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ckret2 · 1 month

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Chapter 45 of human Bill Cipher would give anything to be trapped in the Mystery Shack again; The Eclipse, part 3.

Whatever's making gravity disappear in Gravity Falls is accelerating; Bill continues to insist he knows exactly what it is but won't say what; Ford's getting pretty fed up with him; and poor Dipper's just got to put up with them.

Oh, and totality arrives.

Bill woke up before full dawn with his cheek in half an inch of water.

He sat up with a gasp. The movement flung his bedsheet off; it floated gently in the air. Bill's exhalations moved it faster than gravity did. The lake was flooding the tent.

He was collapsed halfway out of his tent. He crawled the rest of the way out, dry heaved, splashed some water on his face, forced himself to his feet, and looked at the golden sky.

He didn't like what he saw.

####

Ford and Dipper were woken up by "Reveille" playing on a kazoo. "Rise and shine, puppets, the situation's gotten worse!"

Ford sat up with a groan. "The devil's going..." He lifted his hand to rub his eyes, and instead splashed himself with water. He gasped. "What?"

Bill kicked at the zipped tent flap. "You're flooding, and that's the least of your bad news."

When Ford got out of the tent, Bill was pacing back and forth on top of the water, wringing water out of his bedsheet. "My estimate was wrong. Totality's happening today," he said. "The eclipse must have accelerated."

"Oh, that's ridiculous," Ford said. "How can an eclipse accelerate?"

"You don't know everything! You study the paranormal, you should be used to the inexplicable!"

"My job is to explain the inexplicable."

"Split hairs later!" Bill pointed toward Tate & Backle's Bait & Tackle shop at the far end of the lake. From that distance, it seemed to be sitting on the surface of the water as well. "The closest shelter's the bait shop. We can wait out totality there—"

"No," Ford said.

Bill stared at him. "What do you mean no. You don't still plan on hiking up to Gravity Peak—"

"I do."

"Are you insane!"

"That's an interesting question out of you."

"It's going to be here in hours! And you want to be at the highest point in Gravity Falls?!"

Dipper shuffled out of the tent, blinking groggily. "Why do you have a kazoo?"

"Not! Important! Now!" Bill resumed pacing. "What'll it take to convince you to take this seriously and stay low?"

"You could start with a proper explanation."

"I've explained as much as you need to—" Bill abruptly fell silent and stopped walking, eyes wide with horror.

Dipper and Ford turned to see what he was looking at.

There was nothing. Just a few pine trees in front of a line of gray rocks still tall enough to stick up out of the shallow water in front of the sheer cliff face below Gravity Peak. Dipper turned to Bill. "What?"

Bill didn't answer. He just took off his backpack and started stuffing his damp bedsheet inside. "With gravity so low, the climb through the tunnel to the peak should be a lot faster than humans can usually go," Bill muttered. "If we can get up there in an hour or two, do your stupid scans, and at least get back to the cave before totality..." He looked worriedly at the sky, then slung his backpack back on. "But we need to leave now."

Ford said, "I suppose we could have breakfast on the go. As soon as we pack our tents and change into dry clothes..."

"No time," Bill said. "You can change in the cave, you'll just get your clothes wet again if you do it here. We'll come back for the tents later."

Dryly, Ford said, "Who put you in charge of this expedition?"

"If we waste any more time, the lake will rise higher than the cave opening and we won't be able to get in."

Ford mentally measured how high the lake had risen already. "We'll come back for the tents later."

The survival equipment Ford kept in his backpack included a self-inflating raft with two collapsible paddles, which was well worth the slightly-unstable magic he'd used to get it to fit without being too heavy to carry. He inflated the raft, everyone climbed in, Ford gave Dipper the second paddle, and they set out across the lake in the pinkish early morning light.

Bill looked back over his shoulder one last time at the the line of sharp, gray rocks, and the beforeimage of brilliant red blood drying on their points, such a dramatic and permanent change to their appearance that even hours beforehand he could see it; and then he forced himself to turn away. The only way they were avoiding that was if they were off the cliff before totality.

####

As they crossed the lake, Bill ran his hands beneath the surface next to the inflatable raft and scooped up a handful of water. With the water came eight small, wriggly, ghostly axolotls, clear as glass and shining in the thin rays of dawn.

Dipper gasped. "What are those?"

Bill gave him a sharp look. "You can see them?"

"See what?" Ford asked, leaning over to peer at Bill's hands.

Dipper said, "The—the axolotls?" At Ford's frown, Dipper asked, "Can't you see them?"

"He can't see them," Bill said.

Uncertainly, glancing over the side of the boat, Ford asked, "In the water? Where?"

"No, in Bill's hands."

"He can't see them," Bill repeated. "You shouldn't be able to see them, either." He spilled the axolotls back into the lake. They melted into the water as though they'd never existed. "You really, really need to get inside."

Dipper did not like the sound of that. He swallowed hard.

"What exactly did you see?" Ford asked.

"Bill just... scooped a bunch of tiny axolotls out of the water," Dipper said. "Like the one in the fish tank, but smaller. And they were completely clear, like they were made out of ice."

"Were they alive?"

"Yeah, they were wiggling around. They disappeared when he dropped them back in the water."

"At least they're still transparent," Bill muttered. "And I suppose you won't take this as proof that I've been right about everything."

"Wh—" Ford lowered his paddle and gestured at the lake, "How do invisible axolotls that only some people can see prove anything about 'gravitational eclipses'! If anything, that sounds like the exact kind of weirdness that would come from the Nightmare Realm ripping open!"

"Oh, I wish it was the Nightmare Realm, I would love for it to be the Nightmare Realm," Bill snapped. "You know what, never mind! I changed my mind! Keep saying your thing about the sky ripping open and pouring all my friends into town! Maybe if you say it enough times I'll be wrong and it'll happen, that'd be great!"

"It at least makes more sense than your story! What in the world are a bunch of invisible axolotls doing in the lake, anyway!"

"Migrating."

"Axolotls don't migrate to Oregon, their native range is in Mexico!"

"Fine. Harbinging. They're harbingers."

"Of what?"

"The eclipse."

Ford dropped his oar, made a gesture like he was fighting himself not to strangle Bill, and finally dragged his hands down his face. "Why. Are invisible axolotls the harbingers of an eclipse."

"I don't know, it's just one of those things! Are we going to the cave or not?!"

Ford furiously started rowing again. Dipper had to hurry to keep up.

As he paddled, Ford snapped, "And for as often as you've told us not to look up, now that this 'eclipse' of yours is nearly at 'totality,' I still don't see anything out of the ordinary in the sky!"

"Of course you don't," Bill snapped back, "it's not in the sky."

"Then why can't we look up?!"

"I don't mean up, I mean up-up."

Ford stared at Bill like he'd grown a second head. "WHAT?!"

"I mean... ahhh," Bill made a frustrated noise, snapping his fingers, "English doesn't have a word for— upward-but-not-skyward! You know what I mean!"

Ford almost snapped at Bill again; but then paused. "Hold on," he said slowly. "That's from..."

"Who cares what it's from, you at least know what it means—"

"Flatworld," Ford said. "That was the name of it, right?"

A brief grimace flashed across Bill's face. "Yes, that."

Dipper looked between them, confused. "What?"

Ford said, "It's a novella that explains the concept of higher dimensions by using a metaphor about lower dimensions. A sphere visits the second dimension to teach a square about the third—but where the sphere intersects the second dimension, all the square can see is a circle."

Bill muttered, "Would you drop the wise mentor schtick for five minutes—"

Ford raised his voice. "The sphere tries to explain that the rest of its body is above the second dimension—but having never seen the third dimension, in the square's language 'up' and 'above' mean the same thing as 'north.' The sphere resorts to calling the third dimension up-but-not-north to indicate that it's a different, unseen dimension."

Dipper nodded slowly. "So, if the eclipse is upward-but-not-skyward, then... what, you're telling us not to look in the fourth dimension?"

"Finally!" Bill sighed. "It's not exclusively in the fourth, but—it's close enough, you get the idea!"

Ford said, "But we can't see the fourth dimension."

Bill gave Dipper a dubious look that Dipper didn't like at all; but Bill only said, "Then you've got nothing to worry about, just like I've been saying! Keep your eyes shut just in case."

"Convenient that your proof is only visible in a dimension we can't see," Ford said wryly.

Dipper looked up, squinting at the sky. Bill shoved his head back down.

####

The waterfall was more of a waterfloat. Large orbs of water gently descended from the cliff high above, catching the early morning light. Ford and Dipper stopped paddling to watch in wonder. Bill muttered a spell under his breath, and a foot over their heads the waterfall landed on an invisible umbrella and rolled to the sides rather than land in their raft.

The water level had risen so high they had to lay nearly flat in the raft to get through the cave entrance; rather than paddling, Ford pushed them through with his hands on the tunnel's ceiling. Bill was out of the raft and walking across the water to the shore while Ford and Dipper were still getting their paddles positioned again.

"Gravity's currently—what, about twenty-five percent?" Bill tugged off a shoe, dropped it, and observed how fast it fell. "Twenty to twenty-five percent." He took off his other shoe, rung out his socks over the lake, and stuffed them in his backpack, preparing to climb barefoot. "And it's only going lower. You should be able to just jump up most of the way to the top of Gravity Peak. So if you waste my time trying to climb..."

"Would you relax?" Dipper said irritably. "You should be glad we got up at the crack of dawn for you at all." He climbed out of the raft, copied Bill's attempt to dry out his socks and shoes, and then rung out his wet hat.

"You should be grateful I warned you totality's getting closer! Weren't you the ones convinced the world's going to end if you don't chuck a glue bomb at the sky?"

Ford muttered, "I'm surprised you didn't just have us waste time until the cave was inaccessible."

Bill processed that. He pressed his lips together, squeezed his eyes shut, and his face contorted in an expression of exquisite pain and regret. Through gritted teeth, he muttered, "Happy to help."

Ford reeled out a few feet of cable from his infinity belt, looped it around Dipper's waist, and tied it securely. An infinitely-long cable wouldn't be very helpful on a real climb—if Dipper lost his grip, it would just keep unreeling rather than stop his fall—but this wasn't much of a real climb, and at least it would ensure they couldn't get separated. Dipper took out a flashlight, Ford lit his antique lantern—instead of rising up, the flame inside looked nearly like a ball—and Bill hurried ahead of them, not bothering with any light source, eyes occasionally flashing like a cat's in the dark when he glanced back to check the humans' progress.

This was the fastest Ford had ever climbed the tunnel path up to the top of the mountain, easily leaping nearly twice his height to grab handholds that would previously have taken several minutes to climb to; and before long, he was all but ignoring basic spelunking safety to keep up with Bill. Losing his footing simply meant a slow, gentle fall back to the nearest level ground to try again. The only thing holding Bill back—who, Ford suspected, was now simply flying through the shadows—was Dipper, who was also climbing as fast as he could.

The only time Ford even came close to catching up was when Bill paused to look down the path that, if Ford remembered right, led to the thousand-year-old cave paintings where Ford first learned about his "muse"; but then Bill was gone again, rushing ahead into the dark.

While Bill was at the furthest end of his tether, Ford dropped back to keep pace with Dipper. "Keep your voice low," he said, "but—Dipper, are you absolutely positive that what you saw in the lake were axolotls?"

"Pretty sure. They had the frills and everything, I don't know what else they'd be," Dipper said. "Do you think that's important? In your third journal..."

"That's just what I was thinking."

When Ford had documented his interdimensional travels in Journal 3, he'd included a few strange references to axolotls he'd heard over the years: refugees in the Nightmare Realm who'd cried "praise the Axolotl" when Ford had said he would kill Bill; an oracle who mentioned Bill's history and prophesied his defeat, whose temple was filled with tapestries and paintings of axolotls.

"Maybe they're connected?" Dipper asked. "Maybe the axolotl they're talking about is some kind of... ancient enemy of Bill?"

"I think it's more complicated than that," Ford said. "I was only able to describe a few of my travels in Journal 3—but I heard 'the Axolotl' mentioned in multiple dimensions."

Dipper processed that. "What, so... do you think they're all talking about the same god or something?"

"Yes and no. Some societies referred to this Axolotl as a divinity—although not a creator god. But nobody seems to agree on what its domain is. I heard some say it's the god of goodness. Other, the god of justice. The god of luck. The god of second chances. I've rarely seen the same label twice." Ford shrugged. "But then sometimes it was described like a vast animal or a force of nature—something that travels between stars and watches astronautical travelers, like a curious dolphin watching a boat. I never learned if they were all describing the same being, a group of beings—or if it was a simple translation error for some other term like 'demigod.'"

Dipper scrunched his nose. "'Translation error,' what? Across multiple civilizations?"

"The dimensional translator I received was somewhat buggy," Ford said. "From time to time it would offer wildly incorrect translations for individual words. For instance, it consistently replaced the word 'soccer ball' with soccer ball, of all things. You can only imagine what kind of trouble that got me into."

Dipper blinked in bafflement, opened his mouth, decided maybe this was a can of worms best opened later, and shut his mouth.

"And on top of all that, not all the cultures I encountered respect this 'Axolotl.' In some places, it was called the god of injustice, inequality, or cruelty. The patron deity of criminals and tyrants. Sometimes it's a villain in folklore—a legendary thief, mercenary, liar, or thug. I don't know why the stories vary so wildly," Ford said. "But that Axolotl certainly doesn't sound like someone who would be Bill's enemy."

"I guess not." But how could one being be the god of both justice and injustice? Second chances and cruelty? Either some of the stories had to be wrong, or else they were about different axolotls.

"So in the end, I have no idea what the Axolotl is. But," Ford said, "I wouldn't be surprised if it has something to do with whatever Bill's hiding."

####

When they reached the tunnel's exit, Bill was standing beneath a tree, staring fixedly at something unseen in the sky. "I think it's still speeding up," he muttered. "Not that either of you care. I suppose I'm just talking to myself."

Ford elected to ignore Bill as he untied the infinity belt's cable from around Dipper's waist and reeled it in. He started the walk to the highest point along the cliff's edge. Dipper followed, and reluctantly Bill did too.

The tunnel had meandered sideways as it rose through the mountain; the stream that fed the waterfall they'd passed under was far to their left side, and the cliff looked out not over the lake, but over what used to be the shore, which was now submerged in several inches of water.

Dipper followed Ford to the edge so he could look over at the waterfall. For a moment, he couldn't figure out why the lake below looked wrong; but then he realized that the sun had risen high enough that the sky had changed from pink to pale blue. Which meant the lake should have been reflecting blue. "Why's the lake pink?"

When Ford just gave him a puzzled look—"It doesn't look pink to me."—Dipper turned to Bill.

Bill didn't even glance toward the lake. "Congratulations on being able to fully see the axolotls."

"There can't be enough to turn the lake pink," Ford protested, a tad irritably. "Leucistic axolotls are rare in the wild, they usually come in shades of brown and black."

"Oh you'll find anything to—" Bill pointed toward Dipper. "If you don't like their coloration, take it up with him! I'm not the one that told you how they look! If there weren't an independent witness here, you wouldn't have even believed me if I said there were axolotls."

"If there weren't an independent witness here, you wouldn't have told us there were axolotls." Ford slung off his backpack to rummage through it for the micro-rip scanner.

"Why am I seeing axolotls?" Dipper asked. "I mean, why... just me?"

Bill didn't answer for a second. He was still staring at the sky, watching something. He finally muttered, "Good question."

Dipper wasn't reassured by the fact that Bill wasn't even interested in pretending he knew the answer.

Bill said, "Remember when I told you that meeting some things—even just looking at them—will drive you mad? And that you almost met one?" He finally lowered his gaze to give Dipper a cruel smile. "Well, lucky you, you don't even need to build a portal. One's coming here."

Dipper swallowed hard. "So, don't look up?"

"Look who's finally catching on." Bill's gaze drifted away from Dipper's face and back to the sky.

"If just looking at it can drive you crazy, why are you looking?"

Bill laughed bitterly. "I've already taken as much damage as I can." With considerable effort, he tore his eyes from the sky. He floated to the edge of the cliff and peered over the edge.

Below were the sharp gray rocks near last night's campsite. Even from this high up, the future bloodstains were visible, bright red. They looked soon. Bill suppressed a shudder; his feet settled back on the ground and he backed away. "We're running out of time," he said. "You're as high as you can get, and you're still hundreds of feet below where the rift was. What now, smart guy?"

"I'm working on it." Ford was tying the end of his infinity belt's cable around the scanner. He gave the cable several feet of slack; twirled it in the air a few times to build up speed; and then let it go, sending it soaring into the sky. With gravity practically non-existent, the act of throwing it knocked Ford back a few inches, and the scanner simply kept on flying into the air.

Bill watched with his hands on his hips and a sour look. "Yeah, okay, all right, I guess that works."

"If anywhere is likely to have enough micro-rips to threaten reality, it'll be here," Ford said. "Here, we may need this." He took out the glue grenade, poured in his remaining adhesive, and handed the grenade to Dipper.

When the scanner reached its apex and began slowly falling, Ford pressed a button on his belt to retract the cable. He caught the scanner, examined the numbers, and frowned.

"Well?" Bill asked. He'd backed under the protective shade of a tree and was leaning on it with his arms crossed.

"Twenty-seven thousand micro-rips," Ford muttered. "The highest number so far. Nearly double the amount by Mabel's Fault."

Bill cupped a hand around his ear. "Sorry, did I hear you say 'a quarter of the danger threshold'?"

Ford didn't answer, still glaring at the numbers.

"So can we go now?" Bill asked. "Totality could be here any minute, and I do not want to be exposed on the highest spot in town."

Ford twirled the scanner over his head and chucked it again at another spot.

Bill let out a very quiet, very long, very high-pitched scream.

Ford whirled around. "Would you stop complaining!"

"SORRY! I've been seized by the FATAL HUMAN DELUSION that my actions might have an IMPACT on my FUTURE!" His face flushed with rage and his feet lifted several inches off the ground with the force of his screaming. "Or that MAKING SOUNDS with my MOUTH will COMMUNICATE MESSAGES that the HUMANS AROUND ME CAN COMPREHEND! But don't worry! I'm QUICKLY being proven wrong!"

Ford actually bared his teeth at Bill, and immediately felt stupid for it. He turned away and reeled in the scanner. Catching it bounced him into the air; it took him several seconds to settle back on the ground. "Twenty-five thousand."

"Great!" Bill snapped. "Let's go!"

"So... does that mean we don't need this?" Dipper asked, holding up the glue grenade.

Ford hesitated, looking out over the town. Maybe the danger threshold was lower than Fiddleford had calculated. Or maybe Ford hadn't thrown the scanner at the right spot. Or maybe the problem was dozens and dozens of sites that didn't reach the danger threshold alone, but compounded on each other to destabilize the whole region. Maybe throwing the glue grenade and dispersing it over town was still necessary to stop all this. Bill was right about one thing: "totality," whatever it really was—the full disappearance of gravity—was close. Every movement seemed to knock him minutely off the ground, and he could see his clothes floating.

But he had no evidence the glue grenade would do anything but wreck the environment. Plus, axolotls were endangered; he couldn't imagine invisible leucistic ones were doing much better. He sighed, stuffing his scanner away in his backpack. "I suppose not." Dipper nodded and stored the glue grenade in his own backpack.

"Great," Bill said. "Let's go."

"The micro-rip theory doesn't look likely," Ford said. "But that means something else is going on. And we don't have any backup explanation." He turned and gestured impatiently at Bill. "Except your stupid eclipse story, which is too vague to explain anything and probably riddled with lies."

"GREAT! Let's GO!"

"I came up here to find out what's going on. So what's going on?"

Bill's worried gaze flicked from Ford's face to the sky, back to Ford, over to Dipper. "Your uncle's gonna get himself killed, kid. We don't have to join him. Get over here, at least we can get back in the cave."

Dipper glanced at Ford, crossed his arms, glared at Bill, and stood his ground.

"Hsgd—Fffss—shhk." Bill covered his face, whimpered, and dragged his hands down his face so hard his nails left red lines. "I hate you both so much."

They weren't getting anywhere unless Ford caught Bill off-guard enough to accidentally reveal something. "Bill, what's the Axolotl."

Bill's gaze shot to Ford's face. He pointed past him toward the lake. "Kid saw as much as I did, he can tell you—"

"No, Bill. What is the Axolotl," Ford said. "Friend of yours?"

All the blood drained out of Bill's face.

Ford had struck a nerve. "What does it have to do with all this?"

"How much do you know."

Ford laughed harshly. "And give you an opportunity to mold your lies around my knowledge? Tell us what it is!"

"It's—a curse," Bill said. "It's a curse in living form."

"No. Tell the truth."

"What do you want to hear! He's my defense attorney, okay?!"

"I said the truth, Cipher!"

"WHY?! How would you know the truth if I told it?!" He flung his arms wide in defeat, voice climbing toward a desperate shriek, "I haven't lied once since the eclipse began! What else can I do?! Should I start making up plausible stories again?! Why are you pumping me for information you don't even believe! How can I tell you the truth if you won't give me any trust!"

Ford didn't have an answer.

Bill didn't deserve trust. Offering him even a sliver of trust could be fatal. Ford was 100% certain of that. And if Ford never trusted a single word out of Bill, then they'd never be able to hold a conversation, about anything, ever. Which was fine. He didn't want a conversation. That bridge burned over thirty years ago. Don't trust him.

So then why was Ford trying to hold a conversation with Bill? If Ford didn't believe him, why did he keep trying? What was he hoping for?

What did Ford want to hear?

He didn't have a chance to figure it out. Bill's gaze flicked behind Ford, he screamed, "Anchor yourselves!" and he flung his arms around the tree.

"Wh—" Ford dropped to one knee as he turned to look where Bill was looking, and Dipper tried to fling himself to the ground; but neither had a chance to get a grip in the grass before the last little bit of gravity disappeared—and was replaced by something new.

The waterfalls stopped flowing, then curled up into the sky. The grass and trees tilted toward the center of Gravity Falls, as though blown by an unfelt breeze. Water slowly rose up out of the lake. The Island Head Beast was lifted into the air, eyes frantically rolling around and groaning in alarm.

And an unseen force pulled Dipper and Ford over the edge of the cliff and into the sky.

Dipper only made it five feet before the bracelet's invisible thread pulled taut. It took him another second to realize he wasn't moving and stop screaming. Bill was still clinging to the tree. The bracelets' thread could pass through objects when it was invisible, but if you tried to grab onto it, you could; could Dipper use it to climb back to land?

"Don't let go! I'm gonna reel myself in!"

Bill laughed hysterically. "Do anything you want, I'm not going anywhere."

Dipper groped blindly around his braceleted wrist with his free hand; caught the thread; and started dragging himself, hand over hand, down toward Bill. But even as Dipper tried to reel himself in, the unseen force continued to pull him back—in more dimensions and planes than he could see.

Something poorly attached tugged loose.

His vision swam and the world went gray.

And his soul popped out of his body.

Dipper's ghost looked at Bill. Bill looked at Dipper's ghost. They both looked at Dipper's dead body. They started screaming.

"What happened?!" Dipper groped at his ghostly torso—and through it—and then flailed his arms in a desperate attempt to make them more corporeal. "Ohmigosh what happened to me!"

"It's not me!" Bill shouted. "I didn't do it, you saw me, I wasn't even touching your body, I'm innocent!"

"I'm in the mindscape," Dipper said, "this is the mindscape, right?" It was unmistakeable; the world was cool and gray and muffled, just like last year, just like in all his nightmares. "Why am I in the mindscape! What am I doing here!"

And then the gray landscape fell beneath a reddish-pink shadow.

Dipper turned around.

A massive shape, winding slowly through the air as though it were swimming, descended over Gravity Falls, sunlight filtering through its translucent pink body. So massive that Dipper couldn't see both ends of it at once. So massive that even though only a tiny cross section of its body passed through the third dimension's mindscape at once, the full mass of its unseen higher-dimensional body was vast enough to eclipse Earth's gravity—and cause every loose object in town to slowly fall skyward toward its body.

It was awe-inspiring and terrifying and majestic; and Dipper was sure he'd seen it before.

The Axolotl twisted back on itself, doing a loop in the sky that carried it halfway to the moon, to position itself to look down at the peak over Gravity Falls with one huge, black eye. Bill looked at the ground. Dipper looked at its face.

As Dipper made eye contact, the world froze. Everything slowed down. A hole in time and space opened where only the two of them existed; no one else could hear them and they could hear no one else. The Axolotl was so massive that Dipper could feel its thoughts like the static charge in a lightning storm and hear them like the echo of thunder. It thought—thunderously, apocalyptically, infinitely kindly—"Ah, yes. Hello again."

Dipper swallowed hard. "Hey," he croaked. "Have—we met?"

"Yes," the Axolotl said. "I'm afraid that's the only question I have time to answer. Tell your sister I said hello." Its world-making gaze moved off of Dipper, and he was back in the mindscape.

And the Axolotl turned his attention to Bill.

####

(Congratulations to the three people who saw it coming. Hope y'all enjoyed, would LOVE to hear what you think, and next week Things Get Worse, Again!!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #grunkle ford #stanford pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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fearthetallman · 7 months

Text

Krang Pie Chapter 6

Warnings: cooking krang, eating krang alive, gore/torture

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Chapter 6

Whenever Mikey got the chance, he would slip away to his room. There were so many techniques he wanted to try.

He tried boiling. Pretty bad, took away most of the flavor. He accidentally undercooked one and bit into it only to get mush, like biting into a rotten apple. He decided not to do boiling anymore.

He dug out their old pressure cooker. Not bad, and really brought out the sweet flavor. If he added enough other things, he was sure he could add layers of flavor to the meat. But it took forever so he didn’t use it too often.

Next was the air fryer. It was a lot faster than cooking it a pan but not quite as crisp.

He really wanted to try baking it but couldn’t figure out a way to do so without being caught. So instead, he kept bringing the ingredients to his room whenever he could scurry them away.

Milk, eggs and butter were things he dared not take back, however. If he placed them down on his floor, he might forget about them until they started to smell. The last thing he wanted was others coming into his room.

The krang was as stubborn as ever, still claiming its superiority even as Mikey ripped its limbs off. Not that he could complain. It made it easier to torture him.

When Mikey started experimenting with breading, he got the real flavor to unleash. Frying them up, you could hardly differentiate them from pork chops. Although they were a bit more tender and tasted a little too sweet.

He got so wrapped up in finding the perfect seasoning to go with the breading that he didn’t notice Raph until he was already in his room.

Paprika, onion powder, and a tin of salt fell from Mikey’s arms. Raph looked up, still halfway through a piece of meat. “Oh, sorry! Something smelled so good in here I couldn’t stop myself.”

His heart thundered in his head and his eyes swung to the closet. Closed. He had put the krang away because his squirming had gotten boring. So long as it didn’t say anything, he was safe.

“You know you’re supposed to knock before coming into someone’s room,” he said, voice strangled by anxiety. He knew he should feel annoyed and angry at Raph but all he could feel was terror. He needed to get him out of here.

“Sorry, I did but you didn’t answer.” He finished off the rest and licked his fingers. “This is really good, Mikey! What’s in this?”

Mikey inched around him, back to his closet in case anything moved in there. “Just some usual stuff. Garlic salt and all that.” He laughed but it sounded forced. His hand landed on the handle of the pan.

“You usually don’t cook in your room, so I was kind of surprised. You’ve been spending so much time in here, I just wanted to check up on you.”

He internally cursed himself. He should have been more careful. “You know how Donnie gets sometimes when I’m making something new. Complains about the smell. But I’m glad you like it!” He placed the cooling pan into Raph’s giant hands. “Here, why not eat the rest of it?” He pushed the snapping turtle towards the exit.

Giving Raph the rest of it was a risk, it’d be easier for him to figure it out with more, but he couldn’t let him stay here.

“Wow, really? Thanks!” He left docilely, not fighting Mikey shoving him out until they got to the doorway. He then paused, not moving no matter how much Mikey pushed. “But I think you should try cooking in the kitchen. They’re so good even Donnie would like them!”

Michaelangelo, like all his brothers, constantly craved external validation. Though he didn’t scramble for compliments like the rest of them, he would still latch onto a compliment like a life raft. And being told that Donnie, the Extremist of the Picky Eaters Club, would like his cooking was all that Mikey needed to lose all his common sense.

***

“They’re going to find out, you know,” the krang said as Mikey gathered his cooking supplies. Even though it had grown bigger, its voice still had a bit of a pitch, making everything it said sound ridiculous.

“Just like I found you before you could complete your evil plan?”

“You stepped on me by accident,” it growled.

“Accidentally on purpose.” He walked up to the cage, glowering down at the chewed-up wad of bubblegum inside. “Does it infuriate you? Knowing I’m such an ‘inferior’ creature and yet here I am feeding you to my family.”

It slithered closer, almost wrapping its tentacles around the bar before remembering. “Do you really think they’ll still love you if they find out?”

The question startled him. It didn’t sound like a question a krang would ask. They knew nothing of nor did they care about love. So as much as the question disturbed him, he brushed it off.

“It doesn’t matter because they won’t find out.” He shoved the krang back into the closet.

***

Mikey picked something that was familiar but still used what he needed. Pork pies. He’d gotten a few more tentacles, making sure to cut off the squiggly ends so no one could tell them apart from other meat. Dicing them up even more, he started making the dough.

This was something he had missed. Baking. The warmth of the dough in his hands as he kneaded it into shape. The flour under his fingernails. (The delicious torture) Spreading the butter over the pastry to ensure it was as tasty as possible. He just hoped everyone liked it.

He made six miniature pies in a muffin tin. Raph usually ate more than one. The time ticked by slower than usual as he waited for it to bake. Watch pot and all that blah blah blah but he couldn’t help it! Everyone else was in their rooms and he couldn’t stand going back to his room where that thing was. So he sat faithfully by the oven until the full 30 minutes was up.

When he took them out, they looked delicious. The smell wafting over was intoxicating. This may have been his best work yet. He set the table and thought about knocking on everyone's door but then he remembered the group chat.

I made supper everyone!!!

He sent lots of smiling emojis, unable to contain his excitement. Two people read the message. He sat down in his chair at the table, excitedly rocking side to side as he waited for them to come out. Five minutes go by. Then ten minutes. Then half an hour. He checked his phone but there are no new messages. He turned off the screen with a sigh, laying his head on the table.

By the time an hour goes by, he had just about given up when Raph walked in.

“Oh! Hey, Mikey. Raph was going to apologize for being late but er…” Raph looked at the empty table and tried to give Mikey a reassuring smile. “You know how we all just lose track of time sometimes!”

Mikey gave a tired smile back to him, more for his effort than any comfort Raph’s words brought. Raph sits down, excitedly scarfing down his pork pie.

“This tastes amazing!”

His words reignite some excitement into Mikey and he tries some of his own creation. It had cooled off, nowhere near as warm but still tasted good, the spice mixing well with the meat. A bit too sweet, still. Something he would need to adjust for next time. While he ate, Donnie stepped out, squinting at the lights.

“Hello, gentleman. What’s for dindin tonight?”

“I made pork pies!” He said, lifting the plate of his half-eaten food.

“Oh.” Donnie’s face soured. “I am not—”

Raph slammed his fist on the table and gives a “you better not say what you were originally thinking” look. Mikey pretended like he hadn’t seen that.

“I am not a fan of pies.” Donnie continued. “Especially not of the meat kind. I’ll just find something else and then go back to my lab.” He gave a guilty smile.

Mikey’s own face fell, even when Raph offered to eat Donnie’s for him. Although he waited until evening, Leo still never came out of his room. His pie grew cold.

***

Mikey returned to his room, defeated. There was a tangle of emotions in his gut. He shouldn’t get too upset. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t his fault, it wasn’t his fault, it wasn’t his fault.

It was always his fault.

He grabbed his sketchbook and opened up a blank page. He picked up his pencil, but his hands were shaking so bad it slipped out of his fingers. The pencil fell and bounced on the ground, rolling under a wastebasket full of trash he hasn’t remembered to take out. He took a step forward to grab the pencil but his leg hit his skateboard. Pain radiated from his ankle and he had to suppress a swear. He kicked the skateboard but that just caused more pain and hurt and he’s so freaking stupid.

Over his heavy breathing, he heard something coming from the closet. A laugh. He stormed over and yanked open the doors. Sure enough, the krang was laughing at him. It laughed even harder when it sees his murderous glare.

“You’re just like your brother.” It said with a malicious grin. “I remember when your brother would make the same noises. He’d get so emotional, breathing so fast before he started crying. Ah, I can almost still hear it. Although he begged a lot more. I remember once he even begged me to kill him. What did I show him that time?” The krang paused, putting a tentacle to its chin. “Now I remember. I had just finished ripping off your shell in front of him. Turtles are a lot more fun than regular humans. More of a crunch.”

It laughed hysterically. Mikey wasn’t really in control. His hands just moved automatically.

It was such a satisfying crunch.

His nails dug into the squishy, wet flesh of the krang. The main body this time, reaching into a chunk of its face. It didn’t give easily, the spam-like body resisting being separated from itself. The flesh finally gave way with a wet gush, fluids dripping from the wound and strings of tendon still hanging on like the strings he’d peel off from an orange.

The creature screamed but he barely registered it, only taking the horrified expression it slowly morphed into after laughing about torturing his brother. It didn’t taste as sweet as he’d grown used to. This had more of a watered-down taste, so much gushing out that it dribbled down his chin. It was rubbery and difficult to chew but he didn’t stop, only feeling a sense of relief and release when he swallowed. His tongue ran over the sides of his mouth, catching the bitter juice that had been left behind.

“You’re a monster!” It screeched. “The krang is the epitome of perfection! You should be swearing loyalty to us, you inferior life forms. To even think of hurting us is—”

His hands tighten around the cage, his hands stinging a bit from the anti-krang still on the bars. “Shut up before I tear off another chunk of you.”

Epitome of perfection his shell. If the krang were so smart then it wouldn’t have been caught by him. The krang needed a lesson in humility and he was more than happy to be the teacher. He pulled out the kitchen knife.

“How fast can you regenerate?” Light glinted off the cared for blade, making it feel like a shiny new toy.

“No. You can’t keep doing this.” It crawled back as far as it could in the cage.

“How?” He picked up the cage and threw it against the wall, making a thud, rattling the krang inside. “Fast?”

“I can’t keep up with it. You’re taking too much!” It pleaded, sounding very pathetic.

Just what he wanted to hear. He cut off three more. He had a lot of work to do.

[next]

#rottmnt krang #krang pie #save rise of the tmnt #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt fanfiction #rottmnt fic #save rottmnt #rottmnt #krang #rise krang #gee mikey sure did a turnaround into a sadist #I wonder what could have made that change in him

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duckybarnes1917 · 1 year

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Your Eyes Outshine The Town...Chapter 13

Bucky Barnes x Black Female Reader

18+ ONLY

*gif is not mine

Summary: A short and sweet chapter. You and Bucky have a difficult conversation the day before Christmas.

Warnings: Bucky's trauma.

*Tumblr is not letting me add links to the prev or next chapters. Please see the masterlist pinned to my page for the rest of the story!*

Christmas Eve

Sleep consumed you and Bucky for almost a full 24 hours. Bucky only stumbled out of bed once to chug two bottles of Gatorade and go to the bathroom. You barely stirred, only moving to burrow closer to Bucky’s side. Eventually, your stomach growled loud enough to jolt you awake, and Bucky was out of your arms and in the kitchen faster than you could process what day or time it was.

Still, you both remained in bed, no tv, no talking, just basking in the relief of being together again. You tried to extend the feeling for as long as possible, but you both knew the conversation needed to be had.

Bucky held you closer to his chest, clearing his throat before speaking. “I don’t remember what happened after you got me out–Stephan’s sister, where is she?”

“I didn’t kill her,” you said defensively.

Bucky simply rubbed his thumb over your bicep in tiny circles until you relaxed.

“I don’t know,” you sighed. “I let her go–I was only focused on you. If she’s smart, she’s in hiding.”

Bucky nodded, pressing a kiss to your neck. “And Ozenik? Where did he come from?”

You smiled slightly. “Helmut sent us a guardian angel. He called–the day we got here. Warned me, and I didn’t listen.”

“Hmm, we should send him a Christmas gift. Can we send gifts to The Raft?”

You looked up at him, he was trying to keep the mood light, but you couldn’t help sinking a bit.

Bucky could feel it in the way you loosened your hold on him; he could see how your eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“It’s okay, you know–those men you killed–they would have hurt you. They would have killed us both if you hadn’t done what needed to be done. But I’m sorry they made you do it.”

You nodded against his chest; you swore you couldn’t possibly fall anymore in love with him. It would be so easy to stay in this moment, accept his love and forgiveness, and give it back twice as hard. But you needed to know.

“Baby–” you started tentatively. “Can you please tell me what happened?”

You could feel his whole body go rigid against you. “It’s in the past.”

“I swear I’m not gonna spiral again–I just need you to tell me.”

Bucky took a deep breath, “they came out of nowhere. I was focused on trying to get to the restaurant before they closed, and I was thinking about you, and the next thing I knew, I woke up in that cage. They, um, the arm–it’s got one weakness, electricity. It goes straight through my arm to my nerves, and I couldn’t fight them.”

You tried to pull away from his chest to look at him, but he held you still.

“It’s easier if I can just close my eyes.”

“Okay, baby, I’m here,” you whispered, bringing his hand to your lips.

“The drug, I don’t know what it was or how they got it, but I was in the cage, and then I wasn’t. I was–” Bucky swallowed and continued with your encouraging kiss to his hand. “I was here, but you were leaving, and Sam and Yelena too–you guys said you didn’t want me anymore.”

Bucky’s voice had gotten so small you had to hold your breath to hear him. Your grip tightened around his wrist, unconsciously telling him you weren’t going anywhere.

“And Steve too–Steve said the same thing.”

You could hear the tears in his voice, and you wanted nothing more than to show him how untrue that was, but you could sense that this wasn’t it–there was more.

“And then I would be back with Hydra, on ice, off ice, on the operating table.”

“Operating table?”

Bucky nodded; he knew he shouldn’t say more; he should spare you the details. He never told anyone but Shuri, only because it was medically necessary. Steve never wanted to know. Every time Bucky tried to tell him about what he experienced, Steve shut it down. Steve meant well, thinking it would be best for Bucky to forget, thinking he was sparing him from reliving the worst moments. But, he couldn’t forget, and he wanted someone to know what they did to him. He wanted someone to at least try and understand.

“When I fell off the train, my arm wasn’t completely gone. They–cut the rest off.”

You bit your tongue hard to contain the sob threatening to come out.

“They laughed when I screamed,” he hugged your body tighter, curling in on himself. “It felt like it went on forever, and I didn’t understand why–why I wasn’t passing out from the pain–why I wouldn’t just die.”

You couldn’t stop yourself now; you sat up, kissing him wherever you could reach. You pulled him closer, wrapping your legs and arms around him tightly as he shook and sobbed against you.

“It’s okay; you’re safe; it’s okay,” you repeated soothing words directed at him and yourself as you tried to keep your promise not to spiral again. “I’m not leaving, Bucky. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

That’s how you both fell asleep again, clinging to each other for support. Until a knock on the door woke you up from your midday nap.

“Sleep, I’ll go see who it is,” Bucky mumbled with a kiss to your forehead.

You grabbed his hand, forcing yourself up. “No, I’m coming.”

Sleepy-eyed, with wild hair and only half-dressed, you both walked to the door in a trance.

The shout of “Merry Christmas!” made you both jump back a bit when Bucky opened the door.

“Oh god,” you winced when the carolers launched into Jingle Bells, clearly not concerned about your and Bucky’s state of dress.

Bucky started laughing, his hand running over his face before looking down at your grumpy one. “Doll, it’s Christmas Eve–”

“Oh fuck, it is.”

Your eyes widened, and Bucky could tell you were about to panic–over what he wasn’t sure, but he simply wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you to his side, swaying gently as the carolers continued their joyful song.

Don’t forget to reblog! 😉

*Tumblr is not letting me add links to the prev or next chapters. Please see the masterlist pinned to my page for the rest of the story!*

Taglist: @delaber @mannien @raindrcpsangel @cjand10

#bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x black female reader #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes smut

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haileyofmischief · 3 years

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Reunited - Helmut Zemo X Reader

Summary: After escaping prison, Zemo goes to find his beloved lover. However, she didn't take his absence well.

Warnings: Angst, drinking, sad Zemo (yes that's a warning)

Requested by: @notbronze

After being locked up in the Raft for years, Helmut finally found an escape. Not without the help of a few friends, though. When Bucky broke him out of jail, he didn't have the time to visit you no matter how much he wanted to. You heard what happened, though.

When you heard that he went back to prison, somewhere he cannot escape this time, you felt betrayed that he didn't come for you while he was out. Soon you felt bad about that because you knew if he could, he would. Helmut always cared about your health and happiness more than anything and he knew that you needed him. He needed you just as bad, maybe even more.

You left your old apartment in his absence. There were too many memories and oh-so-sweet nostalgia there. At first, he panicked when he couldn't find you there.

After a few days of research, he found out that you moved to a small town in Norway. You always told him how much you loved the country and that you two would be very happy there. He should have known. When he got there, he made small talk with the local people to find out information. It wasn't hard to find an outlander in such a small place. Everyone he talked to knew who you were.

Eventually, he found you sitting on a bench, looking at the sea. In one hand what looks like an alcohol bottle and seed for pigeons in the other. You always loved animals. His sweet lover who wants to help everyone. Your pure heart was what he fell for in the first place.

He has never seen you like this before. Dark circles under your eyes, looking exhausted. He could easily tell that you haven't properly gotten any sleep for a long time. He watched you from afar, not knowing how to approach you. He was hoping that he was not the reason you were in such a state. He felt his eyes burn. You did not deserve this. You always wanted a family. A husband who loved you and maybe a child one day. But he had his own demons, a lost family, a lost child... He considered just leaving you there at that moment. Maybe it wasn't him that hurt you this way? Maybe you got used to his absence? No. He came all the way there to see the only person he cared for in this goddamned world and however selfish that may feel, he is going to make you his again.

When he started walking towards the bench, he realized that you were crying silently He started walking faster. He was standing beside the bench now. You didn't look up. He was not moving, just waiting for you to look at him.

You spoke up in a cold tone, "Leave me alone.", thinking that it was a random dude who saw you crying and decided to take advantage of it. He was surprised by your harsh tone. You were always kind to people even when they didn't deserve it. Have you truly changed that much?

He spoke softly, "My love..." putting his hand on your shoulder hesitantly. You whipped your head up and looked at him with wide eyes, not being able to speak or move as if he would just disappear if you did. He waited for a few seconds but you were still looking at him without saying anything so he sat beside you, still holding your shoulder.

"My dear, I'm here. Please say something."

You started sobbing then. He took you in his arms and held you until you calmed down. When your breath evened out, you looked up at him, still clinging to his torso.

"How..? How did you get out?"

He kissed your temple and sighed, looking out to the sea.

"That does not matter now. I'm here and I won't leave you again."

You nodded. That was enough for you. You knew he would come for you sooner or later but it still felt like a miracle. You got off the bench and started walking away together, the bottle in your hand long forgotten on the ground.

A/N: Contrary to what I thought at first, I had fun writing this. I can write a part 2 if you want but I still have a few requests in hand. Please let me know whether you want another part or not.

#helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo x y/n #helmut zemo x you #daniel brühl #helmut zemo #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo #zemo imagine #zemo x reader #zemo x y/n #helmut zemo imagine #helmut zemo angst #marvel #marvel x reader #baron zemo x you #zemo fanfic #zemo x you #daniel bruhl zemo #tfatws

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dallaswinstonsleatherjacket · 3 years

Text

New Fic Cause Why Not

It’ll also be on my AO3, the format might be better there.

Taglist: @lipsticksandcigarettes @hellsfanatic @dollsroses @pepsi-and-cigarettes @goth--rose @neptunic--disaster @just-a-bisexual-demon (if you want to be added look in my pinned post)

There were around six of them, all grinning at me like Cheshire cats, and I swallowed, trying to calculate my chances of surviving if they all jumped me at once.

I didn’t know what to do. I knew if I screamed, they’d pummel me. It might be too late before someone gets here. Ever since Bob died, the Socs have been more restless. Angry. Harmful.

I shouldn’t have been walking alone. I hadn’t even brought a wrench or anything from the DX to defend myself. It was fair game, and I was bound to lose.

One of them moved, and I reacted too fast. They all lurched, grabbing my arms and pinning me down faster than I could fight back. I couldn’t escape, kick and try as I did.

I only remember bits of it. I think I might have hit my head, because I blacked out at some point. All I knew was that I was there for what seemed like hours. All the anger over Ponyboy was beaten into me, and I might have cried, I can’t remember.

It stopped suddenly, I heard shouting and running and a car engine starting and whirring away, and footsteps walking over to me.

I mumbled a plea to stop, to let me go. Hands touched me again and I winced. They were rough and cool, but they held my head off the ground softly.

“Sodapop, can you hear me? Soda?”

Dally.

I could barely speak, I tried to make a noise but nothing escaped my throat. I couldn’t move my hands, or anything else. I could barely keep my eyes open.

“It’s okay. Hey, stay awake for me okay? It’s gonna be okay, Pepsi-cola.”

I would have smiled at the nickname if I could. My whole body was numb, but still seemed to burn with pain as he helped me stand, slinging my arm around his shoulder.

I stepped forward and then yelled out. It felt like I’d broken my ankle, maybe my foot.

“Shit”

I felt the same way as Dally. I couldn’t explain this to Darry.

“Okay, I’m gonna try to lift you up. Is that okay?”

I nodded as best I could, tensing as I felt his arm under my knee and another around my back before being lifted off the ground.

He was so warm. I was freezing, I realized, it was cold and I was cold and he was so warm and strong and I leaned into him unconsciously.

He tensed as I had done earlier before starting to walk.

We must have made it to my house because I heard a door open. I heard voices, they were all too loud, I buried my face in Dallys jacket. Too loud, too much.

I couldn’t remember much after that either. I remembered clinging to Dally as if he were a life raft. I remember being taken from his arms, and then being put back there. He smelled nice, like whisky and cinnamon.

I remember stinging, all over. Aching too. My foot hurt like hell. I remember crying, just a little, holding tight to Dally.

I remember waking up. It was morning, I could see the sun through the window. I was in my bed-I wondered how I got in my bed. I wondered who’s arms I was in.

Dally.

I looked up to see him asleep. He seemed to have dark circles under his eyes, his arms were wrapped around me protectively, hugging me to his chest. I didn’t want to move.

Pony walked in and started, running out again when he saw my eyes open. I closed them again. The sun hurt.

I could hear Darrys heavy footsteps coming down the hall and I winced. I knew what was coming, a lecture for walking home alone, for not bringing a switch, for-being in Dallys arms?

The door opened and I could feel Darrys hand on my forehead. Like he did when me or Pony was sick. Weird, I wasn’t sick. Why was I still in Dallys arms?

“Hey, buddy, you awake?” Darrys voice was gentle, and I stirred and opened my eyes.

“Who’s sick?” I asked.

Darry smiled, a hint of sadness. “You are, Pepsi-Cola. Scared us all half to death with that fever.”

I pushed away from Dally. “What?”

“You’ve been sleeping on and off for almost a day, we couldn’t get a complete sentence out of you-you just kept asking for Dally, you wanted Dally.” Darry stopped and rubbed his eyes. “Dal told us what happened-you must’ve hit your head or something, gotten a concussion, you’ve had a bad fever. You seem to be okay now.”

Dally stirred under me and I looked up at him again, his eyes opened and he looked down at me and then back to Darry.

“Is he okay?”

Darry nodded. “He’s okay. Just woke up a minute ago.”

Dally looked back down at me. He seemed to be debating something, and then he gently moved me off of him and stood up.

“I should go.” His eyes were tired, he sounded drained and stressed. Darry nodded.

“Thank you. For staying.”

Dally nodded and didn’t even look back at me before he slipped out the door.

I wanted to yell for him. I missed his warmth already, I missed his arms around me. I wished I was sick again, so that he would hold me. My whole body ached, I felt sick, my head hurt.

I slept again, more restlessly this time.

***

It had been a week. I could stand now, my head hurt less. I had grown to be embarrassed of how I clung to him.

He was on the porch, smoking. I walked out there, still in my pajamas and with bed-hair, a bandage around my ankle. He didn’t even glance at me as I sat down next to him.

It was silent for a moment before I spoke.

“Thank you.” I thought that was the right thing to say.

He blew smoke out towards the fence. “For what?”

“For-uh-for staying. With me. The other day.” I looked down. I wasn’t wearing any shoes.

He didn’t answer, so I continued. “I’m sorry for-keeping you there, I didn’t, I wasn’t-lucid. I wouldn’t have asked you to stay-not that I mind-but not like that, you know what I mean-and thank you for saving me and for chasing the Socs away and-“

“Shut up.” He spoke quietly, dangerously.

I shut up. It was silent for another minute. I worked up the nerve to speak again.

“I’m sorry-“

“If you don’t shut up right now Sodapop Curtis I am going to kiss you until you do.”

I nearly fell off the porch. I think he did too, realizing what he had said and instantly regretting it. For some reason I hated that he regretted it.

“I mean-that’s not what I meant” he managed finally, and I sat there. My head felt heavy. I felt tired. I wished he would kiss me.

“I wouldn’t be opposed” I said quietly, still staring at my feet.

It went dead silent then, I’m pretty sure even the wind stopped moving for a second. I didn’t even breathe.

I turned, slowly, to look at him. His cigarette had been dropped in the grass below us, still smoldering. He was watching me.

“I-“ I began, but he leaned over and kissed me.

I felt like I was flying. His lips were rough, chapped, he tasted sweet and tangy and wonderful. His hands were in my hair, I was clambering onto his lap and pulling him closer to me. I didn’t give one thought to anything before, anything after, I just flew with his lips against mine and our bodies pressed together and kissing each other hungrily like we were the last men on earth.

I pulled away first. It was wrong. I’m sure it said it somewhere, although in my book I had never felt more right than in that moment. To be honest, I was a little light headed.

“I-wow.” My voice was hoarse, quiet. He was watching me carefully. As if he had done something wrong. How did I tell him that that’s what I wanted to spend the rest of my life doing. I could barely form words.

“I’m sorry. I just-I thought something else.” He spoke quickly, coldly as if he had offended me. He began to stand up.

“No-no, Dally-it was wonderful, I lo-it was great, I promise, thank you.” I didn’t know quite what to say. Did I thank him? For kissing me? I felt like I should.

His gaze hardened. “Don’t.”

“What?” My voice was barely a whisper now.

“Don’t act. If you’re not going to-“ he stopped and turned away again. I grabbed his hand.

“I like you. I do, really. I promise.”

He looked at me again, searching my face. I begged him not to leave. Not again.

“You should eat something. Breakfast. Lunch.” He spoke finally. I nearly cried with relief.

“Will you come-do you want to eat?” I nearly kicked myself a second after. He was clearly trying to get rid of me.

He looked at me and smirked.

“Sure, Sodapop. I’ll come.”

#starspams #/pos #the outsiders #dallas winston #sodapop curtis #dallypop #the outsiders fanfic #the outsiders fanfiction #starsfics #sickfic #or something #hurt/comfort

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detroitbecomeyandere · 3 years

Note

Oh my god, that part two was so good. What would happen if you tried to escape the island somehow?

I'm so glad you enjoyed it! I just want to keep writing for them but I have other things I really want to do for this month, I'll probably come back to them at some point. (If anyone is good at naming things what should we name the pod?)

The only way you could escape is if by some miracle you managed to find enough materials to build a raft and something to store food and water in. You spent weeks inside the forest crafting it, though you still have to make some appearances at the beach so the mermen don't get to suspicious. You decide to set out at night, you know dolphins sleep with half of their brain active but you aren't sure about the mermen. You decide to chance it so you pretend to go to sleep on the leaf bed you made on the beach, laying there hours just watching the shoreline until you see no sign of them. Even then you wait a bit longer, your anxiety almost talks you out of your plan but you do your best to swallow the fear and push yourself up. Despite there being no way they could hear you you still walk as quietly as possible, the first thing you do is drag your raft to the edge of the beach. Feeling more confident you run back and haul your water and food to the raft and get it into the water, you push off with the flat piece of wood you found and use it to paddle out of the bay.

While you were no sailor you could still use the stars to navigate your way home, when you got back you'd have to call up your ex and thank him for making you learn the skill along with him. Following the North star you paddle as hard as you can just trying to put as much distance between yourself and the island as possible. You paddle for hours only stopping when your arms feel like they are wet noodles, pulling the branch out of the water you lay back and watch the stars. The sound of soft waves splashing against your raft lull you to sleep.

A loud thump wakes you, you sit up just as something else hits the raft. Your pulse spikes as you clutch the paddle to your chest, god you hoped that was a shark and not who you think it was. More thumps sound and you hear splashes coming from all sides of you, then a hand shoots out of the water soon after the body follows it. Cyrus launches out of the water and claws his way across towards you the anger in his face on full display in the moonlight, before you can even think about it you swing the paddle and smack his across his face. Blood pours from his nose as he lunges for your ankle, with nowhere to go you stand up and try to back away as far as you could but all you do is tip the raft and send yourself crashing into the dark water.

You surface and franticly look around for Cyrus but find him nowhere so you try and make it back to the raft, the paddle forgotten as you scramble to get out of the water. A cold hand wraps around your ankle and with a shriek you are plunged back into the icy water, he pulls you deeper and deeper. Struggling in his grip you try to pull yourself free but Cyrus digs his nails into your skin. Your lungs are on fire as the last of your oxygen runs out, your thrashing stops as black spots start to dot your vision. Looking up you see the fading moonlight, closing your eyes your final thought is "Well... this is one way to escape."

The first thing you feel is pressure on your chest, then the pain kicks in. Every breath you take in burns and you choke on it, you try to roll over and cough up whatever water was left in your lungs but the pressure on your top of you doesn't budge. Your eyes crack open to see what's holding you down and panic when you see the sleeping merman on top of you. From the freckles on his shoulders you can tell it was Connor and not Cyrus, for which you thanked God for. Gently lifting your head up you see that he has pulled your dress down to your waist and is nuzzled into your breasts, you notice you are still on the raft but moving faster than if just the water were guiding you. Closing your eyes you to try to hold back your tears, knowing they are taking you back to that damned island.

#detroit become human #yandere #yandere x reader #mermay 2021 #mermay ask #mermay #pod bois #anon #ask #mod beau

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queenrose730 · 3 years

Text

Reckless

Part Three

Master List

About thirty minutes later you heard Steve stand up to join you in the front of the jet. You hadn’t let go of the controls. Opting to manually operate the jet just so you were ready if Tony showed back up. Steve placed a hand on your shoulder a squeezed gently. Silently asking if you were ok.

“We just left them Steve. You know where they are going to put them.”

“I know yn.” He let out a small sigh. There were great odds that your friends were going to be sent to the raft. A prison in the middle of the ocean only reserved for the most dangerous people on the planet. You had been there a few times to help with prisoner transfers and the thought of them being held in those cells made your heart ache.

“Something bad happened back there Steve. Something with Rhodey. On minute he was on my radar then he was gone. I couldn’t make out what Sam was saying.” There was panic in your voice. “Could you make anything out?” You turned your face to Steve.

When he didn’t meet you gaze you knew it was more than bad. You bit back tears. Rhodey may have been fighting against you but he was a close friend too. He taught you how to fly when you first joined the Air Force. Long before Iron Man or the Avengers. Instead of answering Steve just squeezed your shoulder again. You nodded at him before he left to sit back down.

“We are about five minutes out guys. Get ready.”

You decided to land the jet close to the bunker. Steve and Barnes needed to get in there quickly. They didn’t have time to tread through the snow. After landing you joined them in the back of the jet. Barnes had already loaded up his gear and was carrying his machine gun. Both men were talking quietly while looking out the back of the jet. All your gear had already been laid you for you. You weren’t sure which man had done it but it made swapping out your gear for something more deadly quicker. The last step was to reach in the med cabinet for an auto injector for both men and one for you. You placed yours in its respective pocket and turned to Steve.

“Here.” You handed him the injector. “Just in case.” He nodded and you turned to Barnes. “One for you too.”

“That won’t work.”

“It’s dosed for me Bucky. It will work for you too.” Steve assured him.

“What’s in it?” He reached out and grabbed the injector.

“A little pain meds and adrenaline. Just pull the cap off and jam it into your body.” You demonstrated which end he needed to pull. “Make sure you aim for flesh.” You gave him a slight tease. “It won’t be any good if you use it on that metal arm.” He gave a quick smile back before you both turned back to Steve. “What’s the plan?”

“I’m not sure yn.”

“Well I have some ideas.” He looked at you surprised.

“Go ahead.”

“Well if there are five super soldiers in there, I’m not much good. You two go in and deal with them. I’ll take care of whatever or whoever comes out the door.”

“Yn? It’s not like you to pull yourself from a fight.”

“I know Steve. But let’s be real. You would spend more time worrying about me and get distracted. You both need to be focused.” Steve have you a slight nod. “Plus, I’ll be able to warn you if Tony or anyone shows up.”

“Right.” He stood up a little straighter. “You ready Buck?” Barnes gave a quick nod before both men headed down the ramp. You followed behind. Stopping to grab a large coat from a locker. Just before they began the decent to the bunker Steve turned back to you

“Don’t do anything stupid or reckless out here yn.”

“How can I? You’re taking it all with you.” Barnes stopped at your words and looked to Steve quickly. Steve let out a small laugh noticing the look from Barnes. Both turned back around and trudged off in the snow and you climbed on top of the jet to have a better view of the surroundings.

“Yn? You copy me?” Steve sounded concerned. You sat up a little straighter

“Yea, Steve. What’s up?”

“The doors open down here. Be on the lookout. You may not be the only one out there.” Your eyes immediately start to scan the landscape closely

“Copy that Steve. You be careful too. You may not be the only two in there.” You continued to scan the land. Feeling like the hair on every part of your body was standing up.

You heard it before anything. You could recognize the sound to Tony’s suit in your sleep. You rolled off the top of the jet before he could get too close.

“Heads up Steve. Tony’s coming in.” Your words were met with silence. “Fuck.” Stupid and reckless. Steve’s words played over in your mind. You were planning to go in the bunker after Tony. Three against six is better that two against six. You told yourself. You tossed off the coat you were wearing and took off to the bunker before your body could sense the cold.

You slowed down as you reached the door. It was still open from before Steve and Barnes went through. Inside was dark. Barely lit by the reflection of the sun off the snow outside. You scanned the entire room with the machine gun raised. It was empty except for a large door.

“Steve. Can you copy me?” You prayed that he responded. When he didn’t you headed to the large door. It was an elevator. It would ruin the element of your surprise but it looked to be the only way down. You cringed are the sounds of metal being pulled up. It was just too loud for your liking. As the noise grew louder you raised the gun again. If anyone was coming up with the elevator you would be ready. Thankfully it was empty. Carefully you stepped inside and began the dissent. There wasn’t any cover in the elevator, so you kneeled down in the corner. This way you could hopefully get the drop on any one waiting at the bottom. The door opened to an empty hall.

“Steve. Please fucking copy me.” Nothing. Dead air.

Slowly you moved down the hallway. Gun leading the way as you checked every crevice for anyone. Soon enough you heard a voice. You couldn’t make out what was being said, you just followed it deeper into the bunker. The hallway opened up into a large room. Barnes was the first one to catch your eye. He shook his head slightly at you. His face almost urging you to leave. But Steve and Tony were watching something on the screen in front of them. You moved closer to them as you heard a woman calling out from the screen.

“Steve?” He turned back to you. He didn’t react to your presence but closed his eyes then turned back to Tony. You made it close enough to see the final image on the screen. The Winter Soldier pointing a gun at the camera. Your brain finally registered the name the woman had been calling. Howard.

“Did you know?” Tony’s voice was cold.

“I wasn’t sure.” Tony turned to Steve.

“Did you know?!” You could feel the pain and anger in his voice.

“Yes.”

In an instant Tony fired a blast from his hand. Steve was able to deflect but it caused whatever machinery around you to come crashing down. You dodged it and landed on your knees. Quickly you pointed the machine gun at Tony. Taking aim at the back of the Iron Man suits knee. You knew that a few well-placed shots could help disarm the suit. Steve and Tony were locked at each other when you took your shot. Sparks flying from where the bullets made contact. Tony turned and shot other blast over your head causing even more metal to come falling from the ceiling.

“Bucky get out of here. Take yn with you!” He shouted as he re-engaged with Tony. You got back up to your knees and started to take aim at Tony’s other leg. You were stopped by Barnes slamming into you and gabbing your middle.

“Put me the fuck down!” You struggle at his grip but he held tight. Barnes walked over to a control panel at the bottom of a tall silo. He slammed his hand on it and metal started to groan to life. He then began to climb.

“Just stop moving and hang on.” He held on even tighter to you with his flesh arm. You could feel the bruises starting to form on your ribs from his grip. You complied for only a moment before begin to move in his grip again.

“Fuck yn stop!”

“Just let me turn!” He loosens his grip just enough for you to turn so your back was against him. Steve and Tony were still fighting each other but Tony was trying to get to Barnes. You had lost the machine gun sometime after Barnes grabbed you. You reached for a pistol that was still on your hip.

“What the hell are you doing!” Barnes had paused for just a moment to look at you.

“Just keep climbing!” You shouted at him and raised your gun. Trying to be as steady as possible as you dangled from Barnes. You found the right rhythm to move so that your aim could be steady. You took aim at Tony’s shoulder firing several shots. One must have hit because now Tony’s focus was on both of you.

“Shit!” You tried to aim again but Tony was faster. Firing a blast from his hand at the two of you on the wall. Barnes let go just fast enough to avoid the blast but it dropped you both down to a grated metal platform. The metal bit into any skin it could find and the weight of Barnes on top of you made something crack.

“What the fuck was that!” He shouted at you as he stood up. You didn’t pay attention to him because you had already rolled to your stomach aiming the gun again. This time you could get a clean easy shot. Sparks came flying from the base of the Iron man helmet.

“Dammit!” Barnes grabbed you up quickly and jumped to another platform.

You opted now to wrap your arms and legs around him so that he could climb faster. You were almost to the top. You peaked over Barnes should go see Tony aiming a rocket at the two of you.

“Barnes!” The rocket was off. Making contact with the giant metal hatch that had opened at the top. The hatch came crashing back down. Barnes fell on his back letting go of you. The force of the fall caused you to roll off the platform and fall down the silo. You reached out of anything to grab on to. Steve caught you half way down. You screamed in pain when he grabbed your arm. Pulling the shoulder out of socket. In one motion he swung you across to another platform. Tony and Barnes are now falling down the shaft. Steve grabbed on as they fell. The three hit a platform lower than the one you were on and that’s were Barnes stayed. Steve and Tony falling all the to the ground.

“Barnes you good?” You yelled down to him. Trying to reach for your auto injector for some relief from the pain in your shoulder. As you looked down you could see Steve’s shield a few levels down. Barnes was just across from it. He was starting to get up.

“Barnes!” He looked up at you just as you launched yourself off the ledge falling toward him. You actually managed to land somewhat easily on the same platform. Barnes was able to keep you upright from the jump.

You glanced down where Steve and Tony were at. Tony was now on top of Steve. Barnes grabbed you again and launched to the shield then down to the ground. He was up instantly slamming the shield into Tony. You took a second longer to right yourself.

“Steve! The reactor!” Breaking the rector at the center of the suit would be the only way now to stop Tony. You reached for any weapons on your body. The only thing left was a knife in your boot. That didn’t matter though because in a moment of distraction from Steve, Tony was able to let off a stun shot to your chest.

Everything was on fire. Your head spinning. You tired yelling again at Steve but weren’t sure if anything had come out. You couldn’t hear the punches being thrown between the men and you could only make out the flashes from Tony’s weapon in your vision. You closed your eyes against the pain. Willing the world to slow down. You opened your eyes just in time to see a large flash. Barnes fell close to you. You could just make out that his metal arm was gone. Things suddenly started to come back into focus. Steve had Tony pinned to the wall farthest from you. Barnes groaned next to you. You tried to reach out to him but your body was not wanting to move. When you looked back, Steve was now on top of Tony. Shield raised high over his head.

“Steve!” The shield came down. Buried deep into the reactor at Tony’s chest.

Nobody seemed to make a move for a long time. Feeling was finally coming back to the rest of your body. Barnes was starting to move next to you as well.

“Steve. We have to go.” You had pushed yourself up to your knees. Steve pulled the shield from where it was still stuck in the reactor. He walked over to Barnes and helped him up.

“That shield doesn’t belong to you! My father made that shield!” Steve paused in front of you. You had somehow made you way to your feet. The sound the shield made as it landed on the cement was deafening. You could feel tears start in your eyes. Blinking them back you moved to the other side of Barnes and let him lean on you for more support. Carefully the three of you made your way to the elevator.

By the time the three of you reached the metal doors, you were leaning more on Barnes than he was on you. The pain meds you had taken earlier wearing off fast. Your feet stumbled over the threshold of the elevator.

“Are you ok yn.” Steve looked around Barnes to you.

“Yea. Fine.” You sucked in a sharp breath. Trying to put on a brave face.

“She’s lying.”

“Fuck you Barnes.” You pushed yourself off of him to stand up straighter. Your body betrayed you though when you stumbled back, the wall catching you. You let yourself slide down to a sitting position.

“Yn!” Steve was all you could focus on. His hands were on each side of your face.

“Hey Steve.” You smiled weakly. The edges of you vision going black.

tags- @ginger-swag-rapunzel

#bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #steve x reader friendship #enemies to lovers #marvel fanfiction #slow burn #steve rogers #captain america #captain america civil war #mcu fic #james buchanan bucky barnes #reader insert #bucky fic #bucky x reader

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years

Note

since its may, you know what that means mermay, imagine being a fisher person that some how gain the attention of giant shark mermen, always following you no matter how far you go, just to get you're attention

I did make this a bit of a Pirate AU for My Hero Academia, if only because I can’t resist the temptation to shove Siren!Todoroki into every oneshot I can. Roll with it. The ends justify the means.

Title: Stranded.

TW: Implied Drowning, Blood, Physical Violence and Mentions of Canabilism.

Loneliness could do strange things to a person.

A month ago, you wouldn’t have considered yourself much of a dreamer. You would’ve laughed off the idea of sea monsters and fairies and anything could only be verified by a handful of eye-witnesses. You weren’t the type to talk to the walls or gaze out into the sea with anything more than mild loathing, and yet, you’d only refused to acknowledge Shoto’s existence for a day or two, three at most. Maybe he was a figment of your imagination, maybe he wasn’t. At the moment, he was real to you, and that was all that mattered.

If he was a hallucination, he was a lovely one. In the dim light of dusk, rays of orange and pink spread across his scales, just beginning to glow in the soft darkness. He was a predator, judging from the fiery red dotting his otherwise stark-white form, and a rather efficient one at that, the sharpened teeth poking out from thin lips always varnished with the blood whatever he chose to bring you, that day. Mindlessly, you leaned over the side of your lifeboat, letting your fingers skin through the surface of the water, drawing Shoto’s attention. You watched as he began to circle the disruption, a strong tail propelling him ever-closer. He wouldn’t attack, you knew that, by now. You almost wished he would. An injury would be proof of his existence, even if it came in an unpleasant way.

Just as Shoto was about to break the surface, a voice drew you to the other side of the rig. “The minnow’s back, isn’t he?”

You frowned, slightly, scanning over Katsuki. He was leaning against the opposite side of the lifeboat, eyes shut and head tilted back, his white tunic unbuttoned to escape the heat. Back on Izuku’s ship, the two of you hadn’t been the best of friends, but relationships didn’t matter when you were fleeing a sinking haul, attempting to escape a water-logged grave by whatever means necessary. He wasn’t bad company, either, just… quiet. Skeptical. You couldn’t blame him, you were a stranger as much as he was. “You really shouldn’t call him that,” You mumbled, turning your attention back to the swirling colors. “He hunts for us. It’s the least we could do to be nice to him.”

That got you a glance from the corner of his eye, but you were preoccupied, by then. Shoto had gotten over his initial shyness, and after a thorough investigation of your raft, he was making himself comfortable in the palm of your hand, rubbing his cheek against your skin in a sloppy attempt to gather as much affection as he could. You guessed he had to be partially human, in that aspect, desperate for intimacy from any source that would be willing to give it up. You just smiled, petting through long, wet hair as Katsuki shifted behind you. “It’s an animal who found someone to scratch behind its ears. It probably thinks it can, like, lay its eggs in you or something.”

You pursed your lips, narrowing your eyes towards Shoto. He mimicked the gesture, poorly, and you ruffled his hair as a reward. “Do mermaids lay eggs?”

“Hell if I know,” He grunted, beginning to sit up. “And hopefully, we’ll be rescued before either of us have to find out. If the fucker’s even real.” The boat rocked as Katsuki stood, carefully making his way to your side. The lifeboat dipped, but the wind was dead and the waves were calm enough for him to lean over with you, watching as Shoto temporarily drew back, slitted eyes flickering momentarily towards your companion. The bioluminesce below his pale skin grew a little brighter, and clawed hands came up to take your wrist, clinging to you protectively. You laughed, and Katsuki bristled, as put off by this action as any other Shoto had taken. “Because we are going to be rescued, soon, and your little pet isn’t coming with us.”

You didn’t respond, not verbally, but he must’ve seen the concern that spread over your expression, the doubt. There was a sigh, exhausted and drained, but soon, Katsuki’s head was resting on your shoulder, a small, reassuring sign, one that went further than any words of affirmation he could summon ever could. “It’s going to happen,” He assured, that mocking drawl absent from his weighted tone. “I know this trade route like the back of my hand. Eventually, a merchant is going to pass by and we’ll be on-track for the nearest island. We can figure things out, from there.”

“That, or our supplies run out, and we have to draw straws to figure out which one of us gets eaten first,” You counter, only half-joking. “I’ll even give Shoto one of your kidneys.”

“Fuck off,” He spat, but he was grinning, an elbow soon jabbing at your ribs. “You’re eating the fish before you’re eating me.”

Something in Katsuki’s voice must’ve bothered Shoto, the creature’s tail beginning to move a little faster, churning the water around him. He let go of your arm, sinking just below the surface, but he didn’t move to swim away. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he was pouting, getting ready to throw a fit like an unattended toddler. You nudged Katsuki’s side, nodding towards Shoto’s oncoming tantrum, hoping his goodwill would last. “You should try comforting him, this time. I think you two would get along, if you made an effort.”

He grunted, shooting you a glare, but with only the slightest bit of reluctance, he was rolling up his sleeves, mimicking the way you traced your fingertips over the surface, trying to lure Shoto upward. There was a moment of stillness, Shoto looking towards the display wearily, and you opened your mouth, prepared to tease Katsuki for the cold dismissal, only for your breath to hitch in your throat before the words could ever make it off your tongue. Without warning, Shoto lunged forward, his jaw closing around Katsuki’s wrist and jerking him over the lifeboat’s wall, or attempting to, at least, Katsuki barely catching himself. Reflexively, you scrambled backward, attempting to keep the raft balanced, but there was little you could do to help Katsuki as he grappled with the creature, cursing and clawing blindly, fighting, only inspiring Shoto to be more bold with his efforts. There was a hollow thud from the bottom of the boat, a final, wordless scream from Katsuki, and he was dragged into the sea, a cloud of something cloudy and dark following the pair as they spiraled downward.

You were too stunned to act, for a moment, but reality hit quickly and it hit hard, your heart racing as you frantically searched the water for a sign of either man. There was a faint light in the distance, but it was distorted, deep, already leagues away from the surface, and the only traces of Katsuki were scraps of clothing and strips of disembodied flesh, torn loose in the struggle. Time seemed to slow, your breathing labored, halting completely as Shoto rose back to the surface, alone.

Painfully, painfully alone.

You didn’t say anything, you didn’t move, but Shoto didn’t seem to care, staring up at you expectantly. If he could smile, he might’ve, but you couldn’t seem to focus on the thought.

Not when those jagged, awful teeth of his were coated in a fresh layer of red.

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angst-fairygodmother · 3 years

Note

Cliche prompt 48 or grumpy-affection 13 for Barba x reader? Plz. I need him.

A/N: Thank you so much for the prompts Nonny. I hope you enjoy the result! Word Count: 1785 Content Warnings: Panic attack/anxiety attack described in detail

Your hands trembled as you fumbled for your phone, tears blurring your vision and making it difficult to find his number. You felt like an elephant was sitting on your chest as you finally managed to make it to the right place in your contact list and click to dial. You pressed the cool glass of the screen to the side of your face and listened to it ring once, twice, three times.

“Come on, pick up,” you whispered desperately. “Please, please pick up.”

“Y/N?” he asked, voice distorted as it passed over the speakers but still undeniably, comfortingly him. “I did pick up.”

He sounded sleepy and with a glance over at the clock on your nightstand, you realized why. It was two in the morning, and he worked such late nights and long hours that he was probably just able to fall asleep before you disrupted him. Guilt twisted your aching stomach.

“Rafi!” you gasped, the thudding of your heart slowing minutely just hearing him. “Oh thank god.”

“What’s wrong?” there was a spike of panic in his voice and you could picture him as he sat up swiftly, sheets tossed aside and boxer-clad legs swinging down over the side of the mattress.

“I...I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called. I shouldn’t have woken you up. It’s just...I didn’t know who else to call.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Just talk to me.”

“I have no right to ask, but could you...would you come over? I just really need somebody right now.” You shook your head, even though he couldn’t see it. “No, not somebody. I need you.”

There was a long pause. The world seemed to be spinning and you could hear the rush of your blood in your ears, crashing like the ocean but louder. The muscles in your neck clenched, practically screaming under their own tension.

“Rafael?”

“I’m on my way,” he assured. “It’ll take time for me to get there, though. Will you be okay until then? Do you need me to stay on the phone?”

“No, I’ll be alright. Just focusing on getting here, okay?”

“Of course.”

About half an hour later, there was a knock on your apartment door and you forced yourself to stand on legs like over-cooked pasta to answer it.

“I got here as fast as I could. I even offered to use the tip feature to bribe the driver to ignore the one-way signs so I could get here faster, but he wouldn’t do it. Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened? What’s wrong? What can I do?” he asked.

His statements and questions were more rapid-fire even than the worst grilling you’d ever seen him give the team, all of it spilling from his lips barely as soon as he had passed the door, a door which you clung to for support. He carefully hung his coat and scarf on the hook, knowing how particular you were about such things and turned to face you.

“Y/N? Please talk to me.” His hands reached out, hovering, waiting for you to speak, to consent, to tell him something before he dared to actually touch you. “Whatever it is, whatever happened, we’ll get through it. I’ll do whatever you need.”

“You’re talking too much,” you sighed, biting your lip. “Just shut up and hold me.”

Taken aback, he gaped momentarily at you before doing as you asked. Still a little hesitant, he placed his hands on your shoulders before rethinking it and sliding his arms further around you, pulling you close against his chest. You breathed in his sharp, clean scent and let it break down the last of your walls. Like cutting strings of a tangled marionette, all of the tension leached out of you and you all but collapsed, his strong arms and firm grip the only things keeping you off the floor. A soft sob wrenched from your lips and you clung to the soft fabric of his sweater, balling the no-doubt expensive fabric in your fingers tight enough to leave an impression.

Moving awkwardly, he guided you to your couch, never letting the space between you grow wider than an inch. You shifted to sit beside him and felt him tsk with a shake of his head, the only warning you had before you were pulled into his lap and your head was tucked beneath his chin. You felt yourself being gently rocked as he hummed a simple melody, running soothing strokes up and down your spine and for the first time in hours, you felt like the blackness might leave and things might be okay.

There was a click, somewhere in the background, and it startled you, making you jump.

“Oh! I forgot,” you said, pulling away slightly to look toward the kitchen. “I made a pot of coffee, since you were coming over and it’s so late...early…”

You moved to stand and go make him a cup when he stopped you with a hand on your arm. His eyes were crinkled with barely restrained laughter.

“You know me too well. But you stay here, I’ll get it myself. Do you want a cup?”

You nodded. Now that the panic part of your night was over, you were feeling completely drained and the little jolt of warmth and caffeine sounded perfect, just to keep you human until you could sleep. He shifted you gently off his lap and stood, leaning back over to place a kiss to your forehead and then headed into your kitchen.

You twisted, leaning your chin on the back of your couch to watch him as he expertly navigated your apartment, smiling at the implication held in his familiarity and comfort there. He was wearing jeans and a soft fleece pull-over. His hair was uncombed and stuck up at amusing angles, tales of his own restless sleeping before you called and his rush to come to your side. It took a rare person to be allowed to see Rafael Barba anything less than put together, and yet here he was, letting you see it all in high definition.

“At least you’re smiling now,” he observed as he set two large mugs on your coffee table and resumed his seat beside you. “Smiling is a lot better than crying.”

You felt a blush heat your cheeks and you bit your lip as you turned back to him, tucking your knees up to your chest as you faced him. You hadn’t realized you were staring, or smiling, until he pointed it out, but of course you were. Rafael was your rock, your anchor, your life raft, whatever metaphor you needed at any given time to say that he was the best thing in your life and the thing that made you feel grounded and whole and okay no matter what, and you loved him.

“Now that you’re feeling a little better,” he said, hesitating, taking a sip and then a second of his coffee to stall and work up the courage to ask. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You sighed, sipping your own drink — perfectly made to your preferences of course — while you gathered your thoughts, and then cradling the mug in your hands.

“It was just...I get anxiety attacks sometimes,” you explained hesitantly. “Especially when the cases are really hard. But it’s never been this bad before. I felt like I was actually dying and I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You thought you were dying and your first thought was to call me?” he asked, softly tilting his head and looking at you, with that gentle, comforting warmth in his green eyes that you knew he only reserved for you.

“Well...yeah. I lo...I mean you’re you. It just made sense in my head.”

You wanted to tell him the real reason you had thought first to call him. You wanted so badly to say those words that were poised on the tip of your tongue every time you looked into his eyes or saw his face or heard his voice. Instead, they died on your lips and you made do with what you could get out.

“I’ve never had them, so you’ll have to walk me through what I need to do,” he offered, “but I’ll help however I can. This time and any other time they come up.”

“They come and go so irregularly, and each one is a little different. I don’t know if I can teach you or explain it right.”

“Then start with right now. How are you feeling?”

“Okay. Better now. A little nauseous, and exhausted, but that happens a lot. I think the worst of it is behind me.” You felt guilty again and frowned. “It might have been ending on its own before you got here. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dragged you out of bed.”

You didn’t admit that it was the knowledge he was coming that helped you calm down. You had already come too close tonight to saying something that it wasn’t the right moment for, you didn’t need to risk it again.

“Y/N, shh,” he soothed, plucking the mug from your hands and setting both aside to hug you tightly again. “There is nothing to apologize for. I don’t care what time it is, or what I’m doing. I want you to call me when you need me. For anything.”

“Rafi, I...thank you.”

“So, the acute attack is over. What do you need? What happens next?”

“I should set up a heat pack for my neck, since I tend to get stiff muscles after and don’t want to be sore in the morning. Then I should try to sleep.”

He nodded, committing the information to memory for the future. “Where do you keep the heat pack? I’ll get it for you and then leave you to rest.”

“It’s in the bottom drawer of my night stand. But...you don’t have to go.”

He paused, halfway out of his seat and nearly fell back to the couch cushions.

“I mean, you came all this way, and it’s late. We both have to get up in the morning. I don’t know if I’ll have a second wave. It’ll be better for everyone if you just stay, right?” you smiled sheepishly and he answered with a soft grin of his own.

“If that’s what you want, I would be happy to spend the night.”

“Good,” you smiled, standing and taking his hand. “I could use a cuddle after that. And Rafael?”

He hummed in question, prompting you wordlessly.

“Really. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For coming. For being here. For being you.”

#the two prompts worked perfectly together #good choices #panic attack tw #anxiety attack tw #Rafael Barba x Reader #Law and Order: SVU fic #I hope this is in character. I really really tried

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kabira · 3 years

Text

07 | trust issues

pairing — spider-man!vernon x ofc

featuring — joshua, yeji (itzy), felix (skz), yangyang (nct)

word count — 3k

genres — spider-man au, marvel au, fluff, action, angst, humor

warnings — violence

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Vernon swung over the busy street that led towards Central Park, disgruntled by the surprise subunit. Nova flew alongside him, just a few feet before him—he could probably fly a lot faster, but Vernon knew he was flying this close to him purposefully, letting him know that Nova would always be faster than Spider-Man.

God, the little things about this kid irritated him even more than the big stuff.

He spotted Shocker through the trees, the lining of his suit glinting like gold in the afternoon sunlight. The villain raised his gauntlets and slammed them into the ground with a yell, making it vibrate with the frequency of his sonic blasts. Vernon flipped in mid-air, perching on the branch of a tree out of his blast radius.

“So what’s the sitch?” Yangyang asked, hovering next to him, and Vernon cast a glance around. Terrorizing civilians seemed like a bit of a stretch since there weren’t really many civilians around, and those that were had managed to find a place that was protected from the blasts. The cops had been driven back by the blasts, and the few shots they took were easily deflected by the energy discharges.

The ground shook with every hit, but since Shocker was on hard-packed earth instead of concrete, most of the force was absorbed. The terrain was cracked in places, deep trenches left in the dry ground from the explosions. The few people in the area had been driven up the bridge, but Vernon didn’t like their chances—Shocker might not have intended to hurt them, but he was getting dangerously close. One misdirected blast was all it would take to topple the side holding up the bridge.

“Stay out of range of the vibro-shock gauntlets,” Vernon told him. It wasn’t the kind of crime that required their immediate, undivided attention, since Shocker didn’t seem to be doing any real damage, but who knew how long that mood would last? “They might look easy to dodge, but they’re actually pretty deadly and have a large discharge radius, so steer clear of them. Try to stay off the ground.”

“And the takedown?” Even though he wasn’t happy about being stuck with Nova on this mission, Vernon was still pleased to see that at least the guy was listening to him.

“I’ll web him up, hang him upside down from a tree or something,” Vernon replied. “You should fly up there first, distract him so I can get up close.”

“Why do that when I can just take him out with one blast?” Nova muttered, and Vernon shot him a dark look. “But I don’t want to get back to school that early, so we’ll do it your way. This guy sure looks like he could use some fun.”

Vernon pursed his lips, not feeling so sure. He wanted to say that it wasn’t like Shocker to behave so erratically, but that would probably just make him sound like an idiot—how was anyone supposed to know what normal behavior was for a criminal?

“Go,” he breathed, and Nova shot from his side like a rocket—a human rocket, as he often liked to describe himself. He was on Shocker in a second, zipping around him like an annoying, oversized fly, getting all up in his personal space and confusing him. Shocker’s face was covered, hiding his expressions, but from the rigid lines of his body Vernon could tell the guy was getting pissed. He took his chance, diving off the branch and executing a low swing worthy of Tarzan, kicking Shocker in the chest with both feet and sending him flying into a tree behind, which cracked and splintered under the blunt force.

“Oh, Herman, Herman,” he tutted, as Shocker righted himself with an angered yell. Vernon moved with the speed and grace of a—well, a spider, dodging a powerful blast from his gauntlets by executing a perfect helical flip. “Haven’t you learned the hard way that fighting back is only going to make it hurt worse?”

“Spider-Man!” Shocker yelled, booting up his gauntlets, which glowed like lamplights from the charge.

“Yes, of course, who else would it be?” he asked, webbing the overhead branches and pulling himself up to avoid the incoming blasts. “Did you really think I was going to leave you here all by yourself?”

“If you’re so smart, you should have known to stay out of my way!” Shocker said, sending a concentrated blast his way. Vernon rolled out of the way, coming up in a crouch.

“I didn’t say I was smart, you did,” he said, flipping back onto his feet. “What’s gotten into you, Herman? I didn’t take you to be the terrorizing type.” He avoided another blast by leaning far right. “Why are you doing this? For funsies?”

He had succeeded in drawing Shocker away from the bridge, but the clearing was too small for Shocker’s blast radius. Vernon couldn’t contain him within the safe zone for long. “Nova!” he yelled. “Get the civilians out of the way! I’ll handle this guy.”

Nova jerked his head into a nod, flying towards the bridge to evacuate the trapped people. Vernon’s spider sense tingled, but he was too late to react—a blast caught him in the chest, sending him flying into the underbrush. He coughed out the air in his lungs, and pushed himself to his feet. Ow, ow, ow.

“You should know better,” Shocker said. His gauntlets glowed again, and Vernon’s eyes widened under the mask as he raised them both towards him, the light as blinding as direct headlights.

Nova swooped in out of the air, snatching Shocker up like a bird snatching up a worm (or maybe that was a bad analogy).

“Boring!” Nova yelled, carrying Shocker higher up in the air, preparing for a good old drop to let gravity do the rest of the work. Shocker twisted, jamming his fists towards the boy’s chest and sending a shockwave through him. Nova cried out in surprise, going flying through the air in the opposite direction and ending up dropping Shocker, who righted himself by aiming a blast towards the ground at the right angle, giving himself enough of a boost to be able to land on his feet.

Not too helpful, though, because before he had a chance to celebrate the little victory, Spider-Man was upon him, webbing his fists to his chests in a cross like an empty-handed mummy, if wearing highly enhanced vibro-shock gauntlets counted as being empty-handed. Vernon webbed the nearest tree trunk, pulling himself and the incapacitated Shocker along with him by jerking at his webstrings.

“It isn’t like you to behave this way,” he said, pulling himself up to a branch. He webbed Shocker’s body, turning him in the air with the torsion of each pull, until he had him all wrapped up like a caterpillar like a cocoon, leaving only his head out. Vernon lowered himself upside-down to face the man, cocking his head inquisitively. “Aw, come on, you can tell me. I can keep a secret.”

“You’re blind, Spider-Man,” Shocker spat.

Nova reappeared next to him, scowling under the mask. “Come on, web-head,” he said. “Leave the information-extraction to the experts. Bad guys never tattle.”

“Oh, you don’t know about us,” Vernon said, shaking his head. “We go way back.” He leaned closer to Shocker. “Don’t we, Herman?” He chuckled. “Remember the first time I stopped you from robbing a bank? Good times, good times.”

Instead of answering, Shocker thrashed around in the web trap, which was pointless, of course. Vernon sighed, dropping to the ground upright, and looked up at the dangling man who was now writhing like fish bait on a hook.

“Guess you’re not in the mood to talk,” he said, keeping the note of disappointment in his voice. “Maybe the Big House will fix that for you.”

“The Big House?” Nova scoffed. “This guy barely belongs in a regular prison. How long did the fight take? Ten minutes?” He shook his head. “Are all your villains this lame?”

Vernon shot him a look that he obviously couldn’t see through his mask. “You haven’t seen a single good one yet,” he said. “My villains are dangerous.”

“Oh, yeah?” Nova barked out a laugh. “Like that one guy with a huge hot glue gun? What was his name, Trapman?”

“Trapster.”

Nova snorted. “Yeah. Real dangerous.”

Vernon rolled his eyes. “I’d like to see you handle being stuck to a wall with the same disgusting gunk that’s leaked down your pants,” he said. “It’s not always so much about danger as it is about being able to handle the grossness.”

Nova grinned, obviously not believing him. “Whatever you say.”

“I’m not messing around,” he said seriously. “Can you imagine doing a stakeout mission in the sewer, waiting for a truck-sized human-lizard hybrid to come out? Not everyone has that kind of patience and tolerance.”

“Yeah, because they don’t need to have it,” Nova said. “My villains aren’t geckos.”

Vernon gave up, waiting for the authorities to arrive and pick Shocker up instead of gracing him with an answer. Shocker had gone limp, but remained silent as stone. Vernon regarded him contemplatively, still unconvinced by the tough intimidation act.

Something was definitely up.

At the end of the team’s usual briefing in the Helicarrier that day, Vernon pulled Nick Fury aside. “Uh, Agent Fury, sir?” he asked in a low voice, casting a precarious glance at his teammates, who were in the middle of leaving. Yeji, last in the line, looked back at him questioningly, but he shook his head minutely. She raised an eyebrow, but left. “Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead,” the agent said, in the process of shutting down the holographic display system. He looked up when Vernon didn’t answer. “What is it, Spider-Man?”

“This might sound like a stupid question,” he started hesitantly, “but do you know if Norman Osborn is secure?”

Fury gave him a searching look, movements slowing somewhat as he took in the question. “Of course,” he said. “Norman Osborn is nice and locked-up in the Raft.”

“And he hasn’t shown any…Goblin-y tendencies?”

Fury’s curious look intensified. “Not so far, no,” he said. “Look, kid, I’m only telling you this because you put him in there and deserve to know what’s happened to him, but I can’t release any sensitive details about his capture. Just enough that you can sleep tight at night knowing he isn’t breaking out anytime soon.”

“Thanks,” Vernon said half-heartedly. “But I just wanted to know if the OZ levels in his blood were—normal.”

“That’s what his scheduled test runs say,” he replied. “Parker, you don’t need to worry about him anymore. If there are any abnormalities, S.H.I.E.L.D. will take care of them. Rest easy.”

“And if he gets out?”

“Long shot.” Fury leaned against the table, frowning at him. “Kid, is there something you want to tell me?”

Vernon hesitated, thinking back to the Shocker incident. Herman Schultz’s behavior showed all the symptoms of a man under threat from a higher authority, and the last time he’d seen that happen was under Norman Osborn. Any irregularities were to be reported, since the city had only come back to normal recently after repeated attacks from multiple supervillains, but Vernon wasn’t sure if deviant behavior from a low-level criminal counted.

Plus, Fury had only just begun to hand him bigger responsibilities, and he didn’t want to destroy all that buildup by giving him a false lead as a result of Goblin-induced paranoia.

“Nope, just wondering,” he replied, pressing his lips into what he hoped was a believable smile. “You know, one of those things.”

The man gave him an unconvinced look, but let it go. Vernon turned back and exited the briefing room as casually as he could. The doors slid shut behind him as he stepped into the hallway, plunging him in a dimmed lighting. He exhaled, mind buzzing with thoughts.

“Norman Osborn, huh?”

Vernon turned, finding Felix leaning against the wall next to the door. He straightened as Vernon faced him. “Don’t tell me you honestly expected him to believe you,” he said, talking about Fury. “No person asks about their supervillains unless they’re worried about a comeback. What did you see?”

Vernon sighed, realizing there was no point in trying to hide his doubts from Felix. “Nothing substantial,” he answered, starting to walk down the corridor. Felix followed him. “Just some everyday robber acting out.”

“That Shocker guy you and Nova turned in today?” Felix asked, and Vernon nodded. “Why?”

“Scaring civilians for no reason…it’s just not like him,” Vernon said. “He does what he does for money, not just to strike fear into people’s hearts. Well, I guess that’s an added bonus at times,” he added, “but doing that without making money along the way doesn’t seem like something he would do.”

“So you think he was hired to take you out.”

“Not exactly…” Vernon turned the mask over in his hands, thinking. It was hard to put into words, but the sense of oncoming danger was there, like a very general, very muted version of his spider sense. The problem was, he didn’t know how to explain that to Felix. Not everyone understood how it worked. “He seemed kind of reluctant to kill me, too.”

Felix gave him an amused look. “You’re upset because a villain gave you the brush-off?”

“Very funny,” he said, but his heart wasn’t in it. “I kept thinking that was being threatened or something. Now, what for, I couldn’t say, but—”

“I get it. It’s like intuition,” Felix said, and Vernon nodded. “What does that have to do with Norman Osborn?”

“If you’ve seen him in his Goblin form, you’ve probably noticed that he can be very threatening,” he said. “But he couldn’t be behind this, because he’s in a maximum-security prison with zero contact with the outside world.”

“But you think he is.”

“I can’t think of anyone else who’d want to do this, since he’s been the only one who’s ever operated in this particular way. But I guess there’s no shortage of people who want to kill me.”

“So he’s tried to get small-time criminals to kill Spider-Man before,” Felix said. “Doesn’t sound to me like a good judge of strength.”

“To kill Vernon Parker, actually,” Vernon corrected. “He kind of…knows my identity.”

Felix frowned. “He unmasked you?”

Vernon stopped close to the end of the corridor, glancing back to see if there was anyone around, but the place was empty. Fury had probably taken a left. “Do you know how I became Spider-Man?” he asked Felix.

“Didn’t you get bitten by a radioactive spider?”

“It was an Oscorp experiment, bonding OZ to spider DNA,” Vernon said. “One of the test spiders escaped while I was touring the facility with my class, and bit me. The enhanced spider DNA bonded with mine, giving me powers. Except here’s the thing—Norman Osborn knew.”

“He did?”

“Him, and a couple of other scientists working on the OZ formula,” he said. “Figured it out by taking a sample of my blood while I was on watch in the hospital. He took the same formula and bonded it to his own DNA to enhance himself, but it messed with his brain.” Vernon studied a tiny web in the corner of the ceiling. Spiders, even up here in a S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier hundreds of feet in the air. “He told me all of this just moments before accidentally killing Harry. Turned himself in when he realized what he had done.”

“Oh.” There was a short, awkward pause. Felix came to stand beside him, following his gaze up to the tiny spiderweb in the corner. “I’m sorry.”

Vernon shook his head, turning away from the web. “It wasn’t your fault.”

They stood in silence for a few moments before Felix spoke up again. “Tell you what,” he said, making Vernon raise his eyebrows. “I’ll ask Yeji to look up both Shocker and that Rhino guy in the S.H.I.E.L.D. database. We’ll go over his record later, see if he has anything to do with Norman Osborn. If something comes up, we’ll report it to Fury. You don’t have that spider intuition for nothing.”

Vernon cracked a smile. “You mean my spider sense.”

“Same difference.” Felix smiled back, but it dropped from his face just as quickly. “Hey, I almost forgot to ask—did you tell that Joshua guy who you are?”

Vernon winced, sheepishly massaging the back of his neck. “Maybe,” he said, then added hastily, “But I was going to tell you soon.”

“Never mind that,” Felix muttered. “He figured out our identities already.”

“He told you that?” he asked, trying his hardest to suppress a smile.

“I’m pretty sure there’s some kind of protocol about it,” Felix said, “but I’m not sure. Plus, it’s one of those things you gotta deal with yourself, you know? I’m not great with the whole secret identity thing because Iceman is a public figure, but not that I’m some kind of undercover agent—” He shivered, which was a bit ironic, because Iceman and all. “You know being out could get me killed, right?”

“Because of your supervillains?”

“No, because mutant-haters.” He gave Vernon a meaningful look. “Like that girl Liz Allan in History.”

“Nah, that one’s all bark no bite,” Vernon said. “Besides, Josh isn’t going to tell anybody. He kept my Spider-Man secret for a year and still going strong.”

Felix looked at him curiously. “You trust him that much?”

“I’ve known him for years,” the brunet answered confidently. “I’d trust him with my life.”

“Well, if that’s what you think,” Felix said, “then that’s good enough for me.”

#kwritersworldnet #caratwritersclub #svtcreations #seventeen #svt #vernon #svt scenarios #spiderman #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #vernon fluff #vernon angst #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfic #vernon imagines #vernon scenarios #vernon fanfic #q

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wannabe-fic-writer · 4 years

Text

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Thin Line

Summary: You’re wild and free. She’s strict and trained. You and Natasha are polar opposites and it drives her crazy. Each move you make annoys her to no end. But, there’s a thin line between annoyance and adoration.

Rating: 18+ Violence, Language, Blood, Death, and Smut.

Chapter 10

You did not want to be back here.

The compound had been your home but it’s colder than before. Much much quieter. And damn near empty.

On the way in you and Natasha don’t even bump into an overly excited recruit like you use to. Almost as if they know what had happened between the team mere hours ago.

You do, however, find Tony, Vision, and Rhodey. The inventor is in his lab tinkering as usual and Vision is just around.

The lack of Wanda’s presence has left the android feeling more than lost.

And Rhodey is in the medical wing. You stop by for a short few minutes to talk with him. When you pull a laugh from him your mood instantly perks up.

Then you and Natasha settle into your room.

You take a shower and change, before collapsing on the bed.

With the quiet of your room swirling around you, you fall into your thoughts.

Mainly, you think about going to see Wanda, all of your friends, but mostly her. Reservations stick with you though. Seeing her with that shock collar on made your blood boil, you hate to imagine how they have her in that cell.

Those thoughts shift to Steve. You couldn’t even begin to guess where he is. Tony have you no explanation of what happened. Just sent a three worded text - They got away.

And that left you even more confused. You had no idea Tony had even gone after them. Why hadn’t he said anything? What did-

“Penny for your thoughts.”

Looking from the cieling, you drag your eyes over to Natasha.

Your eyebrow immediately rises as you shamelessly take in Natasha, who is standing in nothing at all at the bathroom door.

“Uh, every single one of them just flew out the window.”

Natasha smirks, taking small deliberate steps toward you, before throwing her leg over yours. Her hands push against your chest as she straddles you, guiding you to lay back on the bed.

Instinctively your hands meet her bare waist and you lick your lips.

“I’ve missed you” She husks, full pink lips hovering over yours.

“I’ve missed you too Pretty Girl.”

You don’t miss the light blush that coats her cheeks right before she kisses you.

She trails kisses down your jaw and to your neck, biting and sucking at the soft skin she finds. She can’t help but smirk at her handy work, then pushing her hands up your shirt.

Her eyebrow raises at her discovery of you braless.

You blush,“ I wanted to be comfortable.”

“I didn’t say anything.” She shrugs a little, continuing her actions.

Her thumbs trail up the curve of your breast, cupping them, and rolling your nipples between her fingers. Not being able to help herself anymore, she practically yanks your shirt off, placing her mouth where her hands had been.

You moan at the feeling of her mouth on you, pleasure spiking through your body almost dangerously.

“Wait,” you sound breathless and desperate, despite you stopping her.

She pulls back instantly, worried she may have hurt you or overstepped.

“What’s wrong? I didn’t hurt you did I?” Her hands hover over you as if she’s uncertain about whether to touch you or not.

You shake your head,“ no, god, no you didn’t I just-” you rake a hand through your hair,“ should we be doing this?”

“Are you feeling guilty about having sex with me?” Her tone is teasing but she’s also serious, for your sake.

“Kind of. I mean. All this shit is going on and we’re-”

“Y/N, baby, we’ve been through so much these past few weeks and we’ve barely had any time together. I don’t feel guilty for wanting to sleep with you.”

Processing her words, you agree. It’s not the most ideal timing but you haven’t spent any alone time with her, this is your chance to.

“Right. Right. Sorry, I didn’t just kill the mood did I?”

Natasha chuckles and shakes her head,“ not at all.”

As if nothing had happened, she has her lips on you again. This time gliding her fingers down your body and into your shorts.

She brushes over you through you underwear and your hips involuntarily jerk move against her hand. After pressing against you once, a moan slipping from your lips into her mouth, she pushes your underwear aside.

Gathering your wetness on her fingers, she starts to circle your clit. You revel in the feeling it gives you and you bite down on her bottom lip, tugging on it as you pull away.

“Nat, I-” you become even more breathless with each rotation of her fingers.

“What is it baby?”

“I need to taste you.” You sigh, watching her eyes.

She nods,“ if that’s what you want.”

You could’ve cum on the sight of her licking you off her fingers alone.

“Fuck,” you groan, immediately flipping her over.

You quickly rid yourself of your remaining clothes, before diving into her wetness. One broad lick through her folds, before sucking her clit into your mouth.

Her hands grip your hair, pulling you closer to her center, her hips rutting up against your mouth

Enjoying every sound and move you earn from her, you decide to slip two fingers into her. And she takes them with ease.

With every flick of your tongue, you move your fingers faster. You feel your own slick coating your thighs, completely turned on by everything that she is.

“Right there.” She moans as you press your fingers against her spongey insides.

She clenches around your fingers, sucking them back in every time you pull them out.

Like the snap of a rubber band, Natasha comes, quicker than ever before, squirting over your fingers and the bottom of your face.

“Holy fuck!” Her green eyes screw shut as her whole body twitches.

You eagerly drink in all that she has as she grinds through her orgasm.

“Now that,” you smirk up at her,“ has never happened before.”

After evening out her breaths, she looks into your eyes,“ never.”

Instant shock,“ wait, I’m the first to ever make you squirt?”

You try not to get cocky as she nods at you.

Her hand reaches up, and her finger curl around your jaw,“ which I think deserves a reward.”

She’s kissing you immediately after, pulling you flush against her, and then flipping you.

Natasha loves the taste of you, if you couldn’t tell by the eager strokes her tongue makes against you.

Her fingers leave light circles over your clit as her tongue ran through your folds and teased at your entrance. She slips into you with a moan, the vibration eliciting one from you as well.

“Jesus Christ,” you whisper, one hand clutching the sheets as the other laces with Natasha’s.

You feel her smirk against you, but you’re too far into ecstasy to remark.

Feeling you clench around her tongue makes her increase the pace of her fingers. Her circles brought you closer and closer to the edge.

It’s her tongue, pressing against that oh so glorious spot, that tips you over.

Her name is a repeated breath on your lips as you twitch beneath her.

She licks you through your orgasm, hand having abandoned your sensitive clit.

Your labored breaths cause your chest to heave, fingers uncurling ever so slowly from the sheets and Natasha’s hand.

Finally sobering up, you pull her up your body, and kiss her with fervor.

This was needed more than you thought.

You can’t feel an ounce of stress in your body anymore.

It’s still there, but it matters so much less compared to the euphoria and love you feel right now.

Both you and Natasha pull the covers back and snuggle close underneath. You run your fingers through her, still slightly damp, red hair, and shut your eyes.

The warmth of her body mixed with the warmth of yours.

Neither of you say anything, tired and also happy to have each other.

With her head resting on your chest, fingers brushing over your bare skin, she mutters,“ ya tak tebya lyublyu.”

She doesn’t mean for you to hear those words, what with her saying it while you’re “asleep” and also saying it in Russian, but you do. And you know that she said she loves you.

You hesitate, unsure if she’s ready to acknowledge it. Truly truly be in love with someone. You take a risk.

“I love you too Pretty Girl.” You say.

And you wait.

And wait.

And- she kisses above your heart and tightens her hold on you and you grin like an idiot, sleep creeping up slowly on your ecstatic body.

******

The last thing anyone would expect after a night like that, is to find the bed empty.

You slept soundly the entire night, which you hadn’t been able to do recently, and when you woke up, you cuddled closer to what you thought was Natasha.

Except it was much much too soft. You opened your eyes to see her gone, her pillow in your arms instead of her.

The bathroom door was wide open so you know she isn’t in there.

A glance at the clock shows the bright red numbers 8:15 and you deduce that Natasha is in the gym. She couldn’t sleep in if she tried.

You take a long shower, still relaxed from the previous night’s activities, and pull on the most comfortable outfit you own: sweats and a t-shirt. The outfit, however, isn’t complete until you’re pulling on a hoodie of Natasha’s.

She’s sure to make some sly comment about it but you don’t care, it smells like her and after last night you really wanted to feel close to her.

Before heading to the gym, you stop by the kitchen to get a cup of coffee and fix Natasha one.

Unsurprisingly, you find Tony.

His exhausted form leans against the counter, his gaze fixed on the objects in front of him: his phone, a flip phone, and a tablet.

“Jeez Tony, taking a break won’t kill you.” You joke.

His brown eyes slowly trail from the counter to you. They search your eyes and they don’t find what they had been looking for.

He expected devastation, maybe some anger. You seem far too happy to know what had happened and he hated having to tell you.

“The Raft was broken into last night, Wilson and Maximoff are gone,” before you can reply he adds,“ I also so Romanoff leave earlier.”

You frown, tilting your head and smirking in disbelief. A humorless chuckle escapes you,“ so she went for a run, she’ll be back.”

But that isn’t it. Tony’s face gives it all away. You knew he didn’t mean it casually but you hoped.

“She took the other Quinjet, had a bag, and left her phone on the table.”

Truly, devastatingly, not wanting to believe him, you abandon your coffee and walk into the common room.

Through the window you see both landing pads empty of the jets and a glance at the table reveals Natasha’s phone.

Each step you take toward it is weighed down with your hurt.

If she’s gone gone, why hadn’t she said anything? Did she genuinely not want you anymore? Had last night scared her off? So much so that she couldn’t even say goodbye?

Angry, heartbroken tears pool in your eyes and immediately rush down your cheeks. But you wipe them away harshly.

You grip Natasha’s phone in your hand and the screen comes on as you pick it up.

The, seemingly permanent, frown on your face deepens.

It’s unlocked.

You swipe up.

The password was removed.

Anybody, the dumbest person, could guess that Natasha always kept a lock on her phone.

Paying even more attention, you look closer at the folders on her phone. Each one holding one singular letter underneath.

Much much too obvious, but part of you thinks that, maybe that’s the point.

Of course she wouldn’t have left without a goodbye. You’d become such an important, vital, part of her life. She loves you.

But she also wouldn’t have blatantly told you she was leaving.

Not after having seen how much you wanted to keep the Avengers together. Her leaving aided the idea of the Avengers breaking up and she couldn’t tell you face to face that she’d be doing so.

Her phone is her hope.

She hopes you find her. She hopes you want to. She hopes that you love her enough to be with her, selfishly, instead of sticking with Tony.

The easy part of it all ends with clicking the Notes app. From there you tap the note titled with your name and find it locked.

Now this is the Natasha you know and love.

Without hesitation, you set toward your room.

Hacking a spies psssord won’t be easy, no matter how much you know about her, so you’d better start now, before whatever information was no longer useful.

******

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#Thin Line

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prurientpuddlejumper · 4 years

Text

Out Tonight (Part 2)

K!nktober 2020 Kink Bingo!: Papi

<- Part 1 | Part 3 ->

Summary: After a night of karaoke, Barba teaches you some Spanish, gives you some slightly patronizing advice, and follows you up to your hotel room. (Lo siento por mi español. Por favor dime si cometí algún error!)

Rafael Barba x female reader

Warning: NSFW/18+, Dub-con!! Everyone is enthusiastically willing, but also super drunk.

For @thatesqcrush’s kink bingo!

6,089 words

“So… Rafael Barba,” you changed the subject away from today’s trial. His failure to get a conviction had sent him into such a steep emotional spiral he cried in your arms at the bar, despite having just met you an hour ago. “That’s Spanish, right?”

The vulnerability in his eyes flattened. “Cuban,” he said, already bracing for the “but you don’t look Latino” comments, or worse, something about rafts or cigars. Instead your eyes got wide like he just ripped off a mask and revealed himself to be David Bowie.

“Cool!”

“I… guess?” There were eighty thousand Cuban-Americans living in New York, but sure.

“Hablar… I mean, hablas español?”

“Sí, lo hablo,” he answered with wry amusement, pinching the bridge of his nose.

You chewed your lip in thought before slowly saying, “Aprendí un poco de español en la escuela, y lo me gusta mucho.”

His brow raised. You actually knew more than he expected, which is to say, you could string more than two words together. “Not bad. Toda mi familia es de Cuba, así que el español es mi lengua materna. Soy el primer estadounidense.”

He spoke faster, at a natural pace, expecting you to follow, but when your eyes glazed over and you awkwardly squeaked out, “...Qué?” it became clear you did not, in fact, speak Spanish.

“Let’s stick to English,” he grimaced.

You whined in disappointment. “But that was so hot! Please? Un poco más. Dime algo en español!”

“Algo.”

An unflattering snort erupted from your nostrils, and you started giggling like a manic school girl. Barba shook his head with second-hand embarrassment, though a smile crept over his lips as you continued struggling to contain yourself, pleased at how well his bad joke had gone over.

“Come on, teach me something,” you pouted, leaning towards him, pushing your chest out. “Por favor… papi?”

He choked on his drink so hard burning whisky shot up his nose. “Ay, dios!” He pounded his chest and ordered a water. “OK, OK, bueno,” he put up his hands in defeat. “Hablaré en español. Solo para ti, mamita. Te gusta?”

“Mucho, papi.” You were taking advantage of calling him that now that you’d seen his reaction. He didn’t nearly die this time, but a red blush was sweeping up his neck under his shirt collar. Emboldened, he leaned toward you, eyes heavily lidded as he flirtatiously held your gaze.

“Tienes novio?”

“A husband? Do I look married?” you flipped your ringless left hand back and front and worried about your age.

He laughed, raising a hand to his forehead with his palm shading his eyes. “That would be esposo.”

“Oh. Right.” Your face darkened. “No, yo soy… single.”

“Estás soltera,” he prompted.

“Ah, gracias. Estoy soltera. Y tú?” you tilted your face down shyly and looked up at him through your lashes. “Tienes esposo? O novia?”

“Nope,” he popped the p, staring into the empty bottom of his scotch glass and wishing he hadn’t decided to cut himself off. The sip of water he took was boring and not numbly soothing at all. He had been single for a depressingly long time, in fact.

“Muy bien,” you smiled with delight, and he suddenly realized his years of failure at relationships were, tonight, a positive. It was the answer a very beautiful woman was hoping for. He may have been suffering from a string of humiliating losses, but winning you over reawakened his cocky self-assurance.

“Acércate.” He curled his finger to beckon you closer, and you swung onto his lap. God, you were so close. Your body fit so perfectly in his arms and you smelled like strawberry lemonade from that cocktail. Before he could help it, he was kissing you again. Softer and a little less desperate this time. A little more… something else. He just met you, but the way you made him feel cared about was stronger than he had ever felt, depressing as that was to admit. The one time he had put his whole heart into a relationship, he’d had it shattered so badly he was still picking up the pieces. Since then, he chose relationships that were mutually guarded, partners he knew he would never connect with, and who didn’t expect anything back. Barba did not open up to people. He’d never let himself cry on anyone before, except his abuelita. He must have been extremely drunk to let his guard down so much, but he pushed the realization out of mind as your fingers curled through his hair around the back of his head and pulled him deeper, your strawberry tongue slipping between his bitter lips. He wanted this. He needed it. He felt so close to you, so right—that was all that mattered.

He started whispering to you in Spanish between kisses, phrases you couldn’t understand, some that you got the gist of. He cringed a little at your attempts to reply in his first language, but kissed you more softly each time. You were trying, at least. You were trying very hard to understand a piece of him. The phrases he murmured against your lips grew progressively more filthy, which your keen ears picked up on even if you weren’t entirely sure what they meant.

“Como se dice, ‘fuck me harder’?” you asked in a low voice full of lust, fingers tightening against his scalp.

“...damelo más duro,” he said with a shudder. His cock twitched and he wondered if you’d noticed the growing erection pressed against your thigh as you sat in his lap. What you would think. But you must have noticed, and you weren’t moving to get away from him.

“Damelo duro, papi,” you purred, leaning to say it into his ear, your breath warm and tickling.

He swallowed, heart hammering in his chest. Barba, always so eloquent under pressure in court, could barely form words to express a coherent thought. You were just joking. You must have been. To you it was a foreign language, and it didn’t sound like a real request to your ears. This was just a flirty game, teaching you naughty Spanish. “Y-you are… getting into dangerous territory here,” he tried to laugh jokingly, but his throat was dry. He swallowed again.

You lowered your voice and your eyelids. “I mean it,” you whispered against the shell of his ear. To punctuate your point, you rolled your hips, deliberately grinding your inner thigh against his forming erection. He was so wildly aroused with alcohol he thought he would come right there, but its effects were also preventing him from getting completely hard yet, something he should probably have been concerned about, but wasn’t.

“Would you like to go somewhere?” he said, voice strained with urgency. “I would very much like to go somewhere immediately and fuck your brains out, please. If that’s… alright with you.”

***

The streets of Midtown were as bright and crowded as they were during the day, just a little less hurried—except for two people. You held Barba’s large hand, long elegant fingers laced with yours, laughing giddily in the warm summer air as you raced toward your hotel, stopping only to desperately kiss each other, fingers in each other’s hair, reigniting the flames that pulled you together.

Barba broke away panting, his lips wet with your saliva. The fresh air had a sobering effect, and something serious occurred to him. He had been animated and outgoing all night at the bar, but he suddenly very much resembled the shrewd lawyer whose picture you had seen in a news article. You felt like you’d been called to the principal’s office under the severity of his gaze, waiting for whatever it was he had to say.

“Did you take any pictures of us together?”

“I… might have taken a few selfies,” you admitted, terrified you’d committed a heinous faux pas.

“Good,” he said. “Do you have location data enabled? You should send those to someone you trust, along with the time you left the bar, and where we’re going.”

Gears in your head turned slowly to put together an intelligible response. You opened your mouth and declared, “...whuh?”

“You’re out drinking alone, taking a stranger home!” he gripped your shoulders as if to shake you. “Do you know how many cases never get off the ground because there’s no ID, no proof the victim and assailant were ever in the same room? Those photos would establish a timeline and a suspect, and would be enough for a warrant. Do you know what I would give to have evidence like that in every case? A lot more rapists would go to jail.”

“Are you… saying you’re a rapist?” you said slowly, cocking your head.

He stiffened, mentally replaying his own words. His eyes darted to the side, up, down, and three other directions in rapid succession. “N-no… But you have no way of knowing that. You’re too trusting. No matter how charming someone seems, it’s better to be paranoid and take precautions.”

“Uh-huh. Real charming. You know, it’s creepy telling someone that right before you’re going to sleep with them. How do you say that in Spanish?”

He groaned and looked so crestfallen it impressed upon you how much horror he must deal with every day, prosecuting special victims cases in the big city. How much that weighed on him and made him see nothing but worst-case scenarios around every corner. It didn’t seem so strange now that he was single—it must be impossible to connect with anyone when you live like that.

“I just… want you to be safe,” he said quietly, eyes down. A swelling of sympathy flooded your heart, and formed a lump in your throat. Before you could think twice, you’d pulled him into your arms.

“I feel very safe with you, Rafael.” Your words drew a tiny, strangled noise from his chest, and his grip around you tightened.

The mood had shifted catastrophically, to the point that it seemed unlikely a one-night stand was in your future any longer. Barba walked slowly by your side, lost in reflective silence. Sex or no, you invited him up to your hotel room. You would never get enough of being around him, and couldn’t bear to say goodbye, even if you were only sitting up talking of somber issues late into the night.

But by the time the elevator doors closed, leaving you completely alone together for the first time, your libidos overpowered the gloom and his hands were all over your body, his mouth hot and fervent against your throat. You moaned wantonly, confident in the privacy the elevator afforded as it whisked you upward toward the eleventh floor. You slipped your hands inside his jacket, feeling his solid pectoral muscles stretching his shirt, and he cupped a hand between your legs, kneading the crotch of your pants. Even through your jeans, it sparked a fire that sizzled through your whole body. You pulled at his back, drawing more of his weight against you.

The elevator chimed and the doors slid open. Several cleaning ladies stared unimpressed as you and Barba quickly unhanded each other, stood straighter, and tried to pretend you were dignified professionals just riding an elevator together and definitely not almost having sex in there.

They were far more used to seeing this sort of thing than you were, judging by their almost bored eye rolls, but as you passed them on your way into the hall, one of them muttered something in rapid Spanish that made the other women giggle and Barba trip over his feet, face neon red, and look down at the front of his pants which were sporting a very conspicuous tent.

“Madre de Dios,” he groaned.

Shoulders convulsing with laughter, you took his arm and led him to room, uh… You fumbled in your purse for your room key with the number written on it.

“This is my first time doing this,” you confessed as the magnetic lock clicked and the light on the door changed from red to green.

“Having sex?”

“With someone I just met. In a bar!” you teased, turning the handle.

Part of you wondered when both of you were going to wake up and realize you were acting like horny teenagers—that you shouldn’t be doing this. But you hoped you wouldn’t, at least not until morning. You weren’t nervous. If you had been introspective that night, that would have surprised you the most. The whole confident, sexy Mimi Márquez, Out Tonight act was just a character you put on for karaoke to get psyched up and out of your shell. If you had been questioning yourself, you would have wondered how a shy good girl was having a one-night stand with a handsome Manhattan lawyer wearing a suit that cost more than your mortgage and not having an anxiety attack. But you weren’t questioning yourself, and you weren’t nervous. You looked in his intelligent eyes that were as pale as the underside of a silver maple leaf or dark as a dense hemlock grove depending on the lighting, and you simply wanted him.

***

He followed you into the dark hotel room, which was disappointingly small and shoddy for how expensive it was, so you left the lights off to preserve some mystery. The city glowed through the window brighter than a full moon, anyway. Barba pulled off his suit jacket, tossing it recklessly aside as he prowled toward you. Almost immediately, he thought better of this and found the heap of designer fabric on the floor next to the sandals you had kicked off, picked it up, smoothed it out, and carefully folded it over the back of an office chair at the little desk. He removed his tie and did the same.

You grinned behind your hand. Changing tunes so quickly from ravenously horny to prim—it didn’t surprise you that a guy who dressed as sharply as he did would have his priorities on wrinkle-avoidance even in the heat of the moment. It might have rubbed you as snobbish if it wasn’t so funny.

When he returned to you, his back was to the window, so you couldn’t make out the expression on his shadowed face, but the silhouettes of his shoulders were tense and his voice sheepish as if expecting a rebuke. “Sorry. I couldn’t leave it there. It’s a Brioni and—”

You slid your fingers under the pink-striped suspenders at both shoulders, closed your fists around them, and tugged. He lurched forward, and you caught his lips with yours. Letting out a surprised moan, he closed his eyes, and wrapped his arms around you, grateful you weren’t accusing him of vanity. You held firm to the elastic bands like a leash on him, pulling him closer when you wanted to deepen the contact until he was so enraptured he needed no extra encouragement to shove his tongue between your lips as they parted, his hands roaming your sides, your hair, and over the swell of your bottom, grabbing a handful.

“You really do… have the best ass… below 14th street,” he said devilishly, in between crushing his hungry mouth against yours.

Running down the length of his suspenders, your hands took a tour of his entire torso, enjoying the firm bulk of his chest, and the softness of his belly. You liked that there was something to love there. Gym rats with nothing but hard muscle were painfully dull. His stomach twitched ticklishly at your probing touch and he broke away from your lips to protest, so you continued your suspender tour all the way to the bottom, where the leather straps attached the elastic bands to his pants. His hips rocked forward, and his clothed cock pressed into your thigh. You let out a sultry breath and pushed your own hips back against him, lining him up against your clit to ignite a burning, tempting pressure between you. You couldn’t even kiss him. Your mouth hung slack, and all you could focus on was the friction of his hard cock against your aching cunt. You had to get out of these clothes.

“Bed. Now,” you huffed.

“Yeah.”

As he toed off his leather shoes, you slipped his suspenders off his shoulders and were slightly disappointed this did not immediately make his pants fall off. He climbed on top of the blanket, and you climbed onto his lap, throwing a leg over his hips.

An impressively sized hand with a vein meandering across it curled around that tempting leg, palming the tight denim stretched over your thighs. The hand rode up, found the bottom hem of your blouse and dove under it. You shivered as warm fingertips crested over your jeans and found your waiting skin.

“Are you okay with this?” he rasped, eyes flicking across your face.

“Keep going,” you nodded, the prickles of your skin screaming in protest at the thought that he might stop. His hand worked up your side, exploring new territory under your shirt. Every point of contact sent warm waves vibrating out to your most intimate parts. You lowered your mouth to his and your lips melted against his, pussy soaking through your underwear as you felt his body respond beneath you. His clever fingers found the band of your bra and inched over the fabric.

“Is this alright?” he paused his advance to check in again.

You leaned close and whispered, “I want you to touch me, papi,” darting your tongue just below his ear, and rolling your hips over his cock again. “Touch me everywhere.”

He growled, deep and throaty and thick with lust, his own hips bucking up to grind himself against yours. With your carte blanche permission given, a switch flipped inside him and he dove in, roughly palming your breasts with both hands, rolling the fat and finding your hardened nipples through your bra cups. Even through the thicker fabric, his thumbs circled and pinched the sensitive peaks hard enough that you whimpered with every sensation. Your hips were moving without your leave, desperately driving against his cock while your hands quickly worked to unbutton the front of your shirt. He had become an animal, his eyes unfocused, breathing heavy, lost in voracious need.

“S-slow down,” you tried asking, wondering if he would—if he could at this point, despite all his earlier talk of consent.

His hands were off you in an instant, and he was apologizing and asking if you were OK.

“Just testing your off switch,” you smirked as you finished the final button, and your blouse opened up. Marveling at the man beneath your legs, you unhooked the front clasp of your bra and felt his cock stir at the naked sight of you. Any lingering uncertainty was gone—you managed to score the most principled lay in all of New York sitting by himself in a karaoke bar, and you trusted him completely. “Since I already know your on switch, don’t I papi?”

He swore in Spanish, some excitingly lusty expressions you would have to take note of later.

“What was it again? Cómo se dice...” you teased, tapping your index finger against your lips in thought. You watched his pupils widen as you pinched your finger between your teeth. “Oh yeah. Damelo, papi. Damelo duro.”

Hearing those words from your perfect sensuous lips drove him wild. Grabbing your hips, he rolled you onto your back, swapping positions. His fevered mouth pressed wet kisses all over your exposed skin, heated breath dancing over your neck as his tongue flicked out to taste you. You reached down to curl your fingers into his thick, dark hair. He pushed your breasts, which had fallen to the sides, back together and ran his tongue through the cleavage. You drew in a sharp breath. “Just like that, papi,” you moaned. He took a nipple in his mouth, sucking and circling his tongue over it until your cunt was pulsating and your breath coming out in hard, ragged whimpers, then pinched it between his teeth, drawing a yelp of pleasure mixed with pain. You yanked at his hair and your hips bucked jerkily. Your core ached with emptiness, longing to be filled by his cock. You wrapped your legs around his lower back and pulled his hips down against you to feel more of him. The strangled noises in his throat were practically feral as his clothed sex rutted up against you, valiantly striving to be inside you through your pants. His mouth sloppily devoured your breasts until they were burned raw from his stubble.

He released your nipple with a wet noise and sat up to free his straining erection from his pants. The latching mechanism didn’t seem particularly hard, but after nearly a minute of fumbling he had made very little progress, and you held up a hand and told him to stop.

He whined and gave you puppy dog eyes, but did as you asked. “Is this another test?”

“No. It’s just… those pants are not that complicated.”

His head tipped in confusion.

“You’re really drunk, aren’t you?” You were tipsy yourself, but considering you could at least manage buttons, you had a sudden, sinking realization that he was far more incapacitated than you. He was so well-spoken and thoughtful you hadn’t noticed, but he was a lawyer—staying controlled and eloquent was his job. You might have been drunk, but he was drunk drunk. “If we have sex right now I think that would make me a predator.”

He frowned, cock still straining against the binds of his pants. “Technically, in New York state, being intoxicated does not invalidate sexual consent.”

“Don’t you lawyer this! I don’t care what’s technically legal—you are way too drunk. And I don’t want you waking up with regrets.”

His shoulders fell, because he knew you were right. It was a law he considered a glaring loophole, and he admired you for doing the right thing, but ¡maldita sea! he wished you were just a little less ethical. Deep down he knew he wouldn’t be doing this if he were in full command of himself tonight. But that was why he was so desperate to do it now. He would never let himself go again, not for a long time, and he would miss out on experiencing an intense—if ultimately not real—connection with someone. He would miss out on getting to be with you.

“Well...” you hesitated, watching the disappointment in his eyes displace what had moments ago been confidence and excitement, and tormented by your own unsatisfied ache. “I mean, we can still fool around, right?”

He laid his body down alongside you, his breath still coming in hot, shallow pants. His comforting weight settling beside you on the soft hotel mattress stirred up the coiling insistent heat between your legs. “Is this OK?” he whispered, voice heavy with lust. Blood pounded in your ears as his hand slipped under your waistband.

“Y-yeah, that’s OK,” you nodded. A compromise. It wasn’t sex. Technically.

Trapped tightly between your skin and your jeans, his fingers reached your slit, spreading it with surprising deftness to find your clit. Waves of pleasure exploded through your body as he pressed an irresistible finger to it, making your thighs spasm and lift off the mattress as you bit back a sinful cry. You were almost screaming from just one touch. The sound of throbbing blood in your ears was deafening, and your cunt throbbed in time with it to an unbearable tempo. God, you wanted him to fuck you with his cock.

He drew in a shaking breath as he observed your response, his lust-clouded eyes boring into you with a hint of the keen perceptiveness he used in court. He risked probing deeper, pushing a long digit farther into your panties, dragging it through your pussylips as you squirmed beneath him, then drew it back, dripping, to circle your clit, and smiled as you clamped a hand over your mouth to keep a neighbor-waking vocalization in check. You were soaking wet for him, and it made his erection strain jealously against the closure of his slacks. It had been too long, since he’d allowed himself time for anything other than work. It was almost unbearable having someone moan for him and not be able to fuck them. But you said no, so he focused on what you would allow him to do—on giving you the most earthshaking orgasm you’d ever experienced.

The tightness of your jeans was too restrictive, and you quickly unbuttoned them and zipped them down. “My papi’s fingers feel so good,” you groaned. “I want more of them.”

“You feel… so good,” he answered, lowering his mouth to yours for a fervent, but surprisingly tender kiss as he moved his fingertips over your swollen, stimulated cunt. He traced over your dripping entrance, and pressed in just the tip of one finger, leaving you gasping for more. He withdrew from your pants and brought his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean, his eyes closing as he savored it. “You taste good, too,” he whispered low and gravelly, almost a growl, though not one you would describe as predatory. There was no danger lurking behind those perceptive eyes—the thrill he gave you had a different source. Your tongue darted over his, dipping into his mouth to taste yourself on his broad tongue.

“Is papi going to fuck me with those fingers?” you challenged, enjoying the way his breath hitched every time you called him that. You’d heard it in passing and knew it was something like calling him “daddy,” but you’d never expected it to have such a big effect.

He helped you pull your jeans down below the swell of you ass, not bothering to take them all the way off and interrupt your pleasure any longer. Once he had all the access he needed, he plunged his fingers into you. He observed carefully, gauging your reaction in the way the slick walls of your cunt gripped and twitched around him, and the tone and frequency of your pleading moans. When one finger wasn’t enough, he added a second, satisfied with his judgment as you cried out and arched against him, your hands gripping the blanket at the stretch. “Te gusta, mamita?” he purred, but you were too breathless to give an answer except a throaty carnal whimper.

Adapting himself to your responses, he alternated penetrating you with his fingers and teasing your clit, kissing you hot and fierce, ramping up his intensity to draw louder and louder cries, leaving a trail of wet bruises down your neck. Curling his fingers inside you, he hit a sweet spot that made your legs begin to tremble. You wailed uninhibited and raw, too overwhelmed with pleasure to try to rile him with another “papi.” He sucked your pulse point under your ear, savoring the feeling of your blood racing beneath his lips. Knowing how turned you were, how much he was affecting you was so deliciously invigorating to his ego. As easily as he could command a courtroom, he’d never had the same confidence in his body. Past lovers would say he had perfect technique, but no soul, no intuition for what a they needed—but here you were, cunt twitching on his fingers, moaning over and over for him.

Your eyes kept closing to focus on what he was doing between your thighs, but when they opened you saw how intensely he was watching you. The arousal on his face as he watched was intoxicating. You had never seen such anyone look at you with such wanton lust, and it heightened your excitement.

“Rafael… Raf—oh, fuck,” you hissed, jerking your hips up to deepen the penetration. “Keep going... deeper!”

“Dime, ‘más profundo,’” he ordered softly, but confidently.

“M-más profundo, papi.”

“Eres buena estudiante,” he praised, a smile lighting his eyes as he sank his fingers deeper with enthusiasm. You were getting close, the fire singing between your thighs blossoming outward through your entire body but always coiling tighter in your core, building an unbearable tension that threatened to break you. He rocked his hips, and the heat twisted tighter at the feeling of his iron-hard cock grinding against you.

You squeezed your hand between your two bodies, groping blindly down his stomach until you found his pants and the massive tent he was pushing into your leg. You grasped the hard outline of his cock, squeezing it and working it through his clothes. He drew a sharp breath and for a moment the rhythmic thrusting of his fingers stuttered and paused. His hemlock-green eyes were black with arousal as they examined you. Then he rocked his hips, thrusting into your palm with a low groan, and his fingers pumped into you again with renewed vigor.

“Que buena chica eres… Just like that,” he croaked. His breathing was growing ragged, he was starting to fall apart with your hand working his cock.

He adjusted his weight to free his other hand, stroking the side of your face as he pressed a passionate kiss to your lips. His thumb kneaded your cheeks as they smiled against his mouth and went slack with lust. His mouth wandered lower, teasing your collar bone with light nips to make you yelp and sigh, then bending to take a mouthful of breast. He withdrew his two slick fingers from the depths of your cunt and circled your clit slowly, gently—then fast and rough as he sucked at a hardened nipple, drawing a shattered gasp from your throat. You rubbed his cock frantically, trying to repay some small amount of the pleasure he was giving you. When he plunged his fingers back inside, he added a third, and you moaned at the added fullness—at being stuffed tight, almost too much for you to handle, an intense pleasure threaded through with pain.

“Oh, fuck,” you cried out, eyes rolling back as you felt your climax build, every nerve ending in your body on fire.

“Is that a good fuck, or a bad fuck?”

“Good,” you stammered, barely holding yourself together. “Don’t stop, papi, I’m almost there.” The hint of pain faded into pure bliss as you imagined it was his cock splitting you open.

His eyes gleamed wickedly as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, watching you come undone with every stroke. This horrible week, he had felt so helpless, useless. It made him doubt himself. But this—this he had control over. Your body. Your arousal. Everything that had fallen apart wasn’t his fault; it was because of circumstances outside his authority to influence. When he was given complete control, this was his effect. He could get any result he wanted, elicit any twitch of your cunt, any moan from your lips, and have you singing in ecstasy just from his fingers. Imagine if you let him fuck you, the songs he could have you singing then.

He angled his hand so his palm was rubbing against your clit as he thrust, and he could tell you were riding the edge of the precipice by the helpless mewling whimpers pouring from your lips with increased fervor, how your walls began to invite him deeper, taking more of him until he was buried three knuckles deep and you were still bucking your hips to intensify each thrust, starving for more. His own hips began rocking at a frantic pace into your hand.

“Rafael… Oh, Rafael,” you moaned. You loved the shape of his name in your mouth. It was like you weren’t even strangers, the more you said it. For him, it would have been too personal for a casual hookup most nights, but for some reason it turned him on even more than when you called him papi.

“Ven conmigo,” he urged softly, his hips stroking at a delirious pace that did not match his calm tone. You didn’t recognize what it meant, but the sound of Spanish rolling over his tongue mixed with the wet lewd noises of his fingers fucking you drove you to the edge.

“I’m gonna—I’m gonna...” Your voice broke.

He ducked his head back to your chest and drew a nipple between his teeth, sucking hard just as you came over the precipice and pushing you off it with a violent shove until you wailed out loud, careening into a free-fall steeper and farther than you’d prepared for, your back arching and your walls crashing around his fingers, clenching and convulsing around them.

“Open your eyes,” he said. “Look at me.” You could hear the lawyer in his voice—controlled, assertive. Not quite a command, but your eyes fluttered open obediently. Holding eye contact while your body was being rocked by wave upon wave of fierce climax was too intimate, but he repeated his request low and soft as a tiger’s purr. Your met his gaze and held it. The look of lust on his face, his lips softly parted, lower lip quivering, renewed the strength of your orgasm and sent another shockwave coursing through you.

He kept pumping into you through your orgasm, riding out the aftershocks, until your legs were shaking and weak. The sensation of you coming on his fingers turned him on so much, he only needed to rock into your hand once more, flick his tongue over your breast, and he lost control. He was not vocal as you were as his thighs trembled with his own release, but his hips slowed, and then stopped, their desperate thrusting, and you felt a warm, wet spot soak through the front of his pants. Your gasping cries were stochastic and desperate now, overstimulated—you pushed his hand out of your underwear to stop his relentless fingers, and he rolled off of you heavily.

Laying back on the soft pile of hotel pillows, he slowed his breathing, then sucked his fingers clean one by one with a lascivious growl of pleasure. You watched him, shivering with fascination, and he glanced back at you with a piercing gaze. “I want to fuck you next time. Por favor, déjame a cogerte.”

Next time. You turned away, your cheeks burning up. You never assumed there would be a next time to this, but your heart wouldn’t stop beating at the thought.

“Next time sounds good. That was…” You turned back to praise him, but his eyes were already closed, and a light snore was emanating from his nose. “...Amazing, you lightweight.”

The dizzying effect of all the booze was catching up alarmingly quickly now that you were spent. After the strenuous effort of tugging the blanket out from under Barba so you could tuck it over him, you were completely worn out, and within a minute you were fast asleep as well, cuddled under his arm, your chests rising and falling in unison.

#Rafael Barba #Rafael Barba x Reader #Raúl Esparza #SVU #smut #Barba x female reader #My writing #thatesqcrush kink bingo #I am curious how intelligible this is to someone who speaks zero spanish #hopefully the dialogue tags & context explain enough

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jessicajonesrp · 3 years

Text

Round up at the Raft

Somehow, miraculously, Trish actually managed to stay quiet for the majority of the trip to the Raft. Probably because she knew that Jessica, in her pregnant, stressed out, and very sober state, could not handle much more to trigger her temper, and would likely respond to any irritations from Trish by simply jumping out of the car and hitching a cab the rest of the way.

Jessica would have thought that would be a plus, Trish’s lack of chattering, but instead, it just gave her own thoughts more time to run rampant until she felt that her skin was riddled with adrenaline that she couldn’t bleed out. She bounced her legs jaggedly from the passenger seat, and by the time they did make it to the outskirts of the East River, just off Roosevelt Island. She had been given the approximate coordinates of the location that the Raft would be made accessible to her for her visit to Phillip, and as Trish drew closer to their destination, Jessica texted back and forth with the doctor, sent ahead of her a couple of hours before, to confirm that he had arrived with the vaccinations and that all staff and prisoners had been appropriately protected against Kilgrave. She had arranged a code word ahead of time for him to use if he had any contact with Kilgrave, and when the word was not used, she could be somewhat assured that everything, so far, was going as hoped.

If the doctor could be trusted. And if the vaccines had all worked. If, if, if.

Jessica had little nervousness about seeing Phillip again, at least, that she was able to admit to herself. It would be difficult to see the impact that prison life and isolation had on her little brother, but his choices were his own, and he was lucky that he still had any kind of life at all. She hoped that he would remember that and choose to be cooperative, or at least that she would still recognize at least some pieces of the brother she loved in what the Raft was shaping him into now. But that was beyond her control and beside the point.

It was the expectation of Kilgrave popping up that jarred her, mentally and emotionally. It didn’t matter how much protection they had put in place for people or how high the chances that they would succeed, Jessica still felt strong dread and responsibility to think of all the people he had harmed already and all those he may still. Even though she was no longer vulnerable to Kilgrave’s commands, nor was Trish, Luke, or the others most important to her, it didn’t mean they couldn’t be harmed by someone who was, or that her PTSD had received that memo.

Everything on the river’s shoreline was as had been described to her- a huge garbage scow at the water’s surface, covering up the facility underneath, and although she could not see the cameras or guards, Jessica knew they were there, outside easy surface view. She scanned their surroundings, every muscle drawn taut, and checked the time. Fifteen minutes until the Raft would come to surface, twenty-five until it would submerge. Trish had driven too damn fast for someone who talked about Jessica’s reckless driving skills.

She sent Luke a quick text to let him know she and Trish had arrived, distantly aware that Trish was doing the same for Luke. When a warm hand touched her shoulder, Jessica jumped, her head almost hitting the roof of the car, and barely stopped herself from taking a swing at Trish. Trish, used to this, ducked back just out of her reach and removed her hand.

“I know you hate pep talks, so, hard as it is, I’ll refrain, even though this is absolutely the perfect time and place for one. Notice and appreciate my self control.”

She smiled, her tone playful, but she was obviously assessing Jessica, seeking to reassure in her own sneaky, totally denying it fashion. Jessica shrugged, abruptly shoving open the car’s door.

“Whatever, I don’t do appreciation. That falls under etiquette, and that’s just a waste of time. I’m going to go ahead to the shoreline and wait. Don’t come with me.”

“You still have time before you can go in,” Trish started, but ignoring her, Jessica continued forward. She noticed and was irritated that Trish also got out of the car and followed her, but didn’t comment on it. It wasn’t like the guards would let her in, she hadn’t been approved for that. If she wanted to stand there and have Jessica not talk to her, well, she would get bored faster than Jessica would, for sure.

From the distance, Jessica could hear the smooth, nearly purring engine of an expensive-sounding car, coming closer. She tensed, stopping in her tracks, and resisted the urge to turn around or look over her shoulder. It was probably Danny, coming to accompany them after all, or one of his many employees. Maybe it was even a guard of the Raft, coming in for duty.

But she heard Trish’s gasp as the car drew closer, and the other woman’s quickening footsteps as she caught up to Jessica and grabbed hold of her arm. Jessica had to turn then, but even before she saw the figure emerging from the vehicle that had just parked beside theirs, she already knew from the shaky, cold sense of dread spiking through her just who it was that had arrived.

“Jessica Jones, we meet again. With sustained effort and perseverance on my part, of course.”

Jessica held herself rigidly, noticing with absolute horror that there were three children sitting in the back of the vehicle that Kilgrave had arrived in, all between the ages of approximately five and eight years old. Even more sickening was the fact that all of the children were clearly biracial- just as her own child would be. It was a cruel, evil move, and an obviously intentional reminder of just what Kilgrave was willing to do to Jessica’s own child, if it suited his purpose or goals.

“Kilgrave,” she spat out, the word twisted and sharp on her tongue. “What did you do, put a hidden camera in every building in the city? I knew you’d end up here somehow. Fucking knew it.”

“No, I simply had bugs implanted in all of the cars under Danny Rand’s ownership that I could get people to get hold of,” he shrugged, unruffled by Jessica’s tone. “Anything to reach you. You should know by now the effort I’m willing to go to, to find you. Doesn’t that prove to you how much I love you? What is it that a man has to do for that to get through?”

“No, it proves that you’re a psychotic, sociopathic stalker who doesn’t know how to take no for an answer,” Jessica snapped, not yet taking a step towards him. “And that you’re selfish enough to care more about what you want than anyone else’s life or happiness.”

Her eyes remained on the children, who as of yet were sitting seemingly calmly in the car. She could not see from her distance if any of them had been harmed, but she knew from her own experience just how terrified and out of control they must feel.

“Persistent and devoted would be how I would describe it, but you always did have a sharp tongue. Making everything sound so ugly,” Kilgrave shook his head, making a face of displeased disagreement. “I’d say we can agree to disagree, but I suppose you rather enjoy being contrary. That’s my Jessica.”

“I’m not your anything,” Jessica snapped, taking a step towards him, every muscle tensed for confrontation, fists balled at her side. “I’m nothing to you but your victim, and I refuse to be anymore. Let those kids go. This isn’t about them, Kilgrave.”

To Trish, she ground out in an undertone, “Trish, go to the car. Right now.”

Trish licked her lips, but stood her ground. Kilgrave, to Jessica’s dismay, turned his gaze towards her.

“Patsy,” Kilgrave inclined his head towards Trish, obvious disgust in his voice. “Let me ask you, Patsy, how is it that a woman with absolutely no useful abilities or skills manages to escape my efforts to dispose of her on multiple occasions? Is it sheer luck, or do you have some sort of innate self-preservation talent that saves you when your friends cannot? I truly do want to know, now.”

It was a command- the first directed at Trish, or at anyone who had been vaccinated, since the doses had been doled out. Jessica nearly held her breath, waiting to see what would happen, her fear choking her throat when Trish opened her mouth to respond.

But rather than respond to his question, Trish closed her mouth, shook her head, and smirked.

“Too bad for you, Kevin. I don’t feel like talking to you, so it looks like for one of the very first times in your life, you aren’t going to get what you want.”

For the first time that Jessica could remember doing so of her own free will, she smiled, right there in Kilgrave’s presence. It was impossible not to when the man’s jaw had nearly dropped to his chest.

“That wasn’t an option, Patsy!” he barked, blinking furiously in an effort to regroup himself. “I asked you a question. How is it that you keep escaping death?”

“She gave you an answer, didn’t you hear her?” Jessica put in, smirking. “She said it’s none of your fucking business, and no one’s in control of her tongue but her. Including you.”

“What she said,” Trish agreed, nodding. “With slightly less profanity. But she got it right all the same.”

Kilgrave took a step back, as though Trish’s lack of response to his order was somehow a threat to him, an endangerment. Truthfully, it was, although he could not know to the extent. The vaccines worked- Jessica now had seen the proof for herself, and her heart beat faster now not with fear, but with excitement.

They were going to get him. They were going to end this, finally. They just had to get through the next few minutes first.

“How did you- this is you!” he sputtered, jabbing a finger in Jessica’s direction. “You infected her somehow. Always you, messing things up, making things harder! Why can’t you ever just let things be!”

“Because I have a mind and will of my own, and it isn’t your fucking place to steal it,” Jessica snapped back. “Now get down on the ground, on your stomach, hands behind your back, unless you want me to break your neck. Again. And if you have any other little soldiers in hiding, call them off.”

But Kilgrave didn’t respond. When Jessica sprung forward, grabbing him and far from gently throwing him down and into a restraint on the ground herself, she heard Trish gasp, sucking in a breath. Kilgrave, unresisting beneath her, laughed softly to himself.

“I have to say, Jessie, this brings back fond memories. I always did like you on top.”

“Shut the fuck up!” she snarled, giving him a vicious shake.

She drew back her fist to punch him, hard enough to knock him unconscious, but Trish’s sharp calling of her name caused her to look up, then follow her pointing finger to the children, still seated in the car Kilgrave had driven up in. Only now, each of them held a knife to their tiny throats, digging in just enough that Jessica saw small beads of blood come to the surface of their skin.

Clearly, they had been holding the knives in their laps, just waiting for Kilgrave to be harmed or restrained. What the fuck was she supposed to do now?

Kilgrave laughed, understanding even as Jessica forced his face into the dirt what was happening.

“Try it, Jessie, go ahead and kill me. What’s three more deaths, when you can take down big bad me? It’s worth it, isn’t it? Just a few more deaths on your conscience, so what if they happen to be little kids?”

Jessica froze, stricken with indecision for several seconds. Then, making a decision, she released Kilgrave, throwing him off and away from her. When the children did not further harm themselves, watching solemnly, fear and pain stark in their wide eyes, and Kilgrave, chuckling, started to get to his feet, Jessica blocked out the words he was saying. Instead she took one long jump, landing somewhat gracelessly next to the children in the car, and tugged open the back door. She pried the knives out of each child’s hand, despite their screams and protesting efforts to regain them, and easily broke the knives into pieces before flinging them hard into the East River. As the children pushed past her out of the car, rushing towards the water’s edge in an effort to retrieve the pieces of knife that were already washing past their ability to find, Jessica grabbed one of them by the wrist, hesitating with a guilty grimace.

“Sorry, kid, I have to.”

She hit him, with just enough restraint that she prayed it wouldn’t’ cause permanent head injuries, but enough that the child went unconscious. She lay him down gently and snagged a second child. Trish, seeing what her intentions were, used what Jessica assumed to be some of the ninja skills Danny had been teaching her to restrain Kilgrave, even as Jessica rendered the second and last child unconscious and therefore safe from self harm. Coming back to Kilgrave, Jessica shook her head.

“You don’t know me. You never did, you never will. And you will never touch me or anyone else again.”

Kilgrave flinched, knowing what was coming even before she knocked him out in one blow. She had considered making it a killing one, but at the last second, although she couldn’t explain to herself why, she drew it back, just enough to save his life. Trish, still holding his now limp body gingerly and with disgust, looked up at Jessica, eyes serious.

“Jess, there’s less than two minutes left of the Raft being above surface, we have to get him in there, fast!”

Jessica had barely registered the Raft rising above the water, able to be accessed. She certainly hadn’t been keeping track of time. She would have been impressed by Trish’s ability to track time while simultaneously battling a psychopath, but there were more important matters at hand.

“Then give him to me,” she ground out, already mentally accepting her inability to see Phillip. “I’ve got this.”

She snatched him from Trish, jumping from where she stood the forty feet or so distance to the Raft’s surface with Kilgrave slung over her shoulder like a potato sack. The guards, standing ready to confirm her identity and purpose for her admission, seemed unfazed as she shoved him at them.

“This is Kilgrave, the one you had to get the shots for. Newest prisoner. Don’t know or care what proper protocol for admission is, he needs to be in here. Now, and forever. Don’t trust him, and don’t fuck this up. Someone will call you later if you need.”

Abruptly she leapt back onto shore, just in time to see the stoic guards putting obviously specialized cuffs on his wrists and punching in codes to take him inside. As the Raft began to descend beneath the water’s surface once more, Jessica let her shoulders sag, her heartbeat finally beginning to slow. She could see Trish checking the children’s vitals from the corner of her eyes, making sure they were all stable, but just for the moment, she closed her eyes, letting herself breathe.

It was over, again. At least for now.

Taking out her phone, she texted Luke. “Out of Raft. Not that I went in. Kilgrave showed. He’s their newest prisoner now.”

#jessica jones #jessica jones roleplay #luke cage roleplay #luke cage #trish walker #trish walker roleplay #kilgrave #kilgrave roleplay

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gumnut-logic · 3 years

Text

Minerva (Bit 4)

Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 | Bit 4

Really just some brotherly fun :D I’ve posted a couple of snippets from this bit, but there is plenty more, a whole 1600 words worth :D

Thanks to @vegetacide and @scribbles97 for the reading and support ::hugs you guys::

I hope you enjoy this fluff :D

-o-o-o-

“Scotty! Bro! How ya doin’?”

Virgil had to smirk at his little brother. Gordon was acting like his hand had been caught in the candy jar.

“Gordon, what are you doing in Minerva?” One lowered just slightly. “Virg? What the hell? Gordon!”

“What?! He needed some fresh air!”

“He has two broken legs!”

“Yeah, but Grandma was cooking up a storm.”

“Oh.”

“Exactly.”

Virgil twisted his lips. “You do know I am a sentient being and can both speak for myself and make decisions on my own.”

“Did you hear something, Scott? There was interference on the line. Sounded like Virgil was claiming he was able to look after himself.”

The snort from the hovering Thunderbird was loud.

“Hey!”

Gordon actually cackled. “Sorry, Virg. Great at looking after everyone else, total shit at looking after yourself.”

The glare he shot his brother should have scalped him.

Gordon only grinned more. “We all have our strengths and weakness, bro.”

“Shut up, Gordon.”

Thunderbird One began lowering as if to come into land.

“Hey, don’t you dare land that tin can on the reef, Scott. Mel will have your hide, right after I kick your butt.”

“Keep your pants on, Fish, I’m well aware how attracted you are to my butt.” Thunderbird One pirouetted midair like the graceful craft she was under his brother’s hands, shifting towards the centre of the lagoon. Her landing struts unfolded from her fuselage.

“He’s not going to...” Virgil’s eyes widened.

But Gordon was grinning. “Oh, yes!”

A crack in the air and pontoons at the end of her landing gear inflated with a snap, One suddenly sprouting what looked like fat ski blades. Her front strut shot out extenders either side for stability and Thunderbird One settled on the calm ocean like the prim and trim bird she was.

“That’s not something you see every day. I thought Scott hated landing on water.”

Gordon snorted. “He does.”

“If Brains asks, it’s practise and equipment testing.” Scott’s voice was smirking on comms. In the distance his brother’s flight chair slid smoothly out of the cockpit to hang above the water. Scott reached beneath the seat and pulled out a package. With a yank of a cord, he inflated his own little lifeboat, chucked it onto the water surface, and lightly stepped onto it. He sat there fiddling for a bit, enough to have Gordon frowning across the water, but then Scott was moving in their direction.

“So, dropping by for a swim? Or just checking up on us?” Gordon’s voice was flippant, but Virgil sensed a touch of concern under it all.

“Does it matter?” As Scott got closer Virgil frowned. The blue of his uniform was smudged with something black.

A flick of the water seat’s controls and Gordon yelped as Virgil flew off the edge of the reef and splashed his younger brother with water as the contraption forced stability in a way it really wasn’t quite designed for. Virgil cursed as the seat hit its maximum speed which was little more than walking pace, a limitation he had put in there himself to stop Gordon from killing himself. But it got him across the water, however slowly, those few moments faster to his eldest brother. As Scott pulled up alongside him, Virgil raked him with his eyes.

His brother was filthy, but there were no obvious injuries. “What the hell happened to you?”

Scott rolled his eyes. “I’m fine. Took a bit of a tumble down a coal mine.”

“A coal mine? Are you okay?” Scott still looked a little off with his pencilled-in eyebrows still growing back. Wasn’t the first time one of them had had to use makeup to hide an injury from the world at large. Scott had more soot on his face than anything else. “Did you wear your helmet?”

His brother’s shoulders slumped with the most put-upon whole-body expression he could manage. “Of course, I did. I’m fine, Virgil. A few bruises and a lot of grime. That’s all.”

Virgil didn’t stop frowning as he grabbed a handle on the inflatable and held himself steady. “Why didn’t you go home and get cleaned up?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Just happened to find a brother with two broken legs sitting on a reef out in the middle of nowhere. What the hell are you doing out here, Virg? You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I am! I’m still sitting on my ass. Andre and Cecil, not to mention, Gords, have me wrapped up in bubblewrap. I’m fine!”

Scott arched a wonky eyebrow at him.

Virgil’s lips twisted and he combed his brother with his eyes for injury one more time before conceding. “Fine. We’re both fine.”

The grin that split Scott’s face was kind of worth it.

It was a sign of how involved they were in each other’s medical condition that they both startled as Gordon suddenly surfaced beside the boat. Their fish brother flicked his wet hair out of his eyes forcibly enough to get both of his brothers with the spray.

In the distance, and still on the reef, both Andre and Cecil were staring at them.

“Hey, bros.” Gordon pretty much hovered in the water like the water seat his movements were so practised. “How goes?” In others words, ‘What the hell are you doing?’ When both brothers just stared at him, his eyes narrowed. “Scott you’ve dragged Two Broken Legs out onto the water by your mere presence. You look like shit, he worries. Go back to A Little Lightning and get cleaned up. Meet you on the reef when you are more respectable.” The Fish’s glare turned to Virgil. “And you. You are giving Andre conniptions. You fall off this seat, there is drowning in your future. I know you know this because you drummed it into my head multiple times.” His brother parroted Virgil’s own words from years ago. “‘Its use must be accompanied by adult supervision at all times’. While I know ‘adult’ in my case can be a grey area, we didn’t hire two suitably respectable nurses for you to fly out of their reach and go drown yourself. Now, get your ass back on that reef before I throw it onto my boat, take you straight back home, and force feed you Grandma’s cooking!”

Virgil stared at Gordon. Okay, perhaps he had acted a little irresponsibly. Of course, Scott took the opportunity for what it was and turned his own glare on Virgil for reinforcement.

Gordon’s glower upped a notch at the lack of movement. “Now!”

“Okay, Gordon. Fine. Whatever.” Virgil somewhat meekly let go of the life raft and turned back towards the reef, the seat humming quietly beneath him. Gordon growled further words at Scott and a moment later the life raft took off for A Little Lightning.

It wasn’t often Gordon put his foot down, but it was usually a good idea to agree with him when he did.

But then it wasn’t like he could fall out of the seat, being strapped in an all.

The whole tone of his own thoughts screamed pout and Virgil was forced to acknowledge that yes, Gordon was right.

The aquanaut swam alongside him, quite capable of keeping up with the seat’s easy pace.

By the time they reached the edge of the reef, Virgil had worked himself up to an apology. “I’m sorry, Gordon.”

His brother had stopped swimming a little way back and was now wading. Looking down and watching where he put his feet, Gordon sighed. “Don’t beat yourself up about it, Virg. Just keep yourself safe and in one piece, and we won’t have any problems.”

Virgil brought the seat to a halt and turned to his brother. “Gords, thank you. For all of this.”

Gordon stopped and stared, a small smile curving his lips. “Anytime, bro.” And of course, he had to take it that step further. He flung his arms wide. “My boat is your boat. Mi Casa, es su casa. Yours, mine, ours. Happy families and all that.”

Virgil stared at his goofball brother a moment. Then a flick at the controls, he darted over, grabbed two armfuls of Gordon and hugged him until he squawked.

“Oh, god, Virg, getorff!” Gordon struggled, but even in the water, he was no match for heavy lifting biceps. If Virgil closed his eyes and just clung for a moment, he wasn’t going to admit it or care. If it wasn’t for the fact that the seat was on the verge of flipping, he would have hung on longer.

It was Gordon stumbling and righting him before he took a swim in the drink that finally broke the clinging.

“God, Virg, don’t you dare get all teary on me or I’m telling John the combination to your personal refrigerator.”

Virgil grinned, if a little sloppily. “He already knows and it is not what you think.”

“What, it’s not Two’s launch date?”

“What?” Oh shit.

Gordon’s grin split his face in half and he cracked up laughing. Virgil was reduced to grabbing at him again in either an attempt to throttle him or give him the biggest noogie since he hit adulthood. That explained the mystery of the damned banana caramel pie from last week. He’d have to change it again.

His brother ducked out of reach basically by throwing himself underwater. Sure, the water seat was designed to follow, but damnit! “You owe me pie! Cecil made that for me, you brat!”

Gordon just kick-splashed his brother and laughed harder.

-o-o-o-

TBC

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Scott Tracy #Kermadec AU #minerva reef #minerva

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geraskierficrecs · 4 years

Note

Hi! I’m absolutely in love with your writing and (if you like the idea) would be elated if you did a whumpy geraskier fic where jaskier looses his senses one by one❤️

The spell lands like lightning, spreading through his limbs like a wildfire.

Distantly, he sees Geralt rushing forward to land the killing blow. Focused. Unearthly. The only mortality that remained was the fear that flashed bright and fierce in his eyes when he watched Jaskier collapse.

He doesn’t feel himself hit the earth although the impact jars his bones hard enough that his teeth snap closed on his tongue. Blood pools in his mouth, familiar as a former lover and twice as bitter.

Jaskier swallows it down and tries to find the strength to get back up before Geralt truly starts to worry. Somehow it’s even more difficult than he remembers to fight through the pain that’s still arcing in mad arcs down his spine. His mouth opens and closes around the name that’s become his lodestone for decades.

“G--Geralt.”

Before the next beat of his heart the Witcher is there, white hair flying behind him like the banner he would never wave. Calloused fingers brush over Jaskier’s prone form with familiar focus to catalog any explicit injuries.

“Did you...?” he asks, before Geralt cuts in.

“Where are you hurt?”

Like the word was its own trigger, Jaskier gasps as the pain burns brighter. He is incandescent, spine arching in a painful bow. His lungs go flat and grate against the air like they’ve forgotten how to fill. Fingers bury themselves into the earth and he pants, head tossing back and forth against dried leaves and forest floor.

“Jaskier!”

The name is fuzzy against the growing numbness pooling through his gut and spreading to his limbs. He reaches out and lets his fingers clamp tightly around Geralt’s. He wants to tell the Witcher not to worry, but his panic is a living, beating creature in his chest begging to be released.

“H...hurts,” he manages.

“I know, songbird,” Geralt soothes in a way that would have delighted him a year ago, but now seems like a mustard seed against the mountain of his agony. “The spell should lose its potency now that the mage is gone.”

The numbness is spreading faster now, making it impossible to tell if he’s truly grasping Geralt’s hand as tightly as his mind is begging for. “Wha--?”

When the words seem to fly from his grasp, Geralt moves closer like his proximity would be enough to heal all the hurt. “Some kind of paralysis, I think. I’m no mage.”

And Yennefer isn’t here, he doesn’t say. Jaskier already knows there’s nothing they can do to stop the spell now that its taken hold.

He stares up at Geralt anyway, trying to swallow when his tongue becomes thick in his mouth. “G--Ger--”

For the second time in his life, he finds himself unable to form a way to express the emotions trapped at the base of his throat by an uncooperative body. Only this time there’s no djinn or wish that will set him free.

“It’s okay, Jask. Don’t try to speak. It’ll pass,” Geralt murmurs.

His hand reaches out to thread through brown locks, but Jaskier can’t feel it. His head shifts with the motion, but his panic only grows when there is no other sensation to accompany it. If his eyes weren’t open, he wouldn’t even know Geralt was with him.

Jaskier’s mouth opens again, but he can’t seem to make a sound.

“I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay, Jaskier. I’ve got you.”

His eyes flit to Geralt, frantic as a drowning man to a raft. He tries again, desperate. “I l--love...you...”

Breathing is becoming more difficult now, but he tries not to let Geralt see that. His mortality has always been an unspoken fear between them and he isn’t so selfish as to make his passing cause even more pain. He can’t do that to his Witcher.

Geralt opens his mouth, lips shaping the words that have been pressed to every inch of Jaskier’s body--

But he can’t hear them.

He stares at Geralt’s mouth like somehow the sound will return if he just wills it enough. Geralt frowns, looking uncertain when Jaskier continues to not react.

Tears burn at the edges of his eyes making him blink. He wishes he could feel them fall. He wishes he could feel anything at all beyond the dull throb of pain that reminds him he is still trapped within his body. His mouth opens again, but this time there’s nothing to hear.

Oh god, he can’t hear anything.

No song. No rustle of leaves. No familiar hoofbeats painting a rhythm against dry earth. No soft huffs or laughter or sarcastic hmm’s.

He blinks again, trying to clear away the blurriness of the tears in his vision. To latch onto the vision of Geralt mouthing the words that still made his heart race each time. Grey mists linger at the edges of his visions like ghosts.

He blinks.

The mists creep closer, blocking out the halo of Geralt’s pale hair until it’s just a smear above him. He closes his eyes as hard as he could, but it’s not enough, why isn’t it enough? Why couldn’t he fucking see?

He loses himself then.

There’s no earth to ground himself against. No sunlight streaming from the treetops above them or even the scent of dead leaves to linger at the back of his throat like a bitter wine. No Geralt to whisper that it’s going to be alright.

Only darkness and the silence that seems to rip away his sanity.

He wants to scream. To beg for some sympathetic deity to end this purgatory before he fully loses his mind. To cry out for Geralt to save him once again.

Jaskier wonders if this is what death is like. Maybe he just slipped away without realizing it. Maybe this is what he has left to look forward to for the rest of eternity. Maybe he’ll be trapped within this dark hell until his body rots away and his mind is finally destroyed.

Maybe it’s a gift not to see the casket close over his head and listen to the dirt cover his coffin.

If he could feel anything, he knew his lungs would be spasming now. It would sound grating and full of the panic that he had no outlet for now. He could picture the fear on Geralt’s face as he continued to talk to a bard that wasn’t able to respond any longer. If he concentrated, he could even pretend to feel those familiar hands tightening around his own limp fingers or continuing to card through his hair.

I’ve got you, Jaskier.

But what if I can’t find you? he wanted to ask. What if I can’t see you there with me?

His heart must be racing, trying to survive even as his body continued to lay still. Instinct fighting against the spell to try to keep him alive for a little longer. For what? To suffer through the next millenia of waiting for some distorted mercy to end it all?

“--hear me? Jaskier, baby, please.”

He tilts his head toward the voice, eager for any comfort against the chaos in his mind.

Something brushes against him, light as a butterflies wings. He wants to press into it, let it soak into his bones until it’s branded into his soul.

“I’ve got you, I promise. You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

There’s warmth all around him, seeping through the icy darkness like the first rays of sunshine. He shudders, wild. Desperate.

“You’re safe. I’ve got you. I love you so much. I love you--”

Geralt, his mind produces. Geralt.

“Please, songbird, you’ve got to open your eyes. Open your eyes for me.”

Jaskier fights against the insistent drag of the spell urging him to return to the silent peace of before. He thrashes against its hold, ripping away the tendrils still taking root in his mind until he feels his lungs draw in their first full breath in what feels like a lifetime. He clings to the deep rumble beside him like an anchor, letting it pull him back to the light.

He doesn’t know how long it takes. Maybe it doesn’t matter. Geralt would never abandon him. Not now. Not ever.

“I love you, Jaskier. I love you so much. I need you to open your eyes. Don’t leave me here without you. I can’t do this without you. Just open your eyes, baby.”

Jaskier’s lips twitch into the beginnings of a smile.

And he does.

________________________

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