashi snorts. Yeah, that sounds about right.

“Oh, you think that’s funny do you,” Wada makes to grab HEROES and HEROIENS and he lets the doctor pull the magazine free from his hand. It gives him a good view of the man’s irate expression.

“No, of course not.” Kakashi attempts to placate and gets a light smack over the head with said magazine for his troubles.

“There is no shame in pursuing a healthy mind!”

“Weren’t we going to test my quirk today?” He complains to derail the current line of questioning.

“I have half a mind to put it off and have you rest another week,” is threatened before Wada’s stern expression relaxes, “Lucky for you, I’ve booked you into serval tests that can’t be rescheduled.”

Kakashi breaths out dramatically. He thinks Wada might have made a good medic-nin if he had lived in Konoha. Sure, he is a little too trusting, but he was also not above pestering his patients into taking better care of themselves. Sakura would approve.

The doctor, with the assistance of an attending nurse he hadn’t bothered to learn the name of, helps Kakashi out of his bed and into a wheelchair, ignoring his protests about his leg being all but healed.

“You’re to avoid putting weight on it until you start physical therapy,” Wada snaps at his continued complaints, “You’ll need to be careful, extended bed rest and surgery can leave your muscles weakened. Also, leave that magazine behind. You’re doing eye tests when do you think you’ll have time to read!”

Kakashi doesn’t push the matter further, resigning himself to being wheeled down the hospital halls like the invalid he was pretending to be. It is not like Wada knew about his frequent excursions to the roof or the fact that he has been running through strengthening exercises on his own time for several weeks now.  Best he keeps that information to himself.

Partway down the hall, he pulls out HEROES and HEROIENS from where he had slipped it into his shirt, enjoying Wada’s exasperated expression. Of course, he stops reading when the doctor threatens to start lecturing again. The man could definitely talk when given the chance.

Wada and the nurse take wheel him to a set of double-door elevators which take them down several floors below the ground level. The hallway they exit of a mirror of every other hospital hallway. Grey and white walls, pale blue lino floor and bright fluorescent overhead lights. The only difference is that this hallway is lined with heavy-looking metal doors. From snooping through patient files, he knows that all quirk tests are carried out in specially designated underground ‘safety rooms.’ That doesn't make him any more thrilled about being several stories underground. It cut down on his escape roots.

“These are some of the more secure recovery wards in the hospital,” Wada explains as their little group stops at a small reception desk where the doctor taps away at a computer screen, “they’re mostly for treating patients with unstable quirks.” Kakashi maintains a neutral expression, accepting the explanation.

Wada wheels him up to a steel door, swiping his ID card which also doubled as a key to many areas of the hospital. The heavy door is automated and slides open. A lot of the doors in the hospital operate this way and always made sneaking around slightly more troublesome.

Inside walls and floor are plain white and there is an odd number of tables and chairs pushed to one side out of the way. Everything stinks of disinfectant. On the far wall is a single solitary painting of a tree in a field, the only splash of colour in an otherwise depressingly sparse room. A poor attempt at living up the space. The opposite wall sports a rectangular, reflective surface which was probably some sort of observation booth. Well, if being underground hadn’t put him on edge, this obvious confinement room definitely did the job. Kakashi eyes the space. Worse comes to worst, he could use the kamui and remove the adjoining hallway wall then climb his way out through the elevator shaft. There are only two other people in the room with him and one woman at the reception desk, all were most likely unenhanced with quirks unsuited to combat, easily removed.  He doesn’t let his body language reflect his unease. He is just a little on edge because the new seal is messing with his body’s natural homeostasis. If this is a trap there would have been other signs of deception before now.

“Yes, I know it might seem like a whole lot of fuss just to run through a few flashcards,” Wada comments, oblivious to Kakashi’s poor mood. He waves to his assisting nurse who wheels over and lowers one of the metallic tables so Kakashi doesn’t have to move from his wheelchair. “But it’s a standard safety procedure when an unknown quirk is involved. Trust me, this is a lot easier than travelling to an external testing range.”

Wada stops to give Kakashi a once over, frowning, “How much do you know about your quirk sub-type?”

Kakashi shrugs, “Nothing much.”

“Ah,” The doctor’s frown grows, and he grimaces, “Of course you don’t.” A sigh.

“Typically, ocular quirks will act to enhanced sight in some way or improve base level memorisation and recall ability. It is also common to have a replicating function, allowing the user to produce some sort of copy of things they see. In rarer cases, ocular quirks result in precognitive abilities.” Wada explanation falters, “They can also have a line-of-sight emitter effect, such as laser vision, optical blasts, a few instances of mind control and other mental effects. These can also be incredibly dangerous if the user isn’t in control. There have even been instances where whole buildings have been levelled.”

“I see.”  He supposes Wada's irritation at this private 'quirk' testing made a bit more sense. A doctor faced with an unknown and possibly dangerous ability would be annoyed if said patient went about experimenting without taking safety precautions.

“I should have checked whether you knew the dangers instead of just assuming. Apologies. That is my own error.”

He peers at Kakashi, almost guilty now, “and you don’t have a phone either so there would have been no way for you to research quirks yourself.”

“Ah,” Kakashi rubs the back of his head not likening how torn up the other man seems to be seeing as Kakashi had ever been in any real danger. “Don’t worry about it,” he reassures.  

His reassurances land flat, the doctor still frowning, “I’ll see if I can get you access to the internet somehow.”

Privately, Kakashi adds 'research' to the list of functions ‘phones’ apparently provided and 'internet' to his growing list of terms to investigate.

Wada sighs again. “Regardless, let’s get these tests done first.” He places a thick folder labelled National Standard for Registration: Kit Type 3 alongside one of those portable keyboard-less computers the doctors tended to carry around.  “Hold on, been a while since I’ve done one of these. Need to find the rights files. Ah, here we go. First, these rooms are monitored, and all tests are recorded. The data collected is confidential, accessible only to the patient and physician unless doing so causes the patent harm. Information regarding quirk function and use is shared with the Registry Office. You have a right to stop testing at any point. You got that?”

Kakashi grunts, his already poor mood souring further. He is not sure he wants the hospital - or anyone - keeping records of anything sharingan related.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Wada continues unperturbed, a testament to his serval weeks of trying to doctor Kakashi, “remember to let me know if you’re experiencing any discomfort. Don’t want you busting anymore blood vessels.

Kakashi lets out a tired breath, “Sure.” The sooner they left this room the better.

“We’ll test memory and vision first to compare to your baseline, then we’ll run through the replication and precognitive tests just in case.”

The nurse, who had been on the opposite side of the room waves, “All ready over here.” There is now a large poster with letters of varying sizes hung on the wall. He recognises the chart from his previous eye tests.

“Okay, let’s start with just uncovering it. Make sure you’re looking away from me as a precaution.”

Kakashi resists rolling his non- sharingan eye at the obvious instruction, shifting his attention to the poster on the wall. He flips his padded eyepatch up with his index finger so it partially rests on his forehead. All the letters, no matter the size, immediately snap into sharp focus. Nothing spontaneously combusts under his gaze. When he glances at the painting of the tree, he can now see a lack of brush texture, suggesting that it wasn’t a painting but a print of some sort. With that useless information now forever etched into his memory, he turns back to examine at Wada.

The sharingan picks out all the wrinkles and pores lining the older face. It focuses in on minuscule muscle movements as the man’s expression shifts from professional and accommodating to curious. The doctor’s fingers twitch ever so slightly over his computer. Most likely an unconscious habit. The man’s breath is slightly uneven like his chest can’t smoothly expand, suggesting some sort of lung problem. A past smoking habit perhaps? Nothing threatening is revealed.

“Doctor.” Kakashi prompts when Wada spends a little too long staring back at him. The sharingun did have a weak hypnotic effect, encouraging extended eye contact to help catch targets in genjutsu. Kakashi rarely uncovered his eye in the presence of civilians so he doesn’t know if the effect is more pronounced or if Wada is just curious.

Wada blinks, “Well…I certainly see where the ‘wheel’ description comes from.” He spends a second more staring then turns to start writing notes and tapping away at his computer screen. “I wonder if those spinning tomoe are purely cosmetic or if they have some other function because they are certainly fascinating to look at. There is also faint bioluminescence to the eye which is a common feature of ocular quirks…”

Honestly, the blatant eye contact is weird. Even his closest allies tended to avoid looking at his sharingan out of habit - expect for Naruto who was an outlier in almost everything - for understandable reasons. He thinks the people here would also exercise caution if an ocular abilities included mind control or exploding a person through eye contact. But no, Wada just goes right ahead and stares. A few seconds later and the unnamed nurse is also looking curiously at his eye. … …

Aside from redoing a standard eye exam, Kakashi runs through a marathon of flashcards to test both his memory and then precognitive abilities. The tests are done with lights on then in the dark and Kakashi is given a perfect 20/20 and an enhancement score of ‘15 grades above average’ for both. There are also several pages worth of words and numbers in progressively complex arrangements to test his information retention. Of course, everything is easily remembered with the sharingun active.

“Well, it seems to give general across the board vision enhancement alongside perfect recall and retention,” Wada finally concludes as he records all Kakashi’s results, “Of course, we’ll have to re-test retention in a few days so see if the information degrades over an extended period and we don’t know whether your quirk effects your long distance eyesight, but, for now, this appears to be all. The link between your quirked eye and the regenerative side-effect is still unknown. Odd that we couldn’t trigger any ‘copy’ function considering the quirks name though  ‘copy’ could also be a reference to memorisation.  If any other features do reveal themselves make sure you alert a medical professional.”

… …

Kakashi despises the process of getting an MRI with a heated passion. He hates having to lie prone in a loud confined space. It is the height of discomfort, making him tense up and clench his jaw. It is only the fact that Kakashi had researched and mentally prepared himself for the experience that stops him from accidentally snapping someone’s neck.

“We’ll have the results back in a few days,” Wada informs once the trying ordeal is over with, “From there we’ll update the Registry so you’re properly in the system. Speaking of which, have you made any progress on remembering a surname? I need something for the forms.”

“Hatake,” he grunts, too irritated to bother evading - he just wants to return to his room and wait out the side effects of his seal in peace- the question like he had every other time the man asked, “I think I prefer Kakashi though.”

It wasn’t like the name meant anything here and, who knows, maybe someone would come looking for him. This way they would have a trail to follow.

NEXT

#bnha #bnha fanfic #naruto #boku no academia #CrossOver #kakshi hatake #dimension travel AU #fanfiction #my hero academia #more hospital stuff #probably a bunch of medical inaccuracies #quirk biology #quirk stuff #world building

[artxyra]

Ok so I don't know if your still taking requests but if you are it's daminette and marinette is over so the whole wayne family and her are chilling and they think they hear someone so they do a heartbeat scan and they count an extra one so they're searching they manor and they're on guard they alfred ask all the girls if they're pregnant and the guys are nervous because one of them could be a father so they scan all the girls and they find out mari's preggo and it's a whole chaotic ordeal

Note: Sorry this took so long, I was trying to figure out the best way to tell this story and I finally got the idea after watching TT episode Fear Itself. 

Whoever’s idea was it for the family to watch a horror movie during a fucking thunderstorm, Marinette just wants to end their lives. She was having a good day despite feeling sick in the morning, so being informed that tonight’s movie was horror-based was interesting. The majority of the time, a horror movie wasn’t a bad idea, but the moment the film ended, and the lights randomly shut off, the screaming begins.

For a house filled with heroes vigilantes, they sure do know how to scream and act like they’re in a horror movie real quick. Marinette could feel the need to throw up grow as the sense of someone watching her suddenly grows. At first, she thought that it was Damian or any of his brothers, but how could that be when everyone disperses the second, they heard movements that were not from either of them. Damian was reluctant to leave Marinette to her own device, but since the manor was so large splitting up was the best option.

“Come on, Mari, you’re Ladybird, stuff like this is nothing.” Marinette murmurs to herself in an attempt to keep her nerves at bay. That doesn’t go well, as the creaking noise suddenly fills the hallway. She sure hopes that it’s the air conditioner making those sounds. Marinette was slowly regretting not taking Alfred’s lead and follow him to the kitchen, at least she knows the kitchen area better than the damn halls. The amount of time she still gets lost in the halls just to find the gym is an outlandish number.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

Clenching her teeth, she fumbles to unlock her phone. Despite using it as a flashlight, she also didn’t want to accidentally turn the only source of light off. The second her phone unlock, thunder and lightning decided to join forces making her jump at the sudden flash of light and a loud boom.

“I am so killing Jason…” She mutters. Finally, she is able to see the notification. It was a series of messages stating clear and the location. There were at least five out of the nine that were currently in the manor. They had invited Duke, but he opted out the second he realizes who was picking out the movies. Apparently, any movie chosen by Jason could only mean bad things and Duke, surprisingly, wanted nothing apart of it.

The creaking noises remain active, something that made walking down the hall and looking for a potential intruder much more difficult. Had the creaking stops, this would have been much easier to delegate which room needs searching.

Back downstairs, the Bat-family all decided to meet up in the living room. Marinette had yet to make an appearance. Damian was growing impatiently worried for his beloved, so much that he was practically stabbing the ground with one of many katanas.

“Master Damian,” Alfred chastised seeing the new marking on the floor. Great another reason to keep buffering the floors at least twice a month. Alfred knows that everyone’s worries were running high. They still had yet located the cause of the sound—a potential intruder—and it’s not like they would go into the Batcave without a problem, but they didn’t want to take that chance.

“She should have been here by now,” Damian grumbles placing the sword back into its sheath.

“Demon, we’re talking about Pixie, the girl literally has problems getting to the gym every once in a while, and that’s with light.” Jason’s words slowly dawned on the family. He’s right. Marinette may be officially apart of the family now, but the designer literally stays in like five places within the manor: hers and Damian’s room, the kitchen, the living room, the bathroom nearest to her, and the Batcave. Beyond those options, it’s better for Marinette to have a guide, which is usually Titus, and sometimes Alfred when he doesn’t have anything to do.

“I got the tracker ready, sir. Should I place it on heartbeat mode?” Alfred shows them the tracking device with a knowing look on his face.

The Batbros race to the device only for Tim to grab it and put it in the right settings.

“Hold on, wouldn’t it better to search for heat signatures?” Dick asks—well he was thinking aloud for the most part.

“Ideally yes, but the readings can become messy if we’re all in the same room or if what we are dealing with doesn’t radiate heat. It’s best to go with a pulse or in other words a heartbeat. Got any more questions, Dick.” Tim states glaring at his oldest brother. They were all worried about Marinette, but it was upped times ten. “Now are we going to try and find ‘spresso and whoever even dared to enter the manor?” Tim was a man on a mission. In fact, they all were.

No one dared to object to Tim’s claims. Damian was impatiently tapping his feet against the ground, and soon there were thirteen pulsing dots going off the tracker. Tim mentally did a headcount, with him included there were nine people in the room with him which means four of the dots are in unknown locations.

“So, which one do we follow?” That was the question on everybody’s mind.

“We go to the one that is alone, with a faint pulse.” On the device, several feet away is a flickering dot as if there was some interference in picking up the heartbeat. It wasn’t stable.

“Damian, where are your animals?” Barbara asks typing away on her phone. She may not be at the bat-computer, but she can still manage with Wi-Fi and a portable device.  

Damian wasn’t sure where his animals are. He knows for a fact that Alfred the cat was in his room, Titus disappears to hang out with Ace every now and then. The rest of the animals are most likely outside in their miniature houses that he keeps at the manor for nights like these.  

“No time to argue, we got to move.” Tim was already ahead of the family following the path guided to him by the tracker.

The bat-family follow the strange signal until they reach a dead end. All the doors were shut, and the thunder was booming with no means to stop. They haven’t seen or heard from Marinette since they disbanded earlier that night. Soon, the faint pulsing signal grows stronger as they approach the final door. No one, aside from Alfred, could remember what was behind that door. It was a bedroom.

“Whoa” Tim yelps, looking down at the tracker. There are now twelve pulsating dots on the device. They all filter into the room. It was practically empty which put them all on edge. Marinette was somewhere in the manor and now there were in an empty room with no clues on where to start.

Using their flashlights, they scan every inch of the place and still found nothing. Alfred takes the device away from Tim who protested but when he realized that it was Alfred he calms down.

“I don’t think there is another person in the manor,” Cass states looking around the room. She was eyeing the large wardrobe. If her hunch is correct, then she knows where the newest pulsing signal is coming from and that makes her giddy.

“I concur with Miss Cain.” Alfred walks over to the second door that is in the room and opens it revealing a certain black Great Dane wagging his tail happily yet protectively. He barks but upon seeing his owner, he calms down. “It appears that one of the signals is Titus and with him being her it only means that Miss Marinette is in this room. Perhaps in the wardrobe.”

The second the word “wardrobe” escapes the butler’s lips, all the bat-bros rush over to the item. Damian was quick to open it and there she is. Marinette’s small enough to fit comfortably on the base and stay hidden had there been any clothes on the rack. In her arms is a small pup, probably the intruder that has been haunting them. The pup’s nails are long and need to be cut. Marinette was sleeping which made it easier for Damian to scoop her into his arms.

The pup wakes up and begins barking yelping up a storm causing Marinette to stir in Damian's arms. Her eyes flutter open and a yawn escapes her lips.

“Is it morning already?” She yawns once more rubbing her eyes. Damian shakes his head causing Marinette to pout and try to find comfort in Damian’s arms to fall back to sleep to, but the pup in her arms wasn’t having it. “Oh quiet, you.” Marinette laughs and tightens her hold on the pup.

“That doesn’t explain the strange pulsing signal?” Steph states looking over Alfred’s shoulder and once more a signal was faltering without a constant beat.

“That’s because I believe, Miss Marinette is currently with child.” Alfred places the device down for everyone to see. “We have the heartbeat tracker on pulsing signals that can be easily translated to a heartbeat. If Miss Marinette, is indeed with child, the interference to this signal is the pulsing from the fetus.”

Alfred pause for a second giving everyone to process the news. Damian’s exe. was broken as he stares at his wife with love and shock. The rest of the family, aside from Cass, was blinking away the shock. Five, four, three, two…one. Then they all break out in shouts of excitement.

“Oh my god, we’re going to be uncles!” Dick exclaims bouncing in place. He even wraps his arms around Damian, who was still frozen and gives him a side hug knowing full well that he can’t protest.

Jason looks like he was about to kill someone—more or less Damian for a matter of fact. Marinette was his sister in everything but blood. Yes, he’s excited for the incoming member of the family, but he doesn’t know what to do.

 Tim was trying to wrap the news around his head. He hadn’t had any coffee since before the movie night started and with the power being off, there’s no way for him to make his usual late-night cup of coffee.

“Will you shut up; I’m trying to sleep here,” Marinette growls bring the attention back to her. Damian did the only thing that came to mind, he places a kiss upon her lips. Marinette moans and she would have playfully hit him had her arms weren’t holding the pup.

“So, no one is going to question how a puppy got into the manor?” Steph asks pointing to the pup still in Marinette’s arms. She was tempted to coddle the pup and leave the room to return to her own and news come back to life in the morning.

“Titus’s doggy door, most like. I won’t know until I check all the cameras.” Barbara says wheeling herself over to the couple, “Congratulations Damian…I’m going to bed.”

“We are so talking about this in the morning,” Dick claims as he walks out the room pushing Jason and Tim along with him.

Soon it was just Marinette, Damian, and the dogs alone in the room. Damian had a few options to consider, stay the night in this room or walk through a series of halls to return to their own bedroom. It’s late, so he chooses the former. Placing Marinette on the bed was easy once the newly introduced pup jumps out of her arms and onto the bed.

He makes sure she’s comfortable before joining her. Titus curls at the foot of the bed barking at the pup to come to him to which the pup did. Damian pulls Marinette into his chest and whispers, “Thank you, Angel,” into her ear.

“You’re welcome, Demon.” Marinette murmurs back before going off to sleep.

Who would have thought that this is how his family would find out that Damian and Marinette were expecting? This would go down as the best accidental reveal in their family history.     

Tag List: *View my Tagging System guidelines for how to to be properly tagged or removed.

Permanent Tag List: @vixen-uchiha | @i-is-mysterious | @kuroko26 | @maribat-is-lifeblood | @marinettepotterandplagg | @loveswifi | @ladybug-182 | @novaloptr | @elijahcrevan | @rebecarojas07 | @nanakeid | @mystery-5-5 | @sparkle9510 | @aestheticnpoetic | @toodaloo-kangaroo | @more-or-less-human-i-guess | @crazylittlemunchkin | @softlysobbingpostendgame | @purplesundaze | @fantasyloversblog | @susiej1118 | @chocolateherringtacofan | @tog84 | @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss | @slytherinhquinn | @i-wanna-be-a-ninja | @abrx2002 | @agumon1123 | @coralloverwinnerwolf | @sam-i-am-0222 | @princessanimeangel11 | @k-poplunardreams | @constancetruggle | @esperiali | @starlightshield | @itspiper25 | @bluesimani | @fandom-trapped-03 | @kawaiigiantjudgefish | @pawsitivelymiraculous |  @kadmeread | @our-preciousss | @greenloverforever05 | @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen

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#maribat #daminette #ml x dc #mlb x dc #ml crossover #dc crossover #damimari #marinette x damian

[vannahfanfics]

Doting

Category: General Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Eri, Shota Aizawa, Toshinori Yagi

Hey, everyone! I am super excited to present my story for the EraserMight Mini-Bang! I had two wonderful partners for this event, Cam and apricot, and you can find their arts here and here! 

Shota pushed himself away from his desk with a groan, rubbing his tired eyes with the heels of his palms. The joints of his fingers ached from hours of tapping away at a keyboard, yet Shota still had quite a ways to go before he finished constructing the term’s report on his class’ progress for the administration. There was a lot to discuss, especially with the persistent villain activity inadvertently causing them to show explosive growth, and this report would be a verifiable thesis by the time that the teacher finished. However, despite the pain of the assignment, Shota could not help but feel proud that his students were displaying such advancement that he could fill pages upon pages with praise for them. 

Right as he gathered the will to get back to work, he heard the pitter-patter of little feet. His lips immediately curled into a smile, partly because of the adorable sound and partly because of the realization that he wouldn’t be getting back to work anytime soon. He swiveled in the desk chair just as Eri came trotting through the door, her long silvery-white hair swishing around her knees and the stuffed bunny that Nemuri had bought for her not too long ago clutched in her hand. She was dressed in a pair of worn blue overalls with a pink-and-white spotted shirt underneath, complete with some cute pink-and-white sneakers. She did look very cute, so Shota mentally thanked Nemuri for her fashion sense. 

“Eraserhead!” the girl cried, running right up to him to grip his knee with sparkling red eyes. Using the other arm, she hugged the bunny to her chest; its fur was beginning to fray and become tinged with dirt, and Shota would have to pry it out of her arms to throw it in the wash soon. I’m beginning to think like a doting parent, he thought in amusement. He supposed someone had to for the little girl. He leaned forward as she gazed up at him expectantly. “Eraserhead, did you forget? You’re supposed to take me to the park today!” 

Oh shit. Shota had forgotten. Still, he wasn’t going to let Eri know that. 

“Of course not,” he said smoothly, straightening up and ruffling her hair affectionately. The edges of Eri’s smile curled up happily as his large, calloused hand weaved through the silky silvery-white strands. “I was just finishing up some schoolwork. Did you bring the stuff to do your hair?” 

Eri nodded and dug into the pockets of her overalls to reveal a small brush and a collection of barrettes and ponytails. She dropped them onto the computer desk while Shota stood from his chair, stretching his arms above his head and bending back slightly. He groaned in satisfaction as his vertebrae popped in succession, alleviating the stiff pain that had made a home in his spine. “All right. Let’s get Midnight so she can… Oh.” His voice faltered as he looked around the teacher’s lounge only to find that it was empty aside from himself and the child. A spike of panic gushed through his blood vessels, filling him with cold dread. 

“Um… Eraserhead, Miss Midnight isn’t here, and neither is Mister Mic. Who’s gonna do my hair?” Eri asked while spinning a lock of her hair around her tiny index finger. Shota gulped, wracking his brain frantically. He always recruited Nemuri or Hizashi to style the child’s hair; Shota didn’t possess the delicateness for that. They’d obviously headed home while he was busy typing up his report, and they wouldn’t appreciate being dragged all the way back just to do Eri’s hair. He sucked in a breath through his nose, resigning himself to the task ahead of him. 

Then he flopped back down on the chair and patted his thigh as an indication for Eri to climb into his lap. 

“I am.” 

Eri scrunched her eyes suspiciously, looking very perturbed by the development. Still, she obediently moved to clamber into his lap. She continued to clutch the bunny, so she only had one hand to grip the arm of the chair and try to haul herself up. After a few times of slipping back down, Shota just grabbed her underneath her armpits and pulled her up to settle him on his lap. She settled herself in, sitting the bunny on her lap and smoothing down its ears. 

“I’m gonna do Bunny’s hair, then,” she chirped while grabbing one of the barrettes to clip it to the tuft of white fur atop the stuffed animal’s head. Shota chuckled— she really was cute— but all the adorableness in the world wasn’t going to save him from the daunting trial before him. While Eri busied herself with using her fingers to comb through the stuffed bunny’s fur, Shota’s hands hovered over her mane of silvery hair, not even sure where to begin. 

A brush. A brush is a good start, he decided. Shota picked up the brush and began teasing it through Eri’s hair, careful not to tug too hard and hurt her while easing out the knots. Eri hummed and kicked her heels against the computer chair as she played with her bunny, and he was grateful that he could at least do that right. Eventually, though, the brush glided seamlessly through the silky strands, and Shota couldn’t put off the inevitable forever. 

He awkwardly bunched up a chunk of her hair and secured it with a ponytail, then let it go. It flopped loosely against her head with a few strands sticking out at odd angles. 

He tugged it free with a heavy sigh, running his other hand over his eyes. This is going to be harder than I thought. 

“Eraserhead? You’re here awfully late,” a voice piped up suddenly. 

Shota looked over the walls of his cubby to see Toshinori strolling in, his coat draped over his skinny arm. When Eri heard his voice, she sat up on Shota’s legs to crane her head over the cubby wall and wave happily. 

“Hello, Mister All Might!” 

“Why, hello there, Eri. You look lovely today,” the teacher smiled as he walked around the desks to greet her. Giggling, Eri flopped back down on Shota’s lap and held up her bunny, which had several barrettes stuck in the tuft of cottony fur on its head. “Oh, Mr. Bunny looks great today, too. Did you do his hair?” he asked, squatting down to inspect the stuffed animal appraisingly. 

“Yeah! Eraserhead is supposed to be doing my hair, but he seems to be having trouble.” 

Shota covered his face with a hand as it turned bright pink with embarrassment. Kids really had no filter. Toshinori chuckled and straightened up, giving Shota a sympathetic look. 

“Well, cut him some slack. I’m sure he just wants to make sure it looks extra perfect.” 

Damn, he’s really good with kids. He knows the perfect things to say, Shota marveled, an eyebrow inching up his head as a plan hatched in his mind. Toshinori didn’t have children— at least not that Shota knew of— but perhaps the man had a little bit more experience in the complex art of doing little girls’ hair. Toshinori seemed to sense Shota’s great discomfort with the situation, as he shuffled around to the side of the chair to survey the barrettes and clips littering the desk. 

“Eraserhead, would you like some help?” 

“Oh, God, yes,” Shota blurted immediately, too overwhelmed with relief to maintain some sense of dignity. 

Toshinori chuckled and retrieved the brush, leaning over Shota’s shoulder while he began brushing Eri’s hair to gather it into one big hand. 

“I can’t say I’m familiar with things like this, but it can’t hurt to try,” he smiled. “How about we try some pigtails, Eri?” 

“Okay!” 

Shota reclined in the chair, melting with relief as he began to think that his dilemma may just be solved. 

However, it soon became clear that Toshinori was about as familiar with doing little girls’ hair as Shota. When he stepped back, one of the pigtails was much bigger than the other, and the left one sat at least two inches lower than the right. Toshinori smiled sheepishly when Eri tugged at the skinny pigtail, then looked at him doubtfully. 

“Um… I don’t think this is right…” 

“I’m sorry,” Toshinori groaned, his shoulders falling as he tipped back his head in defeat. “It seems that there is more nuance to this than I realized…” Sighing, Shota slipped the ponytails out of her hair, letting the waves of silver hair fall loose for them to start over. 

“All right. It’s time to pull out the big guns,” Shota decided. He grabbed his phone to pull up the ultimate source of information on the Internet— YouTube. Many young fathers and mothers posted tutorials on doing their daughters’ hair for those who were new to the game. Shota was more than willing to swallow his pride and peruse the videos rather than continue embarrassing himself. He picked a promising video and propped it up, and he and Toshinori watched the tutorial with great interest. The man pulled his daughter’s hair into perfect pigtails with almost frightening ease, talking through it step-by-step. 

“Well, he certainly doesn’t make it sound hard,” Toshinori frowned and looked back to Eri’s mane of silvery-white hair. His doubtful look certainly didn’t inspire much confidence. 

After taking a deep breath, Shota restarted the video and tried to replicate the father’s actions. It turned out better than Toshinori’s attempt, but the pigtails were still a little uneven and lopsided. Eri looked back at him when he pulled her hair free again, looking perturbed. 

“Eraserhead, it’s okay…. You don’t have to do my hair. We can just go to the park…” 

“No. You said you wanted your hair done, so I’m going to do it,” Shota asserted firmly and started the video over again. It was really less about making Eri happy and more that he was frustrated he couldn’t do something so simple as pigtails. His heart went out to all the single fathers out there bungling through the same struggle. Eri turned back around, pouting a little, but Shota was determined. 

This time, he and Toshinori did one side each. 

“Did… Did we do it?” Toshinori asked hesitantly as Eri shook her head back and forth slightly. Her pigtails swished over her shoulders; they sure looked even, and the ponytails didn’t slip free with her movements. 

“I think so,” Shota said with relief, sinking into the chair. He picked up two pink flower barrettes and clipped them onto the ponytails, and Eri reached up to touch the smooth plastic with her fingertips. 

“Well, Eri? Did we do a good job this time?” he said as he pulled up his cellphone camera and allowed her to look at her reflection. She grabbed the phone with her small hands to inspect herself, and Shota felt his heart flutter with happiness when she beamed wide in the screen. 

“Yeah! It looks great!” she nodded. “Can we all take a picture together?” 

“Sure.” They adjusted themselves so they could all fit in the frame, with Shota’s arm slung around Eri’s waist and Toshinori over his shoulder, smiling shyly and throwing up a peace sign. Eri was smiling hugely, her eyes scrunched up with delight. She immediately grabbed at the phone to look as the shutter sounded, squealing happily at the photograph. Shota stroked one of her pigtails as she kicked her feet excitedly. 

“Thanks, Eraserhead, Mister All Might! I love it,” Eri said, then gave Shota his phone back. She slid down from the chair, clutching her bunny to her chest, and then looked up at Shota hopefully. “Can we go to the park now?” 

“Yes, yes,” Shota said, patting his legs before rising from the chair. He winced, the stiffness from his hours in the chair returning with a vengeance. He rubbed his sore back muscles with a groan, then looked at Toshinori with a wan smile. “Thanks for your help.” 

“Oh, of course!” Toshinori replied, waving his hands submissively. He then smiled down at Eri and flashed her a wink. “I couldn’t leave a lady in such distress, after all.” Eri giggled, hugging her rabbit, and then wiggled shyly. 

“Mister All Might, would you like to go to the park with us, too?” 

Toshinori pretended to think about it for a second, putting his hand on his chin and looking up at the ceiling. Eri frowned at his silence, her lips beginning to poke out into a pout. He then grinned widely. 

“Of course! It’s a wonderful day. In fact, I think I just might have enough money for ice cream afterward…” 

“Yay! Did you hear that, Eraserhead? Ice cream!” she squealed delightedly. She spun on her toes, holding her bunny over her head, before sprinting out of the room demanding, “Come on, come on!” Shota chuckled at her instantaneous burst of energy and shook his head at Toshinori. 

“Wow. She’s going to end up spoiled if she starts to hang out with you more.” 

“I can’t help it. Little kids are my ultimate weakness,” the blond laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. He smiled fondly, watching as Eri jumped back into the doorframe to beg for them to hurry up. “Besides, after what she’s been through… Doesn’t she deserve to be?” 

“Yeah,” Shota nodded and slipped his hands in his pockets. “She really does.” 

He supposed he had better learn how to do her hair soon, for he had a feeling he’d be taking more trips to the park as time went on. He really was starting to think like a doting parent, but that was okay. That was no less than what Eri deserved.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#erasermight #shota aizawa #aizawa shota #toshinori yagi #yagi toshinori #eri #my hero academia #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha

[thestruidora]

Landslide

The Avengers (MCU) Fanfiction

Rating: Explicit

WARNINGS: This story will contain but it’ll not be limited to explicit 18+ content including Obsessive Behavior, Smut, Shower Sex, Edging, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Fluff, Oral Sex, thigh riding, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Dominance, Submission, Knotting, Scenting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Rutting, Rut Sickness

Category: F/M

Pairings: Steve Rogers/Reader, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov

Summary: Steve was never quite sure if he truly was an alpha. Genetically he should be, coming from a long line of alpha males. But due to the several health conditions in his youth, his poorly functioning body never presented. But now, because of the serum reacting to his true designation, a terrible case of rut sickness takes hold of the super soldier, threatening his life. Being a beta, Natasha can’t offer him what he needs, and since omegas are rarer today then ever, she is forced to hire a foreign girl to tend to Steve during these desperate times.

Author’s notes: So the reader is finally introduced in this chapter, and since she is foreign and I’m Brazilian, she’ll be from Brazil as well, as is easier for me to include a language that I already know (Portuguese) and also cultural curiosities. But our similarities stop there, I’m not trying to make the reader into me, that’d totally defeat the point of writing a reader insert story.

Shout outs: @captainchrisstan, @keenkiddeputynickel, @danidv011, @ballyhoobarnes, @pophbfdsxa, @crashbarbie, @readermia, @musicnowandforever661

Thank you so much for you guy’s support!

Chapter Three

For those who missed it >>

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Miscommunication

“This not a good idea.” Bucky spoke, for what it seemed to be the hundredth time.

“So you’ve said, over and over again. I didn’t ask you to come, you know? ” Natasha sighed, focused on steadfastly driving the plane, her hands firmly planted on each side of the control wheel. “He’s in pain, Barnes. And if Bruce’s right about his diagnosis, it’s only going to get worse.”

“I’m the last person in the world who wants to see Steve suffering. He’s my best friend, Romanoff.” The Soldier’s shoulders were tense as he looked straight out of the aircraft's window, seeing the big building in the approaching horizon. “But we have to think about what he would want for a second. I mean, he fights to get these kinds  of places shut down.”

“Well, Captain America’s moral code is the least of my worries right now.” The redhead’s voice came out in a harsh bark, jaw clenched as she smoothly landed the machine. Once the engines stopped and they took off their seat-belts, she looked over at Bucky, who’s face was series and unreadable. Before he could get up, she stopped him. “Look, I despise this too. But we’ve looked everywhere, Barnes. This is the only way and I… And we have to save him.”

Bucky shook his head, eyebrows knotted in a frown, but eventually opened his expression to her, knowing she was right.

“When he finds out that we came here…” He murmured, letting out a long breath and getting up from his seat, Natasha hot on his tail as they left the plane.

“He’s not going to find out.” She said, voice low but never faltering. He stopped dead in his track, noticing the obvious threat in the Russian Agent’s voice. She kept walking as if nothing happened, never looking back, her stride straight and calm. “Right?”

He looked up at the imposing structure of the building ahead of them, the entire place looked dark and mono-toned, as if it had come out of a horror picture. It was a skyscraper, tall with many floors and windows. Tons and tons of windows, all square and sealed with fat metal bars. A shiver went up his spine when he thought of what was being kept inside of that prison, and Bucky wondered if Steve not knowing about any of this wasn’t for the best after all.

“Right.” He let out, following her to the entry with reluctant feelings.

They stopped at a massive closed gate, noting the security cameras surrounding the whole area. Natasha approached the scanning mechanism at the superior right corner of the iron door, letting it scan her retina. After a couple of seconds, a loud buzzing ringed through their ears and the gate opened slowly.

Surprisingly, the place looked extremely luxurious, thou clean and minimalist. There was a grand open space, completely grassed and filled with flowers, like a secret private garden. There were a couple of trees with comfortable-looking swings on them, providing a welcoming shadow to cool off in summer days. But at the sides of the garden, they could also see two tall stone towers, where armed man monitored Natasha and Bucky’s every move.

Stunned at the juxtaposition of the whole thing, they kept walking towards a fancier looking door than the ones before, this one made of a glass-like material that led to a reception area, where they could see a blonde woman typing away in her computer. Her posture was straight and her physique was lean. Her hair was pulled back in a slick bun, not a single strand out of place, making her forehead look bigger than probably was in reality.

There were a few leather sofas on the lounge, but not one single person in the waiting room but the receptionist, and with the level of security and organization of the place, both agents were willing to bet that whoever came there, didn’t have to wait around for long.

“Merhaba, size nasıl yardımcı olabilirim?” The receptionist spoke once they approached her, not ever looking up from the keyboard she typed on, her clear polished nails nothing but a blur as her fingers moved at top speed.

“Hum… ” Natasha turned to look at Bucky for a second, checking to see if he knew Turkish, because that was, unfortunately, one of the few languages that she was not fluent on. But the brunet simply shrugged, looking at her with an impassive expression taking over his features . “Hi!” She tried, and the second that that simple English word left her lips, the blonde woman behind the desk quit typing, her hands stopping mid-air as she finally looked up at them, a spooked look in her face, her skin tone getting even paler than before, almost as if she had just seen a ghost. “We’re here to speak with Mr. Bürsin, actually.” Natasha continued, sharing an uncertain look with Bucky due to the woman’s reaction .

“You are Natasha Romanoff? Mr. Bürsin had already let me know you were coming, but I was told that you’re Russian and… Alone.” She had a tick accent a strict-looking face, even though her scared expression, her royal-blue blazer just a little too tight for her chesty frame.

“Well, there was a minor change of plans.” Romanoff’s voice and posture shifted, mimicking the blond’s, an old manipulation tactic that always seemed to work on Alpha females, like this one, her pheromones strongly wafting out, overpowering her overly sweet perfume and making Bucky want to growl, but instead, he simply rolled his eyes, not at all caring about the dissatisfaction that his presence caused . “I’m sure he won’t mind, thou.”

“I’m sure he will.” With a frown she picked up the phone on her desk, dialing only one number and then proceeding to have a long conservation in Turkish, before finally hanging up. “Mr. Bürsin will see you now.” She gave off a tight smile , knuckles turning white while she still held on to the phone, and before they could move, she spoke again. “But only Miss Romanoff, not the Alpha.”

“What?” Natasha and Bucky said at the same time.

“Why?” The redhead crossed her arms under her breasts, trying really hard not to get visually annoyed.

“Ma'am, we have protocols in place, he cannot come in.” The woman’s tone was polite, but still condescending.

“Don’t ‘ma’am’ me. Do I look like a ma’am to you?” Her eyebrows shot up, completely giving up on the previous plan by now. “I’m probably younger than you.”

When the receptionist expression didn’t change, Bucky touched the Russian woman in the arm, getting her attention.

“Romanoff, it’s fine.”

“No, you-”

“This is more important than any of that, remember why we’re here.” His voice was but a whisper, so that only she could hear. “Besides, I pity the fool that tries to mess with you. You can handle yourself, with or without me.” She smiled at that, looking at him for a while before nodding.

“Alright, let’s go.” Natasha said, giving the blonde a pointed look as she got up from her seat and away from her desk, starting to walk towards one of the many corridors of the building.

“Follow me, please.” Her accent hanged heavy, her hips swinging while she strode atop of her hills.

In the hall, Natasha saw many doors, all closed and guarded b y strong, armed man. There was an ample opening at the end of the hall, where the receptionist stopped, indicating for her to continue with a nod of the head.

When she walked in, noting as the woman closed the door behind her, she almost blacked out from the sheer smell of the room. The whole place looked sterile, but still reeked of Omega pheromones. Even for Natasha, a Beta, it was dizzying. Now she understood why it was so imperative that Bucky was not allowed to come inside.

The room was packed full of chairs, placed in a big circle that led to a stage. There were only man sitting in those chairs, all extremely well dressed. Some old, some young, but all clearly rich. Not one of them gave her a second glance, all to focused on what was about to happen on that stage. There was a narrow hallway in the center, in between all of the chairs. And right next to the stage, in a front-row seat, she saw the back of his head, and noticed the empty seat next to his.

Making a beeline for it, she sat down, yearning desperately for a take of fresh air right about now that she was so close to the stage, where the Omega smell was the strongest, being slowly mixed with all of those Alpha’s scents.

“Do me a favor and warn me next time you bring a friend, will you?” Emir Bürsin’s voice was low and raspy, the light golden hair in his head tinning out and turning grey with age. But still, he was a very handsome man. Strong and muscular, but not bulky, with long, big arms straining inside of this tailored suit jacket.

“There will be no next time.” Natasha was quick to answer, not at all impressed by his imposing build. He gave her one fast look, a crooked smile plastered on his face as he sat down in his front-row chair like a king, legs crossed in a nonchalant display.

“Oh, I bet. Once you try one of my girls, you’ll never want for seconds.” His smile became even bigger when Natasha couldn’t control the disgusted look in her eyes. “But you’re not shopping for yourself today, are you, Widow?”

She didn’t appreciate the use of the nickname, turning to stare at the stage as the lights of the room stared dimming and a cold-toned spotlight shone brightly at the center of the stage.

“No, definitely not.” He laughed to himself as she continued to ignore his remarks, frowning a bit when slow background music started to play. “You know, in this business people talk. And I happened to hear such an interesting tale.”

“I’m dying to hear it.” She murmured, the sarcasm strongly embedded in her features by then.

“I heard- oh, thank you.” He was cut off as different Beta woman, clearly assistants of the place, began to give out number plates to each and every man sitting in the room, making a point not to give one to Natasha. She frowned again at that, getting more and more confused by the minute. As they continued to work the room, he proceeded . “I heard that one of your brand-new, shiny superhero friends got himself into a pretty sticky situation, if you know what I mean. Apparently — and again, this all word-of-mouth —, he succumbed into such a bad rut, that he may actually die if he doesn’t get his hands on an Omega, can you imagine that ? Dying from horniness?”

His scoff was loud on Natasha’s ears, and she never had to restrain herself from punching someone so bad.

“And after years without speaking, completely out of the blue, you call me up to ask for a favor.” A man appeared on stage and, wearing a suit and tie, he stood behind a podium, turning on the microphone in front of him and shuffling through cards. “And that favor just so happens to be exactly what our favorite Captain needs to survive, isn’t that such a funny coincidence? Don’t you just love when the universe plays this crazy pranks on us? I mean, what are the odds of these two situations not being connected?”

By the time he was done, the man on stage had started to talk in Turkish, and the audience cheered on to whatever he was saying.

“What do you want to keep your mouth shut about this, Emir? More money?” Natasha asked, mouth forming a little circle when an entirely naked woman entered the stage, s topping in the middle of the stoplight. Her hands were mechanically stuck to her sides, her limbs clearly trembling as she just stood there, completely exposed for those man’s eyes.

“Money? Fuck money, I got enough of that. I want security.” Natasha wasn’t fully processing the conversation at that point, looking over at Emir who had picked up his number plate and put it up, waiting for it to get acknowledged by the man behind the podium before putting it down.

“What do you mean?” Her lips were moving, she knew she was forming words, but a big part of her brain wasn’t truly there.

Her eyes scanned throughout the room, seeing as other men were also putting their plates up, and that’s finally when it hit her. Her blood ran cold when she realized what was happening, and her vision got stuck on that poor girl standing there, her body shaven from eyebrows down, beginning to follow the instructions of the spokesman, turning around to show the audience her form from behind, and them proceeding to slightly open her legs to show the inside of…

Natasha closed her eyes, not wanting to see more, turning so that Emir couldn’t see her face. She felt like throwing up, a little lightheaded as well. So this was what he did here, he ran auctions, Omega auctions.

“I want the security of knowing that no matter what happens, neither you or anyone of your super assholes are going to come busting through here and ruin my business, that’s what I want.” She tried swallowing down the knot that had formed in her throat, putting on her best poker face to look back at him, only to find the man smiling over winning the bidding. He turned to her, putting the plate down on his lap as the girl left the stage and another waked in right after. “ Do we have an understanding ?”

“We do.” The steadiness of her voice shocked even Natasha herself, but Emir didn’t seem to notice a thing, looking comfortable and relaxed, not taken aback one bit by the situation that was taken place.

“Lovely.” He quickly got up, leaving the number plate on top of his seat, and closed his jacket, exaggerating the slimness of his waist. “So, now that we got that out of the way, do you want to come and meet the present that I hand-wrapped for Mr. Rogers myself?”

Natasha got up as well, trying to ignore the raging feeling running through her body, forcing herself to think of Steve, to think back to the reason she was there, and nod in response to his question, instead of doing what she really would like to, which would be betting him into a pulp.

“I just hope I got the right size.” He chirped as they star ted walking out of the auction room, out into the corridor and entering one of the many doors, where a small bedroom was home to a frightened-looking young woman.

*

Everything hurt.

His whole body ached, literally. He could literally feel the muscles underneath his skin contracting and expanding, and the pain was all so bad. He could feel his lungs enlarging as he breathed air in and shrinking as he exhaled it out, and the burn was almost maddening.

This wasn’t what a normal rut was supposed to feel like, of that Steve was sure. No other person should ever have to feel the way he was feeling, ever.

This was hell.

His own bedroom ha d become hell.

His back was pressed to the bed, the sheets were so soaked with sweat that he felt like he could drown. He tried showering, but that had been a bad idea altogether.

He hated the hellfire that his skin had become, that he had passed the point of feverish a long time ago and now whenever the cold water hit his flesh, vapor could be seen wafting through the air.

But that wasn’t even the worst part, it was the smell. The simple smell of soap, from that ‘vintage’ brand that tries to recreate the classic scents from older eras, the one that he used to love. Now, that smell made him want to trow up.

Now, most smells around his house hit him differently, making his stomach turn and nausea overtake him. He definitely hasn’t eaten in a while, he could see it too, in the quick passing glances he gives to the mirror, how skinnier he has gotten.

The bed is the only place where he doesn’t feel like putting his guts out. Because it smells of him. Only him, and nothing else. No one else. Isn’t that sad? That his body so desperately earns for another, but since it can’t have it, it prefers to slowly shut down and die alone.

All of a sudden, the doorbell rang, and Steve berried his face in his pillow, a growling noise involuntarily coming from his chest at the idea of having to come to the door. That was the worst part of his apartment. The one that smelled the least like him and more like others, especially like Alphas. Oh, god, he hates Alphas. And yes, that includes himself.

“Steve?” He could hear a female voice from outside the door, calling out to him, and the Alpha inside got excited for a second, before the scent of Beta hit his nose, making his face contour into a grimace. “It’s Natasha, can I come in?”

He could hear keys jiggling before he could even answer. Hadn’t he made her give him the keys to his apartment last time?

“No!” He screamed at her, his voice hoarse due to the lack of use.

He wanted to die, in private, was that so hard to understand?

“Well, too bad.” He could hear when she closed the door behind her and began walking towards his room.

“Don’t come in.” He barked as her shadow stopped outside of his door, which was almost completely closed, if not by a tiny slit.

“What? Why?”

Because your mere presence makes me want to break every single square inch of this bedroom while I trow up on top of the debris. That’s what he wanted to say, but instead- “I’m naked.”

“I’ve seen you naked already.” She sighed from behind the barrier that separated her from entering his room, invading his space. And he really didn’t want to be rude to her, not again, but Natasha could be really push y , and it’s not like he could control most of the words that come out of his mouth in the state’s his in.

“And I didn’t like it then, nor will I like it now.” He tried to stop the relief that rushed through him when he heard her murmur a small ‘ok’. “What do you want, Nat?”

“Look, we don’t have much time now, and Banner says the only thing that’s keeping you alive after all these days suffering through what your body’s been suffering is also the thing that made you sick in the first place: the serum. He says that the only thing that you’ll get better and survive this, is seeing your rut out with an Omega.”

At the mere mention of the word, his dick twitched, a wave of pleasure-laced pain cutting through his lower body, and Steve had to contain a moan, embarrassment warming his cheeks even more than they already were.

“I already heard all that before, Nat. I know my situation, but it’s too late now.” He gritted his teeth against each other, getting pretty good at coasting through the pain by then. “And I’m fine with that.”

“But it doesn’t have to be like that.” Maybe she could hear his eyes rolling, because before he tried to ask her to leave once more she spoke again. “Listen, Steve, I know you didn’t want anyone to know about what is happening to you, and I wanted to respect that, but I… But none of us could just sit by and watch you die.”

Her mouth was suddenly dry, her vocal cords scraping against each other ruggedly, creating an unpleasant sound and making it clear that she was nervous, but Steve let her continue, his heart beating faster with her every word.

“So Tony put out an ad, letting people know that Captain America was in need of help, and if any Omega out there was willing they could come to the facility and get tested to see if they were compatible with you. A lot of women showed up — shocker —,” She let out a humorless laugh, listening to nothing but silence in return, “but most of them weren’t even Omegas, and the ones that were weren’t compatible with you. But finally, yesterday, this foreign girl showed up, she doesn’t know much English, but she says that you saved her in Sokovia and that she’d like to save you now. So, if you still want me to go and leave you be, I will, but if you’re done with this whole self-loathing and self-harm thing, I could invite her in, and you two could have tons of savage sex and also not die.”

A long time went by after that, a long period of silence, where only Steve’s labored breathing could be heard. He didn’t say anything, but that wasn’t intentional. He was stunned, actually, still trying to digest everything that Natasha had said. Considering every word, processing it slower than he usually would in his natural state.

“Steve?” The redhead’s voice ringed, waking him up from his trance. “Did you even hear what I said?”

“She’s outside?!” Was the first thing that he could think of saying, voice strained, sounding a little scared, even.

“Yeah, me and Bruce brought her over. Like I said, she knows very little English but she was clear on the fact that she wanted to help you.”

“And we’re compatible?”

“Yes!”

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, my God. Just put some clothes on and get out here!” She demanded, bossy as always, but his Alpha wouldn’t take that, not right now. A loud growl emerged from him, and Steve had to physically restrain himself from breaking something.

Still, he took a deep breath, his head hurt so bad that he wasn’t sure he was capable of getting up. But he pushed through, having to hold his head with both hands to try and make the room stop spinning. Very slowly he got out of bed, immediately missing the familiarity that it provided him.

He looked over at his closet, seeing all of his clothes laid out neatly, and only the thought of having any of that fabric on top of his skin was painful enough to make him give up on that premise entirely and put on his robe instead. Th e feel of it was still very much wrong, but knowing that he would be able to take it off much quicker than any other piece of clothing was just a little more soothing.

If there was one thing you needed to understand about Steve Rogers, is that he was a planner. He not only loved to plan, he was good at it too. He’d plan his missions, his day s , his meals, everything meticulously. That was when he was at he’s most comfortable, making up a plan and following it through. He wasn’t completely against making things up as he went, but saying that it didn’t make him anxious would be a lie.

He always preferred to know how things were going to play out, and this wasn’t any different. He had already created a route for this whole rut sickness deal: he was slowing going to die alone inside of his room, leave his shield to Sam and his comic book collection to Bucky, maybe his record player and records would go to Tony, and he would leave that pretty brooch he got from his mom to Natasha. That was it. It was a date.

But all of that changed now and he had to reroute his way around this. And that’s precisely what he was doing as he approached the door, already having wrapped himself in his robe.

He was going to go out there, tell this poor girl that she didn’t owe him anything, that he was happy to know that he had saved her life in Sokovia, and that she should go out into the world and find love, not wait around like had. Then he would apologize for his friends bringing her here, tell them all to leave him alone for good, and he’d even keep his posture throughout the whole ordeal.

That was the new plan, and he was happy with it. Yeah, this was good. This could work.

“Finally.” Steve heard Natasha say when he left his bedroom, entering the living room, a weird fuzzy feeling catching a hold of him for some reason. “So, can I tell Banner to let her in?”

He simply nodded, not sure what to do with a different kind of sensation starting in his lower abdomen. It wasn’t necessarily good, but it wasn’t bad either, which was surprising, because all he could feel of lately was bad. An uneasy, unplaceable feeling forming. And it was something completely new. Was it… Excitement?

Natasha opened the entry door of his apartment again, getting out but leaving it open. He could hear her and Bruce talking softly in the hallway, but he didn’t care to try to understand what they were saying, he didn’t care about anything, not anymore.

Because even before they walked back in, with a young woman following close behind them, with her hair pulled back and a makeup clean face, eyes glued to the ground and hands closed together in front of her body, he had already smelled her. He had already taken a big whiff of that intoxicating scent, goosebumps staring at the back of his neck, travelling all the way to his cock and making it leak precum. He had already set his eyes on that Omega.

And by then, he knew.

Fuck the plan.

#steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america imagine #mcu imagine #MCU fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #imagine abo #steve rogers abo #steve rogers alpha #reader omega #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #alpha beta omega #steve rogers smut #captain america smut #chris evans #mcufam #avengers endgame #avengers imagine #avengers fanfiction #lanslide chapter 3

[cotncandyboifics]

1989 [High School AU]: Chapter 2

AO3 Link

Masterpost

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6 ~ Chapter 7 ~ Chapter 8 ~ Chapter 9 ~

Pairings: slight Logince, eventual Prinxiety & Logicality

Word count: 1,974

Story summary: Roman Prince is your stereotypical Jock, with everyone swooning after him. Every day a crowd of people follow him around, only to disperse at his personal whim. In reality, he's lucky to have such good acting skills that help him cover up the disdain he has for his life. He only wishes he could use his skills properly.

Patton Whitelock's always there to lend a helping hand, no matter who you are. If you need a favor or just need someone to talk to, go to him. In reality, he's been taught from a young age that kindness should be held above all else. No one suspects that he took it the wrong way.

Logan Montgomery is the smartest boy in the Senior class. He's stern, and most people are too intimidated to speak to him. In reality, he despises most all of his fellow students. He sticks to his studies and doesn't stray, for fear of being stuck in his father's shadow his whole life.

Virgil Black is the most emo kid in school, let alone 12th grade; everyone knows to leave him be. In reality, he's very fortunate. He has two parents who love him dearly. But everything beyond his life, everything within his mind, is utter chaos and turmoil.

what will happen when they're assigned a biology project together?

General CW: food, swearing, implied s-lf h-rm, non-graphic descriptions of s-lf h-rm scars, graphic and non-graphic descriptions of anxiety attacks and panic attacks, drug abuse, minor character intoxicated on heroin, non-graphic drug overdose description, sickness/description of sickness, blood, non-graphic descriptions of needles, (will be added to as I write more)

Chapter CW: <none> (let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: there's an excessively detailed description of the biology project in this chapter. I haven't read it since i first wrote and edited this chapter two years ago. :)

...

Logan walked into his 4th Period class, biology, with a glint in his eye. He enjoyed the class quite a lot, and the teacher was passionate about the material, making the learning process all that much better.

"Good morning students!" He said cheerily from the whiteboard. "As you can see, I've rearranged the desks into groups of 4, and if you look up here at the board, you'll see the seating chart. These will be your groups for this semester's project." Logan scanned the projected seating chart and found his name. Near the center of the room, and his desk at an angle which he could still see the teacher. He glanced at the other names. he recognized two of them; Roman Prince, the school jock, and Virgil Black, notoriously introverted and depressing. The third name he didn't recognize; Patton Whitelock. He took a seat at his assigned desk, and awaited the arrival of his group mates.

Patton and Virgil arrived together. Logan recognized Virgil with his purple hair and sulking form, and as they walked closer, assumed the perky boy walking with him was Patton. Upon seeing him he realized this was someone he actually had several classes with, but had never bothered to pair a name with his face. He seemed to radiate an infectious joyful aura, and Logan felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth as he approached. Virgil just gave Logan a small nod, while Patton smiled wide and stuck his hand out across the desks to shake Logan's pale steady hand.

"Hi there!! My name's Patton! You're Logan, right?" Patton's voice went perfectly with his demeanor. Logan allowed a smile to cross his face - just out of politeness, of course -  as he shook Patton's hand.

"Hello Patton. Yes, Logan Montgomery. And you must be Virgil, correct?" He said, looking over at the dark boy sitting across from him, who was now slumped over on his desk with earbuds in. Virgil just glanced at him and gave a small nod.

Then, in a burst of flamboyance, Roman arrived at the table with his signature smirk displayed proudly on his face. He glanced around at his teammates. His smirk faltered at the sight of ta certain purple-haired emo, but he continued to scan as he sat smoothly, sliding his backpack under the desk. He greeted Patton with a handshake - the two were relatively friendly, as Patton often helped organize football events - and upon seeing the tall pale boy seated next to him, changed tone.

"Why hello there," Roman said in a deep voice, leaning over to Logan, who tensed up momentarily. But he regained himself quickly, and turned to face Roman.

"Salutations. Logan Montgomery. You are Roman Prince, I presume," Logan said cordially, holding his hand out to the jock. Roman only smirked and took Logan's hand, kissing his knuckles gently. In that moment Logan cursed his off-white skin, as he felt his face heat up and was sure the blush was plain as day. It only made Roman smirk more to see the effect of his actions.

"But of course. I suppose I should be thankful for the honor of being grouped with such a handsome-" In the midst of his courting, Roman was interrupted by the teacher clearing his throat and giving further instructions on the project.

"These will be your groups. No buts, this is final. Unless there is a serious conflict, I will absolutely not be changing your groups. Now that that's out of the way, I'll explain the project." He clicked a button on his computer, and the projection changed to a presentation about their project. "You are to write a detailed, extensive report on Lepidium Sativum, or Garden Cress, and its attributes in various environments. there will be three rounds in this project." He clicked a button again, and the slide changed. "in the first round, you will have two plants being given the same amount of water and light, but two different types of fertilizer. after two weeks, the fertilizer that has been the most effective in helping the plant thrive will be used for all future rounds." Next slide. "in the second round, you will have two entirely different garden cress plants, that are to have the exact same amount of sunlight and both be planted in the better fertilizer from the previous round. you are to take the recommended amount of water you should give the plants per day, and give one plant less than said amount and the other more. repeat this process for two weeks, and note which plant thrived more. This plant's dosage of water will be used in the next round as well." Next slide. "For the final round, two new plants will be given the optimal fertilizer and amount of water, but different amounts of sunlight. One is to be in the sun constantly, the other is to be kept out of the light. Whichever one is the most successful after two weeks time, will be presented in class at the end of said time period. these plants will be 10% of your grade for this project." Next slide. "Your report will include the following 11 paragraphs; 1, prior knowledge. any and all things you collectively know about Garden Cress. If you know nothing, then I'd devote some time to researching the plant. 2, the procedure for the first round. step-by-step description of what you did in the two weeks. 3, hypothesis or predictions for the outcome of the first round. 4, the results of the first round. 5, 6, and 7 repeat 2, 3, and 4 but for the second round, and 8, 9, and 10 for the third round. the 11th paragraph will be the conclusion; comparing all the results and analyzing them, whether you think your experiment was accurate, etcetera. I expect before and after pictures of both plants for all three rounds in your report as well." He then turned off the projector and walked over to a table, which had 16 plants on it. "Today is the beginning of the experiment, one group member will be chosen for the entirety of this lab to be conducted at their house, and said group member will come up and take two plants from here at the end of the period. We have... 10 minutes left. discuss among yourselves."

With that, they were off. Logan had been furiously scribbling notes in somehow impeccable handwriting. He looked up once the teacher had stopped talking and cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses. "I will take the plants to my house. We should meet there every week at least, preferably on a consecutive weekday," he said.

But Roman had other plans, that he thought were absolutely brilliant in terms of his suddenly enticing pursuit of Logan. "Au contraire, my bespectacled friend," He began, "I believe that the best household for our project to be conducted in would be chez-moi," Roman finished with a dramatic hand-to-the-chest pose. Virgil couldn't keep in a scoff and a smirk, murmuring something under his break about how Roman didn't speak french. The others ignored him, but Patton looked at him curiously.

"And what could have possibly led you to that conclusion? I strongly believe that of the four of us," Logan said, looking around at his partners, "I am the most responsible. So, I'm curious to hear your reasoning," Logan finished, adjusting his glasses again and facing Roman more prominently.

"Well, Microsoft Nerd," Roman said, at which Virgil smirked again, "My house is only a few blocks away from school. Its very accessible, and I for one know that at least two of us would prefer to be near school," Roman said, looking over at Virgil.

Virgil considered protesting, but decided against it. "...I mean, he's not wrong," He said quietly.

Roman rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the assist, JD-lightful. Patton, what do you think?" Roman said, turning his attention to Patton, who was staring at his desk with a hint of a blush on his face.

He looked up upon being addressed, and responded. "Oh, um, I'm alright with either honestly." He said, slightly less perky than usual, glancing at Logan before looking back down.

Logan simply sighed and adjusted his glasses again. "Well, I'm not going to argue with you over something so trivial, so fine. We can go to your house."

Roman clapped loudly and put his hands down on the desk. "Wonderful! How's about tonight? And every Monday hereafter?" He said, looking between all of them. Logan nodded once, Patton nodded vigorously (only after Logan had given his nod), and Virgil just slowly bobbed his head up and down as if he was exhausted, leaning into his arm that was propped up on his desk. "Okay, it's a plan! Meet you all at the front of the school when 8th period is over." And with that, the teacher got the students' attention again.

"Alright students, it's time. Send up whomever will be taking the plants to their house." Roman stood up proudly and strut over to the table, where he picked out two of the nicest-looking plants on the table. There was a minute or two before they were dismissed, so the four of them took the opportunity to exchange phone numbers. Then the bell rang, and the students immediately filed out the classroom door and dispersed.

...

When Roman walked up to the bench at the front of the school at the end of the day - followed by a few of his fan girls, of course - only Logan was there. As Logan noticed people walking his way, he put away his phone hastily, as if embarrassed, and quickly began pulling different notebooks out of his backpack, trying to look busy. As Roman approached, he dismissed his pursuers and sat on the opposite side of the bench, while Logan attempted to start his Calculus homework.

"Well, if it isn't the Microsoft Turd," Roman said, looking over at Logan.

Logan didn't look up, merely scoffed. "You already made that joke."

"Well, it was a variation, and I can think of a Microsoft Third!" Roman shot back, smirking once again.

Mr. No-nonsense Logan responded, "have you heard from the others? it's been approximately... 12.4 minutes since 8th period ended," he said, checking his watch.

"No, not particularly. However, I did see Virgil sulking in the hallway on my off-block. Ugh, the nerve of him; he's constantly ruining the mood for everyone, in every situation! Are you listening to me?" Roman said, watching as Logan did his same scribble in a graph paper notebook, breezing through his work.

"No."

Roman put on an extremely offended face, and would've retorted, had Patton and Virgil not walked up at that exact moment. Roman opened his mouth to say something to Logan but his eyes caught Virgil's radiant hair, and he was momentarily distracted.

"Hey Logan!!" Patton said cheerily, waving to him while keeping his thumbs behind his backpack straps. "Are you ready for some science!?" He said the last word with zeal, and Logan looked up at him, smiling softly.

"Yes, I am rather looking forward to the actual project," Logan said, then glancing over at Roman, "though I expect there will be plenty of distractions on Roman's account."

"Only distractions you'll enjoy," Roman said, wiggling his eyebrows "flirtatiously". Virgil scoffed yet again from behind Patton, trying to hide his smile.

"Well, then let's get going!! I-I mean, if you're ready, Logan." Patton said, referring to Logan having surrounded himself with textbooks and notes.

"Oh, right." Logan pushes his glasses up the bride of his nose, and made quick work of putting his things away. Roman made an attempt in vain to carry Logan's pack; Logan said he wouldn't trust Roman with his backpack if it was "consisting of objects of an inconsequential nature, which it is not."

And they four made their way down the sidewalk, talking and teasing each other, unaware of the growing bonds between them.

#patton sanders #ts patton #ts roman #roman sanders #logan sanders #ts logan #ts virgil #virgil sanders #prinxiety #logicality #virgil x roman #logan x patton #high school AU #sanders sides #thomas sanders #sanders sides fanfiction

[buck-nialled]

Relative Wonders - P. Mendes (Lookalike Bonus!)

 NOTE: so this is not only the longest imagine I have posted on this site (roughly 7.5k+ words) but weirdly it did not take to long to write. THIS IS ALSO BASED IN THE SAME UNIVERSE AS MY RAUL FIC “LOOKALIKE” WHICH I RECOMMEND READING BEFORE THIS FOR IT TO MAKE SENSE. For plot purposes, some of the setting details and a name are changed, but other than that this mainly focuses on Julia and Peter and what went on between them. I would also like to tag @lonelyreputation​ and @itrocksmysocks​ for their support and being my hypemen while I took time to wrote this. Without them, I porbably would have lost my shit and flung my computer against the wall in frustration. Alright, here it is! <3

The university’s library was buzzing with whispers about the monotonous topics Professor Clayton always seemed to be covering in his lectures, or the 2,000-word paper people were just now beginning to write for Composition II with the acknowledgment of its due date being tomorrow. Normally, Peter would have scurried back to his dorm hall with the unearthed book in hand to avoid any disruptive noises. That was his routine walking into any place other than that which he felt comfortable and welcome. But it was four hours until the library’s closing and he had already begun to feel like a disposition under the apathetic stare of the woman sat behind the front desk when she scanned the novel discussing the many wonders of space. Peter swears he saw the woman’s lips climb into a smile when peering down at the book, but they sagged down hopelessly before the small lines surrounding the pair’s corner could introduce themselves.

“Thank you, ma’am. You have a good night.” Peter’s hand comes out to collect the book in his grip once again, receiving an unintelligible hum in reply. He could picture the warm comforter and lumpy waiting back for him at his dorm as he spun around to exit with a smile. But all at once, the thoughts of strolling out of the door dissipated, and the chair beside Julia morphed into a considerable substitute for his lofted, twin xl bed. Her eyes scanned the collection of pages that sat on her folded, skort-clad legs. Peter’s eyes traveled down her partially bare thighs, down her naked calves, and paused at the sight of her wiggling toes peeking out of the sandals donning her feet. A particular warmth fills him, one which he has been exposed to more often than not and always whenever around the girl. He discovered this pattern after piecing together every event where she was a main character of sorts. The first of the sequence occurred months prior in their Economics class, when the girl—whom Peter always found punctual from her usual attendance and habit of being in the lecture hall ten minutes before the lesson started, every single time—seemed to quite literally be racing the clock this certain day. A foreign body took the opportunity of stealing Julia’s open seat, an impetus for Peter’s brows to clinch together in puzzlement and wonder of where she could be. He was provided an answer close to five minutes later in the form of a meek whisper asking if the seat beside him was taken. Recognizing the voice instantly from each presentation she voiced or answer she gave to the professor’s questions, the brunette’s head snapped up from his ruled notebook covered in blue-inked notes.

He became flustered on instinct, much like whenever she entered the classroom to take her usual seat. Gulping down any squeaks Peter was determined not to let slip from him, he shook his head in approval and pushed the framed glasses accompanying his face further onto the bridge of his nose. When continuing to his notes, Julia turned in her chair to gaze at his profile. He could feel the warmth spreading inside of him that moment with such intensity, knowing Julia was a forearm’s width away from him and studying his flickering eyes and beet red cheeks like it were a textbook. His heartbeat raced at a tempo he never thought possible at the sight of her leaning closer to peer at his notes. She leans away seconds after, deflating both Peter’s excitement and hasty pulse. And she made both screech to a stop with her next whisper.

“Thanks, Peter.” His eyes were still glaring at his paper when he took notice of his name scrawled in the top left of his notes before his heartbeat circumvented back to its original pace, and his cheeks were beyond glowing with red.

“No problem.” Is all he could mutter before he and Julia zoned back into the teacher’s enthusiasm over compound interest. That particular lecture warped to something short-lived and left Peter wistful the following class when he spotted Julia occupying her original seat. Since then, not much conversation had transpired between the two, as they only shared one—surprisingly—populated class and lived who knows how far from each other on campus.

Peter blinks his eyes several times in succession by the sight of her figure shifting and standing up from her seat. Clearing his throat, Peter spun and meandered over towards the wall by the front door, hand coming around his head to scratch the back of his fluffy, umber locks. His eyes trail away from the building’s dusty carpet and catch a glimpse of Julia’s strawberry-tinged locks floating past him and towards the desk, book in hand. To his surprise, the woman at the desk held a nice set of teeth behind her firm-lined lips that Peter found the need to blink greater than before. What was her secret to making the woman smile, Peter wonders? Furthermore, he thinks, why did it not surprise her? Unfamiliar laughter saturates the air, and soon Julia’s was harmonizing with it in quiet giggles. It left Peter’s ears in a momentary trance of sorts from its light, airy sound. From his limited view, he could make out the dimples her freckled cheeks were donning with grace so enamoring, Peter’s insides felt like they had reached a boiling point.

Due to the sensory overload that was only the sight of her, Peter could only make out shards of the hushed conversation. Both of the females thanked one another, and Julia informed her of something’s arrival in the days to come, leaving both ladies giddy with anticipation. After bidding a small farewell with a wave of her hand, Peter saw the pair of sandaled feet pivot from his peripheral view and made quick work to lean against the wall with his head cocked down, adjusting the book comfortably in his grip as he stared into one of the pages, brown eyes trailing along the lines of words but absorbing none of them.

“Nice book.” Her voice piped up as she lifted a finger to aim it at Space Wonders: The Gifts of the Galaxy copy Peter’s hands were currently utilizing. When he lifted his head, though, the body of the voice was gone and in place of it, the entrance to the library swinging shut nearby.  

-------

Days have passed since Peter’s debacle at the library, leaving him slightly embarrassed and curious if Julia knew it was him peering down at the old book. She seems like the type of person to compliment strangers on their choice of niche, Peter concluded on his walk back from Astronomy 1102 class. A long, skinny shadow caught his eyes on the pavement and called for his eyes to glance up. When he did peer up from his shuffling steps, his chestnut irises bulged at the sight of the wobbling tower of cardboard boxes. He located two hands and forearms and everything below supporting the bottom of the stack but still lacked a face to the balancing spectacle behind it. He looked around, finding most students peering down at their cellphones or too engrossed in conversation with others to notice either of them. While Peter would much rather stumble into his dorm room for a much-needed nap, the guilt of avoiding this uncoordinated stranger would come back to haunt him if he chose not to. If not guilt, then karma would hunt him down, no doubt.

“Do you need help?” Peter offers, intercepting the piled boxes marching toward him.

The voice pipes up in a soft, “huh,” through the boxes, and turns their body. When Peter is introduced to Julia’s wide, green gems of eyes and parted pink lips he loses all proper direction of his thought for the seconds following. “Oh, hi. Yeah, that’d be great if you could. I should warn you though, they’re kind of—”

“Woah!” The man exclaims, upon taking hold of three of the five small cubes from the stack and nearly dropping them from the unexpected weight.

“…heavy,” Julia finishes, looking up at Peter with a meek smile and shrugging. “They’re books.” She pretends not to notice Peter’s adjusting of the boxes in his arms and the flex of his triceps while he did so.

“All of them?” Peter looks to the two other packages her arms were embracing and earns a nod. “How many classes are you taking?”

Julia her head with a chuckle. “Oh, these aren’t for classes. They’re for me.” She is left unsurprised when Peter’s steps falter and his eyes grow wide behind the framed lenses.

“All of them? To read?” The triplet guffaws, trying to keep his long legs in time with her fast steps. She spares him a glance and elicits a scoff.

“That’s what books are for, last time I checked…” the last few words of her reply are quiet, but still picked up by Peter’s ears. “I like to read, anyways.” She shrugged. Losing all sense in what interactions of theirs were real or Peter’s wandering thoughts in History with Professor Lewis, he blurts out the fact of, “I know,” before his mind could catch up to his tongue. Immediately he wants his teeth to catapult from the edge of his lips and puncture the air around the two of them, leaving no trace that Peter said exactly what he said.

“Oh, do you now?” Julia inquires, raising a brow. “And how exactly do you know this?” Peter shut his eyes and threw his head backward, allowing his chestnut curls to fly back and no longer obstruct the blood rising to his cheeks.

“That sounded bad, didn’t it?” He avoids her interrogative gaze and opts for staring off into the campus’s greenery amidst collecting his words. “I didn’t mean—I mean…I do. But I wasn’t...it was at th-the library, yeah.” His eyes flicker up to meet her befuddled gaze and slow nod as she tried piecing together his barrage of stammers. “I was there the other night and saw you reading…you looked pretty into the story.”

Julia rolls her eyes with a small smile, “it was probably one of the books I’ve been rereading while I wait for these to come in.” She lifts the boxes lightly, and Peter takes notice of a small, lonesome freckle dotted beside her right elbow. “I saw you too,” she admits through a murmur. For a moment, their eyes dart to one another’s, both holding honest looks from the instant they meet until their departure. “You were reading Space Wonders, right? I think I saw this same head of curls on my way out of the door.”

Taking one of her arms out from beneath her stack of boxes, she reaches up to flick a loose curl away from the man’s face, that had been a nuisance for tickling the bridge of his nose and obstructing his view of this a gorgeous woman. Her attempt proved little to no use, once the curl fell back in place moments later in its refusal to be tamed and ultimately, gifted Peter the opportunity to listen to Julia’s melodious laughter again.

“Yeah, sorry I ignored you back there.” The last syllable of his sentence did not finish rolling off of his tongue before the girl gave a small, nonchalant wave of her hand.

“Ah, we’ve all been there. When I was fourteen, I was grounded for a week because I couldn’t put down a book long enough to do chores.”

“Wow, what a rebel you were,” Peter remarks. “Did you read past your bedtime, too?”

Her eyes flick up and to the side as if contemplating a proper answer. Her lips twitched into a small smirk before murmuring a sly, “on occasion,” which left the two grinning wildly.

“A whole week, huh?” He lifts his brows. “Must’ve been a good read.”

“It was amazing! Well, what I got to read of it, at least. My parents took it away for the week and when I finally finished all of the chores, they said it got lost.”

“What? No!”

“I know!” She mimics his dismayed tone of voice. “And by that point, I only had, like, three chapters to finish.”

“Do you remember the name of the book?” The girl shakes her head with a downtrodden expression. It was one Peter never hoped to see again, as he preferred the craters by her lips and taught-pulled cheeks much more.

“I could tell you every detail of the plot like the back of my hand, some character names…but it’s been so long that whenever I try thinking of the name or author, I just blank.” Her voice croaks in disappointment, and Peter finds his insides sinking when she slows her footing. “Well, this is me.” His eyes shift from her to the dorm building and his mouth parts open.

“You live in Dixon?”

“Yeah.”

“So do I. How come we’ve never run into each other before?” Peter wonders aloud, brows furrowing together.

Julia hums, taking the rest of the boxes from the boy’s grip. “Beats me. Think about it and tell me later. See ya, Peter!” She calls, retreating inside of the building and to her respective side where all of the girl’s dorms were located. Still, Peter stood gobsmacked, no longer from the revelation that they both lived in the same residence hall, but the words she left him to manifest. He was unaware when ‘later’ would be, but he was holding Julia to it through every bounce in his step back up to his room. All Peter yearned for was a nap before running into Julia, but when entering the room and replaying the account for himself, over and over, he knew the endeavor would be fruitless. He settled for ripping out a sheet of paper from one of his notebooks and hastily jotting a note for later onto it, pinning it to the corkboard hung on the concrete wall.

FIND BOOK, the paper read.’

------

Perhaps it was the newfound information about the girl or the conversation Peter had shared with her that ended in a potential ‘later’ that encouraged him to confide in his brothers. When he informed Shawn and Raul with his recent infatuation, the weight lifted from him as he was met with proud cheers and pats on the back from his older siblings.

“So, when are you gonna ask her out?” Raul asks.

“What?” Peter quips, raising his eyebrows.

“Well, you like her.” Shawn shrugs. “Ask her out.” Unlike his brother’s Peter was not one to commit to an idea the first go-round. Every assignment he turns in requires heavy outlining, drafting, and sometimes scrapping if the result did not meet his standards. He would find himself spending hours in the grocery store, wary of which brand of laundry detergent was better for fighting stains or second-guessing if it was cheddar or sharp cheddar he enjoyed best on his sandwiches. Asking a girl out was a territory the man still had yet to explore and conquer, and Peter acknowledged that this venture of his would make the grocery store look easygoing in comparison.

Peter thought his brief excuse of, “it’s not that easy,” would fulfill his brothers’ prying. He was proved wrong when they argued back immediately with their chorus of, “of course it is” and “just play it cool, be confident.”

“I appreciate the help, guys but I already have a plan…” Upon hearing this, Raul and Shawn harmonized in anguished groans.

“A plan? Pete, you might as well just make a blueprint of the restaurant you’re taking her to!” The oldest scrubs a hand over his face.

“Some things don’t have to be planned out, dude.” Shawn brings his hand up to rub harsh circles into one of Peter’s shoulders. “If you just ask her out—”

“I will ask her out,” Peter confirms, surprising himself with the assertion in his voice. “But, just…let me do it my way.” His desperate plea was enough for Shawn and Raul to concede to his wishes. When they left the room, he found himself staring at the corkboard across the room, eyes burning holes into the lined paper screaming “FIND BOOK” at him. The boy brings a hand up to his temples, which were beginning to throb, and deciphers now is an opportune time for a nap. Shutting his eyes, he wastes no time removing his glasses and falling back against the old mattress with a grunt. He buries his face into the pillows beneath him and let his nostrils soak in the strawberry air freshener circulating the room. Flashes of Julia’s straight, amber-hued locks flash in his mind, and he becomes whisked away to sleep replaying the tune of her giggles with a smile curling onto his lips.

------

That same smile completely crumbled the following day, when he was sat with his two brothers and Raul’s girlfriend on their side of the semi-private dorm. Their other roommate, Connor, was out of town for the week which meant all of them felt no pressure ending conversation so early so the boy could get some sleep. A small lull hit their jabbering, one of the many Harry Potter films the triplets held in their possession now just playing on Shawn’s laptop as background noise.

“Mm,” Shawn hummed, “Pete, I ran into that girl from your Econ class the other day. What’s her name…” Shawn snapped his fingers repeatedly as if it would power the energy to the dim bulb in his brain.

“Julia?” Peter’s piqued interest and raised eyebrows were noticed immediately by Aryn, who sat up from her lean against Raul’s chest on his bed they were claiming.

“Ooh, who’s Julia?” She sang in question. Peter found heat scorching his cheeks in seconds and shook his head.

“Nobody.”

“Only his crush for, what, two years now—”

“Shawn!” The younger of the three hisses, eyes narrowed through the frames of his glasses. He now regrets spilling his guts to the middle brother.

“What? Aryn’s a girl, she could probably help you ask her out.” Raul reasons with Shawn nodding alongside. The youngest of the three was more irritable than before with the oldest justifying Shawn and his big mouth.

“Well, about that…” Shawn’s hand reaches up to scratch the back of his head. Peter’s eyes are swollen instantly and Aryn gasps, even more, invested than before.

“What? What’d you do?” Peter demands, voice stern. He could feel one of his eyes begin twitching uncontrollably behind his glasses and hands begin furling themselves into fists.

“Well, when we were talking, she kind of thought you were me…so, I did the job for you—”

“You WHAT?!” Peter bellows, standing up and running his fingers viscously through his curls. He shakes his head and murmurs ‘no’ many times, alongside a string of curses. Had it not been for his feet already abandoned of his sneakers, a line would have been present on the floor from his uncontrollable pacing. “How? W-where?” He demands, hands frantically flailing about to reach for any invisible answers for his cries.

It was actually inside of the campus’s small coffee shop that his brother and his brother’s crush crossed paths. When Shawn’s hand embraced the warm Styrofoam cup being handed to him by the barista stood behind the counter, he sent an appreciative nod and spun around, almost sending the cup of coffee flying. His chest inflated from the sharp breath he took, and the girl observed it with a curious stare. It was not one of the looser sweaters she always thought Peter modeled so charmingly, and rather a tight-fitted, solid tee-shirt.

“Sorry,” the girl murmurs and tucks a few frizzy strands of hair to rest behind her hair while taking two steps backward. She glanced up shyly into Shawn’s eyes. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“That’s okay, don’t worry about it,” Shawn assures, thinking that was where the conversation with the unfamiliar face would conclude. He was proven wrong when she failed to move from her spot in front of him and fidgeted with her fingernails, coated with flakes of nail polish she needed to remove at this point.

“Um, I just wanted to say thank you for the other day. Walking all the way back to Dixon with those boxes by myself would have been a nightmare.” Her freckled cheeks become stained with pink as she lets out a nervous chuckle. Shawn furrows his eyebrows and opted for a slow nod in reply, though he did not remember this girl or the boxes she was referring to.

“Well, that’s all I came to talk to you about…unless there was anything you wanted to say to me…” There was a lull to her voice that was hinting for Shawn to say something, but he was blanking on what exactly that could be. The girl releases a breath after a few moments of silence and glances down at her shoes with an expression of understanding.

“Right then, I’ll just be out of your hair. You look different without your glasses, by the way.” This comment piques Shawn’s interest and he could feel the tips of his ears become erect with attention.

“What?” He murmurs, seeing her pivot on her feet.  “Wait…hang on…uh…” What did Peter say her name was, Shawn thinks to himself? Justine, Juliette, ah—

“Julia!” Shawn calls, racing behind her to the doorway.

“Yes?” Hastily, she spins to meet his brown eyes, which appeared much darker beneath the shop’s lights. Her green eyes were growing and expectant…yearning. Shawn's lips withdrew to explain his confusion, but a different thought prevented it. If she thinks I am Peter, he muses to himself...

“I’m sorry. I’m just bad with this stuff, you know. Talking to you…just makes me…”

“I know. Me too.” She admits, eyes never breaking away from Shawn’s as he begins to gnaw his bottom lip in contemplation.

“Usually I like to plan out everything I do, but I really, really hate waiting to do this.”

“Then don’t wait, Peter. Just say it.” Shawn felt a tingle of guilt run up his arm when Julia placed her hand on his shoulder. His younger brother was going to be in dire need of an update on his love life later.

“Okay, erm…Julia, will you go out with me?” Before Shawn even finished the question, her arms were taught around his neck with the smaller girl squealing “yes” excitedly into his chest and hop-scotching her feet against the café floor.

“Dude calm down! She said yes.” Shawn informs. “She wants to go out with you!” He cheers, reaching out from his beanbag chair to give Peter’s shoulder an encouraging jostle with a grin.

“No, you don’t understand! I-I’m way too nervous, I can barely talk to her half the time. I’m going to make a complete fool of myself.” Peter wails, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Hang on, you’re telling me she thought you were Peter?” Aryn scoffs, pointing between the two boys. “I don’t believe that.” She gives a firm shake of her head.

“Um, and why not?” Shawn inquires, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, babe, I mean they call us identical for a reason,” Raul interjects, turning to face his girlfriend.

“You guys don’t resemble one another at all! I could tell you guys apart with my eyes closed.” She mimics Shawn’s cross of the arms, sending a challenging look in each of their directions. “Well, that’s only because you’ve known us for so long,” Peter replies, now devoted to arguing this theory with his brother’s girlfriend.

“And you see and hang out with us all of the time.” Raul continues. This earns a challenging raise of your eyebrows in his direction, making him clear his throat and begin rubbing her side up and down in comfort with his large palm. “Not-not that that’s a bad thing…honey.” She rolls her eyes at his “save” and turns her attention back to the original instigator, Shawn.

“All I’m saying is, you guys aren’t as alike as you seem.”

“Um, guys?” Peter’s voice rising in volume was enough to break the argument. “Can we focus on the fact that there’s a girl I can barely talk properly around expecting some phenomenal date…when are we going out?”

“Friday at seven.”

“This Friday?” Peter squeaks. “That’s—that’s three days away…how am I going to—”

“Shhh…relax.” Shawn comes to stand before Peter, taking him by the shoulders. “We’ll help you plan something, right gu—” As Shawn turns his head to receive words of comfort from Raul and Aryn, the two brothers are instead met with the door separating the two rooms slamming shut and the sounds of the couple’s flirty giggles.

“Oh no, guys that’s my bed! Wait—” Peter wriggles himself away from Shawn’s grip and charges for the door. His frenzied hand wraps around the door handle and jiggles furiously. To his misfortune, they were clever enough to turn the lock on the door. Peter groans helplessly and walks over to flop down face-first in the beanbag Shawn was previously occupying. He is still in shock that his brother got to experience the feeling of holding Julia before he was given the opportunity. He wanted to feel her face digging into his collarbone and become victim to the chokehold her arms would put him in from her eagerness about the date, or new books, or acing yet another economics test.

“You owe me a hug.” He mumbles into the fabric, earning a bewildered look from Shawn from across the room.

-------

“Do you ever get tired of words?” Her stare moves from the crossword puzzle sat on her lap toward the direction of the acquainted voice. A smile crawls onto her lips as he continues approaching the bench, she made herself comfortable on close to fifteen minutes ago, and she thinks back to the day before at the coffee shop on campus. Automatically, the blood rushes upwards to the sides of her face before further words could be exchanged.

“Never,” Julia replies seconds later with a smile and scoots to make room for the long-legged boy to sit beside her. He takes the invitation gratefully and plops himself down beside her.

“So…”

“So…” She mocks, physically feeling the wall of tension climbing to separate the two of them. There was something about how Peter presented himself yesterday that gave her some sort of confidence boost. She noticed him from afar and did not question her actions for one second during her entire march into the store, nor when she took her standing behind him.

“This was so much easier, yesterday. I don’t understand…” She shakes her head, earning a sideways look from Peter. A lightbulb illuminates in her brain, blessed with an idea that needed no involvement in confronting Peter's nerves. She turns to face him with a stern tone. “Take off your glasses.”

“What?”

“Just trust me, okay?” Without further objections, Peter unleashes a breath and reaches up to remove the framed spectacles from his face. Upon doing so, all of the world clarity washes away and the only thing making him aware of Julia’s presence was the glowing, strawberry-blonde aura framing her figure.

“How do I look?” She inquires.

“Blurry.” He replies with a small pout, folding the temples of the glasses over one another. “What about me?”

Julia chuckles, tilting her head to absorb the view of him without his usual accessory. “Well, your eyes look smaller, for one thing…but I don’t mind.”

“No?” Peter makes out a vague movement in front of him.

“I can actually see your eye color without reflections blocking it.” Peter shivers when her warm palm makes contact with his cheek. He makes out the faint smell of perfume wafting from her wrist and inhales deeply, feeling the warmth spread about his system. She brushes the soft pad of her thumb around the perimeter of his eyes, whispering to herself, “they’re like gold.” Her eyes travel down his features, noticing a small nick on the bridge of his nose that she does not recall being there yesterday. His lips were parted lightly from her ministrations and his body was patiently awaiting her next move. The sight of his folded glasses, secure in his palm, cues another lightbulb to flicker on in her head.

“May I?” She requests, cloaking Peter’s hand with her own. Though her eyes resembled two, jade crystals lacking clarity, he could picture the longing gaze they held within them. He relinquished the grip on his frames and feels her fingertips glide along his palm as they grasp the pair of glasses. She is quick to set the spectacles over her own eyes, and the fuzzy sight of frames surrounding her eyes makes Peter smile viscously.

“Now you look blurry,” Julia says with a smile. Peter realizes now why the lack of sight took away so much of the vulnerability. The reactions of either of them would be difficult to decipher and all the more comforting for both of them.

“You look beautiful.” His reply sends blood to both of their cheeks, but neither acknowledges it.

“Says the guy who can’t even see.” She mutters in response, turning her face down.

“May I?” Peter repeats her earlier question and carefully situates the frames back onto the bridge of his nose. “Well, I stand corrected.” Julia lifts her head. “You are strikingly gorgeous.” This earned him a small scoff and light shove against his shoulder.

“I was about to head to the library to turn in some books…would you like to join me?” She stood from the bench and slung the hefty tote over her shoulder.

“Wait you just give away all your books to the library?” Peter's brows furrow.

"Just the ones I've finished reading." Julia elucidates, but Peter's puzzlement is unchanging.

"Why? You could sell them or keep them..." Julia begins giggling lightly at the man before her. His bottom lip jutted out as she had just stolen a piece of candy from his grasp as the occasional breeze traveled through his curls. Part of his furrowed brows was being shielded by his glasses, and he could not appear more adorable in the girl's eyes.

"I don't need the money, and I wouldn't have the space to keep all of the books I get. Besides," she shrugs, "someone will probably be interested in one of them and want to read it."

"Like the other night...when I was reading--"

"Space Wonders." They finish together. Julia sending him an approving nod.

"Exactly."

"Was that one of yours too?"

"Well, technically my little brother's." She corrects in a small voice. "So, you comin' or what?"

"I'd be honored," Peter answers, laying his open hand against the middle of his test. Julia simply rolls her eyes and grabs his dangling hand with her's without a second thought. The warm contact draws sharp breaths from both of them, but Peter did not oppose the feeling. Rather, he laced their fingers together and spared the girl a small smile.

She smiles and orders him "come on," before leading the way to her favorite building. Seeing her eager smile growing with each sound of her foot hitting the pavement; how she swayed their arms back and forth violently in her excitement, flourishing to the point where it was impossible to hide and elevated the moment their feet were planted to the library's entrance. Peter stood certain that it was his favorite building too.

He held the door ajar for her keen figure to leap through and drag him along to the front desk. There was a small sign instructing to ring the small bell sat on the desk to alert one of the workers. Julia obeyed and tapped the small notch with the tip of her pointer finger, allowing a melodious ding to swell in the quiet vicinity.

"One minute," The voice of the desk woman calls from a back room. Various shuffling noises are heard, and Peter took a chance at the pause to turn to Julia and ask, "what's your little brother's name?"  

Her body froze, lips divided with no words exiting. She was caught off guard by the abrupt questioning but should have expected it. Of course, Peter was curious about her sibling. It was one of the few things he knew about Julia that she told him personally. It was something they shared in common, more importantly. Knowing Peter's stubborn manner, or at least being exposed to it, Julia knew the subject would not be dropped until first being acknowledged.

Fortunately, their conversation was intercepted when the front desk woman waddled from the back room. A broad smile, similar to the one she held a few days prior at Julia and Peter's last library visit, climbed onto her face. She squinted her eyes in joy at the tote bag Julia adjusted to stand erect on the desk and looked up to the young students, baring her crows' feet to them.

"Thank you, sweetheart. How are the new ones?" The immediate questioning breaks Julia from her catatonic stance and into a fit of laughs instead.

"I just got them, Phyllis. Don't be so impatient."

"We both know you've got the eyes of a speed-reader." The woman remarks, removing the library's new contenders from the bag.

"I've just been...busy." She and Peter turned to each other at the same time, locking eyes with one another and revealing sweet smiles. Phyllis does not take notice, too engrossed with her newest collection of paperback beauties.

"You're never too busy for books, child! You told me once your heart couldn't fit anything else if it tried."

"I don't know," she lowers her gaze to Peter's large hand encompassing hers, "maybe it had a growth spurt."

-------

The night following their trip to the library, Peter pulled his car outside of the entrance to Dixon hall and was furiously tapping his hands against the steering wheel. The suit jacket and white button-up beneath it were hugging his arms in all the wrong places, making the need to shed himself of it grow impossibly larger. The vehicle’s air conditioning was fixed to its highest setting, yet he still felt perspiration building against his forehead and hairline. He would have mistaken the red tie for a boa constrictor the way it was cemented around his neck, had he not known exactly what he was doing in a suit in the first place. The scheme all triplets were confronted about took place at a friend’s apartment only one hour prior but was debriefed at a much more leisurely pace than Peter felt confident about. He barely scurried out of the complex with his keys in time and screeched to a halt two minutes before his and Julia’s scheduled meeting time. He had sent Julia a message, announcing his arrival upon shifting the gear to park. The green numbers on the car’s radio stared back at him dauntingly, begging him to try to make the quick change before she exited the building. In any other scenario, which did not involve 'Julia' and 'first date' in the same sentence, he would have stripped himself of elegant clothing without hesitation. But he waited a few moments instead, glancing around warily in fear of late-night, wandering students. When no figures were seen to arise suspicion in him, he heaved a large breath of air and quickly shrugged himself from the dark jacket, making quick work of the crimson tie and transparent buttons lining the front of the shirt.

After detaching himself from the entire top half of the outfit, his shirtless figure reached into the car’s backseat for a supplementary hoodie. I knew this would come in handy one day, he thinks to himself. Upon pulling it over his head, his vision was temporarily obstructed by the cloth, but his ears perked at the sound of the passenger’s side door opening and a light gasp. He tugged the remainder of the top down to cover his front half and face a blushing Julia, who just witnessed his changing.

“I’m so sorry.” She says quietly, covering her face.

“It’s okay.”

“I didn’t know you were—”

“It’s--.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Julia,” she looks up from her hands, feeling her face burning with humiliation. “I promise, it’s okay.” He was blushing quite obviously with her, but the comforting tone of voice he offered her did well to pacify the somersaults her insides were performing relentlessly. 

“Can I ask?” 

“It’s a long story,” the boy sighs and runs a hand through his gelled curls. She shakes her head and resumes swinging open the passenger door, sliding herself into her seat. The small light from the radio illuminated her profile, disclosing her bloodshot eyes and shaky breathing she seemed to still have difficulty steadying. Peter knew these reactions could not be sourced from what had just transpired between him, but he did not know if it was worth starting small talk and asking if she was okay when she did not appear as though she was. Deciphering not to acknowledge it, he simply reached for the knob to turn on the soothing pop playing from the local station and begin the drive to the destination of their outing.

“Where are we going again?” Julia croaks, voice dipping and rising arbitrarily. It made Peter’s heart tense and give his throat the same constrictive feeling. His hands gripped the wheel tighter as he attempted to ramp up the lightheartedness of his voice, in hopes, she would contract some of the emotion from him like she did nervous flutters.

“Well, you’ve let me experience what makes you happy. I figured it’s only fair I reciprocate.” He makes a turn onto a road unfamiliar to Julia’s eyes. The puffy pair of orbs gazed ponderously at the line of trees fortifying each side of the barren, dirt road.

“And that would be…” Her voice trails, beckoning an answer. Peter’s lips just quirk up as he answers with an enigmatic, “you’ll see.”

When his car approached the clearing and came to a steady break, he turned to Julia expectantly. She was already staring back at him, a teasing smile tugging the corners of her notably, chapped lips. “Peter, you know jumping off a cliff because your friends do is just an expression.”

He chuckles and pretends not to view the red lines surrounding her pupils. But the emerald eyes, like beacons facing him only, aided to make the red stand out more.

“Stargazing?” She guesses before he could answer for her.

“The sky’s going to be so clear of clouds tonight we’ll be able to see Venus. And maybe Mercury, if we’re lucky.”

“I feel pretty lucky to be here tonight, I don’t know about you.” She replies. An adoring smile stretches on Peter’s lips as he feels the warmth subdue his insides again, and the sensation of her hand entering his own and squeezing it.

Minutes later, they were sat on the hood of his car with a blanket sprawled over there bodies. While their hands were laced together, that was the most contact either felt comfortable with at the moment. They stared up in silence, Peter breaking it to point out any various constellations he could discern in the twinkling sky. When he broke it another time, what he inquired startled the girl beside him.

“What did you say your little brother’s name was?”  

Her voice wavered in her answer, and she shifted her body slightly against the vehicle. “Uh…Ch-Charlie.” Peter glanced down to see her lips pressed against each other in a line.

“Julia…”

“It was his anniversary today…” Her eyes fell closed, her forehead clenching in attempts to disguise the sadness which had been building on her features all night.  “I-I’m so sorry Peter I wanted to tell you…”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” She shook her head furiously back and forth. “B-because I even forgot today. All I could focus on was our date and I didn’t even realize what day it was until I checked the calendar and…I felt so guilty. I-I feel selfish.”

“Don’t be. You could have canceled, I wouldn’t have felt bad.”

“But I would’ve.” Her voice was blubbering and strained as she rested a hand to her chest. “It would have been so last-minute and-and I hate being the bearer of bad news. I couldn’t…and I thought I could keep it together…”

“You don’t need to. Come here.” His hand leaves hers to extend his arms to fit her frame, and Julia wastes no time falling into his comforting hold. She soaked the cotton hoodie with her tears, clenching it tight against her fist while Peter ensured to embrace her even tighter. “I don’t want to speak for your brother…but I imagine he’s proud of you. He’s watching over us right now, I’m sure of it.”

Julia removes her head from his hoodie-clad torso, forcing a laugh as she swipes at her leaking eyes. “You think?” Her scratchy voice asks. Peter only smirks and juts a finger to the open sky.

“My mom always said to always look out for the brightest stars, because they’re the most important.” Both move their eyes away from each other’s gazes and transfix them onto Venus, who was glinting back at them in all its beauty. Julia was caught in a trance for a few moments, absorbing the sight. And while the planet did hold a glorious brightness, Peter’s certain the sparkle reflected in her eye’s was lighter.

“Thanks, Peter.” She turns to him, chest rising and falling with slow breaths. “I needed that.”

“Of course,” he delivers a sincere nod, before sitting up and sliding off of the hood. “Now, onto the actual surprise.” Julia perks up also, staring at him puzzled.

“What?”

“Oh come on, you didn’t think I just brought you here to stare at the stars. I had to make it fun for both of us.” He rolls his eyes and opens the door to the car’s backseat, screening himself from Julia’s view.

“But I was having fun!” She insists, further curling herself into the blanket due to the recent absence of warmth.

“Well, then you’re going to have a field day when I show you what I got!” Peter exclaims. The sound of a door shutting is heard, and he quickly shuffles to situate himself beside Julia. She turns to peek behind his back, where his hand was hidden with what she presumes to be the so-called “real surprise” she would “have a field day” over.

“What you got there, Mendes?” She asks, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“Oh, only the book you got grounded a week over and never got to finish…” He nonchalantly reveals the hardcover novel with a sly grin. Julia’s eyes bulged as she marveled the cover, now looking all too familiar in her vision.

“Wha—I—how did you…?”

“For a girl who’s on a first-name basis with the librarian I’m surprised you never asked her about the book.” That was Peter’s first hunting site when he demanded over his and Julia’s string of text messages for her to recount everything she remembers about the legendary lost book. She shared any pieces of lines or quotes she could remember, character names, an estimated number of pages. But no details stuck out to Peter in particular, therefore, Phyllis was the only reliable source he could contact quickly for the information.

“She knew?” Her eyes grew wider in disbelief.

His lips twitched slightly downward. “Not exactly.” He described his quest to the library to Julia, and the desperate pleas in his voice for Phyllis to find the book after an internet search resulted in no contenders. The book sounded as foreign to the woman as it did Peter, which left the boy hopeless in despair and Phyllis shrugging, saying he could search the non-fiction sections as much as he would like before the library locked their doors.

“Peter,” Julia gasps, “that library’s like, six levels!”

“Yeah, but a good third of it was educational stuff. You’d be surprised at how scant their non-fiction section is, honestly. How did you not find it before?” This earns him a small smack to his torso, very much guarded by the hoodie, and barely felt due to the playfulness in Julia’s physical anger. Afterward, though, she kept her hand there and peered up into his eyes with a lovesick stare. Whether or not this night led to further rendezvous—and lord, she hoped it did—she would be eternally grateful for the trouble Peter went through to scout this book out.

“Alright, enough staring! You have the book now!” Peter cheers with a chuckle. She laughs along with him and returns her eyes to the long-lost treasure in his secure grip. When she reaches out for it, Peter stops her and pulls the book away. He takes his free hand to rest against her warm cheek, grazing his thumb just below her tired eyes.

“Your eyes have done enough work for the day.” He states. “Let me.” With this, he takes a reading light resting behind him and clips it to the back of the book, turning it on.

“Alright,” he begins flicking pages rapidly to near the end. “You said the last three chapters?”

Julia hums, “start from the beginning,” and places her head onto his shoulder. The stars teeter in the sky and ogle at the couple below them, who were too busy being transported to a different world. “I don’t want to forget a single thing about this.” Peter considers her words held a second meaning to them but did not want to keep her waiting long. So, he stores the question in the back of his mind, for another day, and opts for flipping back to one of the first pages sewn to the book’s spine as the lady requested.

He begins reading aloud, filling the silent clearing with noise once more. “The sky has a peculiar way of being relative to everyone…”

#Shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #sm #sprm #Shawn Mendes Imagine #Shawn Mendes imagines #Shawn Mendes fanfic #Shawn Mendes fanfiction #Shawn Mendes blurbs #Shawn Mendes blurb #shawn mendes oneshots #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes smut #Shawn Mendes angst #shawn mendes au #mendes triplets #mendes triplets au #Peter mendes #Peter Mendes imagine #Raul Mendes #raul mendes imagine

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Void - Part 5 (M)

title banner by @jiminiethot♡

Genre: Sci-fi with a little angst and a LOT of smut

Pairing: BTS x Reader (yup - all seven)

Summary: You are the only female crew member on a 12 year space mission with seven handsome men. The sexual tension is real, y’all.

Word Count: 12.9k

Part 5 / ?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Warnings: explicit sexual content, slight degradation, angst

Raindrops pitter-patter against the windows of the office. Thunder rolls in the distance. The secretary ignores you, typing rapidly on her keyboard and refusing to make eye contact.

You fidget with your hem, pulling it down over your knees, uncomfortable in the first dress you've worn in months. The sky is dark. The air is humid but cold from the air conditioner running full blast in the corner. It's August, but the secretary has a sweater and jacket on. She came prepared, unlike you, shivering in your sleeveless charcoal suit-dress.

The phone at her desk rings and she picks it up. "Yes, she's here," she replies to the man on the phone, then looks over at you. "The Director will see you now." She gives you a pitying smile, gesturing to the door beside her.

You stand up and draw your shoulders back, adjusting your skirt one more time. Your heels clack loudly against the tile floor, a contrast to the more comfortable training sneakers you usually wore in this building. You hesitate at the heavy oak door, wondering if you should knock.

"You can go on in," the secretary says, trying to encourage you. You give her a small smile and a nod before turning the door knob.

______________

Ringing sounds fill your ears. The voices around you muffle and the edges of your vision darken. Your knees crumple.  As your knees are about to hit the floor, thin arms catch you around your middle and Hoseok’s warm chest presses against your back.

“Easy,” he says. “Sit down.” He lowers you gently to the floor. “Head between your knees.”

The cold aluminum floor is reassuringly solid beneath you. You bend forward, lowering your head to your legs. Hoseok squats next to you, placing his hand on your lower back.

“Breathe,” he insists.  His hand slides up your back. “Inhale.” The hand moves down again. “Exhale.”

The ringing in your ears begins to abate and your vision clears. Yoongi squats down opposite Hoseok.

“Jin,” Yoongi radios. “We need you by the sleep pods. She’s fainted.”

“I haven’t fainted,” you grumble, resenting sounding like a Victorian lady without her smelling salts.

All the sleep pod doors whoosh open around you. Taehyung, Jungkook, and Jimin spill out with various degrees of confusion and worry on their faces, clustering around you on the floor. Jimin’s still clutching the bloody towel to his nose.

“Is she okay?” Jungkook asks.

“I’m fine!” You wave your hands in frustration, trying to get them to back off, claustrophobic from being surrounded by these fussing men.

“We need to get her to the infirmary.” Yoongi moves toward you, arms reaching for you, but you flinch away.

“Back off, Yoongi.” Hoseok places himself between the two of you.  “I’ve got her.” Yoongi’s mouth opens, as if to object, but as he scans Hoseok’s face, he falters. He closes his mouth then retreats.

“I need to talk to Namjoon,” you argue, trying to stand. You have to stop the video transmission. But the moment you get your feet under you, the world tilts again.

Hoseok intervenes. “Apologies,” he says as he scoops you into his arms. You want to object, but Hoseok’s so solid around you that you don’t have the heart. You rest your head against his chest and he’s already moving.

“Jin, meet us in the infirmary,” Yoongi radios as he and the others trail after you.

______________

The Mission Director has his back to you as you enter, examining something on the computer in front of him. You wait. He starts typing something. "Just one moment," he mutters, followed by "you can close the door."

You shut the door behind you and wait, shifting between your feet, wondering if you should have worn shorter heels. Perhaps these were too feminine. Professional attire was a nightmare. You needed to be attractive and presentable, but couldn't be too sexy or too girly. You much preferred your training jumpsuit.

“Please take a seat.” The director turns around and gestures to the chair in front of his desk.

You sit on the edge of the chair. Now is not the time to get comfortable, your whole future rests on what happens in this room now.

“I’m afraid I have some bad news.” The Director takes off his glasses, cleaning them with his tie, and clears his throat. "I'm sure Miss Lee has already spoken to you." You nod. "But she withdrew from the mission yesterday."

Your colleague had called you in tears last night, begging you to forgive her for pulling out of the mission. Of course, you couldn't blame her. It was too much to ask someone to leave Earth for twelve years if their heart wasn't in it. And Dianna's heart was decidedly stuck on Earth. This is why you don't date people. You assured her of your forgiveness, but now your team was down another member.

The Director sighs and you know he's preparing to deliver the blow that will crush all your hopes and dreams. "So that means the women's crew is now down to five. It's just not enough people to properly man the Minos."

What an ironic choice of words. As if they had ever really planned on letting your team "woman the Minos". While the ICSE had made a big show of preparing both a men's and women's team for the mission so they could appear fair and unbiased to the media, the men's team had always been better trained and better funded.

"You could recruit more women." You can't let him squash everything you've worked for so easily.

"There aren't enough women with the proper training." The Director continues to make a big show of cleaning his glasses so he doesn't have to meet your gaze. "And it would take too much time to train them now."

It's bullshit. There weren't enough women with the proper training because the ICSE hadn't recruited enough in the first place. They started with over 30 male trainees, but only 10 women. More men had dropped out along the way.

"I thought the men's team was also incomplete." You were up all last night mulling over what you could say to prevent him from canceling your mission.

"We have seven highly qualified men. They've shown great group cohesion in training scenarios and have bonded well as a group. They'll be a stellar crew for the Minos."

You cringe at the way he speaks as if the decision is already made. You can see your dreams of space slipping through your fingers with each passing moment.

But then the Director adds, "They just need a biologist and they'll be ready."

"I'm a biologist." You feel a pang of remorse that you are so easy to abandon the other women you’ve trained with for years. But they would understand. One of you going was better than none of you going. And you were the only biologist.

He looks up, squinting at you. You let the awkwardness linger until he looks away again, shuffling the papers on his desk. "We already have several promising candidates."

Several promising male candidates. "Are they trained yet?"

"Well, no, not yet." He shifts in his chair.

"You're delaying the mission timeline then?" This was your way in, just keep it all about the good of the mission.

"Well..." He frowns. "We would have to delay either way, neither the men's or women's teams will be ready for our original timeline."

"Send me with the men." You lean forward in your seat. The Director opens his mouth to object, but you cut him off. "I've been training for over two years. I have a PhD in Biology with research experience in both Astrobiology and Botany. I've logged 300 hours in the mission simulator. You won't find another candidate with better qualifications."

But the Director just shakes his head. "We think it's a bad idea to send mixed gendered crews."

_____________

The “infirmary” is a fold-out cot in the corner of the kitchen, along with some basic medical instruments stashed in the walls.  The ICSE couldn’t waste precious space on a room that would almost never be used. Luckily, you were all healthy young people and there weren’t any other humans to contract contagious diseases from.

The whole crew received emergency medical training as part of the pre-flight preparations, but Jin had the most experience, having worked as an EMT to pay his way through college. He’d been elevated to de facto medic for your crew in addition to pilot. The trip has been uneventful so far though. Jungkook sliced open his palm with a screwdriver once and Hoseok had a month where he was barfing every time the gravity turned off, but that’s about it.

Jin rushes in ahead of you and Hoseok to unfold the cot, which Hoseok gingerly sets you down on. The rest of the crew hovers in the doorway.

“Hoseok,” Jin mutters as he takes your wrist in his hand to check your pulse. “I hate to say this, but I need you on the bridge.”

“But-” Hoseok objects, then stops, mouth flattening into a frown. He looks at you.

“It’s okay, Hoseok.” You muster the best smile you can, despite the trembling in your hands. “I’m alright. Thank you.”

Hoseok nods and leaves to take over command of the bridge.

“And the rest of you.” Jin turns to the others. “You’ve been confined to quarters.”

A chorus of objections meets this statement, all the men arguing, shaking their heads and looking at you. None of them budge. Jin frowns, but turns back to give you his full attention.

“Do you know where you are?” he asks, taking your chin in his hand and scanning back and forth between your eyes.

“Yes.”

He arches an eyebrow. “I’m going to need to you to be more specific.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m on the Spaceship Minos. The year is 2072. We’re just under 200 million kilometers away from Earth,” you recite in monotone. “I’m fine, Jin. Just a bit of a panic attack.”

“The only way to diagnose a panic attack is to eliminate all other potential causes.” Jin argues. “Now, follow my finger with your eyes.”

“I need to talk to the commander,” you object, but comply, following his finger with your eyes as it moves in a box around your peripheral vision. You need Namjoon to stop the emergency broadcast or the entire ICSE is going to see you blowing your crew member on camera.

Luckily, you hear your commander in the hallway only moments later.

“What are you all doing here?” Namjoon’s voice echoes through the corridor before he appears in the doorway. “Get back to your quarters immediately.”

There are no objections this time, just sullen glares and crossed arms as the rest of the crew slink back to their sleep pods. Yoongi lingers the longest, watching you.

“Jin and I will take care of her,” the commander says more softly. You bristle at the implication that you need any man to take care of you and scowl at the floor.

Namjoon enters the kitchen and you try to rise up off the cot, but are stopped by Jin's hand on your shoulder.

"Commander," you address Namjoon, squirming out from under Jin's hand. "you need to stop the transmission to Earth. Please."

Namjoon frowns and gestures for you to take a seat. You stop squirming.

"It's standard protocol to send all footage back when there's an altercation,” he says. “So the ICSE knows what's going on."

"But can't I just tell you?” you plead.  “Do they have to see it?"

Jin is still fussing over you, getting out the stethoscope. "Deep breath in," he says as he places the cold metal disc to your chest. You breathe in.

Namjoon scans your face. ”What is it that you don't want them to see?"

Your heart beats faster.

"Namjoon," Jin interrupts. "Can’t the interrogation wait until after she's stable?”

"I'm fine, Jin,” you try to argue, pushing his hands away from you.

"Your heart is racing and you're sweating," Jin argues. He opens a cabinet in the wall to fish out a new machine.

"Jin!" you object. "I don't need the freaking EKG!"

"Yes, you do!" he insists, pulling the electrodes from the wall. "Don't make me give you a sedative."

You sit still, but keep your eyes focused on the commander. ”Please, stop the transmission, Namjoon."

Namjoon thinks for a moment, hand on his chin. ”Alright.” He nods and you breathe a sigh of relief. "I'll pause it, pending investigation. I don't know how much will have gone through already, but I'll wait to decide about the rest until after we've talked."  Namjoon gets up to leave. "Let Jin check you out while I go send some messages."

"Can you lie down?" Jin asks as the commander disappears into the hall. You nod, scooting down onto the cot and closing your eyes. The beeping of your heartbeat on the EKG monitor finally begins to slow.

_____________

"We think it's a bad idea to send mixed gendered crews." The Director pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

"I've been training alongside those men for years!" you argue. "I've known Hoseok since college."

"You and Officer Jung went to school together?" He shuffles his papers, looking for confirmation.

"We did." You’ve known Hoseok the longest of any of the fellow trainees. You ran in the same circles in college, never close but always friendly. You don't know the other men as well, but they have all been polite and professional in your trainings together.

"Do you two have romantic history together?" The Director raises an eyebrow in suspicion.

It takes every fiber of self-control in your body to not stand up and walk out. "No." You fight to keep your voice steady even as your hands begin to shake with rage. Why was it the assumption that you must be sleeping with your fellow trainees? "Hoseok and I have always had a strictly professional working relationship."

The Director shakes his head like he doesn't believe you. "The dynamics of mixed gender crews are complicated." He doesn't elaborate.

"In what way, sir?" You're not going to let him squash your dreams just because the conversation is a bit awkward. If he's going to fire you for your sex, then he better damn-well spell it out. At least then you'd have something to take to the media.

"Well there's the issue of sex." He wrinkles his nose in distaste that you've finally made him say it and starts cleaning his glasses again.

"Are you saying the men you hired for this mission aren't professionals?"

"No, no, they are stellar candidates."

"Are you saying I'm not a professional?"

"No, no..." He shakes his head as beads of sweat break out on his forehead. "But even when everyone is a professional, one can still get distracted by attraction."

"Are you saying men can't be attracted to other men?" You lean forward, seeing the corner you can back him into before he does.

"No," he sputters. "But none of our men are..."

"Have you asked them that?"

"No! No!" His eyes widen. "Of course not! That would be illegal."

You nod, letting him stew in the implications of his statement a little longer. "So it seems that attraction could be a problem with any crew, regardless of gender."

He frowns, looking at the wall behind you, racking his brain for a new excuse. He finds one. "If the crew is all the same sex, there is no risk of pregnancy."

"So it's the risk of pregnancy that prevents me from joining the men's crew?"

"Yes, yes, that's right." He begins to relax, like he finally thinks he's found a reason you can't go. "There's no medically safe or economical way to prevent pregnancy for that long."

"So if I was sterile, then I could go?"

He sits up taller in his chair, taken aback. "But you're not…” He turns to the computer to check your medical file. “Are you?" He has underestimated just how much you're willing to give up for this mission.

Thunder rolls in the distance as you realize your only option. Your dream of space calls more than the dream of being a mother. It's only with a small painful pang that you reply, "I'll get a tubal ligation. Then there's no reason not to send me."

"What? We couldn't possibly ask that of you." He stands up. You stand up too, seeing your chance to exit this conversation on top.

"You're not asking. I'm doing this of my own free volition. I'll take a couple weeks of medical leave, then come back, ready to join the mission on schedule." You begin to back toward the door. "If that is alright with you, sir." You make a show of deferring to his final say, even though you've really left him no choice at this point.

He looks stunned. "Um, yes, okay. I guess that will be the plan then."

You smile. "I look forward to launch, sir."

_____________

You lie on the cot in the infirmary for a long time, somewhere between asleep and awake. It must be the middle of the night by now, but Namjoon has left the gravity on. No one is sleeping until your commander has talked to everyone and rendered a verdict.

Jin has stopped fussing over you and is sitting at the kitchen table, reading something on his tablet. You're grateful for the silent company. He hasn't asked you what happened, just monitored your heartbeat.

"How is she?" Namjoon asks from the doorway.

"Fine." Jin stands up and you open your eyes. "Just a panic attack. All vitals are normal."

"So can I talk to her now, doctor?" Namjoon adds the teasing title and Jin smiles.  

"Yes, I'll get out of your way,” he replies, removing the electrodes from your back and chest and packing the EKG back into the wall. "Should I relieve Hoseok from the bridge?"

"Please." Namjoon nods and Jin heads out, leaving you alone with your commander in the kitchen. You get up off the cot and stand in front of it, not wanting to take what’s coming next sitting down.

Namjoon crosses his arms and sighs, scanning you up and down. It's good the EKG is no longer hooked up so he can't hear how your heart rate skyrockets. Has he watched the video by now? Has he seen you naked? Did he watch you moan and call out for your whole crew? You cover your torso with your arms as if you could block him from seeing through your jumpsuit.

Namjoon fishes into his pocket and pulls out the incriminating memory card, looking down at it and frowning. Your fingers itch to snatch it out of his hands and crush it beneath your heel. There's a deep shameful pain that he's holding all your most embarrassing secrets in the palm of his hand and you can't do anything about it.

"So if I were to watch this," he asks, turning the card over in his hands. "What would I see?"

You close your eyes and exhale. He hasn't watched it yet. He continues to be the thoughtful cautious man you have always trusted to lead this mission. Your hands tremble slightly as you resist the urge to collapse back onto the cot behind you.

"Um..." You have trouble gathering your thoughts. "I'm not sure how to explain it."

Namjoon nods. "Take your time. I've already asked the men involved."

"What did they say?” Your voice is higher pitched than you want it to be. How did Yoongi explain his way through this? How did it end up in Taehyung's hands? Why did Taehyung tell Jimin?

“They refused to tell me.” Namjoon rubs his hand over the crease in his forehead slowly. “Insisted that I ask you instead.” He turns the card over slowly as he looks down at it. “Yoongi had some choice words about how it was none of my business.” He looks up at you. “But it is my business if it’s causing fights among my crew members.”

"It's, umm..." Your palms begins sweating. “A sexual indiscretion."

Namjoon’s eyes widen. “With whom?”

“Um, Yoongi…” You shuffle your feet and look at the floor. “Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow as he looks down at the little memory card.

““It’s a video of me” -you catch yourself about to start biting your fingernails and yank your hand away from your face- “masturbating. Yoongi filmed it.”

“Oh, I see.” A muscle in his jaw tenses, but he keeps staring at the card. ““So you and Yoongi are in a sexual relationship?”

“No.” You shake your head furiously. Namjoon finally makes eye contact and looks confused. “Not anymore,” you clarify.

“Did anyone coerce or pressure you?”

You shake your head again.

“Were you filmed without your knowledge?”

“No, no, nothing like that.” You swallow and look at the floor. “It was my idea.”

“It was your idea to film sexually explicit activities with our mission equipment?” Namjoon shakes his head in disbelief. “Why?”

You open and close your mouth to try to explain but can’t find the words. Nothing about this makes sense when you try to explain it now. Each step felt like it made sense at the time, but now you have no idea how you got here.

“How is Jimin involved in all this?” Namjoon tries again when the silence has lingered for too long.

Your face burns hot. “I was planning to give it to him.”

“Oh.”

You can’t bear to look up and see what your commander must think of you right now. The silence is unbearable.

“But I deleted it!” you stammer. “As soon as we filmed it, I deleted it. I never wanted anyone to see it."

“Then how did it get to Taehyung?”

“Yoongi must have made a second copy. Then Jungkook found it in the workshop.” You rub the back of your neck. “Not sure how it got to Taehyung actually.”

Namjoon frowns. “And what is in the ship's camera footage that you don't want sent back to Earth?"

You sigh and sag your shoulders in defeat. "Another, um, sexual indiscretion. In the greenhouse."

"With who?"

Fuck. The fact that he even has to ask.

"Yoongi."

Namjoon sighs and sits down in a chair next to the kitchen table, rubbing his forehead. "You know that there's nothing wrong with having sexual urges. If you want to be in a relationship with Yoongi, that's okay."

“It is?” You ask, before crossing your arms and adding. “But I don’t.”

"The ICSE knew this was likely to happen. Well,” he chuckles softly under his breath, “maybe not this exactly. But you can only keep people together in confined quarters for so long before ‘indiscretions’ happen."

You frown as you imagine your mission director’s smug face as he knowingly nods along with your commander. He smugly grins at the other directors and says “I told you mixed gender crews were a bad idea,” as they crowd around their monitors, watching you get down on your knees for your flight engineer.

“It won’t happen again.” You grit your teeth. “I promise you that.”

Namjoon’s eyebrows lift upward in surprise. “It’s okay. As long as everything is consensual and kept to your personal time. The ICSE has no say over our personal lives.”

“Oh.” You fidget with the pockets of your jumpsuit. It can’t be that easy, can it? He’s wrong. The ICSE has say over everything. It’s not like you can just choose to leave. You sigh in frustration. “It’s not that easy, Namjoon. What about the rest of the crew?”

Jimin’s “you could have me if you wanted me” flashes through your mind followed by Jungkook’s “I think I’m in love with you.” Does Namjoon even know all the problems your mistakes have unleashed?

Namjoon stands up again.  “Look, what I can’t have is secrets. You saw what it did to us today. Sex is fine. It’s the lying and secret keeping that will destroy us. You need to decide what you want to do, and then you need to disclose it to the rest of the crew.” You open your mouth but your question dies on your tongue. He seems to sense it anyways. “We’re all grown men and we can suck it up.”

You nod, heat licking up and down your neck.

Namjoon begins bringing this conversation to an end. "If you want to engage in a sexual relationship, there is a form that needs to be sent to HR, indicating that everything is consensual. And the crew needs to be informed. But other than that, it's entirely up to you to decide what you want to do. When did the indiscretion in the greenhouse occur?"

"Yesterday evening,” you reply. “After the group meeting."  

Your commander frowns, stroking his chin. ”I have to send back all the footage of the altercation, but I don't need to send back any of the rest. Though I don't know how much went through before I stopped it."

"Thank you, commander." Your heart floods with gratitude even as the unease in your stomach lingers.

He crosses his arms. “This isn’t over. You violated protocol and endangered our mission. I need to see all five of you in my office. Now.”

__________

You haven’t been in the commander’s office since your first tour of the Minos, back when it was still in orbit around the Earth. The commander is the only person who has a real bedroom, though it still isn’t all that big. With you, Yoongi, Jungkook, Jimin and Taehyung all crowded in, there’s almost no room left. The five of you have to stand shoulder-to-shoulder to fit in front of his desk.

The desk is covered in papers. Namjoon has fashioned a chain of rubber bands stretching across the desk to hold his papers in their careful chaotic placement when the gravity shuts off.  His lone personal item, a small bonsai tree, sits in one corner and his sleeping bag is tucked away in the opposite side. Even your commander didn’t get an actual bed.

Namjoon leans against his desk, arms crossed as the five of you fidget in front of him. Jungkook keeps looking at you and then immediately looking away whenever you make eye contact. The rest have their eyes fixed to the floor, preparing for a reprimand.

Jimin’s nose has thankfully stopped bleeding and he has abandoned the bloody towel. Blue-purple bruising spreads across the bridge of his nose and under each eye. It looks swollen and painful and swamps you with regret. You may as well have been the one who punched him in the face with all your irresponsible decisions.

Namjoon draws in a breath and pulls his shoulders back.

“This situation is completely unacceptable.” His tone is the harshest you’ve ever heard it. “Secrecy. Brawling. Pornography.” The tips of your ears burn with shame. “I’m embarrassed about the report that I have to send to the ICSE.”  

The commander lets the guilt-filled silence linger as he stares each of you down in turn. Jimin sniffles through his swollen nose. You try to meet Namjoon’s gaze, but it hurts too much.

The commander sighs. “Sexual attraction is bound to happen. We’re only human. As long as it’s consensual, properly documented, and doesn’t interfere with your mission duties, sexual activity is fine. That’s not the problem.”

Jungkook raises a tentative hand into the air, looking for permission to speak. Namjoon nods.

“What does properly documented mean?”

“There’s some HR forms to fill out,” your commander explains. “Would have been simple.” The disgust in his voice makes you desperate to flee the room. “But instead you all chose to play games and keep secrets and have fistfights in the hangar. It’s unacceptable.”

Taehyung flinches at the way Namjoon spits this last criticism and Jimin sniffles again.

“All of you will be receiving disciplinary action.” Namjoon turns around and picks up a stack of papers from his desk, shuffling through them before turning to you. “Starting with our science officer, for misuse of mission equipment and conduct unbecoming of an officer, you will receive 48 hours confinement, an official reprimand and loss of a half month’s pay.”

You exhale in relief. Your fears of being locked in your quarters for the next six months dissipate and you almost feel like you got off too easy. The official reprimand was a black mark on your record, but light in comparison to your sex tape being sent to Earth.

Namjoon fishes into his pocket and pulls out the memory card once again. “You are to delete this file and return the empty card to me as soon as possible. The only reason I didn’t delete it myself was because I didn’t want you to think I had watched it.”

You nod in understanding and slip the drive into the pocket of your jumpsuit, still unable to meet your commander’s eyes.

“Chief Engineer Min,” Namjoon addresses to Yoongi. “For misuse of mission equipment and conduct unbecoming of an officer, you will also receive 48 hours confinement, an official reprimand and loss of a half month’s pay.”

What? That doesn’t seem right. You were the one who started all of this, you were the one who asked Yoongi to help you. He shouldn’t be getting the same sentence as you. Yoongi sucks in a breath through his teeth, but he bites his tongue and continues to stare at the floor.

“Payload specialist.” Your commander turns now to Jungkook. “For conduct unbecoming of an officer and failure to report misconduct, you will receive 72 hours confinement, an official reprimand and loss of one month’s pay.”

This time you gasp out loud. Jungkook shudders. “Permission to speak?” he asks and Namjoon nods. “Please Commander,” Jungkook begs. “My mom relies on that money.”

“Perhaps you should have thought of that before you went around sharing explicit videos of your crew members.”

Jungkook bites his trembling lower lip. “Isn’t there anything else I can do Commander?”

“Fine.” Namjoon crosses his arms. “Dish and commode duties for a month. And I’m still docking half a month’s pay.”

Jungkook nods. “Thank you commander.”

You want to object. Why would Jungkook’s punishment be worse than yours? It was your fault that he stumbled across your explicit video. Why were the men being hit so hard when this was clearly all your fault? But you keep your mouth closed.

“Payload Commander”- It’s Taehyung’s turn -“For conduct unbecoming of an officer, failure to report misconduct, and instigating a conflict with a crew member, you will receive the same as Jungkook, with the addition of mandatory weekly check-ins with a therapist back on Earth for the next six months.” Taehyung accepts his sentence without objection.

“And finally our Mission Specialist”- Jimin sniffles and looks up at the Commander-“For conduct unbecoming of an officer and endangering the lives of your crew members, you will receive one week in solitary confinement, weekly mandatory therapy, and the loss of two months pay.”

“Commander!” Taehyung objects.

“It’s fine.” Jimin shuffles his feet. “Probably deserve worse.”

“No, you don’t!” Taehyung sputters.

“Do you want to make it a month of solitary?” Namjoon’s deep voice echoes in the small space, but Taehyung stands his ground.

“If Jimin gets a week, then I should too.”

“Just stop, Tae.” Jimin’s voice cracks, but you can’t see his face and he remains resolutely facing the floor.  

“He didn’t endanger my life!” Taehyung continues to argue, gesticulating at the commander.

“Enough.” Namjoon cuts him off. "Did you forget that we live on a spacecraft?” His tone is incredulous. “Did you forget that only millimeters of siding separate us from the vacuum of space?”

Taehyung drops his arms to his side in frustration, but doesn’t object further.

“We are all alone out here. We have no one but each other. If something goes wrong, it could mean the death of every member of this crew. You’re lucky it was just a bloody nose. What if one of you had fractured a rib? You’d be dead. Or you’d be permanently disabled and unable to assist with the mission. Or you’d be in constant pain for the next twelve years with nothing we could do about it. It's a risk to the life of every person on this ship.  It's entirely unacceptable and no matter what you think you were doing, there is no justification for it. If I can't trust you to put that ahead of anything else, then I can't trust you to do this mission at all."

The whole room is silent. The mountain of shame inside you grows larger as you are forced to stew in all of the even worse repercussions that might have come from your lack of professionalism. It seemed entirely unfair that every man in the room had a harsher sentence than you, when it was all your fault in the first place.

"Dismissed." Namjoon ends the official reprimand. "All confinement begins now."

___________

48 hours is a long time to do nothing but stare at the walls of your sleep pod.

Solitary confinement means no computer, no work, no talking to anyone else, nothing to do but stare at the walls and regret your life choices. You had been able to kill ten minutes with the excuse that you needed to use your computer to delete the video off the memory card.  But you'd then had to hand over both the empty memory card and your personal laptop to Jin. You'd get the laptop back in forty-eight hours, but the pornographic video was finally gone.

You get a meal three times a day, delivered by Hoseok. His cheery "breakfast time!" and "lunch time!" greetings are the only way you can tell how much time has passed. If he is mad at having to do all your chores, he doesn't show it. You can hear Hoseok deliver all of Yoongi's meals too, but Yoongi doesn't get any cheerful greetings.

It would be easiest if you could sleep away the time, but the pod is not large enough to lie down when the gravity is on. You pulled down your sleeping bag and fashioned it into a donut on the floor that you can curl into and drift in and out of consciousness.

The chatter on the radio provides your only other source of information about what's happening outside your room. But it's much quieter than normal. Makes sense considering five of your eight crew members are sentenced to radio silence.  

It's long after Hoseok has delivered dinner that you hear a new noise. A soft tapping sound coming from the wall in front of you. You're tired and you shake it off, trying to sleep. But it's impossible to sleep now that the gravity is off and you'd spent all day dozing.

Two taps again. Then silence.

It's coming from Yoongi's sleep pod. You cross your arms and huff in annoyance. What is he doing in there?

As much as you blame yourself for what happened, you blame the flight engineer just as much. It may have been your idea to make the video, but you had thought better of it and deleted it, like a sensible person. It was Yoongi who had violated your trust and made a copy without your permission. It's because of Yoongi that Jungkook and Taehyung have now seen you naked. It's because of Yoongi that you now have an official reprimand on your record.

There's a loud thumping sound, followed again by two quick taps.

What is his problem? You kick the wall, trying to get him to shut up and go to bed. These walls are too thin.

But Yoongi takes that as a sign that you are finally listening. He taps several times in a row, then pauses and repeats the two taps.

What does he want? You turn your back and try to ignore him, but he keeps going. Pausing for 10 seconds or so, then tapping twice. Pause. Two taps. Pause. Two taps.

Two. As in channel two. You swear under your breath before switching your radio over to channel two, the channel for private conversations that you don't want broadcast to the rest of the ship.

"We're only supposed to use the radios for emergency purposes." You glare at the wall in front of you.

"I need to talk to you."

"I have nothing to say to you."

"Look," he rushes, voice quiet but urgent."I know I'm an idiot. I never should have left that card where Jungkook could find it."

"Well, I agree that you are an idiot."

"I know, I know. But no one goes in there but me!"

"That's not the point, Yoongi! Why did you have a copy at all?

"What?" His voice pitches upward, feigning innocence. But you're not having it.

"You made a copy without my consent!"

"No, I didn't..."

"Yes, you did! Why else would it exist?"

"But I thought..." He trails off, sounding less confident than he did a moment ago.

"You thought what? You thought I wanted the whole crew to see my sex tape?" You pour all of your regrets into your frustrated whispers into your radio. "I deleted it so this exact thing would never happen! What the fuck is wrong with you?" You kick hard against the floor of your pod and go sailing upward.

Yoongi's anger flares in response to yours. "You didn't tell me you deleted it!" he fires back. "You said you were giving it to Jimin!"

"Oh." You have to brace yourself with your hands before you crash into the ceiling.

“And all our cameras automatically write to two SD cards. There is always a backup."

"Oh." You bounce up and down between the floor and ceiling slowly.

"The second card was already in the camera," he explains."I thought you put it there. I thought you knew.”

Your ears being to burn. That was an aspect of how the mission cameras work that you had forgotten about. “No, I didn’t.”

“Oh.” Yoongi pauses, though you can still hear his breath through the radio. "Well, I thought you did."

You are forced to face the uncomfortable sensation of suddenly feeling like you're in the wrong, while still being quite pissed about the whole thing. This can't be all your fault too. He can't talk his way out of this without even so much as an apology.

"No, no, no," you argue, shaking your head even though he can't see you."Don't you turn this around on me. You snuck that card out of the camera without asking me. You were all 'Don't worry. I'll put the camera away for you.'"

"I was trying to be nice!"

"You were trying to get some extra jerk-off material!" You whisper-shout into the radio, dropping your voice lower so that the rest of the crew doesn't catch on to your secret conversation. "You should have asked, Yoongi."

There's a long pause. "I thought you would say no."

"I'm done talking to you."

You switch off your radio and cross your arms. You hear him say something through the wall, but the sound is muffled by the kevlar that lines the walls and you can't make it out.

There are two taps on the wall again. Then a pause.

Then three taps.

Then silence.

__________

Namjoon calls to let you know your 48 hours are up and you burst from your pod, desperate to stretch your legs.  

Yoongi's door opens at the same time.

Yoongi looks the way you feel. His face is puffy and dark circles surround each of his eyes. His hair sticks up haphazardly. You make eye contact and he opens his mouth, licking his lips as if preparing to say something. But you don't give him a chance, spinning on your heel and heading for the kitchen before he can talk you into forgiving him.

To your annoyance, Yoongi follows you. You can't reasonably object to him also going in search of food. Hoseok never showed up with dinner.

You and Yoongi reach the kitchen to find Hoseok sitting alone at the table, munching on cereal and reading his tablet.

Hoseok looks up at the two of you and smiles. "Thank God its over!" he says. "I really need people to talk to. Jin and I have been on opposite shifts for two days and Namjoon's not been in a real chatty mood."

Both you and Yoongi chuckle half-heartedly. Neither of you are in a chatty mood either. You retrieve a box of cereal and a carton of powdered milk from the pantry, not wanting to bother cooking anything.

"I guess Jungkook and Taehyung have a day left," Hoseok continues, "and Jimin has five."

Yoongi has the same food plan that you do, so he stays in your personal space, reaching around you for his choice of cereal, hovering behind you at the water tap while you rehydrate your milk.

"Can't believe Namjoon put five crew members in solitary at once." Hoseok keeps trying to talk over the silent tension between you and Yoongi. "If it were me, I would have staggered them out so we weren't so short-staffed."

A large pile of dishes sits in the sink, unusual given the general tidiness of your crew. "Is that why no one's doing their dishes?" you ask.

"Nah." Hoseok shakes his head. "Namjoon said to leave them for Jungkook and Taehyung."

Yoongi and you both join Hoseok at the table with your cereal and the lingering awkward silence returns.

Hoseok finishes his cereal, but stays at the the table, looking between you and Yoongi. "Must have been something big to piss Namjoon off like this."

Yoongi chokes on his cereal, coughing. "Namjoon didn't tell you?"

Hoseok shakes his head. "Disciplinary action is confidential."

You and Yoongi make eye contact again. You really don't want to have to tell Hoseok what happened, but you're terrified of what Yoongi might say as explanation. Yoongi doesn't say anything. The only sounds in the kitchen are the aggressive munching of your cereals as you silently stand-off.

"So neither of you are going to tell me what happened?"

Hoseok looks at you, pleading with you to let him in on what's going on. But you can't say it.

"It's not a big deal," you say, gaze dropping to your cereal bowl. "Just a dumb misunderstanding."

Yoongi grunts and keeps eating his cereal.

"Not a big deal?" Hoseok throws his hands up in frustration. "Half the crew got thrown in solitary! I've been manning the bridge in 12 hour shifts with Jin and working overtime to cover for the rest of you and no one will tell me why!"

"We got caught fucking around okay?" Yoongi says, not looking at you or Hoseok, but staring intently into his cereal. "She's right. It's not a big deal."

Hoseok's eyebrows furrow. "Fucking around with what? Did you actually try that dumb moonshine plan?"

Yoongi sighs and looks at you. The confusion on Hoseok's face tears you apart. Even now, he still thinks it's all innocent.

"No, Hoseok," you confess. "We got caught having sex."

"Sort of," Yoongi mutters.

Hoseok's eyes widen and his mouth falls open. "Oh," he says, looking down at the table. "Oh, I see." Hoseok slumps back in his chair and looks back and forth between you and Yoongi. "So you two are, like, together then?"

"No," you rush. "No, we're not."

Yoongi stands up, tosses his cereal bowl into the pile for Jungkook, and leaves the kitchen.

Hoseok watches him go, frowning. "I, um..." he starts to say, but then trails off.

"Hoseok, I'm sorry." You want to apologize for everything. It feels like a betrayal and you're not even sure why.

"No, it's okay," Hoseok says, shaking his head. "I'm just surprised is all."

"We were never together," you try to clarify, but not sure how that makes it better. "It just happened once."

"Okay," Hoseok nods, but doesn't look at you. He stands up and adds his own dishes to the pile in the sink. "I'm going to go do some work."

You want to beg him not to leave. You want to beg him to stay and still be your friend and not judge you in the way you fear he is. But you can't find the words.

You finish eating your cereal alone.

__________

Despite being released from solitary confinement, you end up spending the next 24 hours almost completely alone.

Yoongi avoids you, sticking to his workshop. Hoseok goes back to spending most of his time in the lab working on the meteoroid samples, but you avoid him and spend your day in the greenhouse. You tell yourself that your plants need you, having been neglected for two days while the ship was short-staffed. But really you just can't face the tense silence between you and Hoseok.

You don't know why but it feels like such a betrayal. Part of you wants to explain yourself further, but you don't think that telling him you made a sex tape that has now been seen by half the crew will help you reestablish your professional friendship.

Lunch with Jin had been the lone bright spot in your day. He didn't demand you fill him in on what happened, nor treat you any differently, choosing instead to regale you with the saga of how he had to man the entire bridge for 12 hours while really needing to pee.

It’s a surprise when you arrive in the greenhouse the next morning to find Jungkook and Taehyung already there. They'd finished serving their time last night, but you had chosen to eat dinner in your sleep pod rather than face Yoongi and Hoseok again.

Both men turn to face you as you walk in. Jungkook is harvesting your pea plants and Taehyung is washing out some of your seed trays.

"Namjoon didn't assign you my chores too, did he?" You laugh nervously, still feeling guilty about the punishment they took because of your mistakes.

"No," Jungkook answers. "We, um, we wanted to apologize."

"And thought we could be useful while we did it." Taehyung adds.

"We're so sorry," Jungkook rushes before you can reply, setting down the harvesting tray and stepping closer to you.

Taehyung pauses his chores as well. "We really fucked up."

"We know it was unprofessional and exploitative and a violation of your privacy," Jungkook says. It's more formal than he usually speaks and you wonder how much of that he took directly from your commander.

"We should have just turned it in," Taehyung says,"or given it to you. We're so sorry."

Neither of those options sound great either. If they had turned it in, Namjoon would have still found out about your indiscretion. If they had given it back to you, then you would have found out they'd both seen it. But both of those options were still better than brawling with Jimin on the floor.

"Why did you try to show it to Jimin?" you ask.

Taehyung lowers his chin to his chest and looks at the floor. "I wasn't trying to show it to him. I thought he had already seen it and I asked him about it. I thought he was lying to me."

"Lying about what?"

Taehyung shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "I thought he was sleeping with you and hadn't told me."

"Oh," you reply. Yoongi did say at the start of the video that it was 'Jimin's video'. "Well, we're not," you clarify. "Never did."

"I know, I know." Taehyung nods. "Jimin had no idea what I was talking about. When I explained what it was, he demanded that I give it to him."

"So he wanted to see it?" You cross your arms over your chest defensively.

"No, no, no!" Taehyung shakes his head vigorously. "He didn't think I should have it, since, you know, I wasn't supposed to have it." Taehyung rubs the back of his neck, blushing. "He wasn't going to watch it."

"How do you know that?"

"We talked afterward. He said he wanted to give it back to you, but not watch it. But I thought at the time that he wanted to watch it. I didn't think he should see it if you hadn't showed it to him." Taehyung finally looks up at you, palms open wide. "I'm the one who fucked up, please don't blame Jimin. He was just trying to protect you."

You groan and roll your eyes. The last thing you need is your crew endangering the mission in misguided attempts to protect you. "I'm not some fragile creature in need of protecting. I'm your crew member. Treat me like a goddamn adult."

Taehyung and Jungkook both nod, looking appropriately chastened.

"Quit playing games and just be honest with me, okay?" you continue. "If you want to know something just ask."

There's a long pause. Both men look at each other, then resume their chores. You grab a clean seed tray from Taehyung and begin filling it with vermiculite.

"So are you dating Yoongi?" Jungkook asks after what he has deemed an appropriate period of waiting.

"No." At least they're trying to have a conversation.

"And you're not dating Jimin either?" Taehyung asks.

You shake your head.

"Why not?" Jungkook asks and both men pause their chores again.

"It's bad for the mission." You don't really believe yourself even as you say it though. Clearly 'bad for the mission' hadn't stopped you before.

"But Namjoon said it was okay for crew members to date as long as we're upfront about it," Jungkook says, focusing very hard on his peas.

You sigh. "Just seems like it's more trouble than it's worth." That feels more like the truth.

"What about, um, just sex?" Jungkook asks.

"I think it's best to keep things strictly professional. With everyone."

Jungkook nods, lower lip pouting slightly. "But aren't you lonely?"

"Yes."

"Me too," replies Jungkook.

There’s a long pause as three of you continue your chores.

“It’s okay.” Jungkook finally breaks the silence. “If you wanted to be with someone.” He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. “Even if that someone isn’t, you know...”

He doesn’t finish the sentence but he doesn’t need to. Even if that someone isn’t him.

“Okay,” you reply. “Thanks.”

Would it be okay? If you just picked a man and dated him and everyone knew about it? Would they all just get over it? Was that the way to get everything back to normal?

"Well..." Taehyung brushes the dirt off his hands as he finishes wiping down the last tray. "We probably have to go scrub some toilets now."

"Thank you,” you call after them and they both turn around. “For your help with the plants."

Jungkook nods.

Taehyung takes a step back toward you. "Please, don't take my mistakes out on Jimin. He already blames himself enough as it is."

You nod, biting your lip as you mull over your last punished crew member, trapped in solitary for another four days.

_________

Every time you walk by Jimin’s pod, you feel a pang of guilt. It was all your fault he was trapped in that tiny box, unable to stretch out his legs, unable to talk to other people for a whole week. If you hadn’t asked him for porn in the first place, none of this would have happened.

Taehyung takes up vigil outside Jimin’s pod, probably working through whatever guilt he has about his own role in Jimin’s confinement. He can’t talk to Jimin, but he brings him his food at meal times and clean clothes.

Your guilt gets worse as you notice that Taehyung is returning to the kitchen with more and more uneaten food after each meal time with Jimin. Finally, on day six, Taehyung breaks.

“He’s not eating.” Taehyung drops the tray of food down across from you on the kitchen table. “And he won’t talk to me.” Taehyung looks up at you, eyes wide and pleading.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Can you talk to him?”

“Tae…” You shake your head. “He’s in solitary. We’re not allowed to talk to him.”

“Please?” Taehyung prostrates himself across the table. “I’ll make sure no one sees you.”

You frown. It’s a bad idea. But your guilt is getting the better of you.

Taehyung clasps his hands together and looks up at you. “I’m really worried.”

“Fine,” you acquiesce. “Meet me in half an hour at the sleep pods.”

And so you find yourself in front of Jimin’s pod, Taehyung standing guard at the end of the hall to spot anyone who might be coming this way.

You knock on the door.

“I told you I’m not hungry, Tae.” Jimin’s voice is muffled by the door.

“No, Jimin, it’s me,” you answer. There’s a pause and a rustling sound inside the pod, then the door opens.

Jimin looks pale and disheveled, the bruise on his cheeks and nose having turned from blue-purple to yellow-green. He blinks in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

You glance nervously down the hall to Taehyung, who gives you a thumbs up. “Can I come in?”

“Come in?” Jimin laughs in surprise.

“Taehyung is keeping lookout.”

“Okay, I guess.” He steps out of the way so you can climb into the sleep pod with him.

You’ve never been inside one of the sleep pods with another person before. Jimin presses himself up against the opposite wall as much as he can.

Your mind flashes back to an awkward evening in middle school where you were dared to spend seven minutes stuck in a closet with a boy you liked, all your friends gathered around outside. You and the boy had awkwardly stared at each other until the timer rang, neither being bold enough to do anything.

This feels like that.

“Um, hi.” You glance around, taking in the state of Jimin’s pod. He’d made a similar sleeping bag donut on the floor as you had in your own pod.

He tries to smooth down his hair. “Hi.”

“How are you?”

“I’ve been better.” He laughs nervously. “You?”

“Same.” You echo his awkward laugh. “Your nose okay?”

He shrugs. “Nothing broken.”

“Taehyung says you’re not eating.”

Jimin frowns. “He shouldn’t have bothered you about that. I’m fine.”

“You need to eat though. He’s right to be concerned.”

Jimin sighs. “I’m just not that hungry. It’s hard to be hungry when you can’t move around all day.” He bangs an elbow into the wall as he gestures and grimaces.

You sigh. “I think I owe you an apology.”

“For what?”

“For like, everything?” You give a sad exasperated laugh. “For asking you for porn, for making a sex tape, for involving you in all my shit.” You count off the reasons on your fingers. “It’s all my fault.”

“No!” Jimin grabs your hand to stop your counting out of your sins. “No, I’m the one who fucked everything up.” He squeezes your hand and it’s a warm contrast to your cold fingers.

You shake your head. “No you didn’t.”

“Yes I did!” he insists, not letting go of your hand. “I’m the one who gave you a sex tape first. I’m the one who insisted on stopping the meteoroid. I’m the one who got us all stuck here for another two years.”

“We were all involved with the meteoroid, Jimin. And none of us saw it coming.”

“But I should have!” He’s bangs his free hand against the wall behind him in frustration. “God, it’s elementary school physics. Newton’s third fucking law! I should have known.”

You want to argue with him about what he is choosing to define as ‘elementary school physics but that is beside the point.

He places a hand over his eyes and sniffles. The bruise stares incriminatingly at you from under his hand. It’s too much. Another broken man and it’s all your fault.

“I never should have come on this mission.” You let go of Jimin’s hand and fall against the wall behind you. “This was all a mistake.”

“Huh?” Jimin pulls his hand away from his eyes.

“I was never supposed to be here. There should have been only men here. They were right. They were so fucking right. Mixed gender crews are a bad idea.”

“What? No! Who told you that?” Jimin stands up straighter.

“The mission director.”

“Well, he’s dumb.” Jimin has forgotten his own tears at the sight of yours. He places a hand on your shoulder and it radiates warmth down your arm. “We all love having you here. It’d be such a loss if you weren’t here.”

You sniff, fighting back tears that prick at the corners of your eyes. “Yeah, a loss of sexual tension and dumb decisions. Not a loss to the mission.”

“Excuse you, I can have sexual tension with anyone.”

You give a teary smile at his kind attempt at humor, but it doesn’t dispel your deeper concerns. You lean your head back against the wall, looking up at the ceiling to keep from crying. “I just can’t win. Either I’m a bitch for holding out or I’m a slut for giving in.”

Jimin gasps. “Who said that to you?” His hands clench into fists. “Mission be damned. I’ll kill him.”

“No, no.” You shake your head. “No one said that. Not like that. I just feel it. All the time. Sex is always there. Even when we never talk about it. It’s always lingering in the back of everyone’s mind. It’s exhausting.”

“Listen to me now.” Jimin takes both your hands in his. “I’m so sorry if I ever made you feel that way. I’m so sorry if I’ve made you feel like sex is all I was interested in.” He sighs and looks down at the floor. “I…” He swallows. “I like you.”

Just a hint of butterflies stir in your stomach, a response that only Jimin manages to get out of you. You tighten your grip on his hands.

“I’ve liked you for a really long time,” he continues. “I’m so sorry that I ruined everything for you.” He lets go of your hands and looks down at the floor, lower lip trembling. 

You place a hand on his cheek. “It’s okay, Jimin.” 

He places his hand over yours and holds it to the side of his face. “I swear it’s not just about sex, okay?” His eyes water as they bore into yours. “I really like you. You’re smart and you’re kind and only a little bit intimidating.”

You both chuckle softly, blush rising in your cheeks.

He mirrors your stance, taking your cheek in his hand. “Even if you didn’t feel the same way, I’d still want to be your friend.”

The wings of the butterflies in your stomach beat stronger as a million feelings wash over you all at once. Guilt, longing, resistance. But the strongest is the overwhelming desire to be closer to him. You run your thumb across his cheek as you gaze into his heartbreakingly sincere eyes. Maybe you could just be with Jimin. Maybe everything would be okay if you just made a choice.

“Gravity powering down,” Namjoon’s voice plays in your headphones, “in three…”

You step closer to Jimin, your hand sliding from his cheek down to the side of his neck. Jimin eases his hand to your waist, gripping your belt loop to keep you from floating away and uses the other to brace himself against the wall as you both prepare for the transition to zero-g.

“Two…”

“Be with me,” Jimin whispers, lips inches from yours. “We can do it properly, like Namjoon said, fill out all the forms and be official.”

His eyes lock on yours, and more than anything, you want to say yes. You want to give in and take some measure of comfort for yourself. He licks his lips and your heart begins to race. Here he is, the possible solution to all your problems, and you ache for him.

“One.”

You answer him with a kiss, both of you lifting off the ground at the same time, all the pent up nervous energy propelling you upward. And then Jimin has both arms around your waist and you’re pressed up against him, hand tangled into his hair.

“Yes,” you gasp against his lips before diving back in. It’s been years since you’ve been good and properly kissed and you’re going to make the most of it. He groans and tightens his grip around your waist, pulling your entire body against his. Endorphins flood your system as the two of you float in the middle of Jimin’s sleep pod, pouring all of your heartache and loneliness into each other.

A loud beeping in your ears breaks the moment. “Jimin, come in Jimin,” Namjoon interrupts. “Are you okay?”

“What?” Jimin breaks away from you and presses the push-to-talk. “I’m here, I’m fine.”

You have to cover your mouth to prevent the commander from hearing your breathless panting over the radio.

“The carbon dioxide levels in your pod just skyrocketed. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Was just, um, doing some exercise.”

You bite your lower lip to stop yourself from giggling. Jimin shoots you a mock-threatening look.

“Hang in there, okay.” Namjoon sounds genuinely concerned. “Only one more day. Take it easy.”

“Yes, commander.” Jimin nods and pulls his hand away from his ear, scooping you back into his arms and thoroughly kissing you all over again.

“I should go,” you say but almost take it back as Jimin begins kissing along your neck and below your ear.

“No…” Jimin whines against your skin, pulling you in tighter still. Heavy arousal knocks between your legs, startling you away from him. If you stay here for another second, you won’t be able to leave.

“The ‘exercise’ excuse only buys us so much time,” you argue. “They’ll figure out there’s two of us in here.”

Jimin rests his forehead against yours and pouts. “Promise me we can go get the forms from Namjoon as soon as I am out of here tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah, we will. I promise.” You give him one last kiss as you back away to the door.

He catches your hand as you scoot out the door into the hallway, pulling it to his lips. “See you tomorrow,” he whispers excitedly. Tingles run up your arm from where his lips brush your knuckles and it takes all your strength to not dive back into the pod with him.

“See you tomorrow,” you whisper and he smiles.

As the door closes, he mutters to himself. “Damn, I’m hungry.”

You look around for Taehyung, wanting to tell him that Jimin seems to be feeling much better now, but he’s not there. Maybe he went to bed after the gravity shut off. You climb into your own pod across the way instead, eager for it to be tomorrow.

__________

The next day passes too slowly. Fantasies of finally having a way to satisfy your desires and still do your job play through your mind as you wait for Jimin’s confinement to end. In an effort to save time, you whisper through the pod door for Jimin to meet you in Namjoon’s office, before heading there yourself.

Namjoon opens the door, looking surprised to see you. “How can I help you officer?”

You shuffle your feet. “I need one of those HR forms you talked about, the relationship forms.”

“Oh,” Namjoon startles and steps back into his office. “Oh yes, of course. Come in.”

You step into his office. He walks over to his desk and picks up his tablet, flipping through his files.

“Glad you’re doing it all above board this time,” he tries to joke.

You laugh nervously.

“Here it is.” He hands you the tablet so you can look over the form. “You just need to read that, and then we can get Yoongi down here so you can sign together.”

Your heart plummets into your feet. “Oh... No...” You shake your head as your ears burn with embarrassment. “Not Yoongi.”

“Oh!” Namjoon does a double-take. “Really?”

“Really.” You take a step back, suddenly worried that this is a bad idea.

“But I thought…” Namjoon pauses, then straightens his shoulders. “Who do you want to sign this with?”

You swallow. “Jimin.”

Namjoon’s eyebrows knit together. “Are you sure?”

Before you can respond, there’s a knock on the door, followed by Jimin’s voice calling to see if you’re already in there.

“Yes, I’m sure,” you answer before turning to open the door.

Jimin comes bouncing in excitedly. “Did you get the forms?”

Namjoon looks back and forth between the two of you, then sighs, nodding and typing something into the form on the tablet.

“So, you are signing these documents-” Namjoon holds up the tablet with the HR forms on it, now correctly labeled with Jimin’s and your names, “-signifying that you are in a consensual sexual relationship.”

You both nod, each stepping closer to see the tablet screen in Namjoon’s hands. Jimin takes your hand in his as he stands next to you.

Namjoon holds out the tablet and you both sign on your designated line. A flutter of nerves runs through you at how formal this feels. A weird fear floods you that your commander is about to pronounce you man and wife and you squeeze Jimin’s hand involuntarily. Jimin just looks at you and smiles, squeezing your hand back enthusiastically.

Namjoon sighs as he puts the table away, then straightens up as he lays down the ground rules. “No fraternizing during work hours and let’s keep the mission equipment out of it, please.”

You blush. Jimin squeezes your hand in reassurance.

“Yes sir!” he answers, nodding his chin dramatically.

“You should tell the rest of the crew.” Namjoon adds, with a pointed look in your direction. “Just so everyone’s on the same page.”

A mix of guilt and longing roils in your stomach as you imagine trying to explain this to Yoongi, or Hoseok, or Jungkook. But you were doing everything the way you were supposed to. You were being open and honest and true to the mission. You’ll just have to sit them down and tell them the truth. Hopefully you can all get past it and continue the mission as before.

But before you can even finish that thought, Jimin has his fingers on his radio.

“Attention loyal crew of the Minos,” he declares, pulling back his shoulders and thrusting out his chest. “This is an important announcement to notify you that the mission specialist and the chief botanist have begun an official romantic, sexual, relationship.” He drops his voice on the ‘sexual’ and wiggles his eyebrows at you.

It should be endearing, but it only makes the guilt in your stomach churn harder. You wish you could see the faces of the rest of the crew. Were they shocked? Confused? Upset?

Jimin wraps up his little speech with a “Thank you for your attention,” as Namjoon raises an eyebrow at you.

“Thank you commander!” Jimin says, squeezing your hand and marching for the door.

“Specialist Park-” Namjoon stops him,“-you know you have a whole shift on the bridge before you have any, um, personal time, right?”

Jimin frowns. He did not know that. Or had forgotten. He checks his watch and pouts. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning, then?”

“She’ll be on duty then,” Namjoon crosses his arms and leans against his desk.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t see you though.” Jimin argues.

“Why don’t you get some sleep after your shift and meet me at 1800, okay?” You squeeze his hand.

He nods. “Okay, fine.” He kisses you on the cheek before heading off to relieve Jin from bridge duty.

________

Jimin is already waiting for you when your shift ends the next day, standing right outside the greenhouse and counting down the seconds on his watch. You can see him through the glass of the door, but are trying to stay focused on your work until your official personal time. At exactly 1800, he bursts into the greenhouse.

“Woohoo!” He does an adorable little cheer as he runs up to you. “We’re officially off the clock!”

“Give me a second,” you tease as you wipe your hands on your jumpsuit.

“No seconds left,” he replies, wrapping his arms around you as you turn away from him to finish putting away your tools.  

“Jimin…” You feign at trying to wiggle free, but he just grips you tighter, pulling your hips back against his. “I’m all dirty.”

“Mmm… dirty.” He teases, nuzzling into the back of your neck and breathing in deeply. “You smell fantastic.”

Arousal begins to tingle within you and it’s a surprise that you don’t have to fight against it.

“God, I like you so much,” Jimin whispers into your neck. A hard nudge against your backside reminds you that maybe you need to fight it for just a little longer so you don’t end up fucking another man under the greenhouse cameras.

“Easy,” you chastise, “Let’s get somewhere private, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jimin agrees, but decides to suck your earlobe into his mouth anyways.

The sleep pods are really the only option. It’s the only place on the ship without cameras. Luckily you have a few hours left before the gravity shuts off.

“Come on, let’s go,” Jimin says, as soon as the last tool is away, dragging you out of the greenhouse and down the hallway.

You get halfway down the corridor to the sleep pods when Jungkook and Taehyung walk out of the kitchen straight in front of the two of you. Chatter from the rest of the men carries from the kitchen doorway just a few meters down.  

“Hey Jimin,” Jungkook asks, “do you have a minute?”

Jimin looks at Jungkook then looks at you then looks down to where he is holding your hand. “No,” Jimin says laughing. “No, Jungkook, I do not have a minute just now. Important R&R time.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen as he gathers the full implication of Jimin’s words. The back of your neck heats up as both Taehyung and Jungkook eye the two of you up and down. You burn even hotter when you realize that all the conversation in the kitchen has stopped too.

“Oh shit, sorry.” Jungkook mutters, rubbing the back of his neck and looking down at the floor. “It can wait.”

Taehyung glances between the three of you and wraps an arm around Jungkook’s shoulders. “Come on, let’s leave these two alone for now.” His voice is cheery and teasing, but the mirth doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Jimin squeezes your hand harder as you weave around the two other men and keep moving for the sleep pods. You can’t bear to look in at the men in the kitchen and turn your head as you pass.

Your nerves and regrets only dissipate when you close the door to Jimin’s pod behind you. Finally it feels like the two of you are alone.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” Jimin murmurs as he cups your cheek in his hand and pulls you in for a kiss.

Kissing Jimin continues to be as magnificent today as it was yesterday. His lips are soft and warm and the way he moans against your mouth has heat coursing through you. You wind your fingers into his soft dark hair and breathe in all the delicious pheromones rolling off his skin.

“I, um,” Jimin tries to speak in the gaps between your kisses, “I asked Jin to calibrate the CO2 monitors for two people.” His hand finds the top of the zipper to your jumpsuit. “So we should be good to go.”

Good to go. No more barriers or obstacles. You can finally fuck one of your crew members without repercussions. Is that it? It feels almost too easy. You just signed a paper and now you were fucking?

Jimin trails kisses along your jaw as he unzips your jumpsuit, pulling it down around your ankles and there’s very little left before this is actually happening. Then his own jumpsuit is down around his ankles too.

“Shit.” He grips himself through his underwear, cock bulging through the soft black fabric, just like in his video. “Do we need a condom?”

“No,” you shake your head. “Not like we have any anyways.”

“Oh right.” He’s pulling off your shirt and undoing your bra.

He pauses to admire you as you stand in only your underwear, palming himself through his briefs. “You’re perfect,” he whispers and kisses you again.

You’re having some trouble getting out of your own head. For something you’ve been waiting on for two years, this feels quite sudden. But it’s not like there were any dates you could have here. What would you do on a date? Go sit and stare at a room you have already sat in for a thousand hours? Surrounded by your crew?

You tug his shirt off in an effort to get your head back in the game. Those abs were still there. You run your finger along them and smile. Jimin flexes a little and you giggle.

He smiles proudly. “I’ve waited so long for this.” He strips off his briefs and stands naked in front of you. You reach out and take him in your hand, enjoying the weight and warmth of his erection. He kisses you again as his own fingers slip inside your underwear. “You’re so wet,” he whispers.

It’s a bit of an exaggeration. You are wet enough, but not dripping. But that is changing quickly as he circles your clitoris with his thumb. You tug down your underwear to give him more room.

He groans and kisses you again as he slides two fingers inside you, curling them up in a way that has you nearly buckling over with long-denied pleasure. He picks you up under your buttocks and wraps your legs around him as your back collides with the wall.

But the loud clang of you colliding with the wall of the sleep pod distracts you. Could the rest of the crew hear you right now? Were they all thinking about what you were doing in here?

“Can I?” Jimin pants, hard dick nudging against your naked core.

“Yes, yes.” You want him inside you, you want him to fuck you against this wall so hard that you just stop thinking about everything.

“Oh my god,” he groans as he slides into you. He gets a little stuck part way as you aren’t quite wet enough, but a few shallow strokes in and out get him slick enough to slide all the way in. “God, you feel amazing.”

It does feel incredible to be full again, to be fucked again. You moan at each thrust.

“Can I come inside you?”

“Yeah, yeah,”

“You’re on the pill?”

You pause before nodding. “Yeah.” It would be kind of a mood killer to explain your tubal ligation right now. You can have that conversation later.  You suppose there will be quite a lot of time with Jimin now to explain everything.

“Fuck, I’m too close.” Jimin grunts. “It’s been so long. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” you reassure him as he bounces you up and down on his dick. He feels amazing, has felt amazing.

“Come with me,” he pleads. He doesn’t have a free hand to touch you since he’s too busy holding you up against the wall, so you slip your own fingers down to your clitoris. He groans, resting his head on your shoulder. “Are you close?”

You were getting there, but weren’t quite there yet.

“Fuck, please, I’m not going to make it.” He fucks into you harder, getting more breathless. You speed up your hand, trying to get to the edge for him. He was working so hard.

You going to come for me? You close your eyes and hear Yoongi’s voice in your head instead.

“I’m close,” you moan out loud and Jimin gives a sigh of relief.

What a good girl. Yoongi whispers in your head as you use the memory to push you to your end. Such a slut for her whole crew. That’s it. I‘ve got you, little girl. Greedy little slut.

Your orgasm crashes over you just as Jimin goes rigid in your arms, spilling himself inside you. He gasps against your shoulder as he presses you hard against the wall. Endorphins flood your system and you feel like you’re going to collapse. Jimin’s legs wobble as he sets you down on the ground.

“Wow,” Jimin sighs as you both slide naked to the floor, limbs entangled in each other. “That was amazing.” He gives you a soft sleepy kiss. “I think the next twelve years of my life just got a whole lot better.”

Yup. Yoongi’s sarcasm echoes in your head. Twelve fucking years.

----

Part 6

#bts x reader #bts smut #ot7 x reader #jimin x reader #yoongi x reader #jimin smut #void #btssavedmylifeblr

[buckyodinson]

How about fluff with Maxwell Lord x Reader inspired by "Just The Way You Are" by Bruno Mars.

I know a lot of people are writing Maxwell as this awful, depraved man (and I’m totally into that don’t get me wrong), but I had a lot of fun writing this soft Maxwell! :) (also I guess this is modern instead of the 80s, since there’s mentions of tabloids and stuff on computers!)

Exquisite

It came as a shock to most people when you and Maxwell Lord went public. He was a very notorious businessman, famous for his cutthroat management style but also his proclivity for salacious encounters, often with very attractive models or actresses. But as soon as you were hired as his assistant, he ended his one night stands and began to pursue you. You were quite shy around him to begin with and he was already pretty attracted to you, and his affection only grew once you got a little more confident in your job and you weren’t afraid to speak up at meetings or conferences.

He was a complete gentleman with you, making sweet comments as he passed your desk to get to his office. He’d often come back from lunch breaks with a little something for you. This started as little pastries or a hot drink, but once you started reciprocating the little flirts here and there it escalated to expensive makeup or jewelry. You soon began dating, and you were both so happy. You had somehow managed to keep the relationship under wraps for a year when Maxwell proposed to you.

It was an intimate dinner at home where he’d hired a chef to cook for the pair of you to celebrate your anniversary and you both got dressed up for the dinner, pretending you were out in a restaurant somewhere. Once you’d finished eating and Maxwell sent the chef home (paying him generously), the two of you continued your conversation over drinks when he slowly shuffled his chair back and walked around to your side of the table, dropping to one knee once he was in front of you. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a black, velvet box, opening it to reveal a stunning diamond ring, and you gasped.

“I knew from the second you walked into my office that first day that I had to be with you. And I still can’t quite believe I’ve been so lucky to call you my own for this past year. And now that I have you, I can’t see myself ever being sane without you. Y/N, will you do me the greatest honour in being my wife?” his voice was so gentle as he spoke, and it brought you to tears.

“Of course, Maxwell.” you choked out, practically throwing yourself onto the ground to throw your arms around his neck and kiss him deeply. He returned the kiss in earnest, only pulling back to take the ring out of the box and slip it onto your finger. When you looked back up at him, he was beaming, and you couldn’t help but lean in again, this kiss much softer than the one just exchanged, and you melted against him.

You parted, both breathless, and Maxwell pulled himself to his feet, before helping you up and kissing the tip of your nose before walking away from you, slipping a record onto your vinyl player before slinking back over to you and pulling you to him. You swayed gently to the music floating through his penthouse for what felt like hours. You felt like you were on a cloud, and you were almost certain you were dreaming at one point.

The next day was when you went public. You both went to work, and stepped out of the car hand in hand once outside the building, letting the paparazzi snap their photos of you. By the afternoon, they were already plastered over news websites with close-up shots of the ring on your finger. At first, you were excited it was all out in the open. Now you could show your affection for Maxwell in public, and you didn’t have to watch as women threw themselves at him and he politely turned them down.

You hadn’t considered the tabloids. In fairness, you probably should have predicted they’d turn on you soon enough, but it still took you by surprise.

One afternoon, about a week after the news broke, you were sat at your desk mindlessly scrolling through the news articles (at least what passes for news nowadays, that is) written about you, and you couldn’t help but feel like shit as you read through them.

‘Famed business tycoon Maxwell Lord now engaged to his secret assistant lover - is she using him for his money?’

‘Who is the woman who stole Maxwell Lord’s heart? What does Mr Lord see in her? Full exposé here’

‘Downgrade for Mr. Lord? See all his past flames as the news has broken of his engagement to his assistant Y/N L/N’

That last one hurt the most. The article contained a plethora of photos of stunning models and actresses who had been previously linked with Maxwell (rumoured or otherwise), and then several photos of you at the bottom. Some were of you at business events, pictured with Maxwell and his colleagues. Others were old photos the press must have dug up from old social media accounts, and some that paparazzi have taken in the last week or so. All containing spiteful captions like ‘Y/N looks worse for wear as she grabs a coffee without fiancé Maxwell Lord’, or ‘Y/N looks out of shape on morning run while Maxwell’s ex-flame looks toned and tanned in beach snap’.

You sighed as you scrolled through the endless bashing. You knew you should just close the window and forget about it, but the comments ate away at you, and you couldn’t stop reading them.

“Ignore them, my love.” you heard Maxwell’s soothing voice from behind you and you quickly exited the tabs and swiveled your chair to face him, plastering a smile on your face. He raised an eyebrow and gestured for you to follow him into his office. Once you were inside, he closed the door behind you and walked you backwards until you were leaning against his desk.

“Why do you read those pathetic excuses for journalism, sweetheart?” he brings his hands to your face and lifts your gaze to his own face.

“I know it’s trivial, Maxwell, but I can’t help but feel like they’re true.” you turn your gaze to the floor and he pulls your face to his, kissing you softly before pulling away to an arm’s length to look you over.

“You’re the most exquisite woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, my love.” his eyes shine with adoration as he drinks you in, like it’s the first time he’s ever seeing you. You feel your cheeks heat up in response to his words.

He rubs his thumbs across your cheeks, “Your eyes... my God, your eyes. It’s like looking into my own perfect little galaxy. They put the night sky to shame.”

Your lips curl into the semblance of a smile and he beams, “There’s that beautiful smile. I could look at it for hours, sweetheart. It practically stops my heart for a few seconds whenever you smile.”

“My love. Every single inch of you is flawless. Your face was sculpted by Aphrodite herself, I’m sure. And your body... well you definitely know by now how I feel about your body.” He raises a suggestive eyebrow and you stifle a giggle as he runs his hands down your sides, squeezing lightly on your hips before pulling you flush against him.

“And that laugh. My love, it’s like music to my ears. I know you hate it, but I think it’s so attractive.” He kisses the tip of your nose, looking deep into your eyes, his serious gaze practically burrowing into your soul, and you can’t help but smile up at him.

“And I know you don’t believe me when I say all of this. But I’m telling you now, I’ll never stop. I’ll tell you everyday how beautiful you are. There’s nothing I’d change about you. Well there is one thing, actually,” your smile falters and he pulls you tighter, a smile creeping onto his face.

“Your name.” he all but whispers against your lips, “I plan on making you Mrs. Lord very soon. But apart from that, there’s not a single thing I’d change. You’re perfect as you are. And if some cowards sat behind their screens typing that shit about you can’t see how perfect you are... fuck them. They don’t get to see you swaying to old records in the kitchen in nothing but my dress shirts, or writhing underneath me. They don’t get to see how truly beautiful you are. All the more beauty for me.”

“Thank you, Maxwell.” you lean up and press your lips to his, and you practically feel his adoration pour into the kiss.

Masterlist

Permanent taglist: @castieltrash1 @fioccodineveautunnale @mrsparknuts (message or send an ask if you want to be added or removed!)

#this is my first maxwell work #let me know what you think? #maxwell lord x reader #max lord x reader #pedro pascal x reader #maxwell lord #maxwell lord x fem!reader #max lord x fem!reader

[archadianskies]

Whumptober Day 27

Extreme Weather + Power Outage

Whumptober Masterlist | 27/31 of RK900 short stories ↳ on Ao3

Tags: Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings × Post-Pacifist Best Ending × Good Parent Hank Anderson × Exhaustion x Sleep Deprivation  x Power Outage

The RK units are specifically designed with powerful battery cores enabling them to function for longer periods between recharging. If expenditure is kept at a minimum, they can remain online for up to a fortnight without recharging, though given their line of duty they tend to rest for short bursts in order to supplement their cores. 

That is not the case for them currently, not when Detroit’s caught up in a storm that’s knocked out several power grids and they’re at a crime scene with a felled tree crushing an ambulance.

“Power’s completely out for this grid!” Hank raises his voice to try and be heard over the crashing rain. 

“This patient will die without proper medical care!” The medroid shouts in reply and Ronan assesses their dwindling options. Three dead, five injured- one in critical condition. Ambulance damaged, power grid down and no way to power the medvan and keep the injured android alive. Unlike humans, an android runs on electrical impulses of an inorganic nature and cannot be kept alive with medications. 

“We have two manual cars here.” Connor says slowly, and he looks to Ronan who already knows what they must do. “Transfer the patient to Detective Reed’s car-”

“What?!” 

“We will force a power surge into the victim and give their core a jumpstart to ensure it can remain active long enough for you to get them to Jericho.” Ronan continues with a nod. “Connor and I are RK units, we can do this safely and still retain enough power to last us until we reach Central Station.”

“Power’s still online there.” Connor reassures. “We can use the charging bays. This way the patient can survive until they receive medical help at Jericho. The others have sustained only superficial injuries which are low priority and can wait until power returns and a secondary medvan can be dispatched.”

Hank looks them over, and Ronan knows their father isn’t too keen on the idea but the idea is sound; the idea is the only option they have if they want their key witness to survive. 

“We’ll be alright, dad.” Connor says, softer this time as he squeezes his arm. “Just incredibly sleepy, actually.”

“Please do it now.” The medroid grips his wrist. “We’re losing the last of the van’s power rapidly and without a strong electric current he’ll die.”

Ronan tips his head slightly, and Connor follows him to the medvan. The android is in poor shape, multiple gunshot wounds littering his torso. A long thick cable snakes from his power core to the medvan’s life support, and the medroid hurries to detach the heavy black box from the side. 

“I’ll power the core, you power the generator.” Ronan instructs, and Connor nods in understanding. They have to undress partly to grant the medroid access to their chestplate, and connect them to both the android and the generator. 

“Ready?” They prompt, and the two brothers nod. The effect is almost immediate, the drain a sudden, strong pull that leaves them feeling fatigued. 

* 

WARNING

>LOW POWER

>>Power core: 8%

RECHARGE IMMEDIATELY

* 

Ronan blinks away the notification, reaching out to steady Connor as his brother sways on his feet. 

“No complex processes until you’re both at least at 25%.” The medroid instructs sternly. “Consume extra thirium, and run a full diagnostic cycle once you’re at full power.” 

“Understood.” Ronan nods, and even that seems like a gargantuan effort. 

* 

“That thing better not bleed all over my backseat.” Gavin grumbles as he hands over the keys and they load up the injured android in his car.

“That person is our key witness, so their well-being is worth more than your car’s upholstery.” Ronan snaps. “Thirium will evaporate without leaving a stain on this type of synthetic textile. I cannot say the same for your blood.” 

Hank snorts back a laugh, clapping him on the shoulder as Gavin sputters indignantly. “Alright into the car everyone, I’ll drive us back to Central.” 

“We will return your car once it is safe to do so, Detective Reed.” The medroid vows. “We will take every care to sanitise the interior.”

“Then it will be much cleaner than it’s ever been under his care.” Ronan drawls, unable to stop himself. Hank guffaws, hand on his belly.

“Oh shit you’re cranky, I love it.” He snorts back a laugh and makes a shooing gesture. “Alright everyone in- boys at the back, Reed at the front before Ronan can kill you.”

*~* 

Central Station looms ahead, lit only by the recessed ground lights embedded in the steps leading up to the entrance.

“Ah shit.” Hank curses as he pulls up to park. 

“Grid’s out here too.” Gavin groans. “And the storm’s picking up.” 

“We won’t be able to recharge here.” Connor huffs, leaning heavily on Ronan. 

“I mean, Eli’s supervillain lair runs on its own solar grid.” Gavin shrugs. “Could just keep going. Barbie bot won’t mind sharing, I’m sure.”

“Road conditions are not ideal. There is a large margin for human error.” Connor points out, and Ronan notes the way Hank’s hands grip the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles blanche. “Rain radar shows an exponential increase in volume of rainfall over the next five hours, and winds set to rise.”

“Well,” Gavin falters with a frown, “the self-driving taxis should be fine, right?”

“I’m not risking them either way.” Hank declares gruffly. “Safer if we stay inside the precinct and just wait it out.”

“They can’t charge in there!” Gavin protests and Hank shouts in return.

“It doesn’t matter! At least they’ll stay alive!” There’s a beat where no one says anything, and the only sound is the thunderous crash of rain atop the car and Ronan knows Hank is both correct, and speaking from trauma.

“We will stay inside.” Ronan says calmly to break the tension. “There is ample food and water for the both of you, and thirium for the both of us. It is warm and dry, and weathertight.”

“At this hour there shouldn’t be too many staff left anyway.” Connor adds. “And the both of you keep spare clothes in your lockers.”

“Alright alright let’s go.” Gavin groans, bracing himself for the inevitable drenching. Though it’s only a short distance from the parking lot to the entrance, it’s enough for their clothes to become thoroughly soaked. They reach the doors and the doors stay shut. Of course. No power. The lone ST300 at reception spots them and gestures to her left, pointing at the side door. They trudge over and Hank pushes at the handle. Some things are best kept low tech, it seems. 

“Good evening, Lieutenant Anderson, Detectives Reed and Andersons.” Stephanie greets, smile apologetic. “Though I surmise there’s little to make it ‘good’.”

“How long’s the power been out here for?” Hank sighs tiredly, slicking his hair out of his eyes.

“Twelve minutes ago.” She informs them, and Connor whines in disappointment, lips pressed tightly together and curled downward. 

“Who’s still here?” Gavin strips off his jacket, cursing colourfully at the state of his clothes. 

“Officers Chen and Lewis, and assistive units Polly, Justin and Gareth.”

“Thanks Steph.” Hank nods in gratitude before leading them all through the gates. They head immediately to their lockers after giving the others a wave. 

* 

“This is less than ideal.” Connor sighs morosely, coordination clumsy as he strips out of his wet clothing. 

“Power level?” Ronan prompts, hand hovering in case Connor sways again.

“7.1%. Yours?”

“7.9%.” He pulls a clean, dry sweater over his head before taking a moment to steady himself. Removing wet slacks proves a challenge in his addled state, but he manages it eventually and tugs on a pair of jeans. Connor leans heavily on his now closed locker, the petulant pout still there on his lips. 

“I feel awful.”

“They put us through worse.” Ronan reminds him lightly. “Part of our testing phase was to complete an objective with 5% power.”

“They wiped my testing phase.” A brief look of concern crosses his face. “You remember yours?”

“Every single moment.” His brother saddens at the revelation, and he reaches over to squeeze his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault.” Ronan reminds him, and Connor nods.

“I know. I’m still sorry, though.” He seeks his hand, and Ronan clasps it securely with his own. 

“You boys alright?” Hank wanders over, dressed in DPD sweats. 

“Tired.” Connor blinks slowly at him, and Hank huffs a laugh, reaching over to tousle his damp hair. 

“Yeah you sure look it. C’mon, we’ll go mope at our desks.”

* 

Officer Tina Chen sits herself on the edge of Gavin’s desk, expression pitying.

“Stuck here til the storm blows over, huh?”

“Fuck I want to pass out on my bed so bad, I’m fucking exhausted.” Gavin groans, slumping in his chair. “Why’re you guys still here?”

“We sent them back to log the evidence and compile the findings.” Ronan reminds him, rolling his eyes in irritation. “Or can you not remember what transpired sixty-five minutes ago?”

“Why bother? That’s what you’re here for, right? Walking computer.” Gavin gestures vaguely in his direction and Ronan decides acting on his irritation will expand battery power the human does not deserve. “God, the coffee machine’s off too isn’t it? I’d kill for one right now.”

“There’s still some left in the pot but it’s lukewarm if you don’t mind that.” Robert pipes up from his desk across the room. “Enough for both you and the Lieutenant.”

“Hey tinc-”

“Finish that sentence and I will pour the coffee for my father and the rest goes down the sink.” Ronan hisses and Hank slaps the table with a laugh. 

“Fuckin’ hell Ronan, I am lovin’ this.” He gets to his feet. “Don’t worry I’ll get the coffees. Just promise you won’t kill Reed while I’m gone.”

“I’ll refrain until you return so you may witness it yourself.” Ronan vows and Hank guffaws loudly as he heads to the breakroom. Gavin shoots him a withering glare, which he ignores entirely in favour of assessing his brother. Connor has his arms folded on his desk, head resting on his forearms. His LED winks a soft red, dimming them glowing periodically like a slow warning he is on low power. 

“You doin’ okay, Connor?” Tina asks worriedly.

“They got used like car batteries to jumpstart the key witness.” Gavin stifles a yawn. “Came back here to recharge since it was closer than Jericho or home but…” He trails off with a shrug and Tina looks at Connor sympathetically. She turns her gaze to him.

“Bad time to ask a favour huh?” Her smile is sheepish. “Rob and I found some sort of substance residue on one of the trafficked biocomponents we were logging into evidence. We’d hoped one of you boys could analyse it for us, but it’ll just have to wait.”

“No.” Ronan sighs. “Give it to me. I’ll do it. The sooner this case is put behind us the better- if this can provide solid evidence linking the trafficking to the suspect then it will be worth it.”

She disappears briefly to fetch the biocomponent from the evidence room, and Hank returns in the meantime, placing a cup of coffee on Gavin’s desk before returning to his. 

“Hey kiddo, you’re not lookin’ too good.” His tone is soft with parental concern as he leans over to smooth Connor’s hair back.

“I don’t like this.” Connor declares with a frown. “It’s irritating and I can’t access the network properly and Jericho is running on a closed circuit at the moment to minimise stress on their generators.” A pause, brows creasing. “And Sumo is home all alone.”

“S’alright, I managed to text Lucy and she went over to make sure he was let out and gave him his dinner.” Hank chuckles, shaking his head. “Don’t worry. We’ll just wait it out and head home and you boys can charge in your beds. Power’s still on over there.”

“For now.” Gavin adds, shrugging when Hank shoots him a glare. “It’s the apocalypse out there versus Detroit’s shitty overworked, aging power stations.”

“Ronan?” Tina reappears at his side holding out the bagged biocomponent; a thirium pump regulator. She is correct, there is a smudge of some sort of congealed substance on the tip of the component where it would usually click into the main arterial port in an android. 

“Power level?” Connor asks, voice muffled in his arms.

“7.4%.”

“Sass is wearing you out.” Gavin sneers. “I think you need a nap.” Ignoring him, Ronan carefully opens the bag and retrieves the biocomponent. It’s a midline model, used in domestics produced within the last two years. Bringing the port end to his mouth, he presses the tip of his tongue to the congealed substance.

* 

Analysing…

Thirium 310 serial #342 541 238

Hydrocarbon solvent: xylene 

Xylene solution: industrial grade xylene, medical grade thirium toluene

* 

Searching database…

Thirium toluene; medical manufacturers within 5km of Detroit city

>R.G. Medical 

/Generating warrant for latest purchase of >gallon quantity medical grade thirium toluene

//Request failed; insufficient power

* 

WARNING 

Power level: 4.2%

* 

“-nan? Ronan?” He startles back into himself, identifying Hank leaning over him and gently shaking his shoulders. “Shit kid you almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Apologies.” He frowns, blinking up at his father. “What happened?”

“You licked the thing and then just blue-screened.” Gavin makes a face. “Mood ring went bright red and then you just slumped in your chair.”

“The substance is a hybrid solvent.” He replaces the biocomponent back into the bag. “It is comprised of xylene and a medical grade thirium toluene. There is only one manufacturer, R.G. Medical, within a five kilometre radius of the warehouse. I tried generating a warrant to obtain a record of their recent sales larger than a gallon but I do not have enough power.”

“System’s down anyway.” Hank shakes his head. “Don’t sweat it. We know now, and we’ll just get it done when the power’s back.”

“Supervillain lair is still the best bet.” Gavin crosses his arms over his chest. “Recharge and access whatever you need to. He has his own internet line too.”

“The storm’s worsening, we already told you the weather-” Connor begins, but Gavin rolls his eyes.

“Better than being here, at least there’s beds and coffee over there and whatever you lot need.” He downs the dregs remaining in his cup. “We can take a self-driving taxi so there’s no ‘human error’.”

“No one’s leaving here until that storm blows over and the roads aren’t an oil slick!” Hank growls and Gavin groans.

“Oh my god give it a rest old man, we’re safer in one of those than with you or me driving!”

“An automated delivery truck was what crashed into Hank’s car in 2035, what part of ‘no one is leaving here’ do you not understand?” Ronan roars, grabbing the front of his shirt and hauling the man off his chair. “You are being asked to do very little, Detective Reed, so surely you can manage staying put?” He shoves Gavin away and his senses blurs with white noise.

* 

CRITICAL POWER FAILURE

>Entering emergency stasis

* 

“Dad-!” Connor’s voice is laced with panic and Hank’s worried face is the last thing he sees before he shuts down.

*~*

Model: RK900

Serial#: 313 248 317 - 87

Bios 7.4 Revision 0483

Loading OS...SAFE MODE

System initiation...

Checking biocomponents...

OK

Initializing biosensors...

OK

Initializing A.I. engine...

OK

Memory status…

OK

Power core: 25%

All systems: SAFE MODE ACTIVATED

READY

* 

When he wakes he recognises the neon blue downlights of the UV charging bay. What was  once installed along the back wall where auxiliary units stood in line awaiting orders, after the revolution one of the storage rooms adjacent to Evidence was converted into a proper breakroom for androids with charging bays modeled to look like reclining chairs with UV downlights installed in the ceiling. 

He also recognises the weight of another android at his side, and he doesn’t have to look to know it’s Connor. There’s a lighter weight atop them both- a soft blanket tucked up to their chins. Though not an android, Hank is in another charging bay fast asleep, mouth open and snoring lightly. 

His HUD tells him it has been four hours since entering emergency stasis but only eighty-nine minutes since the power came back online with Central Precinct bumped to High Priority. Connor stirs at his side, blinking awake briefly and meeting his gaze sleepily; his older brother is seemingly reassured all is well before he closes his eyes and wriggles closer. Charging bays are not made for more than one android to occupy but he’s not about to protest. Not when Connor is a warm, reassuring presence at his side, hand resting on his chest as if to anchor himself to him. 

There is still a case to close. Later, though. He will tend to it later. 

Ronan goes back to sleep. 

#rk900 #connor rk800 #gavin reed #hank anderson #tina chen #detroit: become human #whumptober #annie writes: dbh #shut up gavin #gavreed lives one more day #only because ronan ran out of battery to murder him #a shame

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Elliot x reader where the reader and Elliot work together and at one point are kinda forced to make small talk and at first it's really awkward and embarrassing and just ANXIETY but as they kinda keep the conversation going forcefully they sorta relate to each other (ok thanks I love your writing happy late St Patrick's day 💚☘️)

I LOVE THIS REQUEST. And I LOVE YOU, Anon 💚

“Alderson. Y/L/N. I want you to run penetration tests on Friday’s network patches. Shouldn’t take you more than a day or two, depending on what you find.”

The sterile-white meeting room suddenly felt about 10 degrees hotter than it had a moment ago, and when you moved your hands from the table to your lap, you noticed the remnants of a foggy imprint left behind on the cool surface. You swiped at it, hoping no one noticed, least of all your new partner.

No one wanted to get paired up or put on a team with Elliot Alderson.

He was quiet, sometimes twitchy, always unapproachable, and went out of his way to take up an indiscriminate amount of space in the office. Granted, you weren’t a social butterfly, but you did say your required good-mornings and good-nights, understanding that this was a social expectation and if you adhered to it, people accepted you. Acceptance was nice. It was normal.

So, you played the game, but only when you left the office behind did you really breathe. You knew that it generally took about 30 minutes, door to door, before you were home in your quiet, cozy apartment, wrapped up in what you called your “introvert’s paradise.”

You often wondered if Elliot was the same. Well, you knew he definitely was not the same considering the great lengths he went to avoid human interaction, which led you to believe there was a lot more going on behind those grey eyes than he’d care to let anyone know.

Ah! And there was the rub.

Elliot Alderson may have been strange, but he was attractive.

During these meetings, you always found yourself wishing for something that later made you feel guilty—you wanted him to talk. It was obvious he hated to speak in front of any gathering larger than, well, 0, but you couldn’t help yourself. You hoped your boss would need his input, which he often did. Another thing everyone knew was that Elliot Alderson was the smartest person in the room.

Yet another reason why your palms were now sweaty as you gathered up your laptop, notebook, and pen and chased after Elliot.

He was always the first one to leave a meeting.

By the time you crossed the office, Elliot was already settled at his computer, his fingers working to push in his earbuds. Before he could get the left-side in, you appeared in his line of vision.  

He stared at you, his lips parted, and had you known better, you would have thought he was a statue, perhaps a modern art piece, titled: “Startling Your Co-Worker in the Age of Digital Communication.”

You weren’t expecting him to be completely unaccepting of your presence, but maybe he wasn’t even listening during the meeting.

“Hi, Elliot.”

After several heartbeats passed and you were bordering into the territory of awkward, he lowered his left earbud and said, “Hi.”

Nothing. He wasn’t going to say anything else.

Alright, the conversation would have to be carried entirely by you.

“Uh, so … the penetration tests?”

Elliot looked at you like he had never seen you before—and maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he didn’t even know your name. You had never worked on a project together before, but you had talked during meetings. You passed each other in the elevator, around the office—an office of only about 25 people.

Again, nothing.

“Listen—do you, like, even know who I am?”

Elliot blinked, his large grey eyes disappearing for a moment, and in that moment, you felt a sense of relief. Making eye contact with Elliot was like being scanned by the TSA.

“Y/N,” Elliot answered, his voice low and flat. “You—”

And then he cut himself off, his mouth snapping shut as his eyes scanned your face before settling on the edge of his desk.

“Okaaay,” you said slowly. “First name basis, established. Were you paying attention during the meeting? I mean, I zone out sometimes, too, because Gary’s an asshole, but he assigned us to—”

“Run penetration tests on Friday’s patches,” Elliot said in a mumbled rush.

“Right. Yes. So, I guess you’re the master of penetration—oh my god,” you said as a blush of mortification crept up your neck.

As soon as the words, “master of penetration,” left your mouth, Elliot looked up and his eyes had doubled in size while his lips once again parted. He pulled his lower lip in, biting at it before he swallowed, watching you with what you could have sworn was amusement.

Amusement … or pity.

“I meant that everyone knows you are the best white hat here,” you said slowly so as not to put your gigantic foot back in your idiotic mouth. “It would be foolish for me to look for the vulnerabilities when you are the better hacker.”

“Okay,” came Elliot’s monotone answer.

Okay?!? your mind was screaming. Not a giggle, not a ha-ha-ha, Y/N, I understood what you meant, no big, break the ice, let’s be friends.

Nope.

Just … Okay.

It was clear that Elliot was going to do absolutely nothing to quell your anxiety, so fuck the attempts at small-talk.

With a determined raise of your chin, you sat down next to Elliot and opened your laptop. You could feel him shift a little away from you, and you tried not to take offense. There was already enough space to fit two people between you, but if he wanted more, okie-fucking-dokie.

“Go ahead and remotely access my laptop, I’ll split screen so I can watch you code while I document the data. Just tell me when you find a flaw so I’m sure not to miss anything.”

Before you had even finished speaking, your screen was mirroring Elliot’s. You quickly split the screen and got a doc ready to record the data.

You looked over at Elliot who had his fingers poised over the keyboard; he was peripherally watching you, so as soon as he saw you glance at him, he started working.

Time passed slowly, awkwardly as you sat side-by-side without saying a word. At first, there really was no need to talk, you figured, but normally, most people needed a break from their screen to at least stretch and blink.

Apparently, Elliot was more robot than man.

“Hey!” you said, making Elliot jump, his keystrokes faltering.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” you said, embarrassed again.

Elliot shrugged his shoulders and went back to typing, but you weren’t done.

“Well, wait a minute,” you said, his keystrokes faltering again.

“You found and fixed a flaw without telling me—that was the first one, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Well, the point of me documenting is that we, ya know, talk about it.”

“Why?”

You turned your body toward him and blinked a few times.

“Because … we have to put this in layman’s terms for the analyst? Didn’t you ever wonder what the next step was after the penetration and documentation?”

“No,” Elliot said, finally turning a quick glance in your direction.

“Give me a second,” you said, quickly typing in your document.

Elliot stayed perfectly still, his fingers hovering over his keyboard.

“Alright—read over this and make sure it’s correct.”

Elliot glanced at you again before scooting in his chair about an inch closer in your direction. You suppressed a laugh and turned your laptop toward him so he could more easily see.

Then, Elliot chuckled. The most ridiculous excuse for a laugh huffing out of his mouth for a nanosecond before he snapped it shut again.

“What?”

“You misspelled ‘penetration.’”

You furrowed your brows and slid your laptop closer and a small laugh bubbled up from your throat.

“Good god,” you said through your giggle. “I blame you for that.”

Elliot shrugged his shoulders, but you caught the faintest hint of an upturn of his lips. It couldn’t be called a smile, much like his laugh couldn’t be called a laugh, but it was something human.

You resumed your work, but this time Elliot did pause when he found a flaw. Communication became easier and you found that the workday was starting to fly by.

“Hey! Did you see that?” you interrupted, but this time you didn’t startle him.

“See what?”

You reversed the direction of the code and watched as the screen recreated the last few lines Elliot had run.

“There!”

“Shit … I mean. Shoot,” Elliot said, flustered. “I missed it.”

You chuckled, “See? I’m not as dumb as you think I am.”

Elliot stopped and turned his chair toward you, his intense gaze locking your eyes onto his.

“I don’t think you’re dumb.”

You rolled your eyes and said through a shy smile, “Of course you do. You’re Elliot Alderson. God of hacking.”

Elliot tilted his head, almost like a dog when it was listening to its owner.

“God of hacking?”

You turned your chair to face him, your expression serious.

“You’re the most intimidating person in this office, Elliot.”

“That’s a nice way to say people don’t like me.”

“People just don’t know you. You’re . . . ” you trailed off, unsure if this was a conversation Elliot wanted to have, but he was still looking at you, eyes focused and head slightly tilted.

“You don’t say good-morning … or good-night. You don’t speak unless spoken to. It’s like,” you paused for a moment to think, “it’s like you run a different daily program than everyone else.”

“Oh,” he said, his eyes falling and his hands smoothing over his thighs, rubbing back and forth in a repetitive, nervous motion.

You reached out to comfort him and just with the tip of your finger on the top of his hand, you pressed for no longer than a second.

Elliot looked up at you.

“Try it sometime. Say good-morning. I’ll even let you practice on me,” you said with a sweet smile.

And, to this day, you’ll never forget that Elliot smiled back. And when he smiled, you felt your heart flutter. He wasn’t just a good-looking guy—he was beautiful.

“Ready to run some more tests?” you asked, feeling shy all over again but for an entirely different reason.

“I am the god of penetration,” Elliot deadpanned, his lips quirking into a grin as you groaned, but suddenly turning to correct him.

“I said master of penetration.”

“I know,” said Elliot, his voice containing the smallest hint of coquettish laughter.

Your mouth popped open in surprise before you shut it, shaking your head and grinning to yourself.  

#Elliot Alderson #elliot alderson x reader #mr robot fanfiction #elliot alderson fanfiction