#(adjusts papers on my desk. this is why I think that at some point th- [I am yanked off the stage by a comically long shepherd's crook]) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

malum-forev · 3 years

Text

Try Anything Once

BuckyBarnes x Reader

Bucky finds himself at the worse place, the doctor’s office. But maybe it isn’t as bad as he thought.

Word Count: 2.6k

There were many things that brought James Buchanan Barnes rage, but at the top of his list was his mechanical arm. It was bad enough that it was a constant reminder of who he was, who he was created to be, but now due to a technical failure, it was even more of an inconvenience.

“I already told you that it’s fine.” He muttered at Sam, trying to open and close his palm, with no avail.

“Yeah, and if I were blind, I would believe that. You need to get that thing fixed. Maybe it just needs some motor oil.” He said followed by a loud laugh, only making Bucky’s eyes roll. “I already reported it to the medical department, anyways.”

“What are doctors going to tell me about this thing, it’s not flesh. They don’t know anything about it.”

“Well, I mean, we do have the best doctors in the world. I think they know something about that contraption.” Sam replied, standing up from his position and traveling to the front of the airplane to see how long it would take them to get back to the compound.

Bucky closed his eyes, trying to calm the bubbling anger that was filling him up, almost to the point of explosion. It was supposed to be the best, why would it be giving him trouble. Subsiding his anger, he thought that maybe he would have to go to Wakanda to get it fixed. Maybe he would even have to stay there for some time, he could only dream of that. In the past 80 years, that was the only time he felt something close to peace. Forcing his eyes to open, he realized that the plane was descending. Looking out the window, he saw what he dreaded the most. A team of people in white bathrobes.

“Doctors.” Bucky huffed in annoyance.

As he made his way through the white corridors with fluorescent lighting, he could hear at least three pairs of feet shuffling behind him. He could almost sense they were too nervous to ask him any questions. He stopped at the end of the hallway and waited for three seconds before turning around to face them.

“Well? Are you going to open this stupid door, or do I have to break it to get this thing fixed?” He yelled, not feeling anything as he saw the three young doctors shake and vigorously nod their heads. The tallest one, she couldn’t be a day older than 25, quickly entered the access code and opened the door. Revealing a large waiting room with one assistant behind a desk. He heard the elevator music first, after that came a whiff of something. Some kind of flower Bucky couldn’t recognize.

“I have an appointment.” Was the only thing he said as the assistant moved his eyes away from the computer and saw the former Winter Soldier. He was different, he wasn’t scared of Bucky.

“Name and date of birth please.” He asked kindly as he faced back to the computer.

“This must be a joke.” Bucky said, as he watched the assistant’s motionless expression, he realized it wasn’t. “James Buchanan Barnes, March 10th, 1917.”

“Thank you, Dr. (y/l/n) will be with you shortly. Would you like anything to drink while you wait?” He smiled again, only enraging Bucky even more. He decided no answer was needed. After about two minutes, he saw the door swing open and a field agent came out first.

“Thank you so much Doc.” She smiled, Bucky had seen her before if he remembers well, she even introduced herself. But like always, he never remembered anyone’s name. She smiled as she passed him, and he just nodded back. After the agent, a woman in that dreaded white bathrobe came out. Average build, fragile looking, late twenties, it would take me less than two seconds to knock her off the ground. Bucky thought, immediately erasing the thought from his mind, something his therapist had taught him to do.

“Mr. Barnes, please come inside.” She said, her voice was extremely peaceful and calm. Everything about her seemed that way. It was as if one of those singing birds from Snow White had come out of the storybook and became a human. Bucky followed her into her office and sat down, looking at the pendulum sitting on top of her neatly organized desk. Swinging back and forth infinitely. “You’re here because your arm is giving you trouble?”

“The metal one.” Was the only thing he said, she just nodded and motioned him to sit on the exam table, “I’m not laying on that. I’m not five.”

“You’re obviously not five, you were born in 1917.” She quickly replied. “If anything, I should have you sitting on a wheelchair, or one of those reclining chairs they have elderly people in. I need you to lay down here to check your prosthetic. I also need you to remove your jacket, and anything that would obstruct me from performing my analysis.”

With a quick glare, he followed her instructions. He took his jacket off and without thinking twice, ripped the sleeve from his t-shirt.

Laughing a bit, the doctor started contorting his arm in different directions. “You superheroes really have a passion for all things dramatic. You could have taken off your shirt.”

“This was easier.”

“Not much of a talker, are you?” she said before pressing on a disk near the arm’s wrist. Gaining a hiss from the former assassin.

“Could you just stop.” He said in an annoyed tone. “I’m just here because your people were waiting for me once I got off the damn plane. Now stop messing with it before you break my arm.”

With one swoop motion, he was back on his feet. “This is made from an incredible rare material. Something that they probably didn’t even know existed at whatever school you got your degree from. Which one was it?” Bucky said, getting more and more angry as he saw the doctor didn’t even flinch at what he was saying. He started looking around the walls to see where she had that paper framed. The one every doctor likes to display, as if it was some sort of badge.

“I don’t have a medical degree. You can say this comes,” Dr. (y/l/n) took a pause. “Naturally to me.”

Bucky let out a small laugh. “I’m fine. And even if I wasn’t, I’m not going to have some random person who couldn’t even finish med school looking at my arm. It’s probably more expensive than everything you own.

Dr. (y/l/n)’s expression didn’t change, the small smile still on her mouth. “Pepper’s team warned me about you, Mr. Barnes. They said you were, difficult.”

“Difficult.” Bucky scoffed as he leaned on the medical table, he watched the doctor move back behind her desk. Typing something on her computer, the printer slowly coming to life, sending out a small piece of paper.

“Well, they actually said you were a huge pain. Difficult is just the word I choose to use.” She adjusted her glasses and read what was on the paper, taking out a pen and signing it.

“It really shows that after Steve left, this place started hiring just about anybody. Their whole system is going to fall apart if they keep uncredited people here.” Bucky spat out, aggravated at the mere thought that Sam would have sent you here with her.

“You’re not completely wrong with that statement. But I don’t think it was after Steve, it was before that. At one point they even recruited brain washed assassins.” The doctor replied with a grin on her face, only making Bucky’s blood boil even more. “Try this, it will help with regaining mobility.”

Bucky ripped the paper out of the doctor’s hand, crumpling it up and shoving it in his back pocket. Turning around to leave the office.

“Oh and Mr. Barnes, you have to come back to finish the assessment before you can go back into the field. Those are the orders stated by Mr. Wilson.” Again, that smug smile adorning her face. Does she always have something to say? Bucky thought as he stormed out of the medical building, heading straight to Sam’s room. He was going to hear what Bucky had to say about that know-nothing fake doctor.

Bucky heard Sam’s laugh before he actually saw him, as the automatic doors opened, he saw that the laughter was directed towards him.

“I’m guessing by your angrier than usual glare, you saw (y/n).” Sam said with a gigantic smile.

“Was that some sort of prank? You hired a fake doctor only for me to go and waste my time?” Bucky asked as he strode past him walking straight into the kitchen.

“What did you have planned for the rest of the day? Sitting on the corner of your bed at three pm, standing in a corner at four and do your hair at five? I know you do your hair, it’s impossible for it to always be perfectly imperfect.” Sam said shooting Bucky a questioning gaze, but he just rolled his eyes and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. “And what are you talking about fake doctor? Please tell me you let her do her job, if not I can’t let you come on the mission tomorrow.”

“Of course I didn’t, tomorrow I’m going to see an actual doctor to get a stupid note that says I’m fine! Even though I’m telling you right now that I’M FINE.” He yelled as he smashed down the bottle, making it as flat as a piece of paper.

It was at this specific moment that F.R.I.D.A.Y. said: “Bucky Barnes, you have an appointment with your therapist tomorrow at 11:30 am. If you were to miss this appointment, you will be sanctioned and will not be able to assist on missions.”

This obviously sent Sam on a fit of laughter. “That message couldn’t have come at a better time. Anyways, you need to get your appointments aligned. I suggest you go to the Doc’s office tomorrow morning to see if she has anything available.”

“Just send me the actual doctor’s office and I’ll be there tomorrow morning.” He said through gritted teeth.

“Bucky, I don’t know who got it into your head but, (y/n) is an actual doctor. That why she’s Dr. (y/l/n) and not just (y/n).”

“She was the one who told me she’s not credited. She doesn’t even have a medical degree, let alone know anything about vibranium!” Bucky said throwing his hands up in the air.

“You don’t have a degree but that doesn’t mean you’re not capable of being an ass. And an annoying one too!” Sam said, getting frustrated with the conversation. “Look, Dr. (y/n) has been here for a long time, she knows what she’s doing. Maybe you don’t know anything about her because you were frozen for half of your life and the other half you spent being a cyborg assassin. Also, she was one of the first people to handle vibranium when it was found in Wakanda, so I think she knows something about that. She even spent some time in a hut over there, just like you! You have more things in common than you think. So, tomorrow you’re gonna get her some coffee, go to her office, apologize for being, well, you; and get that arm fixed. In the meantime, you can look up some things about her. You do remember how to google things right?”

“Of course I remember. Could you just help me get on the net?” Bucky said while holding out his phone, it was now Sam’s turn to roll his eyes.

--------

The next morning, Bucky reluctantly made his way back to the medical building. The two disposable coffee cups were almost knocked out of his hands when the doors swung open.

“Back already Mr. Barnes?” he heard Dr. (y/l/n) say, it surprised him that she would talk so casually with him, given that yesterday he was, difficult. “Should I put down extra thirsty as a side effect on your chart?” She asked pointing to both of the cups.

“Actually Doctor, one of them is for you. I didn’t know what you drank so one is a black coffee and the other one has a splash of milk and sugar. Sam told me you would accept coffee as an apology, some sort of olive branch.” Bucky said, shoving both of the cups near her for her to choose.

“You can take me to get coffee instead. Judging by the stale smell, this is day old coffee. Plus, I don’t think you have tried oat milk lattes.” She smiled as she guided him to the restaurant inside the compound.

“Oat milk wasn’t a thing in the 40’s.” Was all that Bucky replied. “I wanted to formally apologize. It’s something new to me, my therapist says I should externalize my feelings more. I did not know your past; you know with the whole regenerative thing.”

This was the first time he saw her not smile. She looked away for a moment and asked “Did you try what I told you. It’s a type of oil that seeps into the smallest indentations in vibranium, creating a protective layer. With that, and some rehabilitation exercises, you will feel as good as new.”

Bucky just shook his head, not wanting to talk about his less than normal extremity. He opened his mouth to ask her, but she interrupted. “I know what you’re going to ask me. I may not be able to read minds but this profession has taught me many things, one of them being how to read people’s expressions.”

“Can you still do it?” He pressed on, if what he had read was true, then she was probably one of the only people that could understand what he was feeling.

“Yes, of course I can. As a supersoldier I would think you understood. It’s not something that you can just turn off, it’s here forever.” She said pointing to her whole body. “I didn’t want this; I didn’t ask to be able to regenerate. I was just at the wrong place at the wrong time and with the wrong people.”

“I researched you last night.” Bucky admitted shooting her a shy smile.

“Didn’t think you were tech-savvy.” She said, taking a sip of her coffee. “That was a long time ago, she’s long gone. I thought what I was doing was the right thing. And he, he convinced me that it was. But alas, I was only some sort of protection. Receiving the bullets that would wound him and healing the cuts that would kill him. But after I realized all the damage, we were actually doing I, I found this place. And from there on I decided I was going to heal other people. Even if they couldn’t regenerate.”

“I can relate.” Bucky said, slouching back on the bench they were sitting on, a weird feeling appearing inside of him. Something that he wasn’t used to, relaxation and peace. “I appreciate you not flipping out yesterday, I was out of line.”

“I’ve dealt with worse people here.” She laughed. “I looked at your videos fighting. You need to take better care of that arm of yours.”

“I didn’t know you were keeping tabs on me Doc, had I known I would have smiled at the camera.” Bucky said shooting her a smile, it was the first time she had seen him actually do that.

“It’s my job to check my patient’s whole file.” She explained but couldn’t resist to smile back. “And you can call me (y/n) by the way.”

“In that case, call me Bucky.”

#bucky fluff #buck #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #bucky barns x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky barns x you #bucky barns imagine #the winter solider x reader #the winter solider fanfiction #the winter soldier #tfatws

265 notes · View notes

fangirlovestuff · 3 years

Text

More Than Meets The Eye - Steve Rogers x reader

a/n - hey lovely people!! this one is for @s1utforfictionalcharacters, who asked for a Steve x reader enemies to lovers a while ago. thank you so much for bearing with me and being patient, and i hope you enjoy!!<3

Summary: Between figuring out what was the Tesseract doing at a Hydra base and if it even is the Tesseract, you need to navigate your relationaship with one annoying, broody Captain. Honestly, you might prefer the Hydra thing.

this isn’t set in the mcu timeline, but takes inspiration from a few mcu movies. it’s not canon compliant and everyone’s alive:)

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: lowkey angst and some tension, maybe a curse word or two? tell me if i missed anything!

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

"Rogers!" you heard Tony's voice over the comms, "Where the hell are you?"

"Babysitting," you heard Steve's irritated voice, not only over the comms but also behind you, right before you saw him dashing past you to punch the Hydra agent you were fighting square in the jaw.

"Well, get America's ass over here, now," Tony grunted, clearly mid-fight himself, "we need backup."

"Go!" you yelled at him, spinning to take out another agent that was coming up behind Steve, "I got this!"

"You sure?" he asked, his tone sarcastically degrading, jumping while kicking two agents simultaneously. Showoff.

"Yes," you resisted the urge to roll your eyes, "I can handle them, go help the others!"

"Alright," he grunted as he pushed off another agent before running back in the direction he came from, towards the rest of the team.

"Cap, you coming or what?" Natasha spoke on the comms, calmer than Tony, but it was obvious she's just as in need of backup as he was.

"Coming!" Steve replied, before it went relatively quiet.

You finished up disarming the rest of the agents in your wing of the building. No one was calling for you on the comms yet, so you decided to make another round in the perimeter, make sure you didn't miss anything.

God knows captain know-it-all is gonna be on your ass about it if that's the case. And honestly, you have more than enough of that as is.

As you were walking down the hallway, you noticed a strange, glowing light coming from under the doors. Upon finding it was unlocked, you opened it to reveal a room that was entirely filled with the same blueish light you had seen, and it was all coming from a desk in the middle of it.

Approaching slowly and letting your eyes time to adjust, you got closer and closer, realizing the shiny object was a peculiar blue cube. A cube you knew well, perhaps even too well.

"Guys, if you're done over there, you might wanna come to my wing. There's something you're gonna want to see."

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

"Okay, we have to keep looking, maybe they left some blueprints or anything that can indicate how they were planning on using it," Steve commanded, "or already have."

"Wait," you said before everyone split up to follow his orders, "as important as the why they got it is, I think the first question we should be asking is how the hell they got it. I thought it was locked away in the Asgard safe?" you looked at Bruce, who out of all of you had the most contact with Thor.

"It was, the last time I checked," he frowned. "I'll see if I can contact Thor, see if he knows anything."

"You do that," Tony interjected, "the rest of you, follow Cap's order while he and I have a little chat. Shall we Rogers?" he pulled a frowning Steve aside, while you all split up to try and find any information you could salvage.

In your search, you ran into Natasha. As you were both scouring the same desk for clues, working together like a well-oiled machine, you asked, "what did Tony want from Cap?"

"Probably to ask him where the hell was he when we needed his backup," she said matter-of-factly. "Or, you know, where the heck he was. We all know Steve's proper like that," she smiled, and you let out a chuckle at her words.

"Well, that’s good," you remarked, "since he really should've been there for you guys. I don't know what was that all about," you scrunched up your nose. "Nothing here," you added, closing the drawer you were looking through.

"Yeah, here too," Natasha closed her own drawer, "let's go."

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

Later that day, you were all having dinner together as you went over some papers the others found at the Hydra base. Since you were already in the same place, you split the takeout, taking caution not to spill any of it.

"Cap," you asked, seeing the saltshaker was too far for you to reach, "Can you pass me th-" your words were abruptly cut by him planting it in your hand, going back to whatever it is he was reading.

"Thanks," you muttered, going back to your paperwork as well.

This might be the place to mention that pretty much ever since you joined the team, Steve exhibited a certain… coldness to you. Arrogance, indifference, call it what you want – from day one, Steve Rogers made sure you knew he was better than you.

And considering he was literally Captain America, it's not like you thought you were ever better than him in the first place.

You blended in with the rest of the team seamlessly, fighting and training among them. I mean sure, there were jokes about you being "the new kid", but it was just that – jokes. No one, or at least no one but Steve, seemed to view you as inferior.

You still fought well together, it was your job. Hell, he just passed you the salt before you even finished asking for it. Being attuned to each other's actions and attitude in that way made it all the more obvious how much he seemed to covet his leadership position, his place of dominance.

It got on your nerves. So. Much.

You see, if he were like that to everyone else on the team, so be it. But the absolute majority of it was directed towards you – the new girl. And it was clear that's all he ever saw you as. A girl.

Even that salt thing – he handed it over so impatiently, so suddenly, like one would handle an irritating child.

You had hoped he'd get over it at some point, but so far, that didn't seem to be the case. Well, you're not planning on going anywhere, so you'll both have to get over yourselves at some point.

"Hey!" Steve snapped his fingers in front of your eyes, shaking you from your reverie. "C'mon, listen up. Tony found something."

Oh well, that "some point" is probably not today.

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

"So, Hydra wanted to use this," Natasha gestured at the Tesseract, "To power up a weapon they've designed?"

"That's the gist of it," Tony confirmed. "But from the looks of it, this thing is a lot more powerful than it seems. They planned on powering up a whole armored aircraft, plus all of their rifles using this cube. If that's possible, and by the looks of it, it very well might be, it's a lot stronger than you'd think."

"Wait, what do you mean their rifles as well?" you asked, your brows furrowing, "like, split this thing into pieces?"

"No, it looks like they were planning to project its power somehow, like…" Tony trailed off, struggling to explain.

"Like… Bluetooth?" you suggested.

"Yeah," tony snickered, "pretty much."

"Okay, but they didn't do that yet, right? We stopped them?" you looked around to the rest of your teammates before looking back at Tony.

"Seems like we did," Steve answered instead. "Bruce, any update on how they managed to get it?"

"Didn't hear anything back yet," the man in question shook his head, "I'll try again."

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

When Bruce ended up getting an answer from Thor, telling him to come to Asgard, you immediately volunteered to go with him. It was partially because you've never actually been there, and you were very curious as to why Thor would ask Bruce to come.

But also, you could use a break from a certain Captain.

You tried to ask Bucky and Sam what his deal with you was, several times, but they just shrugged and gave you vague, unhelpful answers. You even considered trying to convince Wanda to just tell you what he thinks about you, but you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of bothering you so much that you'd stoop that low.

So lately, you've been just trying to avoid him, which usually worked just fine, since it's not like he was that adamant about being around you either. That is, until you said you'd go with Bruce.

"No way," he immediately objected.

"Why?" you asked, "Bruce might need some backup, and I'd like to visit Asgard. Win-win."

"We need you here, going over the papers."

"C'mon Cap, I think we both know I do better out there in the field than I do with all the blueprints. Tony's way better with that, he's the only one who does it anyway."

"So what, you're just gonna go on a field trip?" he sneered.

"No, I'm going to look out for my friend and teammate." It took everything in you to keep your voice level.

"That's nice. Cause it would be a shame if Banner had to watch your back while you went on vacation."

You scoffed. "Where did you even get that idea? I said I was gonna give Banner backup. That's the first thing I said, cause that's the most important thing. End of story."

"Fine." Steve shrugged.

"Fine?"

"Yeah, if Banner's willing to take you with him, go."

"Good," you nodded.

"Great."

Somewhat awkwardly, you shuffled out of the room to tell Bruce to count you in.

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

Natasha was the one to send both you and Bruce off to Asgard, the rest being otherwise occupied.

"Be safe," she told the both of you, holding each of your shoulders with one of her hands, before stepping away.

"We will," Bruce promised and you nodded, and just in time the Bifrost came down, taking the both of you where you needed to get.

Thor was the one to greet you, taking you both in for a warm hug before his face became serious.

"I didn't call you all the way here for nothing," he said, "come with me to the palace."

As you were on your way, he explained. "When you told me you encountered the Tesseract in Midgard, I immediately checked in our vault. Sure enough, there's still a Tesseract there."

"A Tesseract? I thought there was just the one," you frowned.

"We did too," Thor replied, "which is why I wanted you both to come see it for yourselves. Maybe you'd be able to point out some differences."

Getting to the palace, you wasted no time going down to the vault. And there it was – the Tesseract.

"How…" you trailed off. It looked completely identical to the one you had found on earth, the same blue tinted glint lighting up its surroundings.

"That's what I was hoping you might have an answer for," Thor sighed, his brows furrowing. "You said the one you encountered was previously in the possession of a group called… Chimera?"

"Hydra," Bruce corrected him. "And yes, we found it in one of their bases."

"Is it possible that the one we found was a fake?" you asked, lifting your eyes from the Tesseract. "Or maybe this one is the fake? Is there a way to know?"

"The only way to know is to try and use them," Bruce sighed, "but trying to wield the power of an infinity stone can be dangerous and destructive to the one who tries. It's something we should try and avoid."

"Okay," you thought, "can't we try and take this one to earth? See if maybe Tony could run some tests on them both, find us a lead as to which one's the real one?"

"That sounds like a good idea," Bruce agreed, "or at least the best one we've got. Can we take it?"

"Of course. I trust you to guard it," he looked at Bruce fondly.

"Thank you," Bruce's eyes and smile are sincere as he shakes Thor's hand.

You pick up the Tesseract tentatively, putting it in your bag and looking back up at Bruce, whose handshake with Thor was still lingering. You hated to interrupt, but you two needed to go back to earth to fill your friends in if you wanted to solve this mystery.

"Shall we?" you asked, somewhat softly.

"Yeah," Bruce shook his head slightly, "Let's go."

You trailed behind Bruce and Thor as you made your way back to the Bifrost, thinking it over.

If the Tesseract you found on earth was the fake, then why would Hydra have a fake? And if the one that was currently in your bag was the fake, then why would they just leave the real one lying around while the Avengers stormed their base? And at any case, how did they manage to make such an accurate replica?

"Thank you, Thor," you said sincerely once you reached the end of the Bifrost. "We're going to figure this out."

"I know you will," he said, and touched your shoulder affectionately.

You said your goodbyes, and then, you and Bruce started to make the journey home, until suddenly you felt a force push you out of the Bifrost, and before you knew it you landed on dirt, rolling a few times, Bruce landing a few feet away from you.

Hurriedly getting up, you helped Bruce to his feet as well, before the two of you looked around to find yourself in the middle of what seemed to be a desert, but it was like nothing you've seen before.

The sand was orange, red, much darker than it was in deserts you've been to. You and Bruce landed in some sort of valley, surrounded by large dunes of the dark sand, creating a perfect circle around you.

"Have any idea where we are?" you asked, trying to keep your cool, "Or how we got here?"

"I-"

His words were cut off by the sound of a gun cocking behind you. Instinctively, you crouched down and spun around, sending your leg out, taking the man down with a kick to his ankles.

But it wasn't enough. Before you could fully get back up, you and Bruce were already surrounded by agents, and the fight quickly escalated into a hand-to-hand one, having to take on multiple agents at a time. At some point, Bruce hulked out, but even then, you were still fighting them all simultaneously.

You barely managed to take in the glint of a knife from the corner of your eye before the felt the sharp sting of it on your ribs, your hand automatically going to hold the wound. The man started running in the other direction, which was when you realized you weren't the objective of this attack.

Your bag was.

"Bruce!" you yelled, trying to get his attention, as you started trying to run after the agent.

But before Bruce could even notice you, a deep rumble sounded through the air, the prominent crackling of thunder. You turned around just in time to see Thor coming down from the sky, Mjolnir clad tightly in his fist, sending bolts of lightning at your enemies.

You turned back and tried to keep running, but you couldn't do it fast enough, the wound in your ribcage still bleeding, and soon, the agent disappeared from sight.

You were panting when the battle died down, a mere few minutes after Thor's arrival. You didn't turn around, even as you sensed Bruce and Thor approaching you from behind.

"I lost it," you said, still unable to meet their eyes.

"They took it," Bruce said gently. "Now, let me take a look at that wound."

Well, you thought, that's not how Steve's going to see it.

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

"You lost it?" Steve asked, his disbelief clear. His eyes were trained on you, a frown on his face.

"She got hurt trying to protect it, Steve," Bruce answered before you could. "We'll get it back."

Steve's eyes didn't waver from yours, even as Bruce spoke.

"I'm sorry," you said, your voice coming out smaller than you wanted to. You cleared your throat, continuing stronger, "I did everything I could."

"I told you, you shouldn't have gone out there," he sighed, frustrated.

"Really, Cap?" you asked, "is this the time for 'I told you so's? for a hundred-year-old that's really fucking childish," you said through your teeth.

"Watch it," he snapped, "next time, maybe if you listen to me you won't get hurt."

"If I'm that bad of a soldier, Captain," you spat out, "am I not dispensable to you? Why do you even care if I get hurt? I bet it would've been just the same to you if I died but you still had the Tesseract."

Your words rendered him speechless, and you turned to walk towards the med bay. Bruce offered you his arm, but the look you sent him made it very obvious you weren't interested in company.

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

The wound healed well. You and Steve were… civil, to say the best.

You'd admit your words that day you were back from Asgard were harsh. You'd even admit that to his face, if he'd change his attitude towards you. Which he didn't, so really, maybe he deserved to hear them.

Anyways, a few days after the Asgard thing, the wound was fine, and you had an idea.

"Hey," you asked Tony, who happened to be next to you at the moment, "what if we go ask Strange?"

"What?" he looked up from the robot he was currently tinkering with.

"What if we went to Strange to ask him about the Tesseract?" you repeated, "he'd probably know more than us about this stuff."

Tony wasted no time in calling a team meeting, in which you told the others your idea about reaching out to Strange.

"That's a really good idea," Steve said.

Taken aback, you opened your mouth to speak, but before you could, he continued, "I'm coming with you."

Yep, it was way too good to be true.

"Why?" you asked, frowning. "I thought Tony would come, since he's already had a run-in with him before."

"Yes, but I think we can agree he's not the most diplomatic person out there," Steve smirked.

"I'm right here," Tony remarked dryly.

Steve paid him no mind and continued, "And besides, he's pretty much the only one except Bruce that knows enough to figure out Hydra's blueprints, and we still need all hands on deck in that front. So, I'm coming with you," he finished in a tone that left no room for argument.

You considered objecting anyways, but knew whatever you'd say would sound childish and tactless, so you simply nodded at him.

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

Since the Sanctum Dr. Strange usually resided in was in New York, there was no need for Steve and you to take the Quinjet, but you did take a car from Tony's collection, which Steve drove. The car ride was filled with quite the uncomfortable silence, but at least it was better than arguing, right?

Small victories.

When Steve parked the car about a block away from the Sanctum, you both got out swiftly, blending right in with your civilian clothes, and making your way to the doorstep.

There, Steve knocked on the door hesitantly. You both listened, but there was no answer. You held onto the handle and managed to open the unlocked door easily. You exchanged a look with Steve, both of you on high alert, and entered through the door, Steve closing it behind you.

You both silently stood in the threshold, contemplating your next move. Eventually, you took a tentative step forward, and just then a red object whipped right in front of your eyes, making you stumble backwards, right into Steve. You quickly turned around to apologize, but before you noticed it the red fabric was wrapped tightly around your arms, holding them tight against your torso. Steve was in a similar predicament, and since the cape wasn’t that long, you two were left tied face to face and extremely close to each other.

You tried to wiggle out of the fabric's hold, but it was almost like it tightened with your every move, adjusting itself accordingly. You struggled against it, trying to move even the slightest bit, but it wouldn't budge. You sighed, looking up at Steve.

Oh my god, he was way closer than you'd realized. His wide frame towering over you, you swallowed dryly before you whispered, "What now?"

Before he could answer, the sound of footsteps carried through the halls, and soon enough, Dr. Stephen Strange was descending down the stairs of the New York Sanctum to greet you.

"Hello," he said, his face indifferent, "I wasn't expecting you."

"Well, we weren't expected to get so… tied up, so that makes three of us," Steve remarked, prompting you to chuckle.

"Hello, Dr. Strange," you introduced yourself to him, "the Captain and I were wondering if you could help us with some… Tesseract trouble."

"Sounds awful," he smirked slightly. "Follow me," he started going up the stairs again and you exchanged a look with Steve. "Oh right," he gestured with his hand, and the red fabric detangled itself from the two of you, and turned out to be a cloak as it wrapped around Strange's shoulders. "I almost forgot," the man chuckled, "Now come on."

You and Steve exchanged another look as you rubbed your arm where the cloak dug into it a little, before following Strange up the stairs and into the library, where he offered you two chairs to sit in before sitting down in front of you. In the air. He was sitting down while floating.

Still less weird than the cloak, in your opinion.

"So," he started, "what, uh, Tesseract trouble are you having, exactly?"

Steve and you took turns explaining the situation to him, from finding a Tesseract in a Hydra base to losing the one that was previously in Asgard. Steve, to your relief and wonder, said nothing about it being your fault, but just said it wasn't in your possession anymore.

"So," you summed up, "we were wondering if you knew how anyone could manage to replicate the Tesseract this well, and how can we tell which one's the fake one. Without using them, of course."

"Well, those are great questions. I don't know of another way to determine if an infinity stone is indeed real besides taking the risk and trying to use it, so I can't help you with that. But as for the fake, I believe opening the Tesseracts will provide a good enough answer. You see, the Tesseract isn't that hard to fake. Might be a little expensive, sure, but some lights and plastic and you're set, and from what I understand Hydra isn't exactly struggling financially. But," he sighed, "you can’t fake an infinity stone. For most people, once you'll come in direct contact with it, you'll feel its power, and also its destructive properties."

"So the only way to know if an infinity stone is real is to risk touching it?" Steve asked.

"As far as I know of, yes," Strange nodded.

"Thank you," you said, "for your help. We sure get back to the compound, but we'll let you know if there are any big developments."

When Steve and you got back to the compound, everyone was already waiting for you, and you told them what Strange told you. Together, you all went to open the tesseract you had found in the Hydra base.

"Be careful not to touch what's inside," you warned, and Tony put of his Iron Man arm before breaking the side of the glowing cube, opening it to find…

A bunch of wires and lightbulbs. They didn't even try to make it look like an infinity stone.

"Well, the one in Asgard could've also been a fake," Natasha shrugged. "This doesn't really tell us anything. C'mon guys, we'll continue the search tomorrow," she touched your shoulder comfortingly before slipping away.

You were about to do the same when you saw Steve fidgeting with his sleeve, around where the cloak was wrapped around him. You walked up to him.

"You okay?" you asked, expecting him to brush you off.

"Yeah, I just think this cape held on a little too strong," he chuckled, removing his hand to reveal a stain on the fabric of his right suit sleeve, on you knew all too well was blood.

"Oh my god," you frowned. "C'mon, I'll help you clean it up," you gestured towards the med bay.

The walk there was brief and silent, and when you got there, you told Steve to sit down before ripping his sleeve enough to see the shallow wound.

"You don't have to do this," Steve said, as you looked for some gauze pad and wet it with water.

"I know," you said, "but since I'm the reason we needed to go there in the first place, I am doing this."

"You know it's not your fault, right? You couldn’t have known he'd have a magical cape that ties up people."

"That's not what I was talking about," you mumbled, before cleaning the wound gently.

Steve sighed. "I guess I do owe you an apology for the Asgard thing. I acted like a jerk. I'm sorry."

"No, you were right," you chuckled bitterly, "it's my fault we lost what might've been the real space stone to Hydra. You were just the only one willing to admit that."

"Well, I hope you know what you said about me then wasn't true. I care. You know, if you get hurt. And I wouldn't want anyone to die so I can have anything."

"I know," you said dryly, "you're too perfect for that."

You finished cleaning the wound and started bandaging it.

"That's not- god, I really do have a way with words, don't I? you probably hate me by now."

"I don't hate you, Steve," you looked up from his arm to his eyes, and he smiled at you. "Relax, it doesn't mean I like you all that much either," you smirked, prompting him to laugh.

"Yeah, that's fair, I guess. Thank you," he gestured to his now bandaged arm.

"Sure," you sent a small smile his way before walking away.

Maybe Steve Rogers wasn't that bad after all.

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

Okay, scratch that, Steve Rogers was the worst.

The conversation actually started out civil. Nice, even.

"Hey, Cap," you started, "do you know if Bruce found anything on the wiring in the fake Tesseract yet?"

"Nope," he turned to face you.

"Oh. Well, thanks," you smiled, "I'll just…" you gestured at the exit, but he stopped you.

"Wait. Actually, I wanted to talk to you. Can you…" he gestured at the empty chair in front of him, and you sat down.

"About the whole Tesseract thing," he started, "I think you should consider sitting this one out."

"What?" you frowned.

"I just…" he sighed, "I think it might be better if you sat this one out."

"Steve, I found the Tesseract in the first place," you said, getting angrier by the second, "I'm not backing down from this."

"You found the fake Tesseract," he corrected, "and lost what might have been the real one."

"I thought you said it wasn't on me."

"It's not, but still."

"I don't get it, a few days ago you were telling me it wasn't my fault and now you're benching me because of it?"

"I just… you're clearly very invested in this-"

"Which is why I deserve to stay on this mission," you cut him off, fighting to keep your voice level.

"Which is why I think you should sit it out," he ignored you, "because you don't need to get yourself hurt for this."

"I'm an Avenger just like you," you snapped, "you might get hurt as well. So might everyone else. I don't get why I'm any different."

"I told you, because you're too emotionally invested," he insisted, his tone rising.

"Oh, you're benching me cause I'm 'emotional'? really? That's your excuse?"

"That's not an excuse, I-"

"No, tell me, Steve, what's your problem with me? Just spit it out, clearly you have one. What have I done to you to make you hate me?" you were yelling now, exasperated at his flawed logic.

"I don't hate you."

"That's all you have to say?" you scoffed. "You know what? If you're letting whatever your problem is with me to get in the way of the mission, maybe you're the emotional one."

The charged atmosphere was interrupted by Natasha's frame showing up in the doorway.

"Hey guys," she started, before looking between the two of you. "Is this a bad time?" she waited a second before shrugging, "Doesn't matter. There are sightings of suspicious activity midtown, we think it can be Hydra. We gotta move, be down in five," she stated, before walking down the hallway, leaving Steve and you alone once more.

"I-" he started.

"Let's go," you said at the same time, before simply turning away to go and suit up. You had a battle to win, no matter what he thought.

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

"So," Tony started once you were all on the Quinjet, "Here's what we know – Hydra is probably in the possession of the real Tesseract, since we just got word of people seeing a big aircraft over midtown. My guess, they wanted to test the new weapons out before using them on a larger scale," he said, "which is why it would be the best thing to stop them now."

You split up into groups, Tony, Wanda and Sam going after the aircraft, Bucky and Steve go one way on the ground, you and Natasha the other. Thanking every god you knew you weren't paired up with Steve, you and Natasha ran and turned into a large square, starting to point people away from the steady stream of Hydra agents that was coming your way.

You and Natasha were both fighting off the agents together, most of the civilians already cleared from the area, when suddenly, they just… stopped, all in unison.

"Avengers," a voice with a heavy accent boomed through the air, presumably from the aircraft, magnified by speakers, "I know what you're here for," the voice chuckled. "Come and get it."

All at once, the Hydra agents in front of you pulled out something from their bags, or the pockets of their jackets, and it took you a second to realize what it is – exact replicas of the Tesseract. Dozens of them, maybe even hundreds.

You looked over at Natasha, who was just as exasperated as you were. "We gotta break these things," she said, and you nodded in understanding, charging at the men and women with renewed energy.

Because this was your chance to fix what you broke, to make things right. To show Steve you're better than your mistakes.

That was the mantra that was going in your head, as you smashed Tesseract after Tesseract, even as you found nothing but wires, you kept repeating it – fix what you broke.

Slowly but surely, you and Natasha tackled and defeated more and more agents, moving closer towards where they were coming from – the aircraft, that was lowering more and more, sending out more agents, in a wave that seemed never ending.

Expect when you got closer, you noticed that there was a staircase going down from it. A staircase that at the top of stood a small an in old fashioned army clothes, holding, how not, a small, glowing cube in his hand.

Your vision zeroed in on him. You had a target.

Barely stopping to disarm the other agents, you quickly made your way through the crowd of agents surrounding you, until you were right at the bottom of the staircase. You looked up to see the man still standing on top, smiling at the chaos unraveling at his feet.

You decided to take advantage of the fact he hasn't seen you yet, and climbed the staircase from the bottom side, hanging on to creases and bumps, to keep the advantage. When you got to the top, you tried to swing yourself over the rails. You would've fallen down if a hand wouldn't have reached out, catching your arm and throwing you back on the staircase, right side up.

"Ah, the new kid," the man snickered above you, "I've heard about you. Were you really the one they sent here?"

"No one sent me," you hissed as you got up. "Now hand over the stone and it'll be much more pleasant for you."

"So much spite," he laughed, "but alas, I don't think I will, sweetheart."

"Whatever you say," you delivered a poignant kick to his knee, "sweetheart."

You tried to punch him, but this time he was quicker, avoiding your blow and landing one of his own on your shoulder. You shrugged it off and continued to try and pry the stone from his hands. The struggle was drawing attention, and Natasha yelled at you to watch out just in time before a Hydra agent from down there shot at you, only missing narrowly.

You continued to fight the man, who was stronger than he let on, considering he was fending you off with only one hand, but you also had getting shot to worry about, which was in his favor.

At last, you managed to knock the Tesseract out of his hand, and it fell to the ground in a shattering sound. Out of the broken pieces, there were no wires to be seen, only a stone.

Bingo.

You heard Steve shout something at you from far down, but you weren't paying attention, instead diving for the stone, grasping it in your hand, along with some shards of glass that cut you, but you couldn't care less, because this was it.

Fix what you broke.

You concentrated with all your might of the stone, its power almost physically throbbing in your hand, along with the excruciating pain, but you didn't care.

Fix what you broke.

Your breathing became labored, the pain near insufferable when you finally did it – opened a portal. You didn't know where it led, but the important thing is, it wasn't here. You threw the stone away with all the power you had left in you, praying it would reach so far you'd never see it again.

Fix. What. You. Broke.

Just in time, the portal closed, and you sighed gratefully. The pain was starting to take over now, your mind dancing on the edge of consciousness when you heard voices coming towards you. You wanted to tell them you were fine, but you found yourself falling to the ground, registering the pain of the fall before everything went black.

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

When you woke up, your first thought was that the light's too bright. It felt almost like a hangover, but way worse, and

"I didn't even drink anything," you said, before breaking into a dry cough.

In a second, Steve was there by your side with a glass of water, holding it to your mouth. You took some small sips until you calmed down enough to remember that while no, you didn't drink anything, you did wield the power of an infinity stone, which means it's a miracle you're even alive.

So really, you should be thankful all you ended up with is an awful hangover. Of sorts. A magical hangover.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked, breaking you from your reverie, and making you meet his gaze with yours.

"As much as I can be," you replied, your gaze falling to the blanket that was laid on you. "how long was I out?"

"About 18 hours," he said solemnly, "we didn't… we weren't sure if you'd wake up," he admitted, his voice dropping below a whisper by the end.

"Can't get rid of me that easily," you joked. Despite everything Steve put you through, for some reason you couldn't stand to see him this devastated.

"No, don't-" he sighed, "no one wants to get rid of you. Least of all me. Hell, thinking I'd lost you and it was my fault… hurt more than I could imagine."

"It wouldn't have been your fault, if I, you know," you shrugged, "that was my choice. I had to fix what I broke."

"No, you didn't," he insisted, his eyes snapping up to meet yours once more, "because you didn't break anything. None of this was your fault, and yet you fixed it, alone. You risked wielding the power of an infinity stone to keep earth safe, alone. You shouldn't have been alone."

"It worked out just fine. Besides, what difference would it have made, one more injured person?"

"If I was quick enough… I don't believe the stone could've taken both of us down."

"Us?" you smirked, "I didn't know we were an 'us'. But it's fine, I can deal with that, I guess," you shrugged, and Steve chuckled. You couldn't tell if you were imagining it, but it looked like the slightest of blushes was sprinkled on his cheeks.

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

As a part of getting you back to normal, you started training again, moderately at first. But as you regained your strength, your training was almost as intense as it was before. Or maybe, even more intense.

You see, before that, you weren't training with Steve.

Since you didn't really get off to a good start, you'd always train with the others – Nat, Wanda, Sam… other non-super-soldier humans with a very human self-discipline, meaning that you could take breaks and chat in between reps.

Alas, those days were far behind you. I mean, not that far, that's just kind of dramatic, but you get it; you trained with Steve way more often and it was a nightmare.

You didn't know what standards Steve held for his other friends, but if he's like that with everyone then maybe it was better off not being his friend.

"What was that?" Steve asked, his eyes not moving from the timer, which looked comically small in his large hands.

"I said," you repeated between labored breaths and fast push-ups, "if you're like this with all your friends maybe I was better off not being one."

"Who said you are?" he shot back with a smirk, "and… time!"

You collapsed on the training room mattress, letting out a deep breath. "how much was that?"

"98 pushups in one minute," he stated, "not bad."

"Okay, Mr. captain super soldier," you breathed. "You know, maybe I should go back to doing these with Sam. A human being with normal people achievements," you sighed, faux-dreamily.

"I thought you wanted to get better?" Steve chuckled, extending his hand out to help you off the mattress.

"I'll tell him you said that," you smirked and took his hand, letting him help you up. Your touch lingered for the briefest of moments before you let go of his hand.

"Be my guest," Steve shot back, before taking a couple of sparring staffs off the wall, handing you one. An unusual technique in battle, but you found that practicing them with Steve provided a decent challenge to you both, since you were better with it than he was.

With both of you getting into a fighting stance, you started the match by dashing forward, trying to land one on his shoulder, but he quickly spun to the side, accompanied by a move of his staff that, fortunately for you, was a bit poorly aimed, thus only hit you in the arm.

You continued this back and forth for the next few minutes, one graceful move answered by a steady block from the other side, almost like a delicate dance. After a while, you felt yourself getting a little tired, and knew if you didn't end it now, he'd win.

And well, you just can't give him that kind of satisfaction.

You quickly planted your staff on the ground, using the momentum to jump up and wrap your legs around his neck, using your weight to push him down onto the mattress. You'll have to thank Natasha for that move.

His staff fell from his hand as he hit the floor, and you used your advantage to pin his arms above his head, making sure to lean enough of your weight on his torso so he couldn't move. You were both panting from the exertion of the fight, and you could feel a bead of sweat traveling down your back.

He smirked up at you. "Did Nat teach you that one?"

"Maybe," you raised your eyebrow in amusement. "But I executed it to perfection."

"You sure?" he asked, and before you could answer he broke free from your grasp, flipping the both of you so your torso was pinned below him, catching your arms the same way you did to him moments ago.

Breathing heavily, your tongue darted out to wet your lips. "Well, maybe not perfection," you murmured, "but I'd say I did pretty well. You're in nice shape for a hundred-year-old," you slowly grinned up at him.

"Just nice?" he mock pouted, not moving from his position above you.

"Yeah," you smirked, "from what I've seen."

"Well, maybe you've seen nothing yet," he suggested with a quirk of his eyebrow, his head lowering even closer to yours.

"Maybe," you said softly, standing your ground. His eyes were boring into yours, you could hear the shallow sound of his breath, feel it even.

Closing the distance between you was almost more impulse than an actual aware decision. Your lips met his soft ones, his momentum pushing you back against the mattress, your head hitting it with a soft thud you paid no mind to. One of his hands left yours, coming to cup your cheek as his tongue hesitantly entered your mouth, continuing eagerly when you let out a hum of approval, one of your hand sneaking around his neck and tangling in the hair on the nape of his neck, pulling slightly.

When you finally parted, your breaths were once again labored, but for an entirely different reason now.

"Okay, maybe you are in good shape," you rasped, shrugging as well as you could.

He chuckled before his eyes met yours. "You don't hate me," he stated incredulously.

"I already told you I didn't. I take it back, maybe old age is getting to you," you giggled.

He groaned lightly, making your laughter grow stronger.

Okay, so Steve Rogers wasn't the worst. Final verdict.

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

i’d love to hear your thoughts!!<3

Taglist: @horny-nd-bored @shannon124 @perfectlyharolds @wintersoldierslut @iceebabies @sleepingpapermouse @steverogerswasalwaysworthy @holtzkinnon @angelicl-y @stydia-4-ever @thatoneperson5000 @fangirlfree @kaitcordx25 @bequeening @steve-barry-damon-logan @itscrazycherryblossomcollection @hollandxmarvel @stargazingfangirl18 @readsreblogsfics @onetwo3000 @beritmetal @harrystylesholland @jazbot2000 @anobscurename @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @peggycarter-steverogers @evansphnx12 @starlightcrystalline @procrastinatingsapphictrash

Chris & co. taglist: @patzammit

if you wanna join / be removed from a taglist, comment/message me! much love <3

#chris evans x reader #steve rogers x reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #Steve Rogers x Female Reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers angst

311 notes · View notes

dollslayer · 3 years

Text

Artistic Intention

Artist!Steve x Reader

Summary: Steve's doing well in his life drawing class, but a new muse throws him for a loop in the back supply room.

W/C: 2,374

Warnings: NO MINORS, p in v smut, unprotected sex, public sex, breeding kink if you squint, swearing

A/N: Hey! I wrote this for @buckyownsmylife 1st anniversary challenge! I love me a good AU so I chose Artist AU+ exhibitionism. Happy tumblr-versary! I made Steve a shy boi in this lol. If you liked this fic pls reblog/comment!! Check out my other fics too! Cheers!

Main Masterlist

It’s 1:45pm and Steve is desperately trying to weave his way through the crowd of people before him. His art folio hits everyone and thing as he makes feeble attempts to apologize to everyone for the bulkiness of the case. He can’t be too apologetic though, he’s running late for his 2pm life drawing class and if he doesn’t make it the professor will close the door in his face.

This is the longest 15 minutes in Steve’s life, he figures. He finally makes it up the steps and jogs up the stairs. His folio hits his leg, he winces but doesn’t stop, he’s only got a few minutes to make it up to the second floor and get himself situated behind an easel. He’s nearly out of breath when he makes it to the second floor and he’s trying to check his watch while running for the door. Two minutes.

Steve bursts through the doors and exhales loudly, he’s not sure he’s ever felt so relieved. His feeling of relief is short lived and quickly replaced with embarrassment as he realizes every pair of eyes in the room is on him. Every pair except for one. The new model for class this week, you slowly turn your head to reveal sharp eyes and a coy smile. He feels himself blush under your gaze and mutters an apology before getting settled in an easel directly in front of you.

He tries his best to focus on getting his paper and charcoals set out in an effort to shrug off the mixture of humiliation and lingering anxiety he had about being late. He feels his heartbeat begin to steady and he lets himself relax a little bit.

“Good afternoon, everyone. We have a new model in class this week, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. She’ll be keeping her current pose for one hour and repositioning for the second half of class. Mr. Rogers, since you had no problem running late I assume you’ll have no problem staying late as well. You’ll clean up after class.” The professor concludes with a short nod.

Steve sighs but nods his head in acknowledgement. He catches you smirking in amusement again at him and he can’t help but to blush all over again. He feels just like he did in high school, embarrassing himself in front of pretty girls. He sighs and picks up a piece of charcoal.

Steve decides to get a proper look at you and almost regrets it when he chokes on his own breath. You’re gorgeous, you’re coy and charming, you’re a muse. He’s still blushing because you’re naked, and beautiful and the feeling of humiliation hits him even more. He’s been in this class before, he knows the models will be naked but none of them had ever caught his attention as more than a subject, none of them were you.

He takes his time admiring your natural curves and appreciates your figure. You are so full of natural beauty, your bare face is perfectly flawed and the sun shining through the window highlights your skin tone. He can see why you were chosen to model for class, you’re perfect. He has to discreetly adjust himself and shuffles his jacket into his lap as he feels his pants tighten. He’s flustered all over again and realizes everyone else is already ahead of him. He puts charcoal to paper and gets to work.

____

As class goes on Steve’s sketch is coming along nicely. He can’t bring himself to look at you for more than a few seconds at a time for fear of getting hard again. When he sends furtive glances your way he catches you looking back at him with that smile of yours. He swears at one point you raise an eyebrow at him like you’re amused by him. He brushes it off and keeps drawing.

Class comes and goes much faster than he anticipated. He wants to pack up and get out as quickly as he can when he remembers that he has to clean up the room. He lets out a groan and waits for everyone else to leave. Now it’s only you, him, and the professor who are left in the room.

“Mr. Rogers I’ve got to get out of here, I trust you can put easels away without incident?” The professor asks. Steve nods and the professor turns to you. “Thank you for your work today, you can collect your pay from the front office. I look forward to having you as a model for this class.”

You smile and nod, waving goodbye to him. By now you’ve slipped on a robe and are reaching for your bag but it feels like you’re lingering. It’s just now that Steve realizes the two of you are alone. He swallows thickly, trying not to pay attention to you out of the corner of his eye. He begins to pack away his own drawing but not before giving it one final assessment. He can’t help himself from his own critical eye, analyzing mistakes and appreciating triumphs.

“Is that supposed to be me?”

Steve jumps in surprise, you’re peering right over his shoulder. He’s caught off guard by your presence and also by your voice, do you always sound this sultry?

He swallows and nods before taking a deep breath. Wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans he turns to face you.

“Uh, yeah. Yes it is. I don’t think it’s very good but I’m trying” He anxiously starts making excuses, assuming you hate it.

But you don’t. You just smile thoughtfully at him and nod.

“It’s good. At least, I think it is.”

“Th-thanks, thank you.”

“Do you always cut it that close or were you just hoping to stay late with me?”

Steve sputters at your boldness. He has to remind himself that he’s not that scrawny, measly kid he used to be. But he can’t help but feel like he is with his sweaty palms and short breaths.

“I, I um, I didn’t realize there’d be a new model. Was kind of expecting the old one. Not- not that there’s anything wrong with you, of course! I, sorry I didn’t mean to imply that, you’re- you’re beautiful too, you’re perfect really, I just. Oh jesus.” He spews the words out faster than his brain can keep up and he’s making a complete fool of himself.

He can’t bear to look at you, so he starts closing up easels and stacking stools. He doesn’t notice you ogling his muscles through his tight t-shirt.

“You think I’m beautiful?” You ask innocently.

“I-, um, yes. I think you’re very beautiful, if you don’t mind me saying so.” Steve answers honestly.

He moves some stools to the large supply room in the back of the classroom and you follow him.

“I think you’re beautiful too. And cute. You’re practically falling all over yourself, it’s sweet”

Are you talking to him? He still sees himself as he was back then, having a hard time thinking that anyone would look at him and find him attractive. It’s why he’s so beside himself now. You’re so completely beautiful and self-assured, there’s no way you’re talking to him. He sets down the stack he’s carrying and realizes you’re much closer than he thought. You’re inches away.

“What do you like the most about me? Is it my body? Don’t think I didn’t notice you readjusting your pants at the beginning of class.” You move even closer and Steve thinks you must be able to hear his heart beat because it’s about to come right out of his chest.

Your hands are on his chest and you have to lean up on your tip-toes for your lips to meet his ear.

“What do you say? You and me in this supply room? There’s hardly anyone here. Come on”

Steve feels like he’s dreaming, he has to check if he is. But then your hand reaches for his dick through his pants and he nearly doubles over from the sensation. He’s never been with anyone so brash and confident, your touch leaves a burning trail on his body.

“But- but what if someone comes in and sees?” He says, using every last bit of coherent reasoning he has.

“Isn’t that what makes it so fun?”

Oh, God. You. You. Smiling that devilish smile at him. He was weak in the knees and you took the opportunity to push him backwards onto a spare desk. You pulled him by the shirt collar to meet your lips and he let out a noise of surprise. Steve pushes his tongue into your mouth and lets out an obscene moan. You feel so good. He knew you’d feel good but not this good.

Steve’s large hands come to your waist and venture lower until he has a handful of your ass and grabs. You let out a little moan and nudge your knee between his legs and he grinds against it. You pull back to catch your breath when your hands go to the ties of your robes.

“We’re a little overdressed, don’t you think?”

Steve doesn’t need to be asked twice as he pulls his shirt over his head. Jeans have never felt so uncomfortable and he’s frantically trying to get himself down to his boxers. He swears he goes slack jawed when he looks back up at you. He’s already seen you naked, he just stared at you naked for hours, but you’re just as gorgeous as before but it’s the way you’re looking at him. Like he’s desirable, almost like he’s a piece of meat. It makes him feel wanted and reassured and he feels himself grow harder.

Your hands slip beneath the elastic of his boxers and slowly slide them down his legs. He can’t help but flush when you let out a small gasp at the size of him. He doesn’t want to get too big of an ego with it but he’s always known he was… gifted.

Before he can let anything go to his head he lets out his own soft gasp as you stroke him languidly. He can’t control his hips as they cant up into your hand. You grab his hand and quickly lead his fingers to your dripping pussy. Steve nearly melts when he feels how wet you are and slides two fingers in easily. He’s pumping them in and out and you let out tiny mewls as you kiss his neck.

There’s no more time for preamble though, you two need to be quick if you don’t want to be caught by some unfortunate custodian. You remove your hand from his cock and he takes his fingers out of your pussy and swears you whine a little. Feeling brazen himself, he makes direct eye contact with you and sucks his fingers clean. You bite your lip and squirm while he revels in the taste.

Reluctantly he takes his fingers out of his mouth and gets up to situate you so you’re sitting on the desk. You spread your legs wide for him and he takes in the sight, committing to memory. Maybe he can draw you like this some time. For now he takes a step closer but falters, remembering one fatal flaw in this whole plan.

“I… don’t have a condom”

You don’t look let down at all, you look excited in fact. Shaking your head, you explain to him.

“Doesn’t matter, ‘m on the pill. I wanna feel you cum inside me”

Steve might pass out before he gets the chance, the way you keep talking with that mouth of yours. He wastes no more time and positions himself at your entrance. He has one hand on his dick and the other on the back of your neck when he looks you deep in the eye and impales you fully in one go.

The moan you let out is pornographic and Steve uses his newly freed hand to cover your mouth.

“We have to stay quiet. Can you do that?”

You nod silently and he removes his hand, opting to grab your hip instead.

He pulls back and begins to start pumping into you. He’s steady at first, trying to keep himself from cumming too quickly. Slowly he starts increasing his speed and the force that he uses is causing the legs of the old desk to scrape against the floor.

Your hand reaches and grabs his ass, pushing him deeper into your pussy. You feel so tight wrapped around him with no barrier and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out. You’re trying to keep your moans quiet when he kisses you to silence them all together. He’s trying with all his might not to cum before you do.

His fingers find your clit and he starts rubbing it in tight circles. You have a harder time keeping quiet and you’re squeezing him like a vice. The friction on your clit and his dick hitting your G-spot perfectly is causing your eyes to roll in the back of your head.

“‘M gonna cum, please. Please don’t stop” You beg. Steve feels a wave of power surge over him now that you’re the needy one.

“Go on then, I’m not far behind ya. Wanna feel your pussy cum on my cock.”

With a few moments more he has you seeing stars and you claw at his back and pull him close to you. He continues on in his movements and starts pounding into you in earnest chasing his own release. All you can do is hold on for dear life.

Steve makes one final thrust before he’s cumming deep inside you. The rush of warmth is welcome to you and you kiss his jaw as he tries to catch his breath. The only sound being both of your heavy breathing. Hopefully no one heard you.

Steve can’t believe what just happened. He met a gorgeous girl and she propositioned him in a public place all in the span of two hours. He realizes just how far he’s come from who he used to be. He looks down at you, your noses touching.

“So, what’s your name?”

#steve rogers x reader #artist!steve rogers #artist!AU #marvel fic #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fic #marvel x reader

220 notes · View notes

caught-in-the-filter · 3 years

Text

Coming to Class

Summary: As soon as the semester ends, some mutual feelings are revealed, and mutual feeling ensues.

A/N: This started as a few messages written directly in the CSMM Discord chat and was only supposed to be a minific there to encourage other people to write Professor Killian fics.

I should've known better than to copy and paste them into a doc "just to save what I'd written," because I have as little restraint with writing these two doing each other as Killian usually has in my fics.

Anyway, shout-out to all the lovely people on said Discord, without whom I'd never write any of this, and thank you to @kmomof4 for betaing this for me.

Rated: E; Words: 2432; AO3

——

The only thing hotter than the sweltering classroom with a long-broken air conditioner was the man handing out the last grades of the semester. An A graced the top right corner of Emma’s paper, “Very Good” written in his handwriting beneath it, and all she wanted was a nice F after class with the same praise spilling from his lips.

Emma took her time putting her books back into her bag for the last time as the other students hurriedly filed out of the room before she slowly approached him, not at all intimidated by the way he casually leaned back against his desk, his arms indecisive as to whether they wanted to cross in front of him or help support his weight.

“Professor Jones, I—” she started, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear, an action which she knew he always watched.

“Have been waiting for this, for the semester to end?” He rocked forward onto his feet, and she became suddenly very aware of their proximity and privacy.

“I’d never want your class to end, professor,” she said quickly, hoping he knew she was anything but bored during his lectures, always captivated for a number of reasons.

“Oh?” He stepped forward, guiding her back toward the table behind her and smiling when she gasped as her legs bumped the edge. He lifted the end of the strand of hair she’d moved and twirled it around his finger. “But there’s so much I could teach you now that it’s over.” His face was impossibly close to hers, his breath searing her lips as they opened and hesitated. “Other, more enjoyable things. If you’d like.”

Desire flooded her, swirling through her mind and rushing right to her core.

“Yes, please,” she said weakly with a slight shift in her stance at the sudden dampness between her legs. “I’m always eager to learn new things.” Emma draped her arms over his shoulders and smirked with feigned confidence as she added, “Though I think you’ll find I’m already pretty well educated in this particular subject.”

“Then we’ll just have to put your knowledge to the test, love.”

Emma yelped as he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her onto the table. He shushed her with his finger on her lips, advising her that the neighboring classrooms may not be so empty, but groaned himself as she sucked the tip into her mouth.

“Hush yourself, professor,” she teased, threading her fingers in his hair and pulling him into a kiss. Oh so innocently swinging her legs, she coaxed his apart and nudged the stiff, sensitive flesh between them with each outward stretch.

“Gods,” he gritted. Stilling her with his hands firmly gripping her waist, he pulled her forward, balancing her on the edge of the table with his knee between her legs. “Bloody minx, you’ll be the death of me,” he said as he eased down the zipper of her jeans. “These fucking tight things have teased me for far too long.” He slipped his hand beneath the denim, half expecting to find her bare beneath them, rubbing his fingers along the already wet strip of material covering his goal as she bucked into his hand. “You know exactly what you’re doing every time you bend further than necessary to reach for your bag, or you make a point to swagger past my desk and sway your fucking perfect ass as you walk out the door.”

“I th—fuck,” Emma panted as he moved her panties aside and sank two fingers inside her, “I think about that desk a lot, professor.” She clenched her fists in his hair and tugged as she threw her own head back on a poorly stifled moan before leaning forward and resting her forehead on his chest while she struggled to catch her breath as he continued to take it away. Her hands eventually released their hold on his dark locks and slipped lower, and she unbuttoned his shirt to expose more of his skin as she confessed, “I think about hiding beneath it and sucking you off while you teach.” Shoving the material off his shoulders, she caught a bead of his sweat with her tongue and licked a stripe up his neck before whispering into his ear as she cupped his erection through his trousers, “I think about you fucking me on top of it while everyone watches.”

“Fuck, Swan,” he growled, removing his hand from her despite her protesting whine and pressing it to her back as he tucked his other arm beneath her and carried her to the desk in question, her ankles locking behind his back until he lay her down on the wooden surface. “We’ve no audience, darling, but I can certainly make the other portion of your thought come to fruition.”

His thumbs hooked under the hem of her top and slid it up her body. His teeth dragged against her skin as he closely followed the material with his mouth until it lay atop the swell of her breasts. Emma’s eyes fluttered closed as he unclasped her bra and lifted it out of his way. He sealed his lips around her nipple as his hands passed over the expanse of her stomach and tugged her jeans down to her knees. As he coaxed her legs apart with his own, he lowered the zipper on his trousers and freed his stiff cock from its confines, giving it a few short strokes to sooth his own ache before his fingers returned to her dripping core.

“These,” he muttered against her soft flesh as he kneaded her breast and worked a mark into the side of the other, his other hand steadily pumping between her legs, “are perfect. You,” he said as his mouth wandered, expanding its area of exploration down to her navel and back up to her collarbone, “are perfect.”

Emma’s brow furrowed as she chased his hand with her hips, her jaw falling open loosely as she focused on the pleasure his fingers alone were giving her. If she’d opened her eyes, she would have seen his smile, soft and satisfied despite the burning desire flickering behind his gaze as he watched her react to his skilled touch.

“Every inch of you is delicious, Emma,” he mumbled into her skin, sending an eager shiver up her spine.

Another, stronger tremble coursed through her whole body as he curled his fingers inside her and found the spot that left her shaking in front of him, hitting it relentlessly as his tongue teased every other sensitive place he could find. He muffled her gasp with a kiss as his thumb rubbed her clit with gentle passes, pressing his smile to her lips as she squirmed beneath him, the peaks of her breasts brushing against his chest with every movement.

“I think you’re ready for me, love.”

His words barely registered with her, but when she arched into his hand, he slipped his fingers out of her and spread her entrance with them as he slowly replaced them with his cock, allowing her to adjust to his size as he filled her so completely and took her breath away.

“Gods, Emma,” he sighed, resting his forehead on hers for a moment as he began to move with gentle, languid thrusts. “So fucking tight.” As her arousal coated his cock, it became easier to move within her. He gripped her sides to steady her as she writhed and whimpered with every smooth slide. “I’ve wanted to feel you since the very first day of the semester,” he confessed, gradually increasing the pace as he snapped his hips with purpose. “Now that I finally can, I don’t know how I managed to restrain myself.” He licked a stripe up the side of her neck and pulled her earlobe between his teeth.

“Why didn’t you?” Emma asked, panting through the question as she rocked to meet his thrusts, “Feel me then?” She scrambled for something to hold, trailing her fingertips along his arms before digging half moons into his flesh with her nails like the way his zipper bit into her skin each time he filled her. “I wanted it, too.”

“Bad form,” he sighed before kissing his way back to her breasts. “But as of today, you’re no longer my student.” He couldn’t get enough of her, couldn’t decide where he wanted his mouth to be. Dragging his teeth up the column of her throat, he continued, “Your grades have been submitted. You’re no longer under my care. There’s no line to cross now.” Tugging her bottom lip with a bite, he growled, “And I must say, I much prefer you under my body than under my wing.” Slanting his mouth against hers, his tongue plunged inside, making her dizzy as it thrust in time with his cock.

His mouth soon became too preoccupied to speak as the taste of her skin consumed him. Emma’s tongue swept across her bottom lip and retreated on a moan as her professor hungrily nipped and sucked at her pulse point. Her hand shot up to encourage him as his scruff teased the hollow of her throat, but the overwhelming combination of sensations as he fucked her had her head spinning, and the growing tension low in her belly as she arched her back made it difficult to take any sort of hold of him. Her thumb grazed his jaw as her nails gently scraped against the side of his neck before she reached down instead to grip the edge of the desk.

Emma brought one hand between them, needing just a little more and determined to have it, but his fingers met hers there to tend to her clit himself. He let her guide his hand, circling and rubbing and soothing with the pressure and rhythm she liked, and soon she let him take over alone as she leaned forward just enough to reach around him and slip her hands beneath his trousers to clutch at his ass.

“Please, professor,” she moaned and pulled him ever closer, locking her ankles behind his knees as she desperately clung to him, her jeans pulling taut around his legs.

“Tell me what you need, love,” he said softly, the echoing slap of his skin against hers louder than his voice.

“I need you to come, professor,” Emma panted, writhing in his arms. “I need you to come inside me and make me come with you.”

“Fuck,” he growled, slamming into her with purpose as his thumb continued its endless assault of her clit. “Emma, are you sure?”

“Yes, it’s fine,” she breathed, rocking faster. “I promise, please.”

“Gods, you’re amazing,” he sighed against her cheek. As her hands slid up his spine to dig her fingers into his shoulders, he lifted her off the desk and bounced her on his cock as he thrust upward to meet her. “Let go, darling,” he guided, pulling her bottom lip between his teeth before muffling her moans with a passionate kiss as she shuddered in his arms.

Emma held on tightly around his neck as her legs kicked out with a mind of their own and she suddenly lost their support, relying on him to keep her from falling as her orgasm overcame her. She couldn’t care less if any passersby in the hall got a show, should they decide to peek through the slats of the mostly-closed blinds in the interior windows. If she were being honest, the risk only made everything hotter.

“Come with me, professor,” she whispered pleadingly as she quaked in his embrace.

With a groan, he lay her back onto the desk again and squeezed her hips as her muscles squeezed his length, pounding into her with abandon. Emma was sure he’d bite a hole through his lip with the way his jaw clenched on it as he stopped himself from crying out. After one, two, three more deep thrusts, his hips stuttered to a halt and his cock pulsed inside her as he filled her with his warm release, her walls fluttering around him as she came down from her own high.

“That was—”

“Fucking hot?” Emma finished his sentence as they both breathed heavily. As her professor reluctantly stepped backward, Emma teasingly gripped his cock in her hand as it slipped from her core, drawing forth a hiss as she worked it and thumbed at the sensitive tip, feeling it already hardening again beneath her touch. “Though that was hardly a test of my knowledge. But I’m more than happy that you provided the answers for me this time.”

“This time?” He questioned, hesitating a moment before he caught her wrist and stilled her hand. He smirked in soft amusement as she practically pouted at him.

“What,” she asked, “are we really done after only one class?” Getting to her feet, Emma pulled up her panties followed by her jeans, catching their combined releases as it dripped onto the material. “Is this not a full course?” She guided his hand to her breast. “I was hoping for a whole new semester with you.”

He wrapped his other arm around her and lowered his hand to the curve of her ass, pulling her tightly against himself as he challenged, “Only that long, love?” His scruff brushed her cheek as he growled in her ear, “We’re far from finished with your lessons, darling, but my next class should be filing in soon. And as tempting as your other fantasy may be, I’d also like to keep my job.” After he helped her right her bra and smooth down her top, he tucked his fingers under her chin and brushed his thumb back and forth over her bottom lip as he continued, “But I will certainly enjoy assessing this pretty mouth of yours very soon.”

“Mmmm,” Emma smiled, cupping the back of his head and pulling him into a kiss, only parting from him when the sounds of footsteps and idle chatter echoed through the halls as they began to fill with students and faculty alike.

“Meet me in my office tonight,” he instructed quietly, quickly righting himself in his own trousers and buttoning his shirt before anyone could realize what they’d just done. “Special hours, just for you, and we’ll review for that oral exam, yeah?”

“I’ll be there,” Emma assured him, retrieving her backpack and stepping backward toward the door. “Thank you, Professor Jones.”

He gave her a nod as he returned to his place behind his desk, resting his palms on the surface.

“Miss Swan.”

——

A/N: Yes, I know what I've done by ending it there.

Yes, K has already told me I need to write more chapters of it.

No, I don't make any promises, but yes, I left it open on purpose just in case inspiration strikes again.

——

Tag list ❤️:

@anothersworld @donteattheappleshook @elizabeethan @hollyethecurious @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @jonesfandomfanatic @jrob64 @justanother-unluckysoul @karlyfr13s @klynn-stormz @kmomof4 @laschatzi @qualitycoffeethings @resident-of-storybrooke @stahlop @teamhook @the-darkdragonfly @thejollyroger-writer @tiganasummertree @xsajx @wefoundloveunderthelight @zaharadessert

#captain swan #cs smut #professor/student #professor!killian #student!emma #college au #both are consenting adults and the semester has ended #cs ff #smut #pwp #coming to class #kayla writes #my writing

39 notes · View notes

nerv0usm3chanic · 3 years

Text

CORRUPTION

Chapters: 1 || 2 || 3 || 4

((NOTE - This is an introduction to a new PERMANENT AU feature exclusive to nerv0usm3chanic. Please see further, generalized information regarding this AU here: X

Be advised that each of these chapters are VERY LONG. The full content will be tucked under a read more after a brief introduction segment.

DO NOT REBLOG.))

“Arthur...have you been feeling okay?” Vivi asked, taking a seat beside Arthur as he focused on the project before him. He’d been fiddling with robotics for a while just as a hobby, but given how long and hard he’d been working, it looked like Arthur was working on an even more vital project than any before. He was clumsy with his right hand as he set down a pair of tweezers and looked at Vivi with tired eyes and a weak smile.

“I’ve been better, Vivi.” Arthur sighed tiredly. He’d been back from the hospital for nearly a month now - two and a half months since he’d lost his arm - and the blond spent nearly every day working on an intense project. “It’s...not too easy adjusting to not having something...” Arthur admitted quietly, staring at the metal bones before him.

“Oh, jinx! I’m sorry, Artie, I-I didn’t mean-!” Vivi started, backpedaling in her sentence before Arthur reached out with his right hand and touched her shoulder. He smiled at her softly, assuring her that it was alright.

“N-no, it’s okay, Vivi. You know it’s not your fault.” Arthur said gently, reassuring Vivi that what had happened was in the past and really there wasn’t anything she could have done. Except maybe not make them go to the cave in the first place. But Arthur refused to entertain that dark train of thought...it might wake him up. “It was just...a lot of crazy coincidences.” That was something he told himself over and over, day in and day out. It helped him feel better about the absence on his left side.

“Hmmm...well...are-are things going better?” She asked, tucking her hair behind her ears, “Is it easier with your cousin and uncle taking care of things?”

“Hmm...uh, well...to a degree.” Arthur answered, turning back to his project and carefully picking up the tweezers. Even after weeks of practice, Arthur still found it hard to adjust to being right-handed...among other things. “Lucan takes care of the front of the shop and does some fixing and Uncle Lance still runs the shop as normal. I help out with checking numbers and making sure bills and such get paid. So, I’m still working. It keeps me busy when I’m not sleeping or working on this thing.”

“So this is...” the blue-hared woman started, looking at the complex assemblage of metal rods, hinges, and wires, along with a lot of other things Vivi didn’t know the particular names of.

“Yep.” Arthur nodded, using the tweezers to carefully arrange a pattern of wires to eventually lead to sensors in one of the digits. He still had a lot of work to do before he was finished with his prosthetic arm.

“Okay um, yeah, um hold it there, for just a second.” Arthur directed as his doctor carefully positioned the first rendition of the blond’s new left arm. Six months had passed and this was going to be the first attempt to connect the false appendage to the specialized port. In that time, Arthur had spent so much time studying and using the nearby university resources, he might as well have earned an honorary degree with what he was attempting. Arthur knew this was going to hurt and he needed his cousin and uncle for support. The pale fingers of his right hand were grasping tight to Lance’s rough gloved hand in worried anticipation.

“Just take yer time, lad.” Lance replied in the softest version of his gruff voice. He wasn’t the most comforting of individuals, but the short-statured Kingsmen was practically Arthur’s parent with how much time he’d put into raising the boy. Arthur wouldn’t have asked anyone else to be there for emotional support. “An’ don’ do anything ye don’ feel ready fer.”

“We ken always do this later if ye need ta iron out some wrinkles.” Lucan offered, giving Arthur a pat on his whole shoulder. As his cousin, it was expected that Lucan would be somewhat close to Arthur. But seeing as the two had bonded so much more closely since Lucan moved to Tempo, the younger Kingsmen might as well have been brothers. All three men looked to the doctor preparing to attach the false arm.

“I wish I could numb the pain for you, Arthur.” He murmured gently, “But this is a prototype and...we need to gauge how well the adaptor works to communicate between the wires and nerves...” The arm had been through so many tests and iterations with the help of the local university and waiting for more tests wasn’t going to work anymore.

The doctor needed results for his paper. The university needed results to keep funding the specialist and Arthur. Arthur needed results...in the form of a new left arm. The chance that there would even be any kind of re-use of his left arm again was enough to motivate Arthur for this improvement.

“I’m ready...just...be careful.” Arthur nodded, gripping his uncle’s hand tighter as the prosthetic’s port approached the adaptor his doctor had installed two months earlier. There was that ominous tingle in the back of his mind, a dark chuckle rising up from the depths as the separated parts got closer. Amber eyes widened in fear as he noticed a small flux of energy and a tiny zap between the ports now just millimeters apart.

“W-wai-!” But he was too late. A pained scream ripped free from him, lightning practically erupting around Arthur’s arm port as everyone was pushed from the blond. Arthur would wake sometime later in a hospital bed, his new arm heavy and limp. He would cry out in angered frustration, causing everyone to leave the room as he pitched anything within reach at those nearby.

He had failed...again! There was nothing this metal arm could do but sit there! It was an arm-shaped paperweight...it was just good for looking like an arm...until he made a metal finger twitch.

“Alright, you ready to test out that coordination, Artie?” Lewis called over the short distance between him and Arthur while Vivi and Mystery watched eagerly. Arthur was going to be practicing more refined movement with his arm, this time it was catching and throwing a ball. A simple task for many, but Arthur had been so focused on preparing his arm, working on it days and nights for months. Vivi was proud to see Arthur regaining himself; the use of his left arm being the most important thing she’s noticed.

“I’m ready!” Arthur called back, flexing his robotic hand to prepare it to catch the baseball. He’s been working on getting back to being left-handed, but had found tasks much easier to accomplish with developed skill in using both his hands. Forced ambidexrty was interesting to accomplish - and he was exceedingly proud of his abilities - but now the point was to get his false arm’s motions up to snuff.

“He’s improved so much!” Vivi says to Mystery as she watches Lewis pitch the ball gently. “I was really worried about him for a while.”

“Yeah...it was a little shaky for a while there, wasn’t it?” Mystery added, internally still angry at himself for using such drastic action. It’s been a solid 11 months since then and still-! Mystery nearly bolted and then forced himself to sit back down with a huff; he was doing his best to contain the canine urge to chase the ball. The first few volleys back and forth were fine, no trouble at all for Arthur. Mystery felt a sudden strange energy in the air as Arthur caught the ball again and perked up as he smelt a strange singe.

“That had some real pep!” Lewis laughed as he ran to catch the ball and prepared to throw it back. He was so glad to see Arthur seemingly back to himself once more. For a while, Arthur had become a near-complete hermit, forgoing any kind of social engagement to get his arm made.

Arthur himself felt almost too relieved to be able to use his arm so easily. Physical therapy with the doctors was tough and mechanical therapy with the robotic majors at the local university was a nightmare...but it was worth it to have a functional arm once again. And the grant money to develop the appendage further wasn’t half-bad either. It was exciting, thrilling even! He almost could feel the electric excitement as he-oh...oh no. Arthur caught the ball and paused his adrenaline rush as he sees electricity dance over his arm again and hears the sizzle of the tennis ball’s singing fibers in his hand. Quickly he passed the ball to his other hand.

“Ah- uh, I think th-that’s enough for now. I think the arm’s getting a little overworked. Ah, um, st-static and all that!” He gives an awkward grin to ease Vivi and Lewis’s sudden confusion. “I’m ah, g-gonna go inside and discharge.” Arthur gave an awkward laugh and scurried to get inside the mechanics shop again, his trio of friends were left worried and confused.

“Why won’t you leave me alone?” Arthur whispered in a hiss, glaring at his hand as a ribbon of green electricity coiled over the metal. The dark voice in his head merely chuckled as Arthur went to a specialized discharging station in his room.

‘I was bored. You live a very dull life, Kingsmen.’ The voice hummed idly, ‘If you would just allow me to take over-’

“Never! Just-just leave already!” Arthur murmured, sliding into his room and heading for the discharging rod. On the surface, it just let off static electricity. On the inside, there was a battery hooked up and storing the electricity Arthur would often unwillingly produce. He used the power to run a lamp attached to his desk.

‘If I could, I might...but at this moment, I can’t. So I will just bide my time, boy. I am very patient~. And when your friends inevitably abandon you for your behavior~.’ Arthur frowned, furious that he had to deal with this thing all the time. But what could he do? Exorcising a spirit was one thing, but he was sure this being wouldn’t let go after a few holy words, a splash of water, and some special tags.

Arthur might need to find someone who can offer more specialized help than a priest.

Chapters: 1 || 2 || 3 || 4

#curruption au

6 notes · View notes

mirkwoodshewolf · 4 years

Text

Guardian of creatures; AU! Queen x reader chap. 1

*Author’s note*

Well it took awhile from the last update (plus things have been happening in my personal life like losing yet ANOTHER kitty cat this year) but I finally came around and deliver to you guys the first chapter of my new Hallowqueen series. Now keep in mind it’s mostly in 2nd PERSON POV which means as the reader it’s basically gender neutral, so be patient with me as I try to make sure to keep my pronouns in order. Also I hope you all watch the video I have linked in the story, I def. LOVED it when I first found it years ago and this guy can really sing and bring a gender-bend Disney character to life, so if you’ve never heard of him, check out his page you won’t regret it :)

Now not really any warnings per-say except rude bosses, seductive gestures,

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@simonedk

@queensdivas

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@dancingcoolcat

@queendeakyy

@kinole009x

@klausidiot

@geek-and-proud

__________________________________________________________

Chapter 1,

First day on the Job

*April 11th, 1926*

First day on the job. Well it’s really an internship but you were looking forward to it. Working for the New York Times was an opportunity for any writer. Your dream was to one day publish the next great American novel, as a child you’ve always been whisked away by the words and tales of dragons, sea-baring pirates, and worlds unlike the one you lived in.

It amazed you how one writer can just take you away on a journey and help distract you from the stresses of the world. And here is where your journey began in hopes of accomplishing that dream.

You had first heard about the internship for the NY Times in the papers in an advertisement. The call asked for a 300 word sample of your writing as well as any previous writing experiences you’ve had in the past.

In school you’ve been part of the school newspaper and helped write up advertisements for after school events. So after submitting your sample as well as a resume, about 2 months later you finally got a letter from the NY times wanting to do an interview.

Long story short, the interview went great and now you’ve got the internship. You now stood before the doors that would start your future in the world of writing. Tugging the strap of your suitcase over your shoulder, you take a deep breath in before exhaling and entered inside.

Already swarms of people flooded the first floor of the building, their voices echoing off the large room. The repeated sounds of phones ringing piercing the room as secretaries at their desks were answering them.

It felt like a dream to you for you to actually think that you were now working in one of the top Newspapers brands in all of America.

“You there!” a voice called out. You turned and saw a young man in a brown suit. “Why are you just standing there!? We are running a newspaper here, not a charity tour.”

“Sorry, I’m….my name is (y/n) (l/n). I’m the new intern to Mr. Grayson.”

“Ohh right. He’s been expecting you. You’re late by the way.”

“Late? But I’m right on……”

“One rule about working under Mr. Grayson, he expects his interns and anyone on his team to arrive before he does. Which is 6am on the dot. And it is now,” he looks down at his watch, “8:45. That’s a good start.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t tole. I promise it’ll never happen again.”

“See to it that it doesn’t. I’m Harry Wormwood, Vice President of the New York Times.”

“Oh Mr. Wormwood it’s an honor to—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just get up to your post and start your internship.”

“Yes sir.” You said solemnly. Wow he was rude. To think you have a VP like him that acts like that around new people, especially interns. But he was right, you had to get up to meet with your head of office and get right to work with whatever he needed help on.

You adjusted your bag once more before heading straight to the elevator and went up to the 13th floor. After a bit of a ride and getting some more people in the elevator with you, you finally arrive to your floor.

People, like down in the first floor, were swarming the room, typewriters were tapping away as men were at their desks typing away their stories and articles for the paper. Or as they like to call it ‘putting the paper to bed’. You walk forward towards a middle aged man with ginger colored hair and ask him.

“Excuse me, do you know where Mr. Grayson’s office is at?”

“In the back, straight down the hall, last door. It’ll have his name plagued on the door in gold.” He said without looking you in the eye.

“Great, thank you.” you followed his instructions but when you got to his door, there was sounds of a commotion going on. Well when you say that you mean the sound of someone yelling and belittling someone, then yes.

“YOU GODDAMN SONS OF BITCHES!!! If we can get a picture of Joan Crawford in lingerie, then we can surely get a hold of this damn jazz club!” you peek inside and inside you see four men surrounding a desk.

And right there at his desk with a cigar between his teeth was your new boss, Mr. Richard Grayson. He was a middle aged man around his late 40’s possible even early 50’s. He was a fairly tall man with greying short hair, a small mustache across his lip.

But what really made him well known was the way he carried himself. He was always described as a man who carried himself like a drill sergeant (that could be because he was one during the Great War). A true, Bronx accent that carried out demands for miles and miles on end.

“Sir, we have tried everything we could to get a hold of an interview inside but not even our best interviewers could get pass security.” Said a blonde haired man in a blue suit.

“Our photographer Eddie has been on it for weeks and the owners have threatened a lawsuit against him because he’s been taking pictures of the club without consent.”

“Aww what are they shy?” Mr. Grayson mocked out. “Then let them sue us then, get rich on their own standards! That’s what made this country stand the way it is!”

“Maybe we should just forget about it.” Said a brown haired man.

“I have been on this case for years. Ever since these mysterious owners built their club at the start of the decade and has remained popular I want to know just what the secret to their success.”

“Sir the only thing we have is that the owners come from England and that they prefer a specific crowd of people.” Answered a young man around your age who had black hair.

“Yeah right they do.” Mr. Greyson muttered sarcastically. That’s when he suddenly turned towards you. “You!” he pointed at you. You’re startled by his loud, strong voice as you quickly come inside his office.

“Sorry sir I-I-I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I really should’ve knocked.”

“You’re the new intern right?” he ignored your apology and went straight to the question at hand.

“Y-Yes sir.”

“Excellent. I want you to go to this night club and get an exclusive interview with the owners, bartender, musicians, I don’t care who. Just find someone to talk to and ask them about their Jazz club.”

“Sir you can’t give it to them. This is a big responsibility, not to mention too much for a fresh intern to take over.” Said the man in the brown suit that you saw first speak to Mr. Grayson.

“Shut it Mack! You remember what I had you do the first day you were late working for me. What better way to get started than by throwing fresh meat to the wolves.”

Can you say you regret working here yet? No too early? Okay then.

“So what do you say kid, will you do it?” before you could even answer, your boss continues, “Of course you’ll do it. Now then. Take this camera, your notepad, and come up with a clever story to get inside. Good luck kid!” he tosses you a camera and notepad before escorting you out of his office and shutting the door behind you.

Okay……what the fuck just happened? It all happened so fast you almost couldn’t even believe it. And what jazz club did he want you to check out again?

Later that night (after getting the information from some of your new team members) you now stood before the building you were supposed to go undercover for.

In a bright neon sign at the side of the building was the name BEWITCHED JAZZ. Now you have heard of this club before and remember it getting fairly good praise from the public and has a good swarm of people. Hell even some of the biggest names in Hollywood have been seen going into that club.

But there was always an air of mystery about it. Like Mr. Grayson said, security is always tight. First of all security actually gives you a pat down before entering inside. Any traces of photography or recording equipment is immediately destroyed (yes you heard, destroyed).

Thinking it’d be best, you decide to leave the camera in your car and just wait it out. Cause that seems to be the problem that most of Mr. Greyson’s reporters don’t seem to get, they just think barging on in will get them access. A good reporter always plans ahead and blends in with the crowd, observes then goes in for the kill.

You stand in the line and for about an hour you stand there waiting to get inside until finally it’s your turn to go up.

“Next.” A very tall and muscular man speaks out as he unhooks the rope allowing you to come forward. “Pardon but I’m gonna need to do a pat down.”

“Go ahead.” As he carefully and precisely starts the pat down, you can’t help but feel intimidated, hell his whole hand goes halfway down your leg and covers your entire back. He was a pretty intimidating man to look at, and you hope he doesn’t snap you like a toothpick.

“Now you don’t have any weapons or outside drinks that I’m not aware of?” he asks in that deep, deep baritone voice of his.

“No sir.” You answer.

“Show me some identification.” You pull out your wallet and give him your ID. He looks down at it before looking towards you skeptically.

Swallowing nervously, the giant just looks at you with a skeptical look before finally giving you back your ID.

“Go right on in.” what? Oh god you couldn’t believe you could actually go in. You take your ID and put it back inside your wallet and thank the guard before stepping inside.

It was a fairly big place, about 3000 sq. ft. A decent size of the typical jazz clubs in NYC. It looked like any ordinary jazz club, firefly lights hanging from the ceiling, the lights lowered to a slight shadow, tables surrounding everywhere, including each side of the catwalk.

A grand stage was at the very center of the building with a band playing an upbeat jazz score. Waiters and bartenders tending to each customer. Some people were dancing to the music while most were sitting down talking to one another.

“Wow.” You softly muttered.

“It’s alright but we make do.” A voice suddenly spoke up. You jump back startled but you stop as you stare at the man before you.

He was unlike any other man you’ve seen in your entire life. He was fairly tall and lean, but not unhealthily skinny, just lean. His eyes were almost a hypnotic blue and he had fairly sharp features, particularly his nose and even his profile.

It was like looking at an angel. But what really struck your attention was the curly hair he had. It reminded you of that one scientist from like the medieval ages or something, what was his name again uhh—Neutron? New—Newton! Isaac Newton that’s the guy.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“No it’s—it’s fine. I’m just…..I was just admiring the place. I’ve…..never really been to a jazz club before.”

“Well, I hope we here at the BEWITCHED can help fill your desires. Oh manners, I’m Brian. Head Bartender.” Head bartender? That’s new.

“What’s a head bartender?”

“Basically I run the bar and train all the other bartenders so that every drink is made to perfection. Now come, sit and let me prepare you something.” He does a gentle gesture towards the bar with his arm and you go to sit at an empty cushioned barstool. Wow this was really cushioned, it kinda reminded you of sofa material. Now so soft that you sink into it but not hard enough to where it’s uncomfortable.

Brian goes around the bar and stands before you and asks with a warm smile and says with that soft voice of his that you can somehow hear over the music.

“Now what can I get for you?”

“Actually I’m…..don’t really know my drinks that well, what’s your most popular one?”

“Well the most popular drink on our menu is French 75. A pretty basic cocktail made with gin, champagne and lemon. I think the main reason why people like it so much is they think it’s actually from France but in truth it really isn’t.” he teases the last part of his statement which makes you softly laugh. “There’s also the Bees Knees, also called our ‘bathtub gin’. Mainly from our pianist player. But that’s basically gin, fresh lemon juice and honey. To give it that sweet yet tart flavor.”

“I think I’ll go with the Bee’s Knees then.” He gave a snap of his fingers.

“Coming right up.” He pulls out a small circular bowl wine glass and with graceful precision he starts whipping up the drink. Shaking the cocktail up in a perfect blend, pouring out the right amount of gin and juice into the concoction. Before finally topping it off with some honey and stirred it up.

Then with a grace and delicate pour, he pours the Bee’s Knees, which comes out in a beautiful, clear sunset orange color into the glass before topping it off with two flower decoration toppings.

“Here you are.” He said as he picked it up delicately from the stem of the glass and handed it over to you. You set down a dollar and took a small sip of it.

And as soon as your tastebuds were washed over with the drink, it was like you had died and gone to heaven.

“Oh my god! This is sooo good!”

“I’m glad you like it. That’s actually one of the owner’s preferred cocktails of choice. Can’t get enough of it.”

“I can see why. And he certainly has good taste.”

“She does. Actually.” Wait did he just say. I quickly looked up at him and I stammered.

“Wait—you mean this……”

“It’s a partnership. Both she and her husband own the place. She makes most of the decisions since she knows the business world better than any of us. While he takes care of the finances, she’s always been lousy when it comes to the math. Don’t tell her I said that though.”

“My lips are sealed.” You say as you take another sip of your drink.

The curtains then close and a spotlight came on at the center of the curtain. That’s when you suddenly hear all the ladies in the room beginning to scream bloody murder. God never have you heard so many women scream before nor have you seen them try to get up to the stage so quickly in your life.

“Here they go again.” Brian says as he starts cleaning out a beer glass.

“What?” you ask.

“Every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday night when my mate preforms, the ladies all go crazy at the chance of getting to him.”

“Mate? You mean you guys are…..” you ask curiously.

“Oh no nothing like that. Where we come from mate means best friend. But even though I don’t condone his constant flirtatious behavior, he’s gotten me out of more scraps than I care to imagine.”

Peeking through the velvet blue curtain was an arm. The red glittering sequin pattern delicately bounced off the spotlight and soon a hypnotic, soft yet raspy voice began to sing. When the curtains opened up and a soft jazz tune began playing, on stage stood a very, very, very, very handsome man.

When you say handsome, you really mean handsome. This man looked like he was carved from the god with his ruffled up blonde hair, his piercing blue eyes that unlike Brian’s which were soft and inviting, this guy had hypnotic eyes that just draw you in and could kill you.

He wore a bright sequin cherry red tail suit which was unbuttoned pretty much all the way down, exposing his upper body to the ladies. His neck decorated with 3 necklaces. One of which went practically down to where his abs were, the other hung right at the center of his chest and was in the shape of some sort of snail shell or some other type of seashell. The last one was more of a choker but was decored with beautiful diamonds like a crown of sorts.

He strut across the stage with grace and purpose as he continued to sing with a lustful, hypnotic tone that just made you go numb and melt in your seat. And your eyes refusing to look away from this handsome creature before you.

*Male singer*

I got plenty money in 1922 You let other rich men make a fool of you Why don't you do right like some other gals do?

He kneels down in front of the stage in front of a beautiful young woman. She had long, wavy blonde hair and she looked up at this man with lust in her eyes. He placed a dollar bill between her teeth and closed her mouth as he walked down the steps of the stage.

He then walked over towards a woman with short raven hair. She was fairly lean and had almost an aristocratic air about her. He stood in front of her and took her hand in his. He leaned towards her hand almost wanting to kiss the back of it, but his lips teased her hand and you could see her slightly shiver past her authorative demeanor.

With a cunning grin, he then stripped his tailcoat off his back leaving the undercoat which exposed his bare arms, the hint of black ocean waves tattoos decorated around his biceps.

You couldn’t speak at this point as you felt our heart racing rapidly, almost as if it were about to pop right out of your chest. The man soon turned his eyes right on you. His piercing eyes staring deep into your soul.

Slowly walking towards you, he circles around you like a wolf circling it’s prey. His hand gently grazes up your arm and you feel a bolt of electricity run up your spine, and it didn’t help when his hot breath gently sung in your ear.

Let’s get out of here, I got some money for you

You're sittin' down wonderin' what it's all about If you ain't got no money they will put you out Why don't you do right like some other gals do? Let’s get out of here, I got some money for you

Now if you had prepared twenty years ago You wouldn't be wanderin' now from door to door Why don't you do right like some other gals do? You didn’t know why but you were willing to let this god-like siren just devour you. But when you turned your attention back to him, you saw that he was now looking towards you left at the upper floors.

There at the top of the red carpet stairs stood a fairly beautiful woman. Her hair was a beautiful long ginger color and she wore a similar sparkling dark cherry red dress. She held in her hand a silver dollar.

He slowly walked up towards the mysterious woman that stood by the stairs and the two stared each other down. She gave him the dollar but before she took her hand away, he took it in his and stared up at her like she was an angel (which you’ll admit, she did kinda look like one).

Let’s get out of here, I got some money for you

Let’s get out of here, I got some money for you Why don't you do right, like some other gals, do?

As he did a falsetto for the final note, he grazed the woman’s hand before doing his seductive walk back towards the stage. He turned back towards the audience and gave a flirtatious wink before the curtains closed on him.

The ladies all screamed as the lights came back up and you felt the spell the man had somehow placed on you slowly fade away. Right now if you had to describe how you were feeling it’s be like running a marathon and had just swam across the entire Pacific ocean twice.

“Hope he didn’t scare you too bad honey.” A soft, Southern accent spoke. You turned around and there stood the woman that the blonde singer had tried to seduce with his voice. But she didn’t seem affected like all the other women were.

“I-I ju……he was……” she lowly chuckled.

“He has that effect on all the ladies. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Brian dear, get this dear a glass of water.”

“Right away my lady.” Brian said as he prepared you a glass of water. She takes a seat beside you and continues.

“He may act all macho and seductive. But trust me, his bark is worse than his bite.” She spoke in that honey-like voice of hers that had a slight raspy to it, but it didn’t change the softness to her motherly tone.

“Who—who was he?” you ask her.

“He only gives out his name to those he truly trusts. So most of the ladies here call him the blonde Siren.”

“The blonde Siren?”

“Now I hope I’m not being intrusive but I haven’t seen you in this club before, have I?”

“No. This—is my first time actually.”

“Really? For business or pleasure?” she said as she leaned her chin against fist, looking at you with red eyes? Wait she had red eyes? And not like the kind of red that comes from being tired or when you get pink eye. They were literally red eyes, blood red to be exact. Not wanting her to see that you were stuck in thought you came up with a good excuse.

“I’ve just heard about this place from some friends and—wanted to see for myself.” She looked at me skeptically at first but a soft grin spread across her face.

“Well we try our best. We also want to make sure that first timers are treated fairly and respectfully. That’s the one law here at BEWITCHED.”

“Well I’m fairly happy. The drinks are amazing and the music is phenomenal.”

“I’m glad.” She then hummed out a chuckle. “Silly me, I almost forgot, you can call me Serafina. I’m the owner of this fine establishment.” Your eyes widened.

This young and beautiful woman owned this entire place?! But she couldn’t be older than her mid 20’s. And the fact that she was a woman running this club, that’s completely unheard of. A woman owning such a booming business.

Of course there wasn’t any jealously on your part. In fact you were amazed that such a young woman could run a business like this and be so successful.

“Brian told me that a woman owned this place. But—pardon me for saying this but you’re…….”

“Too young to run a big business?” she said with a quirked brow. Thinking you had offended her you tried to defend your statement but all that came out were stutters of embarrassment. “Relax honey. I get that a lot. Why do you think we’re so secretive? A young woman running a big business. Oh the scandal of it all!” the two of you laugh.

The big clock along the ceiling soon chimed out midnight. Whoa it’s already that late.

“I should get going. If I’m late for work again my boss will kick me to the curb for sure. And on my second day no less.”

“You sure you’re sober enough to drive honey?” Serafina asked you. You give her a nod.

“Yeah. I only really had one drink and that water sobered me up a lot. Thank you so much Brian, Serafina.”

“Anytime sweetie. Hope to see you again soon.” Serafina says with a warm smile. You grab your wallet and pay the rest of your tab to Brian before finally walking out of the club.

*3rd Person POV*

Once they were gone, Brian turned to her and said.

“It was them.”

“Just as Freddie prophesized.” Serafina dropped her fake accent and spoke with her normal British tone.

“So it is time then?” another British male voice spoke up. The High elf and the ginger haired witch turned and soon walking towards them was John Deacon himself.

His once long hair was now cut down to a short tuff of brown hair. He wore a clean-cut black tailcoat suit. Serafina extended her hand and the two lovers joined hands with each other.

“Yes my love.”

“Honestly I hoped this day would never come.”

“But it must John. You know this. You have seen what will happen if they don’t help us.” Brian warned him.

“I’m not sure if we can even trust them.” Coming around the bar to pour himself a drink was Roger. “They’re human. And humans have been poking around in our business for centuries. Especially their reporters. We already run the risk of exposing ourselves to the human realm.” He took a shot of his beer.

‘Now, now my darlings we mustn’t quarrel.’ A soft, serpent voice spoke in their heads. ‘The humans are our least concern right now. What matters now is getting our key to help us finally put an end to the dark Wizards once and for all.’

“Yes Freddie.” All four of them softly chorused out.

35 notes · View notes

huffle-dork · 4 years

Text

Heterochromiacs: What Lies Under the Surface

Darcio and Drew take Kenna back to their place, ready to begin the task of helping the newly freed Chromaic adjust to a new life. However, as the night drags on they realize, Kenna may have been more than just a slave- and wherever she was before did more to her than Darcio and Drew ever imagined.

Drew steps up to the door, Darcio and Kenna slightly behind them. Drew turns back to the girl and smiles. “This is where me and Darci live. Why not take a rest in here after we decide our next course of action?” Drew opens up the door and let’s the others inside before closing it behind them.

In Drew’s right hand is a bag containing a box with Kenna’s new phone. “Oh here, Kenna!” Drew sets the bag to the side and pulls out the box. They take it apart to find the fire-proof phone safely inside, and after a few set up procedures they have it running. They hand it to Kenna. “Why not mess around on this for a little? Give you something fun to do after all.”

Kenna looks around the house with wide eyes. It’s so... homey. It’s cozy and small and nicely decorated. Looking at all of it makes her feel warm. It must be nice to live in a place like this.

She looks over to Drew as they take out the phone and type away on it. Her eyes sparkle- wow, that’s hers! She’s only seen her ringmaster and the higher ups with a luxury like this. She hesitantly takes it from Drew’s hands, holding it like it’s very fragile and could break in an instant. She looks between the two and stammers. “Ah... T-Thank you... I... I can’t believe- this is mine...?” She smiles slightly then giggles, going to bound over to the couch and flopping on it to explode the new device.

Darcio laughs as he watches Kenna make herself at home already. The phone will keep her occupied for a while. "We're going to need to get her registered as quickly as possible." Darcio says to Drew too low for Kenna to hear. He pauses setting down bags filled with Kenna's new clothes and other essentials to look at her. "And depending on her age which looks young she might become a ward of the state or we can petition to care for her?" He ends it as a question unsure of how Drew will take it.

Drew nods and looks to the side, before running a stressed hand through their hair. “We could... There’s also potential residencies in the safe zone we could submit her to but...” Drew’s eyes narrow before they look up to him. Their voice quiets. “Have you heard some of the stuff she’s said today? Have you been keeping tabs on it?”

Darcio nods. "It's worrying. Very worrying. Do you think...?" Darcio glances a look at Kenna and grimaces. So young. They were all too young for this. "I say we petition. The residencies wouldn't be able to handle this, they have their hands full enough, otherwise I'd ask my parents."

Drew hums a little before they sigh. “Yeah, it’s our best plan... Would you be okay with her being here? It is your house, plus do we have a room for her too? I can give her mine if we need to, I’m okay with sleeping on the couch anyway. Better than grass or an alleyway...” Drew thinks out loud. God would the petition go through???

"Calm down Little Wing, don't go banishing yourself yet. We'll just convert the study which… she might actually get a bigger room than either of us if we do." Darcio rummages through the bags to organize them for bedroom, bathroom, and misc. "For now I have an airbed somewhere that'll make do."

Drew lightly laughs. “I wasn’t saying I’d banish myself. Just, make our new eventual housemate more comfortable.” Drew states before their eyes drift over to the bags. “Want any help? I can find that airbed for you awhile.”

Darcio immediately handed Drew a bag like he had been waiting to be asked. "Think you can manage putting her stuff in the bathroom while I go see about where to store her clothes in the meantime? Airbed should be in the hall closet...have fun." He said the last part ominously but considering their closet was ten feet deep with no light and filled to the brim with junk it was like an adventure in there.

Kenna perks her head up from where she’s playing on her phone — She found a game where she can fight people!! It’s so cool?? — She sees the others grabbing her bags and she gets up with a questioning gaze. “Uh... What are you guys doing with.. a-all the stuff...? I... I’m not gonna be staying here... am I...?” She almost sounds hopeful- but she also knows it’s best to not get her hopes up. They’ll probably haul her off to some... chromie rehabilitation place or something.

Drew laughs as they see Kenna’s head perk up. “Well... If the sanctuary says it’s okay, then it seems that will be in your future~!” Drew teases as they walk to the bathroom to put all the stuff away.

Kenna stares at Drew with an open mouth but then she looks away as Drew walks away and comes to her mouth with her hand as a huge smile comes to her face. She... she might get to stay here? She might get a nice home with the people who saved her? This... is almost too good to be true... she closes her eyes and breathes- hoping this isn’t some messed up dream.

"It's a process but I'm hopeful." Darcio gives Kenna a smile. "You'd actually be my ward as Drew is...a bit young and doesn't have the qualifications like I do." Darcio's lips twitch as he imagines Drew going through the paperwork to get said qualifications. "We won't get an answer right away but the state should allow me to have you stay here in the meantime until a decision is made. If that's alright with you Kenna?"

Kenna jolts slightly, having almost forgotten Darcio was here while stuck in her thoughts. But then she eagerly nods, eyes sparkling. “Y-Yes! I... I would really love to stay here... If- I.. I won’t be too much trouble...”

Drew eventually finds everything in it’s right place, looking over the items. It’s obvious Darcio’s the eldest sibling of many, Drew wouldn’t haven’t thought of much besides the essentials. They walk to the hall closet, open it, and immediately regret asking for help. They inhale sharply and grip the door handle. “Darcioooooo!!!! WHY IS THE CLOSET A JUNGLE OF JUNK?!?!”

"Of course not! You wouldn't be any trouble at all." Darcio makes sure to reassure her before he hears Drew's screams. He snickers and picks the bags up. "Because it's where I throw everything you tell me to put away!!"

“Oh that’s FANTASTIC.” Drew yells back before lighting up their eyes and stepping in. “Oh God this SUCKS-“

Kenna blinks in confusion then giggles at the two’s bickering.

Darcio looks over at Kenna and winks. "The airbed is in the way back underneath everything." He whispers conspiratorially.

Kenna hides her giggles under her hand before looking back at Darcio, “Isn’t that a bit mean?”

More shouts can be heard from the closet. “DARCIO WHAT THE ACTUAL HECK- I RECOGNIZE SOME OF THIS STUFF FROM MONTHS AGO!!!!”

"It's all in good jest. Builds character." Darcio valiantly ignores how Drew is struggling. "Well I'll get started on putting your stuff in your new room and emptying out the study!"

There’s the sounds of complaining and grunts, accompanied by the sounds of crashing and thuds. Then there’s silence and... “FOUND IT!!!”

Kenna blinks then looks away playing with her hair shyly. “Oh.. That’s so nice... Thank you.” She then perks up at Drew’s shout then shouts back, “O-Oh! Do you need help?”

Darcio disappears into the study where he drops the bags and looks at the mess of the room. "Where to start..."

Drew nearly trips over some items in the closet holding the deflated bed. They silently curse before kicking it out of their way and hauling it over their shoulder. “Darcio if I broke anything it’s not my fault!” Drew shouts before dying the light in their eye. They hear Kenna and chuckle. “It’s okay, I got it Kenna! Might as well surprise ya!”

Kenna tries to go down the hall to see but once Drew says they want it to be a surprise she backs off, lingering in the hall while timidly holding onto her shirt. “Oh.. O-Okay... I’ll... I’ll just wait out here then!”

This was... so strange. She’s not used to others doing things for her. She was always expected to do things for others... no matter what. Her stomach churns a little uncertainly.

’Also so that way she can’t see this.’ Drew walks into the study and immediately upon seeing Darcio they fling the deflated airbed on him.

There's a screech as Darcio goes down and then... "DREW WHAT THE BALLS!"

“That’s for being messy.” Drew says, sass dripping from their voice. They pick up the airbed and look around. “Where to put it...”

"Me? A Mess?" Darcio scoffs even as he uses an arm to sweep a whole mass of papers off the only desk in the room into a tote.

“Yes, a mess.” Drew teases as they decide against a side of the wall. They flop down next to it and keep a continuous gust of air going into an open hole with a snap of their fingers. They keep their pointer finger well, pointed, towards the hole, keeping the gust going as it slowly inflates. They however look outside of the door, and their gaze grows a little worried. ... Hopefully Kenna will like this.

Kenna doesn’t know what to do now. She decides to wander- look around the walls and check out the living room. It’s so different here than... anything she remembers.

Kenna slowly looks around the place. Picking up pillows and squishing them, and giggling at how soft them felt. She opened books and skimmed them, squinting at big words she doesn’t know. … How long has it been since she read something? She hums in thought and goes into the kitchen, looking at the nice china plates and glass cups. Everything is... like a home should be. She’s not sure how she knows this- she’s never had a home... But- it feels right.

Darcio shoves the desk over creating more room and piles 2 chairs on top. It would do for now. Tomorrow they could remove everything and go bedroom shopping. "Quit it I can hear your thoughts over here. Everything will be fine you worrywart." Darcio pulls a set of bed sheets from a bag and checks to make sure they'll fit the airbed.

Drew sighs and thuds their head against the wall behind them. “I’ve seen and saved so many Chromies by this point, but never have I seen them after I rescued them. I’m gonna be watching one live recover right in front of my eyes. I can’t help but be worried to make sure we, or at least I, do this... right.” Drew closes the valve and pats the bed to make sure it’s pumped up enough.

Kenna looks around then her curiosity gets the better of her. She reaches into the cabinet and starts to look at the plates and cups and other china. They’re really pretty... but while holding a plate, her fingers slip. And the plate crashes loudly to the ground. Kenna backs away and gasps, clamping hands over her mouth with wide eyes. Then she starts to look around frantically, breathing picking up. “O-Oh no- oh no...!” She backs up against a wall and then slides to curl up, shaking. She’s gonna get into so much trouble-!

There's a crash from the kitchen and for a brief moment Darcio almost lunges up to go running before every piece of advice his father Arlo imparted on Darcio slams into the front of his brain. Freezing, Darcio holds out a hand to keep Drew in place as he thinks. Abused and just found freedom, Darcio had dealt with kids like this his whole life. He was hoping they would have more time before running into a situation like this. "Wait Drew. We have to take this calmly and slowly. Don't go rushing in."

Drew’s nearly bolting out of the door before Darcio’s hand literally stops them. ‘Wow way to jinx yourself Drew!’ ‘LISTEN-‘ Drew tries to calm themself down as they hear Darcio explain. They nod slowly. “Okay... okay, let’s go help her now.”

Kenna is shivering against the floor, staring at the broken pieces with wide frightened eyes. She’s so scared of being punished she can’t even move to try to fix it. She’s just waiting for the shouting- and the eventual shock..

Darcio grips Drew's shoulder and speaks lowly to them as they walk. "Reassure her that it's not her fault. be sympathetic but not pitying. Try to act normal but not to normal, think a little calmer than normal. Telegraph all your motions so she knows what you're about to do before you do it. Don't. Get. Angry."

Drew listens carefully and nods, taking everything that Darcio says to heart. As they approach her and they see her shaking on the ground Drew’s heart fills with all that familiar feeling of sympathy. They get down on both of their knees and try to catch Kenna’s eyes. “Kenna, are you okay?” Drew starts out with a saying they ask to hurt Chromiacs they find on rescue missions.

Kenna’s head snaps up to Drew and she whimpers, curling away from them. “I-I’m Sorry- I-It slipped I... I didn’t...!” But then she notices, they... don’t look angry. And she blinks in confusion at their question. ...no one has ever asked her that after she’s made a mistake. It was always... anger- anger then pain. “I... Y-Yeah I’m okay...?”

"That's good. We're glad you're not hurt." Darcio bends to start picking up the shards of plate carefully. "Don't worry about this mess, I've broken more plates in this house through my own clumsiness."

Drew smiles and nods along with Darcio’s statement. “What matters is that you’re okay. Broken plates can leave bad cuts.” Drew stays on the ground near her as Darcio picks up the shards, making sure someone’s at her side.

Kenna stares at the two like they’ve grown two heads. She slowly uncurls herself, blinking slowly as her breathing slows down. “Oh… O-Okay…”

Darcio throws the broken shards in the garbage and pulls out a mini vacuum for small stuff like this to get the leftover bits.

Drew slowly reaches out a hand towards Kenna, palm open with the back to the floor. They get on one knee, prepping to stand up. “Want some help getting up? A floor isn’t exactly a comfy spot.” Drew jokes a little.

Kenna stares at the hand- some part of her thinks this is a trick. But- she hesitantly takes their hand, still looking a bit spooked.

'A natural.' Darcio thinks before also standing. "Do you want a snack or drink Kenna?"

Kenna looks to Darcio with a strange expression, raising her eyebrow. “D...Didn’t we just eat- I... I don’t want to take...” She shakes her head and then finally asks what’s been bugging her. “W-Why are you both being so nice? It’s... It’s freaking me out... You’re not... angry? I... I made a mistake...”

Drew helps her up and then looks up to Darcio, before looking back to Kenna. They simply reply, “It’s just a broken plate, we still have plenty.” They smile at her. “No reason for us to get mad at you.”

Darcio brings out three cups and holds one up. "Kenna if I was to drop this cup by accident right now would you be angry at me?"

Kenna looks surprised and quickly shakes her head. “O-Of course not! … You have more authority than me- I could never…”

Darcio would argue that authority of that type wasn't needed in the world till he was blue in the face but he didn't think Kenna was ready for that talk yet. "Do you think Drew who is of equal standing to me would be angry if I dropped this cup?"

Kenna looks over to Drew and hesitates- “...M-Maybe...? But... they don’t seem the type...”

“And you’re right!” Drew perks up. “I understand that it was a mistake, so I don’t mind.”

Darcio sets down the cup. "Mistakes are not something to get angry at Kenna. We will not be angry at you for a mistake.”

Kenna blinks slowly and looks down at the ground. That... behavior is so foreign to her. And... she’s not sure she completely believes them yet- she knits her eyebrows together but soon she nods. “... Okay...”

’Oh thank God I did it.’ Drew puts a hand to their heart and speaks a little more confidently. “Never ever. If me and Darcio ever are it’s just because we’re comfortable enough with each other.” Drew laughs a little. “I’ve known you for... almost 5 years now huh?” Drew asks Darcio.

Darcio grins cheekily to lighten the mood. "Best 5 years of your life right?" He hip checks Drew on the way to the fridge. "But yes around 5 years. You were such a little thing back then."

Kenna gives them a small smile and giggle. “That’s... a long time.”

Drew scoffs a little then laughs. “As if! And of course I was little I was 14!” Drew looks back to Kenna and sighs playfully. “Still, he was the one who technically rescued me. Been stuck with this goof since, and honestly I don’t regret it.”

"I mean my Papa technically told me I wasn't allowed to let you get hurt or he was disowning me..." Darcio laughs remembering how his father was before remembering Kenna. "That was a joke!"

Kenna blinks then gives Darcio an uncertain giggle.

Drew grins. “Mr. Grierson is the best.” Drew pulls out a phone and looks at the time. “Alright, anything else major we gotta get done today?”

Pouring 3 glasses of milk Darcio shakes his head. "Nothing besides a few minor house rules. Not anything bad Kenna just common courtesy things."

Kenna narrows her eyes and cocks her head. Rules are good- rules keep dangerous Chromiacs like her in line. She kinda stands a bit taller, like standing at attention. “I’m ready to hear them.”

Drew walks over to snatch the glass before noticing Kenna’s posture. Another mental note is made.

Darcio hums and takes a sip, eyeing up the way Kenna responded. "It's just things like please knock and ask before coming into our rooms. Keep the noise level down if we're asleep. If you need help for anything you can come ask us. If you're hungry you can have anything you want besides the top 2 levels of this cabinet are designated for personal snacks. Anything else Drew?"

Drew taps their chin a bit. “I have weird sleeping hours so if you ever need something try asking me first. I’m more likely to be awake than the rock over there.” Drew points a thumb over to Darcio. “Besides that, nothing much. If I don’t hear you initially I might be listening to stuff so feel free to keep pestering me.”

Kenna blinks slowly at the... mildness of the rules. It’s... so laid-back... Allows so much freedom. Part of her is overjoyed by that- the other part of her is terrified. “Oh- alright... I... I think I can obey those.”

"You don't have to obey them Kenna we just ask you to respect them." Darcio is firm in that belief, instilled in him by Arlo.

“Yup!” Drew comments. “We’re all just Chromies living freely in the safest area we got. Just enjoy being here!” Drew then starts drinking from their glass.

Kenna frowns and looks down at the floor. She grabs the extra glass and looks down at its depth before hesitantly taking a sip.

"It's better with chocolate in it but someone used up the last of it and didn't write it down on the shopping list." Darcio eyes Drew.

Drew nearly chokes as their eyes widen, before they put their glass down with a thud. “Well sorry I don’t worry about that list when I’m usually able to just remember!!!”

Kenna looks between the two with raised eyebrows, then looks down at her milk. “Chocolate huh...”

"You may be able to remember but you're also not allowed to grocery shop alone. Ever. Again." Darcio takes another gulp of his milk.

Drew grumbles as they start to drink. “You mess up one time...” Drew downs the drink then looks to Kenna as they place their glass over by the sink. “Chocolate is the best.”

Kenna knits her eyebrows together as she thinks, running a finger over the rim of her glass. She whispers, “I... can’t remember the last time I had that-“

Darcio pauses and drains his glass. "Do you remember anything from when you were little?"

Drew drifts over to Darci’s side and looks over to him. Looks like he took the words right out of them.

Kenna is quiet for a minute while she tries to think- tries to recall. Eventually her eyes slowly start to widen as she breathes, “I... I don’t-“

Darcio holds his hands up and speaks soothingly as Kenna starts to panic. "That's ok, that's ok. We can get you help for that. It's ok."

Drew looks to Kenna as she announces her lack of memory. Drew let’s Darcio take this as they suddenly get a swarm of thoughts. Sure, they’re used to this. After all, for people who say they lost their memory of their family or they don’t wish to return to them, Drew sends them off to a group they know in the safe zone. That’s another thing Drew will have to look into eventually: will Kenna want to return to her family?

Kenna looks up to Darcio with tears starting to brim in her eyes and she backs up, trying to make herself smaller. “N-No! It’s.. It’s not okay! I... I can’t remember anything!” Her fingers fly up to her bandages and she takes a shaky breath, “What... What did they do to me..?!”

"No.." Darcio says sadly. "It's really not ok. What they did to you was horrible and something no one should ever go through and yet you survived and you're safe now. You're safe and we can get you help for whatever they did to you." Darcio kneels so he's more on Kenna's height and less intimidating as a man in female clothing can be. "It might not be ok right now but you're going to be ok."

Drew watches Kenna and Darcio’s conversation, but then their eyes dart to the ground as they continue to think. Then around the room, in their traditional way of thinking. They aren’t used to such a freaked out reaction... Does that mean Kenna really wants to find her family again then? Okay, they won’t contact that group. Just yet, anyway. Drew finally walks over to the two of them and chimes in. “You aren’t the first case of amnesia I’ve seen when it comes to Chromies I’ve rescued Kenna, and you certainly won’t be the last. You can recover.”

Kenna stares at the two, lip quivering as she goes to pull at her bandages- she misses the weight of her collar- the emptiness of not having to think-!! She doesn’t want to dwell on what she can’t remember. She just wants to forget- she wants her mind to be quiet and for her heart to calm down! She sinks down to the floor with a whimper, digging her fingers under her bandages like she can just make the tungsten appear-

"Kenna? Kenna breathe with me." Darcio starts to reach out for her and hesitates before going through with it and lightly touching her shoulder.

Kenna hears Darcio and is about to follow his advice- before she feels pressure on her shoulder. Then- the world goes quiet as ringing over takes her ears. Her eyes get a glazed faraway look into them but her expression darkens to something dangerous. Her panic is gone in an instant and instead she grabs Darcio’s arm with frightening ferocity and flips him to the ground. Then, she reaches into her boot and pulls out a wickedly curved trench knife dagger. She must have placed those in her boots after changing in the store. She stomps on Darcio’s chest to keep him there then raises her knife up high, looking ready to stab him. “...Chromiac-” She growls at Darcio, like she’s forgotten ever meeting him.

Drew looks at the scene unfurl and they feel panic settle in. They try to calm their racing heart. She might actually hurt him if they aren’t careful!!! “Kenna, Kenna come back. Darcio is not your enemy. He bought your clothes and necessities, he’s here to help you. He isn’t your target Kenna.” Drew talks in a calm tone, but there’s the slightest quiver of fear in it.

Darcio feels all the air rush out of him as he's suddenly on his back and grunts at the boot to the chest. Well shit the government screwed with more than they realized in Kenna's poor head. "Kenna!" Darcio gasped as he tried to get air back into his chest. This was a bad situation, one he was trying to avoid.

Kenna either doesn’t hear Drew or is choosing to ignore him as she leans down and grabs Darcio by the collar of his shirt. She holds her knife tighter as she studies him a cold calculating stare. “.... Your eyes will make an excellent prize for the Bureau, Chromiac scum-!” She snarls as she rears back. Preparing to strike-

Drew suddenly decides to risk something dangerous and they quickly lunge forward and grab Kenna’s knife. They hold it in their hands firmly and decide to fling it down the hallway. “Another house rule: no hurting others!” Drew states, using their powers to project their voice.

Twisting underneath Kenna's foot to throw her off Darcio rolls to his feet and backs away. "Yes please new house rule no taking eyes either!"

Kenna’s head whips to Drew as her knife gets snatched and her scary gaze locks onto them as she growls, “Give that back-!” She cringes slightly at Drew’s booming voice. Then her eyes widen as Darcio manages to roll out from underneath her and his movement makes her fall back and hit her head against the wall- then the floor. Her head bursts with painful static as her brain gets a bit scrambled from the hits. She lays there blinking at the ceiling, trying to figure out where she is- … What was she doing...? Her eyes seem to settle back to normal as her face scrunches up in confusion. “... What... What just happened...?” She breathes, wondering why she’s suddenly out of breath.

Drew blinks a bit as their vocal chords return to normal. She... doesn’t remember what she just did either? They look to the emblem branded on her hand and their eyes narrow a little. They had noticed earlier but didn’t make a comment. What did the Bureau do to her?! “You, switched, into like this fighting mode. But nobody got hurt.” Drew states.

"An accident happened but like Drew said nobody's hurt." Darcio probably had a bruised back now but it wasn't anything new to him. Between him and Drew they had a list a mile wide for when they went to register Kenna about what the Bureau is doing.

Kenna pushes herself up and stares at the other two with wide eyes. “What?” She goes to look down at her hands, seeing her bureau brand makes her heart beat fast as her chest tightens. It’s hard to breathe. She holds her hands against her chest and curls up, hiding her scarred hand under the other like it can protect the others from it. “Oh no... No...! No no no...!!” She bites back a sob, having trouble breathing.

Drew rushes over and gets on their knees next to her, letting out gentle shushes. “Kenna, Kenna it’s okay no one got hurt. You’re fine, nothing bad happened I promised.” Drew wants to reach out and comfort her but they honestly don’t want a repeat of what just happened.

"Oh pumpkin." Darcio says. He kneels next to Drew and doesn't reach for Kenna again but instead talks soothingly. "Listen to me Kenna pumpkin. You have to follow my lead ok? Just listen to me and do as I do slowly. In through the nose, hold, exhale through the mouth. Inhale through the nose, hold, exhale through the mouth. Ok?"

Kenna blinks up to Drew and Darcio with wet eyes, and she lingers on Darcio’s face for a bit longer. Pumpkin...? Why did he call her that? The confusion helps her focus a bit more on what he’s saying and she slowly nods, following after him. Honestly- it’s nice to have someone telling her something to do... having something to follow. Everything was too much right now- so she follows along until her panic subsides. But- she feels like she’s on the brink- She’s just... waiting for the questions the others are bound to have... and fearing the response.

Drew is admittedly caught a little off guard by the sudden nickname, yet it was to be expected: Darci comes up with nicknames for almost everybody. They patiently wait until Kenna’s showing signs of being stable, then they mentally sigh in relief. Two “breakdowns” in that short of a time, hopefully there won’t be that much more. “Feeling better?” They ask.

Darcio smiles at Kenna encouragingly until she's breathing more even. "There we go. That's better."

Kenna closes her eyes for a second before trying to look back at the other two. Guilt churns heavy in her stomach and she looks away, rubbing her branded hand in shame.

Drew studies how she reacts and it honestly doesn’t give them great signs. They look around at the trio’s position and they perk up. “Let’s move to the couch huh? Way more comfortable up there than here.”

Kenna hesitates then nods. It is uncomfortable here on the floor — and they were telling her to go, she needs to listen. She gets up on shaky legs and heads to the couch. She sits then pulls up into the corner, stiff and sitting properly. She doesn’t want to get too comfortable- who knows if they’ll actually let her stay now that they’ve seen this…

Darcio groans as he stands and if he walks a little stiffly to the couch he doesn't mention it. Sinking into the cushions he lets out a sigh of content. "This was a good couch to invest in…”

Drew stands up and makes their way over to the couch, sitting in between Darcio and Kenna. They laugh at his comment. “You’re not wrong.” They look over to Kenna and smile. “Kenna it’s okay you can relax. Couches were made to do that on after all.”

Kenna looks away and shakes her head, grabbing her arms and holding them tight against her.

Looking up Darcio gives an encouraging smile. "You can relax Kenna. This is gonna hopefully be your home too if all goes well tomorrow."

Drew wants to reach out and give her a comforting hug right now, but every sigh they’re picking up displays signs she doesn’t want to. So they put their hand patiently next to her. “What’s troubling you Kenna? You’ll be here with us after all, it’s only right if we help.”

She looks back up to them in surprise, eyes misty and she blinks rapidly to clear them. “You... You still want me to stay here...? Even after all of that?”

"Kenna of course we still want you to stay here. It wasn't your fault what happened." Darcio tries to impress upon her with tone how sincere he is.

Drew nods. “Mm-hm! And if it really bothers you that much we can help you get better with it too.”

Kenna looks at them with wide confused eyes. Then she looks down, gripping stuff from her skirts. “I... I don’t understand... I... I’m not a g-good person- the B-Bur... the higher ups... T-They made me into... something terrible...” She then shuts her eyes and yells, “D-Don’t you get it?! I’m- I’m dangerous! I have no idea what’s happening and I can’t remember anything and... N-Now even with that damned collar off I’m still...!” She curls up and hiccups quieter now. “I... I don’t deserve your kindness... I don’t want you getting hurt or caught because of me...”

Darcio leans up suddenly and stares at Kenna. "Kenna do you regret what you did wholeheartedly?"

Drew decides to lean back here, letting Darcio do the talking. They know where he’s going with this.

Kenna takes a second to look back up but when she does she nods. “Y-Yes...”

"Do you think a bad person would regret what they did? Because I think bad people wouldn't, and I also think bad people would've carried it out and finished it with no hesitation. You hesitated and stopped Kenna. You're not a bad person. You're just someone in a bad situation who's confused and scared and lost. We can help with that so that one day you aren't any of those things and you can smile and live your life with fewer regrets. Ok?" Darcio spoke softly but with intent, it's a conversation he's had many times before.

Kenna blinks as a tear falls down her face. Her lip quivers as she whispers. “Really...? You really think that can happen for me...?” Then she bites her lip and looks away again. “... You guys don’t know much about me though... Or what I’ve done...”

Drew decides to chime in here. “The Bureau’s emblem is burned into your hand, and a collar mark is on your neck. So obviously you were their slave correct? And you mentioned something about ‘posters around the circus.’ So you also worked there as well right? Lemme guess here: you were put into the circus but behind the scenes the Bureau used you. And considering how you just acted they trained you to hunt and act right? Am I missing anything?” If there was one thing Drew was good at, it was connecting the dots.

Darcio smiles again suddenly. "I believe it Kenna and I hope one day you can too and I hope we become friends and you'll share with me what you're comfortable sharing." Sitting back he lets Drew take over. He needed to learn anyways.

Kenna blinks in surprise, her mouth opening slightly. Then she looks away as she plays with her matted hair, slowly nodding. “... Yes and no... You’re right about me being a uh.. slave- but I didn’t s-start out that way... The Bureau... they trained us as... soldiers. Not many Chromiacs under the Bureau are used that way... but we were a... s-special group. Then, I got sent to cover at the circus as a performer... and would be whisked off to the Bureau when needed... they- they wanted me to...” She trails off but, she reaches up to touch under her eye, swallowing thickly. “I... I ran away from the c-circus... But I don’t know how long it’ll be till the B-Bureau finds me...”

Drew mentally snaps their fingers. ‘Dang, so close!!!’ They listen to Kenna correct their assumptions and they nod along. “And like most Chromies I meet that are on the run, you probably couldn’t take it anymore either.” Drew mutters. They then put their head in a spare open hand, propped on their knee. “Best thing about the sanctuary though? Humans, of any kind, can’t touch here. So the Bureau can never come for you here Kenna. You’re safe.”

Kenna flinches and huddles up a bit more, gripping hard onto her arm. “Y-Yeah... I... I guess you could say that...” The reality of her escape flashes in front of her eyes and she touches fingers to her bandages. But she’s snapped out of it by Drew’s statement and she looks to them in shock. “...What...? They... they can’t get in here..?” She looks confused again. “But... they’re the Bureau... They control everything!”

Drew grins. “Not, everything.” They spark their fingers up with their magic and look to Kenna. “As powerful as they may be, they have no control here whatsoever. Otherwise it wouldn’t be called a sanctuary!”

Kenna stares at Drew with her mouth open. She.. never even thought that was possible... “...Oh... Huh...”

Drew flicks their magic of their fingers and let’s it travel into the air. “So trust me when I say this Kenna: you are safe. You won’t get hurt, tracked down, anything, while you are here.”

Kenna watches the magic then bites her lip, shallowly nodding. She really wants to believe Drew... but there’s still a small doubting part in her mind. But, she is starting to relax a bit more and soon enough she mumbles out, “... Thank you guys... for everything...”

Drew smiles genuinely. “Of course Kenna.”

"We're here for you pumpkin." Darcio says. "We should all get some rest though. We have a lot to do tomorrow."

Kenna cocks her head, “... What are we doing?”

“Main thing is getting you first registered here and then... making sure you’re able to stay with us.” Drew looks to Darcio for confirmation.

"Registration will take the longest but we can head right on over to social services, the people who determine if you can stay with us or not, with your paperwork." He's already forming a checklist in his head of things they're all going to have to do.

Kenna slowly nods, curling up her knees against herself. “Ah... Okay...” She chews on her lip then picks at her skirt. “... I think I’ll stay out here for a little bit… I don’t think I can sleep right now...”

Drew looks her over then returns their gaze to Darcio. “I can stay out here with her, I need to do some more research on a camp and make a possible phone call to the center anyway to postpone a mission.” Drew pulls out their phone. “Plus I’m not tired either.” Drew teases.

Darcio raises a single perfectly groomed eyebrow. "I see... Well while you're at it look up nearby classes for Health and Wellness of Rescued Chromies, you already have a knack for it but it'll help beef up your resume for the SS." Darcio stands and stretches, wincing at his back. Before he leaves he turns to Kenna. "Have a good night and sweet dreams."

Kenna gives Darcio a light smile, “Thank you,” She whispers, “You too.”

Drew brings a mock salute to their head. “Aye aye captain.” Drew groans before pulling up a search engine. ‘Alrighty, time to take a first real step to recuperating a Chromie.’

Kenna eyes Drew as they get comfy. Then she slowly breathes, trying to process everything that happened today. Part of her is excited, but she’s also scared. This is gonna be very different than anything she’s experienced…

#Chromiesstory #heterochromiacs #hufflewriting #kenna rosales #drew hunte #darcio grierson #tw: abuse mention #tw: violence #brainwashing mention #abuse victim #injury #i hope the summary is okay i thought that might help with our next couple stories XD #next one just needs a bit more editing!#but for now enjoy!#thanks tefa for compiling this for us!!#and if the writing is weird remember this starts as a roleplay vhjbakn

30 notes · View notes

fantasydaydreamers · 5 years

Text

BJ's on the Clock

Summary: He has been sending you flirty texts all day...so when you show up to the Hero Agency unannounced, will you be able to relieve him of his desires or will you get caught in the process?

Words: 2,422

Warning: Lemon Headcannons/Mini scenarios

Author's Note: and I oop

Today, you wanted to try something different. You wanted to try sneaking into your boyfriend's office off visitor hours. Recently, he has been teasing you nonstop while he is at work, sending you explicit texts on what he would do to you if you were with him in his office breaking in the desk. So...why not surprise him and make him put his money where his mouth is? The excitement bubbled in your stomach as you stifled a giggle, opening his office door.

You watch as his head pops up at the sound and mouth fall open in disbelief. "What are you doing here, (Y/n)?!" He hissed as you close the door quietly and walk over to him seductively. He pushes back his chair and leans back in shock. "Can't I visit my big pro-hero?" You purr, sliding into his lap, as much as you could with the armrests in the way.

"Yes. DURING visitor hours." He says sternly, gripping your thighs. "How did you get in here anyway?" You wrap your arms around his neck pretending to think. Actually, you were surprised how easy it was for you to slip by. It's a hero agency after all; wouldn't the security be tighter? Do you look like a pro-hero? Well...putting up with your man...maybe. Distracted, you hummed as an answer and leaned down towards his neck, placing featherlight kisses across his collarbone.

"Babe...I can't..." He trails off as he lets out a small groan, his hands traveling up to your hips. You were just trailing your lips up to his ear when the alarm on his watch goes off. He snaps out of it and pulls back from his trance to look at the time. "Babe, I have a meeting in a few minutes. You need to get out of here."

Pouting, you pull your arms tighter around him, hugging him. "I don't wanna." You whine into his ear. Mission failed. You think as you start to feel disappointed by the timing. Of course, he's busy and I know he just doesn't come to work for fun, but I at least wanted to spice things up a bit. Feeling anxious at what your actions could've led to if he didn't have a meeting, you lean in and bite his earlobe. He gasps as he weakly tries to pry you off. "We can do this l-later." He chokes out. "Oh yeah? I've been thinking about you all day baby..." You murmur low into his ear, mocking the text you received with an image attached earlier, and you feel the heat start to radiate off his face.

"You have to get out...you...we could get into a lot of trouble..." He seems to be struggling with himself, ready to take the risk. As soon as he finishes his sentence, you hear a knock on his office door and you two scramble away from each other in a hurry. Panicking, you both look at each and around the room for a place you can hide. Simultaneously, your eyes landed to the space under his desk and you hurry and scramble into the spot.

Once into position, you hear him clear his throat and pull himself back into position. "Come in." Letting out a sigh you glance at his legs that were encasing you into the small space. Slowly, your eyes move to focus between his legs and you smirk as you hear his door open and people come in greeting him. Oh...mission accomplished...

Ground Zero

A small scowl appears on his face once he feels your hand traveling up his leg. He knows exactly what you are going for and he feels stupid that he even let you hide there. In the midst of rushed-panic, he wasn't thinking, so the realization that hits him after...he hates it. Of course, you would come see him after everything he sent you. He grinds his teeth as his co-workers take their seats in front of his desk ready to start.

You rub him softly through his pants in light, teasing touches. "Ground Zero, I believe we were going to discuss the issue that happened last weekend during patrol..." You drown out the voice and wait for Bakugou to respond. At this point, Bakugou adjusted to the light feeling and wasn't reacting as much. Let's change that, shall we? "Of cour-" You smirk in satisfaction hearing a sharp intake of breath from Bakugou. You had slid the palm of your hand up his hardened shaft through his pants.

"Are you okay, Ground Zero?" A voice calls out. You hear Bakugou clear his throat and force out a 'yeah.' Slowly, you zip down the zipper so the sound doesn't echo in the large room. This was the longest meeting Bakugou has ever been in, and when you slowly ran your tongue over his tip, his eyes almost rolled in the back of his head. You knew that the actions you were performing now will only have consequences later, but you were willing to take that risk.

→ Overall: Bakugou can hold in his sounds of pleasure, but he struggled the most with controlling his quirk so he didn't set off any unnecessary explosions. He has to have some way of release, whether it be verbally or physically. Having both concealed was a new test for him and not surprisingly, he succeeded.

→ After the meeting: Once the people leave the room, he's going lean back and throw his hand in your hair, shoving you back down his cock. "You're going to pay for that later dumbass...but right now I want you to finish what you started and take me all the way down...there you go." A low growl will leave his mouth as he watches your flustered expression finish the job.

Deku

He jumps and knees the bottom of his desk. A squeal leaves his mouth in a rushed greeting as his co-workers come to sit down in front of his desk. They shoot him an odd look and ask if he's doing okay while Midoriya's face burns red as he nervously nods his head and gives a tentative smile. His anxiety is through the roof.

You know Midoriya isn't much of a risky person, but you were always one to ease him into something and comfort him. You patiently rub his thighs as you wait for him to calm down. "Deku, we wanted to go over the weekly reports..." You listen in to the conversation, wanting to make the next move at the right time. "Oh! I saw there was an error..." Once you are sure he's distracted and adjusted to the feeling, you lean in and mouth along his growing bulge. You hold a giggle as his sentence was cut short and a high-pitched moan echoed in the room.

"Deku, are you sure you're okay? You don't look too good?" Smirking, you can only imagine what face he was making. Knowing you can only push his limits so far, you opt out of sucking him off. However, you do teasing strokes up and down his shaft, not making him go too close to the edge, but making him crave more in this embarrassing situation.

→ Overall: Deku's face will show everything he is feeling. Later when you two are home, he will express how embarrassing that was, and then he will turn dominant and want to make you embarrassed. A new side of Midoriya will come out when you open new doors to him. Getting caught is a possibility if you push him past his limits.

→ After the meeting: When he pulls back to look at you and you see his face...that poor boy. His face is all red and he has tears in the corner of his eyes. He looks feverish. "(Y/n)..." He whines as your movements come to a stop. You look up in question and smirk. "Do...it properly please." How can you say no to that face?

Shoto

Annoyingly, he didn't react. Knowing he would have a poker face, you went straight for his bulge, not wanting to waste time with the teasing. Todoroki politely greeted his co-workers as they took their seats. "Shoto, you wanted to finalize the statements regarding Endeavor's retirement?" The co-workers begin, as you hear the shuffling of papers.

"Yes. I believe the deadline for this is next week, so I would like to get it done as soon as possible." Shoto answers with a straight face. Rolling your eyes, you quietly unzip his pants and pull out his member. Not wasting time, you get to work as fast as you can without making any noise. You hear the conversation continue as if you aren't even there and you start to feel frustrated.

Pulling off, you slowly rub his balls, hearing a slight falter in his voice. Aha! You grin and try it again, but hear him clear his throat and recover. With the remaining time of the meeting, you try your hardest to get him to crack and there are a few times you succeed. You just need to know what buttons to push and when.

→ Overall: Quite the poker face Shoto has. He can be very expressive in private because he is vulnerable to you and he loves you. Intimacy in public areas with the potential to get caught is new to him, but he is open to trying it out. He also finds joy in seeing if you can make him react. No matter what you do, he will show you later on what you really wanted to hear.

→ After the meeting: Once the last person clears out, Todoroki wastes no time in pulling back his chair to look at you. Because you worked so hard to make him break, drool and precum covered your mouth and chin, no doubt making you look a mess. He heavily exhales and leans back to close his eyes. "That was...you almost got me, (Y/n)." He sits back up and gives you a small smirk. "You look beautiful on your knees. Do you want me to finish all over that pretty little mouth of yours?"

Red Riot

Instantly, his hand shot under the desk to stop you. However, he couldn't stay like that during the meeting because it would be unprofessional and look inappropriate. Reluctantly, he pulls his arm back and adjusts his position to seem like nothing just happened. "Red Riot, your 6 o'clock is here." You hear a woman call out before Kirishima answers with a shaky, "Thank you. Let them in."

The shuffle of feet enters the room and polite greetings are exchanged before seats are taken. "Fatgum has advised me to come see you for recruitment listings." The person begins. You listen as Kirishima starts to list out applicants and shuffle through some papers. You lean in and bite down on his zipper, pulling it open and gaining access to his bulge. You feel him freeze at your breath ghosting over his member.

A few moments after that, a small post-it note floats down next to you and you pick it up, tuning back into their conversation. 'This isn't fair, cutie.' It reads. You shake your head and stick the note to the side of his desk. It wasn't fair when he was doing it to me...so payback, "cutie." You lean in and give a long deliberate lick to his shaft, hearing him stutter out a response.

→ Overall: Kirishima will make some noises, but mostly small grunts which he masks by adjusting his seated position. In fact, he might unintentionally harden his legs at some point. Knowing this is happening in front of others and with the possibility of getting caught makes him nervous, but excited. He will come to you later with the intent of returning the favor.

→ After the meeting: Pulling back, Kirishima looks down at you with red swollen lips. You pull off his cock with a loud pop, making him let out a moan. "Were you biting your lips?" You ask, coming back to kiss up the side of his cock. Kirishima nods shakily and leans back in his chair. "You're gonna kill me one day, cutie." Smirking, you lower your mouth on him once more, determined to finish the job. Humming around him in agreement, his arms harden while gripping the armrests.

Chargebolt

You felt an immediate shock of electricity zap you at the sudden contact with his bulge. Your hand flies to your mouth in hopes of holding back a laugh knowing that you startled him. Once you are sure you calmed down, you pull your hand back and slowly move it back to his bulge. "Welcome! Come sit down!" You hear his energetic yet shaky voice call out to his co-workers.

"Good afternoon, Chargebolt." They respond as they take a seat. As they begin to discuss business, you begin lightly tracing the outline of his shaft, not yet pushing the boundaries. "So I was thinking of implementing a system where..." Kaminari begins the meeting in a confident tone which you have come to admire since you have been with him. He can do business and professionally handle matters when he wants.

It wasn't until half-way through his point, that you ran your tongue up the front of his pants. Kaminari cuts off his sentence with a strangled choke that he morphs into a cough. Grinning slightly, but not stopping your ministrations, you do it over and over again--soaking the front of his pants. Knowing what it took to make him break, you made sure to tease him to just the point of wanting to finish. Even if it happened in front of his co-workers.

→ Overall: It will be easy for Kaminari to make noises and small whimpers, not being able to stay quiet. He is a very vocal person-- it's in his nature. The small shocks of electricity you feel from time-to-time turns you on yourself, knowing that you are making Kaminari needy.

→ After the meeting: When his co-workers leave, he's going to lean back in his seat to look at you and whimper, asking you to finish him off properly. "You ruined my pants, (Y/n)." He complains looking at you as if you could magically fix them. "Should've thought of that before you sent that text." You retort, moving to unzip his pants. "I didn't know you were going to come here!" He says in disbelief. "Well now it's time for you to come in here." You murmur, taking him back in your mouth.

1K notes · View notes

alphacrone · 4 years

Text

for it’s better to burn out than to fade out of sight (5/?)

rating: T pairings: Yuki & Tohru (platonic), Tohru/Kyo, Yuki/Machi, other canon pairings & friendships summary: In the end, it wasn’t sadness Yuki felt, when Tohru Honda had her memories erased. No, it was anger. And anger he could work with.

<< read previous chapter || read next chapter >>

iv. i watched as the hillsides turned white with nowhere to go

***

“Be honest, Tohru. Are they treating you well?”

Tohru looked up from her lunch, tilting her head in confusion. “What are you talking about, Uo?”

Uo tore off a piece of her curry bread and chewed in an unnaturally aggressive way. “Your family. Are they treating you well? And be honest.”

“O-oh!” Tohru glanced between Hana and Sohma, who both watched her intently. It had been a week since she'd moved back in with Grandpa and his family, the renovations finally complete. The Hanajima family had bid her a tearful farewell, insisting that Tohru come by and visit frequently. Tohru was touched by their generosity, and began taking extra shifts at work so she could begin to repay them. “Of course! I’m really so grateful to them, taking me in when Aunt Mie’s going through a divorce…”

“You were there first!” Uo slammed her fist down on the desk, knocking her half-empty Pocari bottle to the floor. “Your gramps better have his priorities straight when it comes to you…”

“N-no, that’s not-" Tohru frowned. “It’s just a hard time for them, so I just don’t want to be in their way.”

Uo drew back to continue ranting, but Sohma cut her off, his voice low and calm. “Did they say that?”

“Huh?” Tohru swallowed roughly. Sohma’s expression had not changed, but there was something sharp in his eyes. “Say what?”

“You family,” he said. “Did they say you were in their way?”

“A-ah, no,” Tohru replied, rubbing awkwardly at the back of her neck. “No, they wouldn’t say something like that, I-I just want to help them in this difficult time!”

“Good,” Sohma said, and his gaze softened. “Tell me if they ever say anything that cruel. That is unacceptable behavior, especially from family.”

Tohru nodded, cheeks growing warm. Sohma was always so cool and collected, even when he was unhappy. But to see him become so cold, just because he thought her family might have said something hurtful…

“Yeah, yeah,” Uo said. “Where were they when Kyoko...? I just think you could stand to be a little more selfish, Tohru. Don’t let them bully you into doing all the chores or sleeping in a closet or something.”

“Did you know,” Hana said, dabbing her mouth clean with a pitch black handkerchief. “That in the Grimm version of Cinderella, the wicked stepsisters have their eyes plucked out by birds?”

Tohru’s mind reeled. “What? That’s awful!”

Hana shrugged, bringing another piece of beef to her lips. “Just...something to consider.”

Uo laughed, and slapped Tohru on the back. “Sorry, sorry, I know I’m worrying too much. But you have a bad habit of not telling anyone when you’re upset or in pain, Tohru.” Uo’s eyes grew sad. “Let us take care of you, okay?”

“Uo...Hana…” Tohru felt tears welling up against her will. “You guys...I love you guys…”

“Aww.” Uo scrubbed at her eyes, brushing away her own tears. “C’mere.”

Tohru laughed as Hana and Uo engulfed her in a big hug. Sandwiched between them, she felt safe and warm, cradled in a world that brought her nothing but love and kindness. She didn’t often feel this way anymore, not since Mom had died, but when she did it was always because of her friends. Tohru didn’t deserve such wonderful people, but she was beyond grateful for them.

From between Hana’s and Uo’s arms, Tohru caught sight of Sohma, who still sat across from her, looking awkwardly alone. She wished she could pull him into their hug, to wipe the strained look from his face, to banish any sadness from his heart.

Gray eyes met brown, and Sohma smiled; it was a small, soft thing, and gone in an instant. But Tohru saw it, and kept the precious memory of it safe in her chest.

She really was so lucky to have these friends of hers. Every one of them.

***

“Ugh, this house is so big, but I still have to share a room?” Kaoru griped, flopping back dramatically on her bed.

“I’m sorry,” Tohru said, looking up from her math homework. She wasn’t making great headway, but with Uo’s persistent help she was managing to understand more.

Kaoru waved away her apology, content with sighing dramatically. Tohru was secretly happy to be sharing a room; she’d grown used to listening to Hana’s light snores at night, and was afraid the silence of an empty room might keep her awake.

“Kyoko,” Grandpa said, appearing in the doorway. Tohru smiled weakly at the wrong name.

“That’s Tohru, Grandpa,” Kaoru sighed.

Grandpa appeared not to have heard. “They’re calling for you downstairs,” he told Tohru.

“Okay!” Tohru hopped up and brushed off her skirt. Despite herself, she was glad for a reason to escape from her cousin’s griping. It must be hard for Kaoru to share a room with Tohru after thinking she’d have one to herself, but Tohru was just grateful for a roof over her head. A small part of her had missed living with Grandpa.

When she reached the kitchen, Aunt Mie and Akinori were both waiting for her at the table. Kaoru and Grandpa followed after her, lurking near the stove. Their eagerness to eavesdrop made Tohru uneasy.

“Hi,” she said awkwardly. “Is something wrong?”

Aunt Mie sighed and adjusted her reading glasses. In her hands she held some papers, too far way for Tohru to properly read. “I wanted to get this over with as soon as possible, but moving in was so hectic...but that’s not important.”

“O-okay?” Tohru gripped her hands together tightly. Why did it feel like she’d done something wrong? Surely they didn’t know she’d been living in a tent. Uo and Hana had been sworn to secrecy, despite Uo’s threats to ride her motorcycle through Grandpa’s living room window, and Tohru was certain no one else knew…

“Tohru,” Aunt Mie said, voice stern. “It seems like you’ve been living with unmarried men? We had a detective look into it.”

Kaoru gasped, sounding more excited than scandalized. “No way! You were living with guys? Woah!”

“W-wait,” Tohru held up her hands in surrender, face growing hot. “What are you talking about? I-I-I was living with Hana’s family.”

“Yes,” Aunt Mie said. “For a little while. But before then, you were living with three men by the name of…” She flipped a page, eyes scanning the page. “Sohma.”

“Sohma?” Tohru thought she might pass out. “Th-there has to be some mistake! I go to school with two Sohmas, but I never lived with them.”

Aunt Mie looked frustrated, but it was Akinori who spoke. “Are you calling us liars, Tohru?” He asked, eyes narrowing behind his thick-rimmed glasses.

“N-no, of course not!” Tohru struggled to keep her breathing steady. “I didn’t mean to offend you, I’m sorry! It’s just, I wasn’t living with men, I-I- Before staying with Hana, I was living in a tent. I’m sorry for lying about that,” she cried, bowing deeply to Grandpa. “But I swear, I wasn’t- I didn’t-”

“My son is studying to become a policeman,” Aunt Mie snapped. “It will be a problem if one of our relatives has a criminal record.”

“I-I don’t!” Tohru clasped her hands together, pleading. “I swear I don’t!”

“Don’t lie, Tohru,” Akinori said with a smirk. “We have photo evidence.”

Tohru’s head was spinning. Photo evidence of what? Surely their detective had confused some other girl at Sohma's house as Tohru, maybe another cousin even; Sohma had said he had many cousins.

“Kyoko was fairly rough,” Aunt Mie continued. Kaoru was still watching from behind a few potted plants, mouth ajar. “And they say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” She pointed a thin, accusatory finger at Tohru. “You have to stay on the straight and narrow if you wish to continue living in this house.”

A cold sweat had broken out on the back of Tohru's neck, and her hands shook uncontrollably. Tohru wasn’t like her mother in too many ways, but she was proud of the ways in which she resembled Kyoko Honda. But if what her aunt said was true, if being like Mom wasn’t acceptable in this house…

She still had her tent, muddy and half-destroyed, tucked away under Hana’s bed. If she could just get it without alerting Hana and Uo, Tohru could unburden everyone who felt obligated to house her. She could be independent, like Mom, like someone Mom could be proud of.

“Hey, Tohru,” Akinori said, shaking her from her thoughts. He was still smirking, but there was something cold in his eyes. “Those men...they didn’t do anything improper to you, did they?”

Tohru’s blood ran cold. The room was too small, the walls were closing in on her, and all she could see were the sharp gazes of her family-

Thwack!

The room fell silent as Grandpa pulled back his palm from his grandson’s cheek. Akinori pulled back, eyes widening. “G-Grandpa?” he stuttered. “What…?”

“You really don’t know how to speak to people without belittling them,” Grandpa said, voice as light and unbothered as it always was. “Don’t mind them, Kyoko. They’re really just bad people, deep down.”

“What?!”

“Grandpa!”

“How dare-!”

“Hmm?” Grandpa seemed unbothered, smiling gently at Tohru. “They’re my dear family, Kyoko, and because of that I can endure their cruelty. But you...Katsuya always said you needed a place you could be free, and this house…”

“ Dad ,” Aunt Mie spat, fists clenched at her side. “You aren’t in your right mind, you can’t just say things like that to your own family!”

“Kyoko is our family, too,” Grandpa said simply. “Did you detective look into your or Kaoru? Me? Your cousins? My sister?”

“W-well, no,” Aunt Mie said through gritted teeth. “But no one in our family was raised by- by a delinquent!”

Tohru looked down at her feet, throat growing thick. Mom had been a delinquent, when she was younger than Tohru was now, but she’d also been the best mother anyone could have asked for. Her father’s family hadn’t stayed in touch after his death, but surely she wasn’t such a miserable creature that they could see how good and kind Kyoko had been?

“Someone’s birth isn’t important,” Grandpa said. “Kyoko loves more fiercely than any of you; she has a good heart. This behavior of yours has been disappointing, Mie.”

The room fell quiet as Aunt Mie stared angrily at Grandpa. Akinori still held onto his face where Grandpa had slapped him earlier, and Kaoru watched it all with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“I-I-I’ll start dinner!” Tohru cried, breaking through the tense silence. “How does nikujaga sound? Great!” She hurried to the fridge to begin preparations before anyone could speak further.

“That sounds lovely, Kyoko,” Grandpa called. “Thank you.”

No one else spoke again after that, but Tohru heard several doors slam as she cooked. She didn’t dare venture out of the kitchen, too frightened to see who had left.

Neither Aunt Mie nor Akinori returned by dinnertime, but that didn’t seem to bother Grandpa. Even Kaoru shrugged at the empty seats and helped herself to Tohru’s cooking, complimenting it as soon as she took a bite. Tohru gave her a shaky smile, but the absence of her aunt and cousin worried her far more than their presence would have made her uncomfortable. She hoped that wherever they were, they were safe and well-fed.

***

When the house had fallen still and silent, Tohru crept out of her room, careful not to wake Kaoru. She felt guilty, sneaking around her own family like this, but she couldn’t help but wonder just what made them think she’d been living with the Sohmas, of all people. She hadn’t even spoken to Sohma or Kyo until after she moved in with Hana. Even if she was unhappy with Aunt Mie hiring a detective to look into her, Tohru needed to know if they’d been tricked or misled by someone with bad intentions.

The papers were still on the coffee table where Aunt Mie had left them that afternoon. Tohru thumbed through them, barely able to comprehend most of what was written. She continued searching, spotting names like Honda and Sohma and Hanajima littered throughout, until the texture of the paper changed, and Tohru realized she’d stumbled across several photographs. The first two showed her leaving school, chatting with Sohma. This was odd--she couldn’t remember a day she’d left school with Sohma instead of Hana or Uo--but perhaps she’d simply forgotten. Kyo appeared in the next photo, following behind them at a short distance with a scowl. Again, not something Tohru remembered happening, but not out of the realm of possibility.

It was the next photo that took her breath away. Tohru’s memory had never been the best; she often spaced out during class and forgot important dates or math equations. Surely she could have forgotten a brief conversation with Sohma as they walked home in the same direction. Maybe she’d been preoccupied with work or school and hadn’t paid much attention.

But this photo changed everything. Because there, plain to see, was a photo of Tohru walking the same forest path she’d taken every day after school or work to get back to her campsite. Except, instead of showing her alone, ducking off the paved path and into the woods, these photos showed her walking in between Yuki and Kyo Sohma, all three carrying bags of groceries. Sohma wore a soft expression she rarely saw, and Kyo glared in a way Tohru saw constantly, but it was her own laughing face that truly caught her off guard. When had she walked home with these Sohma boys? When had she ever been so comfortable in their presence? When had she gone to the store with them, or even seen them outside of school?

Because Tohru could not deny the girl in this photograph was her. This girl, with pink ribbons and a hand-me-down dress, was undoubtedly her, but the memories of this moment were...gone. Not faded, not vague, just gone .

Tohru’s heart sank deep into her stomach. What really happened during those weeks in the woods? And why couldn’t she remember?

#fruits basket fanfiction #fruits basket spoilers #fruits basket #anna writes things #x-posting from ao3

11 notes · View notes

always5hineee · 4 years

Text

Depreciation- Chapter 12: Hostility

Chapter warnings: Mild language and violence

Word count: 1097

-----

"Alright, to start off, we need to go over everything that's happened, without exception." Kun stated. It seemed that everybody had changed clothing except foe Y/N, and the color had even begun returning to Hendery's skin. She assumed the he'd eaten at some point, already boding well for his mental health. Kun continued on, several papers in front of him.

"To start with, we obviously owe Y/N a massive bout of thanks. We would have been unable to get ahold of a suitable lawyer without her. And of course, we're lucky she didn't chose to turn us in." Great, that made it a bit awkward. Thankfully, everyone breezed by it. "Of course, we're under heavy watch, now. We've by some miracle managed to avoid a public scandal, but the company will be up our asses now. The tour is continually postponed as we wait to hear back from Xiaojun's doctors. Even if they somehow manage to find a way to perfectly heal all of his injuries, it could take many, many months. I wouldn't be surprised if they stage another issue or a contract disagreement to remove him from the group."

This caused a lot of tension. It felt as though all eyes were on Hendery, who was saying nothing. Everyone knew it was his fault, and he still had failed to defend himself. Honestly, Y/N didn't even know why they were letting him grace the same table as them. Surely he hadn't done something like this before, right?

"Of course, being under surveillance could be extremely detrimental to our business. In light of that, we need to slightly adjust our means of operation. Y/N, you'll be hands-on from now going forward." This caused the room to burst into objection.

"Are you kidding?" WinWin asked. "She knows nothing about operations!"

"She'll turn us in. Or get herself caught." Hendery growled in agreement.

"You shouldn't put something like that on her!" Ten covered the more caring side of the argument. "You said it yourself, we were lucky she helped this much! You can't just expect her to start kidnapping women!" Everyone seemed to have their own objection to it, Kun raising his hands.

"These things are easily taught. We'll be active behind the scenes, but with no tour and such an audience, it'll be more than difficult to do things as we used to. As for the betrayal..." He looked to her. "I don't suppose there'll be any issue?" She swallowed hard, unsure if what she was about to say was the right choice.

"I... I can't do it, Kun." He diverted his eyes to the paper, refusing to meet hers once again.

"And why might that be?"

"I just... It's wrong. I can't." Looking to Ten, he snarled,

"Well, I've got bad news for you, sweetheart. You let us out, which means we're now free to do what we want. If you understand what that means. And trust me, there will be no witnesses to that little tangent, considering there'd be no trial." Was... was that a threat? Kun was threatening her? She had nearly forgotten in all they had been through that he was a businessman. He had only been overly kind to her because it was to his benefit.

Noting the threat and Y/N's adverse reaction, Lucas sat forward, ready to say something, but she shot him a warning gaze. Reluctantly, he stood down, waiting patiently to see what Kun would do next. Setting his papers in order, he continued as if nothing had happened, still revoking his eye contact with her.

"Alright. Now on the issue of filling Lazarus here in." He read through the documents. "No need to spend hours on it. Long story short, Hendery attacked you, Xiaojun and Y/N stitched your wounds, and he ran off, killing 7 girls every few days in correlation to our stage names. He stole half a million dollars, ran off, and then returned, convincing us that it was someone else that had committed the acts." Lucas's brow furrowed.

"I don't think that's actually what-"

"Let me finish." Kun demanding, putting her even more out of ease. What was wrong with him? "We believed in what he said, and he and Y/N left to go find the real culprit. In doing some more research, YangYang and WinWin discovered that our hypothesis had been correct the first time, but when going to retrieve Xiaojun, we found him with both of his arms and legs broken, and you presumably dead. At this point, we were arrested. Y/N, would you care to enlighten us on your half of the incident?"

"M-my half?"

"I'd prefer you tell us what happened as opposed to Hendery, for now, at least." Swallowing, she nodded. She'd rather have her point of view acknowledged, even if it meant feeling a little strange.

"Uh, well, once I was in the car with Hendery, we went to this strange section of the woods, and he let me out of the car. We were standing in the headlights, and he told me that he'd killed Lucas and Xiaojun, and that I was next. He threatened me with a knife, and then suddenly the police showed up... And uh, that was about it I th-"

"You did what?!" Lucas demanded, shouting as he slammed his hands down on the table, standing. Hendery stood to defend himself, but there was a clear four inch height difference between the two. "I was willing to forgive you guys for attacking me, but you have the nerve to try and lay a hand on Y/N? What kind of psychopath are you?"

"You had it coming." He spat.

"Oh, you little-" Lucas shoved his chair back in under the desk, moving around to presumably beat the shit out of Hendery. The man backed up as he came for him, but he was caught by the arm by Kun. Lucas tried to fight through, and it took nearly everyone's effort in the room to push him back against the wall. "Let me go!" He demanded, jerking his body to try and writhe free.

"We're going to talk about this like fucking adults." Kun hissed as he tried to calm Lucas down. "Y/N is fine. She's fine, look-" He only let go when Lucas stopped fighting. He indicated for YangYang and Ten to do the same, WinWin watching curiously from the sidelines. Eyes darting around, searching for hers, he whispered harshly.

"Where is she? Where's Y/N?" Breathing in, he added, "And... where is Hendery?"

5 notes · View notes

agentwallflower · 4 years

Text

Supernova: Chapter 4

Well... I’m here.

Not much to say. I started my new art project, I’m still editing and working on my writing. I kind of gave up anthology submission until July, though. It’s depressing and I don’t have a therapist yet. My friends hear me whine enough, you know?

Next chapter goes up June 13th. If you’re interested in supporting my Coke Zero fund, here’s my Ko-Fi.

Thanks, see you in two weeks.

“Hi there, Angel. Are you here to see Mr. Kaufman today?”

“Hey, Barb. Ruth said he's been looking a little lonely lately, so I figured I might as well make his day.”

The hospital was as sterile as it always was. Though they tried to make it welcoming, nothing about it put Angel at ease as he waited at the desk for his fluorescent visitor's badge. Of course ,he wasn't the one getting treated there – it might have been nice for the patients. Then again, if he was the one stuck there... well, he didn't like hospitals.

The nice nurse behind the desk slid the badge over with a smile. “He always seems to do better when you come around. I think he looks forward to it.”

“Can't imagine why.” He smiled and accepted the badge. “Thanks, see you later.”

By now, Angel had the path memorized. Go left, then right, then wait for the elevator and head up to the 6th floor. Today, there were a few others going to visit relatives. They didn't notice him as he squeezed into the back of the elevator. There was no psychic stuff going on there, though – most people were just in their own world when they went to the hospital. Probably worrying too much about the people they were there to see to notice a skinny guy with long hair and glasses in the back.

He liked it that way. Too much attention gave him a headache.

Eventually, the elevator dinged and Angel got out. The plate said it was the cancer ward. He would have known that anyway from the energy that always made him a little lightheaded as he stepped out. It was an aura thing – life and death mingling with some pretty heavy drugs trying to tip the balance towards the former. It was his least favorite place in the entire hospital, but he still went there whenever he could. After all, someone important was waiting for him.

“Twice in one week? Aren't I the lucky one.”

Leo Kaufman, the old asshole himself, was sitting up in bed. He was alone – his wife was probably at work. For once, he had some color in his cheeks as he put the book down. It was a heavy looking one, and he was halfway through it. Two others were waiting for him on the bedside table.

Cancer was fighting dirty, given how much muscle he had lost since he had gone in a year ago. Before that, he held a damn heavy shield that could have dented even the heaviest armor. Now it hung in the Union house, waiting for him to come back. Lately, Angel got the feeling it was going to be waiting for a long time.

Of course, the man himself never would have said that. Paladin was stubborn like that.

Angel sat down at his bedside, sighing in relief. “Figured I should pop in before the summer semester gets too ridiculous.”

“Trying to graduate early still? Make sure you're not getting too stressed. Your telepathy goes wild when that happens.” Leo spoke with a twinkle in his eye and the voice of experience. “Remember when you-”

It was a good thing Angel was psychic, or his glasses would've flown off his face he shook his head so hard. Heat literally leaked off his face as the man in the hospital bed laughed. It wasn't as strong as it used to be, but he still had some life in him yet that was still fighting against the cancer trying to eat his body. Good signs, stages be damned.

“Come on, old man, you promised that you wouldn't talk about that anymore! I was 17!”

Leo patted his former apprentice on the shoulder, eyes twinkling. “I doubt anyone really noticed you floated the teacher two inches off the ground. It was finals, everyone was hallucinating.”

“You are the worst, you know that?” Angel groaned as he sunk deeper into his seat, head in his hands. “Absolutely the worst.”

The fun thing about being psychic was that he had a near photographic memory thanks to his brain wiring. Psychic blasts also meant he could never forget an awkward turn of phrase with someone he was trying to impress - 7th grade, he still cringed at the thought – or his first clumsy attempts at using his powers. Or, in this case, how he had almost floated his high school math teacher off the floor when finals got to him. He was practically back in that seat, sticking to the plastic as he tried to stay awake. And there went the teacher, slipping at the last second and hitting the ground hard. His classmates weren't laughing at him, but -

“Going down the rabbit hole again?”

Something about Leo's voice always managed to pull him out of the worst of his spirals. Angel felt his mind clearing as his ass unsticking from a school chair that was probably long worn into the dust. He was no longer in that class – it was the hospital room instead.

Honestly, he wasn't sure what was worse.

“Just a little bit.” He shook his head, hair brushing against his glasses in the process. He slicked it back with his hand, but it only fell back into place. “No big deal, I've been there before. Besides, I'm here to talk to you, not work on my focusing techniques.”

“There is always time to work on focusing techniques.” The twinkle never left Leo's eyes as he sat back in bed, adjusting his position. He had grimaced briefly – maybe something was bothering him. Hopefully it wasn't a sore. Before he had gotten the cancer, those had popped up. “Not that you seem to be having trouble. I watched you on the news this morning.”

The mere mention of it made Angel's face heat up once more. He was still sore in places, and not just because he had fallen asleep on the couch funny. Even though he hadn't been hit, his psyche had taken quite a beating. It almost felt like he had the flu, only there was no chills or throwing up that he had to worry about.

“They only called me in because Richter was a no show again.” The young man sighed and brushed hair from his eyes once more – back it went the second he moved his hand. “You haven't heard from him, have you? Scanner tried to reach him on his cell, but it went to voicemail.”

Leo shook his head and frowned. “We haven't spoken since the last time I was at the Union house. That's not like him.”

“Yeah, well... he hasn't been himself lately. Dude's been skipping left and right. Ember's this close to kicking him out and I can't say I blame her. Me and PT have been covering his shifts and it's wearing us out.”

Of course, if they did... then they'd be down an elemental master. Richter might have been a flake as of late, but he was solid. More importantly, he was a warm body that could do the shifts the rest of them couldn't. Even if Angel didn't like the guy, he kept him from having to come in all the time. They might not have been as busy as the bigger cities, but even being on duty could be exhausting.

Besides... it was really uncomfortable to sit around in his gear, waiting to get the call. It made doing homework a nightmare.

“I'm sorry I can't be there to help you.” Leo's voice was soft, and the light had dwindled in his eyes. “Ember has been taking up the role beautifully, and you've all adjusted well. Maybe once my chemo is over...”

The words died on his lips, and a heavy feeling descended on the room. The chart the doctors kept pouring over, and the looks they gave their patient when they thought he wasn't looking, didn't exactly give it a hopeful feeling. Angel wouldn't say it, though. If he gave it words, then it would become reality. At least, that's what he had been taught as a child.

It had yet to do him wrong.

So he held up his hand. “Don't worry about it, old man. We're holding down the fort fine until you kick this cancer's ass. Scan's even working on expanding their drones to update the early warning system. They had me float one up to city hall the other day, nearly scared the crap out of some poor intern.”

That got Leo laughing, though it was weak. “Stop scaring the interns, Angel. And good. It sounds like Scanner is doing well. Maybe they can get in contact with Richter later. After all, they were partners.”

Yeah... Angel wasn't so sure about that. But he kept that off his face as he shifted in the chair. It wasn't a lie, per se... just something he wasn't telling his mentor. He didn't need to know everything that went on while he was gone, especially not the way the tech's hand clenched whenever someone mentioned their former partner. Some wounds take longer to heal... and there were those that didn't do it at all. Right then, it looked pretty open to the psychic.

Then again, he wasn't a doctor – just a psych student.

“Speaking of doing well,” Leo's voice was light, but there was nothing about his eyes, “Have you decided yet what you are going to do when you graduate? The last time we spoke, you said you hadn't made up your mind.”

Ice slid to Angel's stomach and churned up a tsunami. He thought back to his desk at home, covered in papers. Grad school applications were going to start being due soon, and then there would be interviews. Add in his school work...

“No... not yet.”

The old man in the bed frowned as he watched his former protege deflate. “I think graduate school would be a fine direction to take, Angel.”

“Yeah, but... not like we could get another psychic to come out here without you as our drawing point.” He shrugged his shoulders. “It's a lot to think over still.”

His advisers wanted him to apply, but how could he? They were down two people with Leo sick and Richter showing up less. Add in the fact Scanner couldn't go on active duty, and it was just the three of them. When it came down to it, Bear Paw didn't have the draw of big cities where there was plenty of action to keep full teams busy. They were just... not interesting enough.

But...

“It's your future, Angel. No one would ask you to come on full time unless you wanted to do it.” Leo reached out to pat his shoulder – his hand was warm, but his grip wasn't as strong as it had been the first time they had met years ago. “Give it plenty of thought.”

He offered the man a weak smile as he nodded. “I will, don't worry about that. Overthinking things is my specialty.”

“Don't I know it. How many times-” The walk down memory lane was interrupted. A nurse was at the door, pills at the ready. “Ah. I believe it is time for my afternoon dose.”

Angel stood and swapped places with the nurse, heading for the door instead. Leo had long since asked him not to stick around for this part – something about being watched made him uncomfortable. His protege was more than happy to play by this rule as he entered the hall, leaning against it as he made a grab for his phone.

Oh, great. He was on twitter again.

“If I ever find the person who started super asses I'm going to mind wipe them.” The young man scowled as more than a few shots of said super ass in his duty pants showed up on his twitter feed. “I don't even follow any hero shit on here!”

Leave it to the people he followed to make his life miserable. Wasn't like he could complain about it, though – how would that even go? “Hey, stop posting pictures of Sky Rider's ass, it makes me really uncomfortable.” Like that would work. He couldn't even use the excuse he was gay – his friends knew he was aro-ace. So there went his last defense as he sighed and marked it for spam.

What, he was only human. Maybe it would even get taken down this time.

“Don't hate, just appreciate as the young people say!” Leo's voice called him back into the room with more than a healthy dose of cringe. The nurse on duty laughed at his expression as he returned to his seat. “What, it's not a bad shot.”

“YOU SAW IT?”

“I do have twitter, you know.”

Angel groaned and buried his head into his hands as his mentor only laughed harder as his abject misery. With friends like that, who needed super villains (and not so super villains) beating the crap out of him on a daily basis?

“I hate you. I really hate you.” Was all he could manage once he came up for air. At least Leo was smiling and had some color in his cheeks. If something came out of his humiliation, then maybe it wasn't all bad.

Oh, who was he kidding – he was trying to make himself feel better with that one. He hated seeing himself on twitter.

Leo's only response was to smile and lean back on his pillow. “You know you like me, or you wouldn't show up.”

“Oh just rub it in.” But Angel was smiling as he said it. Or at least, he was. The minute his pocket started to emit a familiar frequency, that good mood went out the window. “You have GOT to be kidding me, twice in one day?!”

The psychic fished the device out of his pocket. It wasn't his phone – that was in his pants. This was something Scanner and the rest of the team used to get in contact with him. No way to trace the number and figure him out, which meant it was perfect. Normally, the name showed up on screen. Seeing it made him cock his eyebrow, though.

PT should have been sleeping, it was way past her shift...

He cleared his throat as he answered, dropping his pitch. “Yeah, PT?”

There was the sound of growling and a familiar hiss that dropped his stomach to his shoes. Despite that, the voice on the other end was deathly calm – almost monotonous. He had never heard them before, but they sounded young as they held the phone close.

“Is this Sky Rider? You need to get here now! Aunt Miri's boxed in and her powers don't work on them!”

The phone call cut out before Angel could get any details. He was left staring at the device in his hand, eyebrow cocked. When he looked up, though – that was when he saw it. Panic was written all over Leo's face as he leaned in, straining to hear.

“You know who-”

The old man beat him to it. “It's PT's niece. Get the coordinates from Scanner and go before something bad happens.”

There was iron in his voice, like there used to be before the cancer had started to eat him from the inside out. With it came the order to get going and be a big damn hero. Angel nodded as he grabbed for his bag and started out of the hospital. His bike – and his gear – was parked and waiting for him.

Damn... he had wanted to meet the kid, but this was something else. Maybe he should be careful when he wished for something next time.

#Supernova Collision Trilogy #One day I will decide if Paladin lives or dies

3 notes · View notes

abalonetea · 4 years

Text

a short piece I've been working on for a while for an au between my kids and @quoththegayven‘s oc Neveah!

this is written under the assumption that Neveah simply exists in the WoW world and is on the Compass Teams, and is just a fun little piece!

“alright. so that’s - “ Adele thumbs through the papers that she’s holding, double checking the different colored tabs on them. “ - that’s everyone’s contracts, except for Brawler. the rest of you can leave.”

Scout slings an arm around Brawler’s shoulders, grinning. “sounds like someone’s gonna get in trouble!”

“I could be down for some trouble,” chirps Brawler. she brushes a curl out of her face, tilts her head back so her mouth’s almost brushing against Scout’s jaw. “but I think you’re the one going to get busted if you don’t skedaddle.”

“she’s right. i’m on a time crunch. I have two other bases to visit still, and one of them is out of the country.” Adele pulls the right sheet out, puts it on the top of the stack.

“a'ight, a’ight, i’m goin’!” Scout pulls away, holding his hands up, but he’s grinning. “you take care, Adele. try and get a break worked in there at some point.”

Adele hums. “I won’t, but the sentiment is appreciated, thank you Scout.” and then, soon as the door closes again, and it’s just the two of them, “alright, Brawler. these files are for you. look them over, but there’s no fine print. it’s your standard affair. we need someone to make a few appearances out in Snowplow, shake a few people down, make a show of themselves.”

“I do make a pretty good show.”

“yep. that’s why we hired you. it shouldn’t take long. three, four days. two days travel. take one of the other’s personal vehicles, not a GSC car.”

“alright, babe. it’s no worries. i’ll take Scout’s.” there’s a some kind of joke hidden there, but Adele isn’t sure what. her brain catches on the word babe and trips over itself.

“right, well.” Adele was going somewhere with this. she looks back down at the top sheet, scanning the page for the important words. red highlighter, mixed in a sea of gold and blue. “there’s - Snowplow, right. okay. you’re going to set up outside of town. there’s a motel, i’ll book the room.”

Brawler is positively grinning (it’s a good look, all teeth and crinkled up eyes and a vicious sort of satisfaction that sets off al kinds of warning bells and the warning bells are loud and lovely). “yeah? I mean, I usually go for dinner first but i guess I can make an exception for you.”

“I - that’s - you know that isn’t what I mean.” Adele fidgets with her glasses, slides fingers from the plastic wing to her ear, tracing the shell of it twice over between thumb and forefinger. it eels like her whole face is on fire.

Brawler (neveah is a really pretty name and she’s a really pretty person and oh, wow, adele is not being time productive right now, fuck fuck fuck) leans forward, bracing both arms on the top of the desk. a curl falls in front of her face and Adele has to make herself look back down at the paper.

“ - Snowplow, right, and the room. it’s covered. you just - have to get there, and do what you do. try not to get too messy, but we have a clean up crew on stand by. it’s - everyone else is out of the state, so it’s just going to be you.” she adjusts her glasses again, tugs at her ear. “and - that should be everything!”

the pitch of her voice is too high on the last part.

Brawler asks, “but call you if it goes bad, right?”

is there an implication there?

Adele thinks there’s an implication there. for something.

it always sounds like Brawler’s implying that for something.

which - isn’t a bad thing. it’s just also totally not professional, and absolutely not something Adele should even be entertaining and - she’s probably reading the room wrong, anyway!

right!

(she should say right but only if something goes bad and then collect her papers and leave; she knows this and she should and she should and she knows this but fuck fuck motherfucker)

“call in when you get there,” says Adele instead. it’s totally not necessary.

Adele’s going to be busy. she’s got two more base’s to visit, and a body to dissolve in a metal bath tub full of lye.

but she kind of wants to talk to Brawler again, so.

Brawler’s brows lift. “yeah?”

“just to let me know you’re in,” says Adele, but there’s really no set reason she can give as a reason why. “i’ll give you more of a run-down on the businesses you’re visiting.”

and oh so easily, Brawler straightens up, lithe muscles, pretty hair, the sort of Intent that sparks like a buzzing honey hive. “yeah. I can do that, sweetheart.”

“ah, good, I would - right. that’s it then? I mean, yes, that’s it.” Adele shoves the papers into her briefcase with more force than needed. “you should go get that car before - Scout, right? you’re taking Scout’s? - you should go get it before he goes out.”

“probably.” Brawler backs towards the door, pauses just for a moment and - Adele’s whole face is burning because that is a look over she’s getting, for sure.

a two fingered salute, then.

“i’ll give you a call tonight,” promises Brawler. “hope you’ve got some decent pillow talk.”

and then she’s gone, her big wings spread enough they barely fit through the door without getting caught, and Adele wonders what level of fool you have to reach before taking a cyanide pill is considered a reasonable result.

#wip wow #wow writing #em tag #au of my own ocs #wow au

5 notes · View notes

thecreativeangel · 5 years

Text

aut neca aut necare: V

Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

*Please don’t plagiarize my work, thank you :3*

Summary: Peter outright refuses to talk to you at the moment. His girlfriend, on the other hand, won’t leave you alone.

Warnings: Abuse? Idk man everything’s going to shit

Words: 1.7k

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

“No Michelle, I can’t have her drive me to the conference!” you argued, mashing the phone into your ear. “‘Cause she’s busy, alright? I’ll have to miss this one.”

“Absolutely not,” MJ clipped back. “You already missed the last two and morale is low. Liz specifically told us morale was important before she left, I know she’s right and so do you. It’s my responsibility to-”

“To keep the team busy and happy,” you repeated for the millionth time, getting up to dump a small mountain of candy wrappers into the trash. “Yeah, yeah I know. Can you keep your voice down please? Please?”

She clicked her tongue. “Finally got yourself in detention?”

“Of course not!” you snapped, plopping back down. “Like I’d ever let myself get detention. I’ve gotta stay after to do some extra credit work for English, since my last essay was ‘bad’. ”

You could almost hear her squint through the phone. “What do you mean by...bad?”

“I don’t know,” you said miserably, staring at the folders of homework that were beginning to pile up on your desk. You rubbed the bridge of your nose before speaking. “I’m usually good at this shit, now I’m not. Fuckin’ go figure, I guess.”

“So that’s a definite no for decathlon?” MJ asked.

You hummed in response, ducking when an iPhone was thrown across the room like a football. A group of guys in the corner guffawed, but one of them had the decency to mouth “sorry”. You rolled your eyes. “I wish I could but...”

“But your mom’s too busy to drive you,” she finished dejectedly, then sighed. “Why’s she been so damn stubborn lately? Is she giving you a hard time again? My parents could talk to her if that would help.”

“No,” you said quickly. “No, no it’s fine. I can go to the next one, she promised.”

MJ was skeptical, you could tell. “Mhmm, why don’t you ride the bus with the team? It only costs a few bucks.”

“I’m busy MJ,” you deflected. Which wasn’t a total lie. The stack of due-tomorrow papers and “small” projects was growing higher with each class. And then there was the ever looming threat posed by some group of arms dealers talking to an alien (a fucking alien! Like Thor!) So yeah, you were busy. “If I get all this done by the end of the month I promise I’ll go to the next meeting.”

Michelle was quiet for a bit. “Okay. But if you leave me like Parker did last year-”

“By all means, you can kill me yourself,” two sets of footsteps entered Ms. Baker’s crowded room. You glanced up out of boredom in time to see a brunette boy whirl around, march back out of the classroom and slam the door behind him. Your heartbeat spiked sharply, blocking out what MJ was saying over the phone. Oh no…

“MJ I’ve got to be very quiet now,” you whispered urgently.

"What? Why? (YN) - "

You hung up.

Kimberly shrugged at Peter’s antics and strode the the empty teacher’s desk as if she hadn’t seen you. You kept your eyes glued to the desk as she rummaged through Ms. Baker’s files. Reaching with shaky hands for a pencil, you slid a random paper in front of you and read it all the way through, not retaining a word. Then you read it again. And again, until the soft clink of her flats on the floor started again. She was leaving.

“Hey.”

You hadn’t realized how strong your grip was on the pencil…

Until it snapped in half.

“Wuh-” you said stupidly. “Heeey. Hello.”

Kimberly cocked her head at the desk next to you. “Can I sit down?”

“Uh…” you dropped the snapped mechanical pencil into your backpack, fully aware of the giant voice crack you just experienced. Like, a “Ned talking to cute girl” level voice crack. And dammit, you cursed at yourself. That pencil was expensive. “S-sure.”

“I was going to study here with Peter, but he pretty much refused to come inside,” your gaze darted away from her, only making her eyebrows rise farther up her forehead. “Seemed kind of mad. You guys have a fight?”

You made the mistake of looking her in the face. “No.”

“Really?” she flicked a decorative cactus pin on her bag. “So why’s he so mad at you?”

You opened your mouth and closed it, repeated this at least three times. Her eyes shone with the same repressed anger as they had when she identified you while on patrol with Spidey. That time she shot at you? Remember that fun night? Anyway, she managed to give you a deadpan stare all while adjusting the straps on her bag. “Reasons,” you answered simply.

“Okay, don’t lie,” she leaned in with a knowing look. “Something happened, and he’s been hanging out with me a ton more than you lately. Did you hurt him?”

You couldn’t look at her without imagining a loaded gun pointed at your skull so how was she talking so casually? “I...don’t have to tell you. I’m not required to tell you. Does that answer the question?”

“Nope,” she said calmly. “It makes you look like an asshole, though.”

“No offense, really, but it’s none of your business-and I don’t know what he’s told you and-”

“A lot,” Kim said. Your eye twitched.

“Well t-then you know what I d-did,” you’d begun to stutter. Badly. “So how m-much was he snitched about?”

She shrugged her shoulders and gave her (Korean? You couldn’t see from your angle) flag pin one final flick. “Well, not that much. You’re sarcastic, or so I’m told. Nice enough, but you got very violent when that one guy bullied Michelle,” she looked up from her bag. “Oh! You’re nosy.”

Your leg bounced up and down as if it were spasming. So your best friend was talking ‘bout you behind your back. Well, part of your brain blamed him, and the other part still replayed the “dead parent” exchange every night before bed. And yes, you didn’t get much sleep these days. “Peter said I’m nosy?”

“No, but you can’t seem to get off my family’s ass,” Kim scoffed. “So I just assumed. What- am I wrong?”

“Y-yes,” you cleared your throat. “Yes. Very wrong. Sorry, but I’m not the one who’s smuggling weapons.”

She glanced around her to make sure no one heard and looked back at you with stony brown eyes. The group of idiots in the corner were still loud enough to mask the conversation, a herd of girls gathered around their friend were giggling. Ms. Baker still wasn’t back.

“I don’t think you understand my circumstances, hon,” she hissed, a tense smile stretching over her features. You saw a single boy in the corner, peering at the two of you from behind a small book but he’d looked away when Kim smiled. “You think Midtown is cheap? Think my dad wants to endanger our family for the freaks who buy his shit?”

You shook you head frantically. Her story sounded all to familiar. “I wouldn’t have known if it weren’t dangerous. The guy you’re selling them to-”

“Pays well,” she clipped. “Doesn’t matter who he is or where he’s from- he pays us generously. In the long run it’s more than we could ever give back.”

“You have no idea what he’ll do with them,” you whispered fiercely. “He disappears after you talk to him and that’s just okay to you? That man-”

She laughed bitterly. “He’s not a man and you know that.”

“He- he’s…” your breathing was becoming laboured, an oncoming panic attack. “And you don’t see anything, I don’t know- wrong with that? What th-”

Kim latched onto your wrist, making the wind leave your lungs. “Did you think it was wrong to leave my mother in that building?” she asked quietly, scraping her nails down your skin. Hot tears brimmed your lower lashes and you clenched your teeth to stop the screech that bubbled in your throat. Thum-thump...thum-thump...

Still you nodded; yes.

“So you’re admitting it was a mistake on your part?” she smiled kindly. Her thumb delicately traced the protruding veins on your wrist (thum-thump!) Once again, you nodded hastily. What else were you to do, scream? And for who? The jackasses who threw someone’s phone? The bitches who were currently showing off their hickeys? The single, lonely, creepy guy and his copy of Animal Farm?

“But you still left her there,” she said sadly. The nail of her thumb pressed dangerously on your central vein, the heartbeat growing weaker and somehow louder in your head. A nauseating, throbbing pulse echoed in your ears. Thum-thump!

She dug her nail into the vein. Thum-thump! Thum-thump! Thum-thump!

“I wish it was different,” Kim murmured. You were startled by her suddenly glassy orbs. “If you’d saved her, maybe dad would’ve stopped selling those things. He used to only sell guns, y’know? But that was never enough money...”

Thum-thump! Thum-thu--

She threw your aching arm away. “Whoops- forgot about that.”

You cradled the wrist close to your chest, watching her with feral eyes and ragged breathing. Kim had the gall to pat your other arm sympathetically, ignoring the way your body flinched. “You won’t tell anyone about this, will you?” she asked, blinking innocently.

“What if I d-do?”

You’d rather drown in the Hudson than hear her answer that.

Thankfully, she never does. Kimberly’s full lips curled up in a half smile, half snarl. You don’t get an reply, though you don’t really need one. Truth was, if this “buyer” was as powerful as he seemed, there was no limit to what he could do. Kim knew this all too well. She stood up, steadied her bag on one shoulder and practically bounced away.

Her flats clicked merrily with each step.

AN: Holy fucking shit it’s been 5 months god damn shit fuck fuck sorry?

Tags: @4-a-m, @miss-glitch, @runs-with-sciss0rs, @lubrielx, @kaitlynthehuman, @b-lyn-k, @hotsocke, @therealwatermelon, @shipping-the-unsinkable-ship, @vivideley, @rosieredcheeks, @everythingthatisrandom, @mcheung0314, @spiderdudeparker, @lou-la-lou

28 notes · View notes

yeshawrites · 5 years

Text

AGENCY, CHAPTER 3. You can find all other works of mine here. NOTES: This story is not always friendly. It contains some graphic content, brief mentions of non-sexual nudity, murder, death, and plenty of language. Please be advised before you read it.

Arjuna ‘Dogwood’ Saravanan bent over his workstation, carefully sorting bullets. A touch shy of six feet and skinny as a rail, he shoved back the round glasses perched on his nose with a finger and absently brushed away a curling strand of his black hair. “Don’t worry,” he whispered to the bullets as he loaded them each into crates stamped with specific agent’s names. Dusting them, he inspected the tiny blessing he’d inscribed earlier on each one with loving care. “It’s scary out there, I know. But you’ll be okay. You’re all blessed bullets--The Lord’s Bullets, instruments of His divine will.”

And then the doorway to his office slammed open.

“Dooooogwooooood, darling.” Dogwood jumped and sent the .22 LRs he was blessing skittering across his desk. He had two options: accept the tempting pillowy-softness he knew was coming, or jump out the window now and head for the state line. In his moment of paralyzed indecision, a pair of thin, strong arms caught him squarely around his shoulders. “Dogwood, mon amour, my dearest.” A sultry voice purred into his ear. Too late. Dogwood seriously considered playing dead until she released him. “H-hello, Aishe.” He answered, and cursed his treasonous tongue. He would teach it a lesson later. In a brief moment of panic, he watched as one of the bullets tipped and skittered off the edge of the desk, no doubt in a fearful bid for freedom. He felt for them; demons were scary business. Doubtless they were frightened of the life to come. “I th-th-think I need to g-g-get that.”

“Don’t worry, dollface. I’ll grab that for you.” His worst nightmare appeared like a vision of gold silks and ink black, every tiny fragment of her jewelry sparkling the way he knew she had to from head to toe. God help him. He’d repented so much and still he couldn’t stop sacrificing himself to her attentions. “You have to scoot back your chair, though. Did you get the update on Link?”

“The update?” He managed dryly, sliding back from the desk. “What update?”

“We have a meeting, dollface.” She dropped to her knees and Dogwood wondered why God was testing him. “New guy arrived yesterday. His name is Anthony. Seems like a real sweetheart. Did you meet him?”

“O-o-oh? N-no, I didn't.” Talking about other people was safe. “To t-t-take Vince’s p-place?”

“Mhmmm. Yeah, he’ll be good at point.” She slipped back out and her butt brushed against his shin. Dogwood wondered if dying was a reasonable reaction. “Come on. You want me to help you put all these crates on a cart?”

Please. Never leave. “N-no,” he managed thickly, doing the sign of the cross a thousand times in his head. “I’ll b-be just fine. Thank you for your offer, Aishe.”

She grinned and set the bullet on his desk, dusting off her knees. “Well, at least now I can say I’ve been under your desk for you.”

Oh. Dogwood’s brain-selves screamed and tried to force the unbidden mental image into a very small box in a very small drawer in a very small chest in the back of his mind where only spiders lurked and like hell he was going back there. He had vows to take. A deep breath, and he reminded himself of his future. Unfortunately, Aishe was extremely commanding. She stood there still, a lioness over her prey, a finger curling her hair and biting her lip way too enticingly at him. “I’ve been a bad girl, Father,” she giggled. “I need confession.” “I’m n-n-not ordained yet, Aishe.” He adjusted in his chair far too quickly and it tipped, crashing to the hard floor with a teeth-chattering thud. She yelped in surprise. “Are you okay?” Rushing to his aid, she helped him right himself and inspected his head carefully, long black nails dancing over his skin and feeling him out. “I th-think so,” He responded, comfortable in her presence at last. “You’re just bumped.” Aishe peered carefully into his eyes and touched his hair, trying to straighten it. “If you get a headache, please see Rose, okay?” “Okay.”

Once more she smiled at him, and he wondered--not for the first time--if her golden lipstick washed off under holy water. “Well, I’m gonna go get the new guy and squirrel him into the meeting room. See you then, dollface.”

“R-right.”

She’d been right. He checked Link, the Agency’s communication bulletin, and there it was: they had a four o’clock meeting. He didn't bother reading the details. It was already three forty-eight, so he wheeled out his cart and dragged each of the crates onto its wobbly surface. The wheels rattled ominously, but he was so used to pushing it that the creaking and banging hardly bothered him. After seven years he still was not used to the discomforting smallness of the through-ways in the Agency. Security had assured him several times the design was purely strategic, but that did not stop him from scurrying as quickly as possible through them.

Aishe and someone he assumed was the new guy emerged ahead of him. The comment she’d made about him serving well as ‘point’ made sense now; he was a wall of muscle, towering above the others even as he tried to make himself smaller. His hair was a sandy brown, thick eyebrows set over equally dark eyes. Dogwood wondered for a half a second what it felt like to be powerful.

“Dogwood! My boy!”

The priest lurched as another man joined him. Jeremy grinned and wolfishly clapped him on the back, his curly hair bouncing. “It’s all good, dude. Just me. No girls. What’s happening?”

“N-n-nothing much.” Jeremy loved the gym and it smelled like he’d just been. Dogwood did his best not to breathe too deeply.

They bustled past the garage doorway just as a young Korean girl burst through, Biggie Smalls blaring through earbuds flapping out of her purse.

“Tiffany!” Aishe purred, latching onto her. “Not late yet?” She asked breathlessly. “I just came from the restaurant.” Their youngest member at only nineteen, Sun-Hi Tiffany Yoo split her time between the Agency and her parents Korean grill down in Richmond. Her long, thick black hair was wound up in a bun, and she had short nails with chipped blue polish and thick, clog-like shoes. She usually wore skinny jeans or capris and a plain t shirt. Today she wore dark denim pedal-pushers, a grey v cut and a blue windbreaker. “No, not yet. We’ve got maybe thirty seconds.” “Oh good. I can’t be late again.” “Darling, you have the best excuse to be late. You’re the busiest of all of us.” “Yeah.” Tiffany huffed and nearly found her foot under Dogwood’s cart wheel. Gasping, she skittered along the hallway closer to Jeremy. “Bro, why do you smell!? Haven’t you taken a bath?” Dogwood tuned them out. It was hard to hear over the rattling of ammo anyway. Into the meeting room they turned, the large, dark carpet inside absorbing all the light. It was a suffocating room with only a large, round, black table and plush chairs that rolled. Xi was already inside. “Xi, doll!” Aishe laughed and slid from Sawyer’s arms, bounding over to hug him. The older man smiled and placed his hands high up on her shoulders. “How are you, Daddy?” “Be professional, Aishe,” Xi warned her kindly. Dogwood’s eyes strayed to a darker corner of the room where another man sat. His dark, shaved head glinting in the light, Joshua Marcus III never looked friendly. On paper he was another agent just like them. Officially, he held the ominous position of their Agency’s Watcher.

His presence was a necessary precaution. Only once in the history of the Agency had a branch gone rogue; a Demon infiltrated the ranks of the Western branch and used their Chief as a puppet until its discovery nearly a decade later. Ever since then the Outside Agent was a requirement. Usually a failed FBI recruit or particularly promising trainee at a police academy, an agent was assigned from D.C. after rigorous mental testing. They were required to report back to the federal offices (referred to as the Rock) once every week--once a day if anything suspicious or even slightly ‘off’ happened. Often the Watcher lived near the Agency rather than inside, and reported back to D.C. monthly for additional testing, training, and reevaluations. Joshua had been with them for six years and had yet to soften his relationship with his peers. The only person he even seemed to like was Desch--and Desch, for his part, didn't seem to like anyone. The seniormost agent leaned in a chair beside his spotter Christiane, the two as mismatched as could be. He was slanted and bore an almost frightening resemblance to a hawk, and she looked very much like a golden retriever made human and sour, her silky blonde hair tied back behind her nape.

“Christiane!” Aishe cried out enthusiastically. Christiane tried to shrink behind her partner. He was not sympathetic. “Comment allez-vous?” “Ça va,” she murmured, sinking further into her seat.

Fortunately she was spared by Verna’s arrival. She barged in the meeting room with a gym bag slung over her shoulder, still dressed for her workout and somehow smelling better than Jeremy. Flinging her stuff to the side, she eyed the clock and managed a fist pump. “Just under the wire. And if I’ve made it on time, then the unlucky bastards today are…”

“Rose and Cass aren’t coming today,” Xi answered her.

“Alright, fine, then that just leaves--”

Their mechanic Sevon Williams hopped through the door, the only one aside from their leadership who’d made any attempt to look nice. His long dreads were tied back, a clean button up and some jeans the perfect accent. Verna checked him in the side with her gym bag anyway.

“That guy! Lucky you weren’t in basic with me, Sevy, or you’d be doing burpies ‘til you cried.” She bore down on a chair fearlessly close to Joshua and Xi and dropped her bag under the table. “Please,” Xi motioned for some order. “Everyone have a seat. Thank you for the ammo, Dogwood, I’m sure everyone will help themselves to their share.” “Ammo? Thanks! I was thinking of running by to ask you about that.” “Verna, please.” He stretched in his seat and sighed, pulling his long black hair back into a ponytail. “I called this meeting because I wanted to talk to you all about a very serious spike of activity in the area.” A rustle passed around the room. Most of the scanners had been quiet for close to three months. Activity was bad, but lots of it was worse--and likely meant something nasty was happening. Xi drank heavily from a water bottle and rocked back in his chair. “I just returned from a crime scene, and I have something to show you all.” Reaching into his pocket, Xi withdrew a small black box. Designed by their R&D specialist, it was a reader that they set on the scenes of crimes wherever they were called. It read levels of otherworldly interference in the air (most of them had no familiarity on what exactly that meant), analyzed them, and shot back a small glow on the front. Different colors all signified different species: green was for Sirens, red was for Vampires, and so on. The front of the box he withdrew was a bright, sickening purple. Demons. “This isn’t the first one, either. Our readings from the perimeter instruments have picked up at least two in the immediate area.” Rubbing his tired eyes, Xi finally added, “And a third one. But Cassidy thinks it might be a Level Three--a demon Prince.”

“Has Miss Begbie gotten that mass tracker working?” Joshua asked thinly. “She stated last quarter she would have it operating within two months. Last I heard, it still wasn’t functional.”

“Seeing as she is creating a brand new piece of equipment, I would give it time,” Xi answered, his voice equally tense. “She’s doing as well as she can with her responsibilities. Point being, we are all going to up our training and defenses. No one is going out on a mission without a partner, alright?” Xi rubbed his tired eyes, a long, drawn out pause following. “I’m not losing any of you to possibilities.” “Level Three, huh?” Aishe asked finally. The sultry smoothness of her voice slid into an equally unreadable neutral. “Alright then. I wonder what they want here?” “Do they ever want anything specific?” Jeremy scoffed. “Oosually,” Christiane murmured, her accent thick. “Zey oosually ‘ave some sort of plan.” “I can still strip on Tuesdays and Thursdays, right?” Aishe interjected, playfulness seeping back into her voice. “I don’t need an escort for that, do I? Some of you all might scare the patrons, unless it’s my lovely Dogwood, who might need a little show. Seen tits, honey?”

“I can do it,” Verna responded, sparing the terrorized Dogwood the ordeal of conversation. “And I’ll bet big and burly over there wouldn't mind either. Right, Anthony?”

Joshua rapped his knuckles on the table impatiently for attention. A huge purple welt marred his forehead. It looked painful. “So what’s the plan for dealing with these threats. You know, our job?” “We haven’t even located the threats yet,” Xi answered patiently. “We need a location.” “You’ve got at least one hell of a hunter.” Joshua motioned at Desch, who did not look happy at the call-out. “Send them hunting.” “I’d rather not send any agents into the potential gaping trap of a Level Three, thank you,” the Chief answered testily. “I think I’ll wait until--” “Until we’ve got a situation?” “Well then!” Tiffany clapped her hands together, “Look at that ceiling. What a lovely ceiling. Do we have someone cleaning that? They do a great job.”

Sevon smacked his palm on the table. “If we have any spare monitors, Chief, I could put them in the cars. That way our patrols could have more than eyesight to give them a little warning, if you feel me. How about I install monitors in the car, we figure out where the hot spot on all these energies are comin’ from, and we can triangulate a plan from there? Seems more solid than just doin’ a crazy hunt is all, and safer.”

Xi motioned at Joshua for an opinion, his slanted eyes boring into Joshua’s dark, large ones. The Watcher nodded his terse assent. “That sounds perfect, Sevon. Please do that.” “Can we all go, then?” Tiffany asked meekly. Xi nodded and waved a hand. “I want a record of who is with who at any given time. There’s twelve of us, so there shouldn’t be an issue. Joshua, you’re on reserve should we need you again. Thank you going out this morning.” As the agents filtered out, Xi locked eyes with the Watcher. “I’m assuming you’ll be sending a scathing report of this to the Rock?” “Maybe.” He smoothed his bald head and stared narrowly at Xi. “You’ve always run a funny ship.” “And a tight one.” Waiting until the door shut, Xi snapped, “Send them a scathing report when you actually have something to bitch about. Then we might get somewhere.” The other man did not answer. Huffing and shaking his head, he slid out the door after the others.

#Agency #writeblr #my writing #original fiction #3.#Monster of the Week #Xi #Aishe #Anthony #Cassandra #Joshua #Tiffany #Jeremy #Sevon #Barry #Rose #Desch #Christiane #Dogwood #Arjuna

6 notes · View notes

phantomrose96 · 7 years

Text

A Breach of Trust: Chapter 23

(Act 1: Chapter 1-9 )

(Act 2: Chapter 10-18 )

(Act 3: Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24)

When Tetsuo slipped back into the office on the morning of October 10th, everything sat exactly as he’d had left it, as though nothing had changed. The papers on his desk had been left untouched. They were printed copies of casefiles Tetsuo had been picking through before he left work on the evening he encountered Reigen, the evening he’d entered the Mogami house, the evening he’d learned the truth of what had been happening to his hazy memory, of what had been inside him.

Tetsuo skimmed a hand over the papers, as though to check that they were even real. They didn’t seem real, nor did they look it. They felt like they belonged in a photograph, filed away in some strictly “before” time of his life, when now he was so terrifyingly mired in “after”. The two weren’t compatible. Nothing could possibly exist from the time when he felt safe.

“Hey stranger. First day on the job?”

Except for Isa.

Tetsuo glanced up from his papers. Isa stood at the edge of his desk, weight leaning slightly into the hip she used to support the stack of papers held between her body and right arm. The stack was easily two inches thick, and Isa did not use her right hand to support it. Both hands were occupied with near identical Styrofoam white cups. Tetsuo craned his neck to see into them. The contents of one were a swirly, milky beige. The other was black.

“Sorry lady. I may be new, but I’m happily married,” Tetsuo answered, catching up with her teasing.

“Haha,” Isa responded, her voice flat. “You’re not my type anyway, beardy.”

Tetsuo raised his hand to his chin, skimming. Stubble grated against his fingers like tiny Velcro hooks. “Jun says I scratch her face up.”

“Then shave it.”

“Maybe I like it.”

“Here,” Isa extended her left hand, offering the cup of black coffee. “A peace offering.”

“Station coffee, really Isa?”

“The one and only.”

Tetsuo took the cup, feigning offense, before letting his shoulders slump down in resignation. He took a sip from the cup. “It’s nothing like what I can grind for myself at home. I already regret being back.”

Isa readjusted. She swapped her cup of coffee to her free hand and hoisted the papers higher against her hip. She set her own cup to her lips, the lethally sugary one, and drank half of it in one go.

“Tastes fine to me.”

“You poison yours with sugar. You’re masking the fact that it’s bad.”

“My new partner isn’t this hard to please.”

“Yeah, how’s it been working with Ando?” Tetsuo asked.

“Hmm?”

“Haruki Ando. The younger man you left me for.”

“Oh is that what happened.”

“I get it. I’m not as young and spry as I once was. 32 is ancient. You need some excitement in your police career.” Tetsuo drew his words out, mockingly singsong. “Just toss me into the old folks home where I can waste away playing bingo and envisioning what sort of happiness Ando brings you.”

“Haruki Ando is like my baby brother. Every day I fight the urge to send him to bed with a cup of warm milk.”

“Oh? Then who am I like to you?”

“Also my baby brother. I’m older than you. Also Mr. Dead-at-32, what exactly are you implying about someone who’s 34?” Isa raised her cup to her lips again, a light smile betraying her jest. She drained her cup and dropped the Styrofoam into Tetsuo’s trash bin. “Working with Ando has been fine. He’s at least got energy, but I can’t ever take it easy. Like I’m serious about the little brother thing. He’s pretty much a kid. I have to take charge all the time. It’s exhausting.”

“Didn’t you raise like five younger siblings?”

“Four. And yes. And it sucked. That’s why I’m your partner, so I can mooch off your take-the-reigns attitude. I miss sleeping in the passenger’s seat.”

“You’re gonna have to bear it a bit longer. I’m just back on desk duty.” Tetsuo spread his arms, motioning to his desk in full. “Sitting my ass in this chair and not moving all day, that’s my job prospects for the future. I’m still on physical recovery or something, no field work. You’re stuck with Ando for now.”

“I didn’t say it was bad working with him.”

“Admit it, you miss me.”

“He misses you more. He asks about you incessantly.”

“Oh?”

“Officer Isari this, Officer Isari that. When we run out of small talk he just asks random crap about you. He wanted to know if you wrestled a bear once.”

“Didn’t I?”

“No, you didn’t. You fired a blank to scare it off.”

“Right. Shoot. I’ve been embellishing that story.”

“He believed it. Ando admires the hell out of you. He styles his hair to be like yours.”

“Really?”

“You never noticed?”

“No!”

“Well go find him. The hair gel’s not a coincidence.”

“I like Ando’s hair. I should ask him what gel he uses.”

“He’d be over the moon to tell you. And then he’d ask you a hundred follow up questions. I’m hoping he starts pestering you now instead of me.”

“Good! I need to get my bear cred back.”

Isa snorted, and her shoulders relaxed a bit. She shifted her papers from one hip to the other, her smile easier now.

“It was nice having the coffee pot actually full while you were gone Tetsuo, but I think I prefer having you back. I won’t keep staring into empty space every time I look up at your desk.”

With a small resigned smile, Tetsuo set his own cup to his lips and drank. He scarcely tasted it. He felt too disconnected from it all. The unfaltering hum of fluorescent lights. The muffled rumble of voices from behind closed doors. The officers of the Seasoning City Precinct were assigned to desks in a shared office space, broken up into islands of two or three a piece. Isa’s desk stood perpendicular to Tetsuo’s, part of the same island, and the desk directly across from his belonged to an officer who’d been on maternity leave for some months.

Isa felt real enough—she’d been part of it all, or at least she’d been present, even if she didn’t know exactly what had happened in the Mogami house. She knew that Tetsuo’s sick leave had been a lie. But beyond their island of three desks—his, Isa’s, and the absent woman’s—reality dropped off. The tall gray filing cabinets that stretched to the ceiling felt distant. The fast staccato clanking noise, as cabinets were pulled out along their tracks, seemed unreachable. The printer, stiff and white bodied, churning out hot papers for those who milled around it. That wasn’t quite real. The coffee pot set up on the counter behind them, where the scuffed tile flooring had tainted darker with years of clumsy spills. Idle chatter. Phone ringing. Buzzing. Unrendered. Temporary. Static.

Purgatory.

Waiting in fear of the moment Mogami finally--

“Tetsuo.”

“Huh?” Tetsuo snapped back to attention.

He blinked, and found his eyes unadjusted. Everything looked bleached and blurry in the few moments that he lost focus. He set his eyes to Isa instead, and took her in as real. Loose ponytail holding her dark hair back behind her neck, with a few stray strands framing her expressionless face. Dark eyes, piercing but not unkind, beneath a brow that scrunched slightly upward in concern. Isa placed her coffee cup down on Tetsuo’s desk and leaned her hand into the wood grain.

“I zoned out a moment.” Tetsuo gestured weakly to the coffee in his hand. “I was thinking about my dark roast at home.”

Isa nodded, and the silence fell back over them.

“Are you okay, Tetsuo?”

“Yeah. Just adjusting again.”

“Because if you’re not—“

“—A slow start—“

“—I need to know. I’m your—“

“—My partner, I know—“

“—partner, yeah. Okay. So you’ll tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“If something’s wrong.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah I’ll tell you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Okay so I’ll ask again—“

“—Isa—“

“Are you alright, Tetsuo?”

“Come on, Isa. 7 am? You can’t make me—can’t pressure a guy to just—bear his soul before 7 am.” Tetsuo raised his coffee cup. “Before I’ve even finished my coffee.”

“That’s at least your third cup.”

“Fourth.”

“Tetsuo.” Isa stepped forward and she set a hand to Tetsuo’s shoulder, forcing eye contact. “What happened to you? What’s wrong?”

“It’s…difficult.”

“I’m good at difficult. So are you.”

“Not this kind of difficult.”

“What kind of difficult?”

“The kind that makes it hard to talk about.”

“I won’t judge you. I know about your fantasy elf seductor roleplay group, I can’t possibly judge you for anything after that.”

“That’s a Dungeons and Dragons campaign.”

“That’s not my point.”

“And it’s a lot cooler than it used to—“

“Tetsuo.” Isa’s grip tightened, and Tetsuo looked her in the eyes. They were clear, calm, imploring. “Please…?”

And most importantly, her eyes were stable. Stable still after seeing Mogami’s corpse, the thing that had broken Tetsuo into pieces. Stable after seeing his own breakdown. Suddenly the anchor that Tetsuo had prided himself on being for so long.

Tetsuo wondered how many times Isa had looked toward his desk in the last few months, and how many times it had been Mogami staring back.

Tetsuo breathed in deep, and he felt the exhaustion rattle through his ribcage, the roll of dread that washed him head to toe after forcing it down for so long. There was a pit in his stomach that he lived with permanently now, and hot flashes of panic that burst down his spine at each remembrance of Mogami’s eyes, his sallow skin, the red barrier, and the feel of cold steel against his throat.

“Um…So…” Tetsuo muttered, slowly, quietly. “I’m trying to think where to start…”

“Take your time.”

“You know how I’ve been complaining about feeling spacey for a while…?”

“Officer Isari!”

Both Isa and Tetsuo jolted. Isa stepped aside, angling her body to follow the voice. As she moved aside, Tetsuo’s eyes connected with Officer Haruki Ando. He was a good head shorter than both Isa and Tetsuo, his chestnut hair fluffed out, held with a bit of visible gel. His green eyes radiated with an energy that seemed practically fake. Tetsuo had seen nothing but somber faces. It was hard to process a show of genuine happiness.

“You’re back! You… you look much better than the last time I saw you. That’s a relief. Are you… back for good?”

“Ah, I think so,” Tetsuo answered, rubbing at the back of his neck. He avoided looking at Isa, his attention fully fixed on Haruki’s green eyes. “I just um…hell of a fever. Doctor never saw that sort of thing set in so fast. I’m fine though. Not contagious. Just ah…taking it easy.”

Haruki nodded, and Tetsuo watched that flicker of concern cross his face. “So um…the Kageyama case?”

“That…fever dream. Fever nightmare? Really um, I’d appreciate if you didn’t dwell on it. Or mention it.”

“Oh, oh oh of course not no!” Haruki answered. He shook his head and crossed his arms in an X over his chest. “Not a soul of course. Officer Maki said over the telephone—I mean I wouldn’t talk about this anyway. So just. Um. There’s no lead on the Kageyama case…?”

Tetsuo shook his head. He offered up a sad smile. “None…”

“Okay,” Haruki answered, a bit deflated. “Well it was um, it was a pleasure being Officer Maki’s partner.” Haruki shifted his attention to Isa, and bowed shallowly. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“No ‘ma’am’ I’m only like 30.”

“Sorry. Thank you Officer Maki!”

“I’m still your partner Ando.”

“It was a pleasure to—huh?”

“Yeah. Tetsuo’s doing desk work. You’re still stuck with me.”

“I wouldn’t call it being stuck.”

“See I can’t deal with this kind of optimism.” Isa pointed to Haruki, chin tilted toward Tetsuo before she fixed her eyes back on Haruki. “How do you do it Ando?”

Haruki threaded his fingers together, eyes shifting between Tetsuo and Isa. “I’m just…happy to be working with experienced people I respect.”

Isa let out a sigh. “I can’t even tease him.”

“Well, you guys should go work on your teamwork. I’ve got desk duty, with like a million things I’m supposed to sort and email and file. I think I’m on phone duty later.” Tetsuo made a face. “I’ll need more coffee.”

Tetsuo stood, and he side-stepped Haruki and Isa on his way to the filing cabinet.

“Oh, um…” Isa trailed off. “I worked nightshift, so I get off at noon, but do you want to grab lunch when I get off?”

“Sure, um, if I’m not swamped with work.” Tetsuo answered, guarded. “I’m probably going to be slow these first couple days getting used to new filing duties.”

“Officer Maki I’ll get lunch with you…”

Tetsuo stopped listening. He headed across the room to the filing cabinet set against the far wall. Tetsuo leafed through the cabinet, filled only with single cards identifying case files and numbers. The buzz of the lights filled his ears again, the distant roll of a phone, mumbling chatter that didn’t concern him. He ran the file until he found a specific card, with a specific file, and pulled it from the drawer.

He took the long way to the back room, hugging the walls away from his desk. His key unlocked the back door, which gave way to a room dark and chilled and just a bit damp. Filing cabinets lined every wall, floor to ceiling, identified by number. It was the back room where cold cases went to die.

Tetsuo retrieved the ladder, and set it down on the dust-strewn ground. He climbed it three shelves up, to a section of files relatively recent compared to the archives that went back decades and decades (Mogami’s case was in those decades-back files, somewhere.)

He stopped at the drawer whose label matched his card. He pulled it out fully, and leafed through it until his clammy hands settled on Kageyama, Shigeo.

Tetsuo pulled the file out. He dusted it off and weighed it in his hands.

He dismounted the ladder, and unlatched the tab holding the file together. Sterile report after sterile report filled the file, printed, dated—statements from the parents, from the teachers, neighbors, the little brother. Tetsuo’s eyes skimmed over the singular mention of “Mogami” from Ritsu Kageyama, and he shuddered.

Tetsuo lifted the step ladder and dragged it to the back of the room, where the concrete walls and floor sapped the heat, and the singular hanging light above swayed with the air currents. He drew out a filing cabinet whose edges had rusted with decades of wet summers, and pulled out the file whose corners had soured yellow with time.

Tetsuo’s finger tips, cold, seemed to spark electric at the touch.

Mogami, Keiji.

…

Mob had fallen asleep on the couch again, a tv movie-turned-infomercial playing as a hum to the background. The sales pitch was smooth, and quiet, and created a sort of calm to the small apartment that Reigen couldn’t quite describe. Lights low, Mob snoring quietly beneath the two couch blankets, a near-silent sales pitch for jewelry filling the empty air as Reigen sat at the table, laptop open, researching restaurants.

It was an atmosphere that Reigen could sink into, so starkly different from the evenings he’s grown used to—lights off, cold brightness of the television flickering through late-night programs surreal and jarring, falling asleep in a haze, blurry and drunk on the couch, so that when he woke the next morning contorted on the couch, he could not even properly remember falling asleep.

Reigen stood from the table.

At 6:00 pm, with a bit of excitement, and a bit of trepidation, Reigen nudged Mob awake.

Usually he let Mob keep his strange hours of wakefulness and rest, since Reigen himself had little set schedule, and a rather weak appetite, and found it easier most of the time to just adjust to Mob’s whims. Today though, he woke Mob, who looked up for a few seconds of blurry confusion before fully lifting his head and yawning.

“Reigen?”

“Come on Mob, wake up. We’re going out.”

Mob glanced to the window. His brow creased.

“It’s dark out already.”

“Yeah, but it’s not that late. It’s only 6.”

“Where are we going?”

“Out to eat. To a restaurant. It’s this ramen place that’s walking distance from my office. I used to go there a lot years ago, but it got kinda outside my budget. Eating out in general. Food kinda got outside my budget, actually. But I mean, today’s special, Mob.”

“Special?”

“I was looking up other restaurants, but a lot of them are pricey. Not great yelp reviews either. Not that I take those at face value really since I figure most people only log on to yelp if they want to complain, right? I mean that’s what I’d do. I think. If I ever went out to eat. Anyway though this ramen place is great. It’s kind of a bar really, with a drape over the front. Hole-in-the-wall kind of place. But hey, cool crisp fall air like this? It’ll be nice. Cool breeze and hot ramen. I wonder if the bar tender still remembers me.”

Reigen moved toward the front door, where he lifted his light coat from the rack and pulled it on, one arm at a time. He bent down to get his shoes, and found Mob had caught up behind him, grabbing the small pair of white sneakers set beside Reigen’s loafers near the door. Reigen slipped his shoes on, and in the time it took for Mob to tie his own laces, Reigen grabbed the colorfully-wrapped parcel from beside the coat rack and slipped it under his coat.

…

On the drive over, Reigen kept the windows cracked. Cool dry night air swirled through the car, the glimmer of streetlights, shop signs, and taillights speckling them through the windows. Reigen threw sidelong glances to Mob, who had nearly pressed himself against the passenger’s side window, watching the flurry of night life lights go by. It was the first glimpse Mob had gotten of the night since he and Reigen first met, and given the state Mob had been in, Reigen figured it was probably the first chance Mob had gotten to appreciate any of it.

Reigen pulled down a side street, and parked the car in an empty spot along the side of the road, and decided to ignore the parking meter on the gamble that no one was checking them.

“Come on Mob, this way.”

Reigen motioned with his shoulder to the other side of the street. The back of apartment buildings rose like monoliths—cold solid brick exteriors with fire escapes climbing like segmented iron snakes. Smoke furled out dense and heavy from the roofs, and over top them was the gentle glow of the cityscape beyond. Reigen pointed to the bottom, dead center, to the patterned red and orange drapes that fell to about shoulder height, hiding behind them a warmly-lit interior that smelled rich and dense with broth. As they crossed the street, laughter boomed from inside.

Reigen brushed the drape away first, and Mob came in under his shoulder, glimmering eyes set to the hanging paper lanterns, the handful of people seated along the length of the bar, some huddled near a glowing red heater, others slurping ramen up between chop stick guides, two older men with scraggly white beards clanging shots glasses together and singing off key until they lost their breath to laughter. Reigen followed his line of sight to the woks on the stoves in back, pork and egg roasting, crackling, simmering beside the vats of noodles dipped in broth brought near to boiling. Two men dressed in white attended to the stove, yelling heartily to each other over the buzz of the patrons.

Reigen stooped slightly, so that he stood close to Mob’s ear. “This okay?”

Mob hesitated, his wide eyes shooting about, possibly overwhelmed. Slowly, he nodded. “It smells incredible.”

Reigen brightened. He took the nearest stool, and angled himself away from the drunk singing men. He nodded to the one open beside it, which Mob climbed into. A gust of air whipped through the curtain, and Mob shivered, though he hardly seemed to notice. His eyes drank in everything around him.

“Two ramen please, with all the toppings you usually put on them, plus extra pork. Today we’re celebrating.” Reigen spoke to one of the white-clad men, who answered with a nod. Reigen turned to Mob. “Do you know why we’re celebrating?”

Mob focused back on Reigen, who leaned in, intent, eager. Mob blinked, and then shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“It’s October 10th. It’s my birthday. I turned 28 today. I didn’t even realize my birthday was this close until yesterday, which I think says a lot about the kind of life I lead but besides the point.”

“Oh,” Mob answered, and then he straightened. “Oh happy birthday. I didn’t get you a gift.”

“Of course you didn’t. How could you get me a gift you didn’t know it was my birthday. I hardly knew it was my birthday. Besides the point. Besides, you know, this already is the gift.”

Mob didn’t answer. He stared back, confused, face lit with warm orange tones from the paper lanterns above.

“If this had been a normal birthday I’d probably be spending it at a very different kind of bar hanging out with people who probably wouldn’t remember my birthday anyhow. This is um…different from that.”

“Is this better?”

“Infinitely,” Reigen answered along a breath. He breathed in deep, and then exhaled, and then continued, more sober. “And, you know, I mean I almost missed my birthday. But you uh….you missed the last four. Of yours. I can’t imagine. If Shishou ever. I mean. You didn’t know how old you were, so…” Reigen reached across the counter and grabbed the set of chopsticks laid out for him. He took one in his hand, pencil like, and pointed it to Mob. “It may be my birthday, but it’s also four of yours. We’ve got ground to make up.”

“Oh,” Mob answered, thinking the words over. He straightened a little, almost shocked, and looked at Reigen. “Does this really count?”

“Only if you want it to. Does this seem like a good four birthdays together?”

One of the chefs turned and pushed two bowls across the counter. Reigen pulled his closer, and Mob followed suit. Reigen breathed in, the smell almost intoxicatingly rich—a dark broth, thin noodles acting as a bed for slices of hard boiled egg, their yolks dense and crumbly yet runny at the center, six slices of pork heartily brazened on the outside, left delicately pink in center, deep green leeks slice diagonally, scallions scattered, crinkled mushrooms holding broth in their folds, fishcakes that spiraled pink at the center, bamboo shoots overlapping like the threads of a wicker basket.

“Yeah, this seems good,” Mob answered.

Reigen breathed in deep again, and he grabbed his chop sticks, and set to the bowl. But not before he checked that Mob had done the same.

They took their first bite at the same time.

Reigen swallowed, and cleared his throat, and gestured to Mob. “How is it…?”

Mob stared into the bowl for a moment longer, then looked up to Reigen. His cheeks had flushed pinker, his eyes more watery than before.

“It’s delicious.”

“Yeah,” Reigen agreed, as he raised the bowl to his lips. “It is.”

…

Reigen let the engine stall for a moment, hands on the wheel in indecision, as he idled outside a building cast in shadow, dark to the world save for the few bright spots of street lamps against its brick façade. He glanced to Mob in the passenger’s seat, dozing again, and Reigen considered backing out.

“Hey, Mob. You gotta wake up again. Just one more thing, yeah?”

Mob blinked awake again, head swiveling left and right to take in his surroundings. He’d left a spot of condensation on the window with his breath. Mob used his sleeve to wipe it off and stare outside, into inky blackness.

“What’s here?”

“I’ll show you.”

Reigen stepped out, and waited for Mob to follow before he locked the car door. The front door of the building had a wire grate over its window, and a directory of names written on the side panel. Some were actually business plates, others—new or temporary—were written on masking tape.

Reigen flipped through his keyring and unlocked this door.

“Second floor, third door on the right, just follow me.”

Reigen flipped on light switches as he went, illuminating cold dark white walls with a glow that buzzed for the first several seconds after being flipped on. Reigen shivered, and entered the stairwell, and climbed the metal-grated set of stairs to the second floor. Mob lagged, a bit winded by the climb, so Reigen slowed his pace.

“You okay?”

“I’m okay,” Mob answered, though his eyes betrayed uncertainty, fear perhaps. “Where are we?”

“Hang on, it’s right over here.” Reigen traced down the hall, not bothering with this set of lights, instead allowing the glow of the stairwell to trickle down the hall and light the contours of the door knob he targeted. Reigen flipped to a different key, and set it to the door, and it clicked.

Reigen opened it. Cold air drenched him from within. Reigen hit the lights, and turned the radiator on, and watched his breath crystalize in front of his nose as the office came back awake until its harsh white lighting.

Mob entered behind him, curious, arms hugged against his body for warmth.

“This is my office,” Reigen said. He set his hands to his hips and swiveled in place. “It’s…where I used to run Spirits and Such. And it’s still where I work now, doing the private investigator stuff, but it…used to be Spirits and Such.”

Mob spun in place too, taking in the lone desk and desk lamp, the filing cabinet against the wall, the single window in back.

“Are you cold, Mob?” Reigen asked.

“A little.”

“Well here.” Reigen pulled the wrapped parcel out from his coat and tossed it to Mob. “For you. Happy birthday.”

It took Mob a moment to respond. He eyed Reigen, as if asking permission, and Reigen nodded him on. Mob tore back the wrapping—pink with white polka dots—and unfurled from the parcel something thick, and warm, and red. Mob held it up fully, paper dropped to the ground, revealing a red hoodie.

“I wanted to get something with the Spirits and Such logo but I…only started planning any of this yesterday. I’ll get it emblazoned later. Like um, one of those iron-on things, or maybe embroidered. I googled and there’s places that do that. So it’s kind of a stand in right now, but um, picture it as having the Spirits and Such logo okay?”

“Okay,” Mob answered.

“I lied a little bit, earlier, by the way, about there not being a present for me. I’m actually giving myself a present,” Reigen continued, hands spinning together a bit. “I’m reopening Spirits and Such. No more of this…None of this PI stuff, anymore. I had one last hurrah with that and I am done.” Reigen’s eyes shifted to Mob, and he chewed his tongue, breath puffing with ice as Mob pulled the hoodie over his head. “So um, that brings me to part two of this. Which is…up to you, Mob. But um. When I reopen, do you, would you um—what I offered earlier—do you want to work for me? As my psychic sidekick? My psy-kick?”

“Your psy-kick?”

“It’s a pun. Listen we can workshop it. I just mean.” Reigen spun his hand through the air, settling in a fist with his thumb pointed at himself. “I’m psychic. You’re psychic. We may as well put our powers to good use, yeah? Get the ball rolling on this again. I remember where most of those boxed-up things go. Plus um, it’ll be different this time. If any evil spirit tries to jump me, I’ve got you now to save me.”

“Save you?”

“Save me.”

“Reigen my powers aren’t as strong as yours. I don’t think I can save you.”

“Trust me kid, you don’t even know.” Reigen moved behind his desk, large exaggerated steps as he spread his arms wide to frame the back wall. “Big banner, right here! Get something professionally done with the logo. Or hmm, maybe banner goes outside. Want the inside to seem a bit more professional. But not too professional, yeah? You want your psychic exorcist to be a bit eccentric. I should put that poster back up, the one with my face, that sort of thing screams ‘wacky eccentric’.”

“The candles and the jade doll too?”

“Not the jade doll Mob. The jade doll is going away forever. But yes to the candles. And the juggling balls. I can’t believe I ever gave up that hobby.”

“And you want…me?”

“Absolutely! You know, you know you know,” Reigen took to pacing, hands churning through the air and fingers furling, unfurling, until he stopped and pointed purposefully at Mob. “That’s how a real psychic learns! In the field! Struggling against spirits and bartering with them for knowledge! You learn the most important things you’ll ever hear from them. In fact, I had no one to train me in my powers. I had to negotiate with spirits—evil ones sometimes—to learn. It was a curse laid upon my grandmother that first gave me my powers, but I learned to reign them in, under my control, with the wise knowledge of spirits with thousands of years’ experience. THAT’S the sort of thing that would teach you to control your barrier. That’s where the real secret lies.”

Reigen dropped his hand, and he stared at Mob, who seemed smaller beneath the folds of his hoodie. His breath still puffed icy in front of his face, cheeks and eyes sunken in the harsh overhead lighting, but there was interest, intrigue, excitement.

“…So long as I don’t hurt anyone.”

“Not a soul. Not on my watch.”

Mob looked to his feet, then the floor, then he scanned the length of the office, until his eyes settled on Reigen.

“Then yes. Yes I do want to work with you here.”

“Awesome.” Reigen moved behind his desk. He pulled out the top drawer, where a pack of cigarettes slid to the front. Reigen grabbed the whole pack, unopened, and dropped it into the trash can beside his desk. “And you know, after you go home…? Even once you’re home, and this is all behind us, you could still um…come back here, and work with me, yeah…? Plenty of kids have part-time jobs. Think of it as um…work experience.”

“Yeah,” Mob answered simply, seemingly unaware of the enormous weight his easy agreement lifted from Reigen’s chest. The radiator heat trickled through the air, wafts of warmth in the room abysmally bright, abysmally empty, against the backdrop of night sky through the window, flecked with stars, streets below speckled with moving lights. It was a different kind of world they occupied then, a different sort of separated from everything else. Something colder, crisper, but more invigorating. A cold bright empty white-walled room with just the two of them, planning their future, as their breath curled around their necks. “I’d like that.”

…

The front door to Reigen’s apartment clicked, unlocked, and it was already warm when Reigen set foot inside. He shrugged off his jacket, and stepped out of his shoes, and shut the door to the brisk October night air. The lights had remained on. The infomercial reel still ran. Soft lighting, and gentle noise, and a warmth Reigen was not used to feeling inside his own apartment.

Reigen glanced to the clock. 10:07 pm.

“You know, Mob, I picked up one last thing.”

Mob stared on, unspeaking, as Reigen moved to the cleaned-out fridge. He opened the freezer side, and pulled from it a small bakery box. He set it on the counter, lifting the flap to reveal a small white-frosted cake inside. Reigen reached into the upper cabinet and pulled out two plates, both clean, and from the nearest drawer he fetched two forks and a hefty knife, washed as well. It was strange, almost, not to pull something used from the sink, and wet it clean. This time nothing remained in the sink. Nothing remained unclean. It was a house put together, cared for, lived in, comfortable to come home to.

“Do you like cake?” Reigen asked.

Mob stepped closer. “You bought a cake?”

“A small one. Yesterday. It was on sale with the coupons.”

“Oh.”

“It’s got ice cream in it, and this um…It’s chocolate by the look of it. Like chocolate crumble inside. Vanilla ice cream, and chocolate crumble, and regular cake part.

Reigen held the knife to the cake. He leaned down on it, putting most of his weight into the cutting of the frozen ice cream layer until it finally relented, hitting with a thock against the cardboard bottom of the box. Reigen repeated this twice more, cutting two roughly even size pieces, which he plated, and set to the counter.

“Can I get milk too?” Mob asked.

“Yeah of course.” Reigen reached for the drink cabinet, but Mob had beaten him to it, hand rising and snagging a glass from the bottom-most shelf. Mob moved to the fridge to retrieve the milk, and Reigen scooted past behind him to put the rest of the cake back in the freezer.

“You got that?” Reigen asked as Mob pulled the jug of milk from the fridge.

“Yeah.”

Alright. Reigen shut the freezer. He moved back to the counter, grabbing his plate and fork, and setting down at the table. He watched the infomercial a moment, trying to make sense of what was being advertised. It looked like a ladder of some sort. Reigen wondered if he even owned a ladder.

The sound of pouring milk drowned out the advertisement. Reigen shrugged, and dug his fork into the cake, and took the first bite. It was good—it was great, in fact. The ice cream melted against his tongue, smooth and creamy, the chocolate crumble gave it a heartiness and richness, the cake part fluffy and soft. Or maybe it was a terrible cake—and Reigen just never got cake enough to know the difference.

The scrape of a plate leaving the counter, the clink of a glass being lifted. Reigen scooted a bit to the side subconsciously, so that Mob would have more room to take the seat beside him. Reigen stared at the television again, because now one of the advertisers was climbing the ladder.

Something smashed behind him.

Reigen jumped, head whipping to the side in panic as he took in the scene. Mob stood, plate in one hand, glass in shattered against the ground, milk soaking into his socks as a shimmering minefield of glass rung him, like islands in the white sea.

“Oh, well shoot. I don’t have a lot of those glasses—“

“I’M SORRY!”

Mob dropped down into a crouch, arms thrown violently over his head which trembled alongside his whole body. Breath gasped in and out of his throat, a heaving wheezing noise of panic as Mob curled further in on himself and cried out, muffled into his clothing, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to drop it!”

“Hey, hey hey hey!” Reigen jumped from his seat, cake forgotten, and stepped through the puddle of milk and glass, only half-aware of the sharp shards that might shred his feet. He reached a hand out, but Mob recoiled violently, until he stumbled back and braced his back against the wall.

“I didn’t mean it Shishou it was an accident it was an accident I didn’t mean it I didn’t—“

“Mob!”

“I didn’t mean it I didn’t mean it I swear I didn’t mean it—“

“Mob!”

“Shishou please Shishou please Shishou please—“

“Mob I’m not Shishou!” Reigen shoved forward, feet wet, and took Mob by the shoulders. Mob looked up, eyes wet, startled and frozen. “Mob… Mob, I’m not angry. I’m not angry and it’s okay. It’s okay. It’s just a glass. It’s only a glass, Mob. And I’m not angry. It was an old dirty glass anyway, Mob. An old dirty glass I don’t care about and I won’t miss and it’s 100% okay it’s okay, I promise.”

Mob’s hitching breath evened just a fraction, his hunched shoulders unfurling as his eyes surveyed Reigen for any evidence of a trick, or deception, or deceit. He looked down at his own shaking hands, and the air around him, as if only just processing what he saw.

“I didn’t mean to…”

“I know you didn’t. That’s why I’m not mad. Dropping something by accident is okay.” Reigen tightened his hand on Mob’s shoulder, and he looked back and forth between Mob’s eyes. It filled him with a twisting sort of helplessness, seeing what lay behind Mob’s eyes. Seeing the kid that ‘Shishou’ had so thoroughly broken. That all Mob’s pain, and all Mob’s horror, and all Mob’s suffering traced back to this one single Shishou, and that this man had brought about an evil that Reigen himself perhaps didn’t have the power to heal. It threatened that precarious future Reigen had just claimed, the one where he got to stay with Mob, healed and safe.

“Mob…please. Your Shishou is dead. He is dead, Mob. Your Shishou is dead, and he can’t hurt you anymore.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s okay Mob.”

“No, I’m…” Mob paused. He hiccupped, voice still hitching, body still trembling. “I’m sorry Shishou is dead. I did something to make him kill himself. I know it.”

“Good, Mob. Good…”

Mob stared up, jaw slack, baffled. “No… No, no, you’re angry about it… Shishou was your friend, and I got him killed. I’m sorry.”

Reigen pulled back, doubt squirming in his chest, black with revulsion. “What? No. No no, I never knew your Shishou. I wasn’t friends with him, Mob. I would never be friends with that man.”

“I heard you! No, no I heard you.” Mob leaned forward, his hands locking onto Reigen’s arm. “Through the basement door I could hear you talking with Shishou. You visited twice to talk with Shishou. You were friends!”

Reigen leaned back. Floor wet, mind buzzing, staring forward, mouth dry. Suddenly the taste of cake and ramen were a thousand miles away, from a different lifetime, from a “before”, when Reigen had just been thrown so terribly into “after”.

“Wait…wait a moment… Wait a moment… Basement door?”

Mob nodded. “I… I lived there in Shishou’s house.”

“And Shishou… bought supplies for you, Mob…?”

“Yes…”

“What… what did you eat Mob?”

“My barrier shreds all real food, so it was just soup. I…I got tired of it.”

The buzzing in Reigen’s ears grew louder. His hand slipped off Mob’s shoulder. A hollow pit of dread opened up in his stomach, revulsion, horror, guilt. Glimpses of the Mogami house, fetid and rotting, too vile to stay in for even a single night. The cans of soup, left on the counter by a dead man who did not need to eat. And Reigen, asking for more, wanting the pieces to fit, seeing what couldn’t click and now, suddenly…

“Reigen…?”

“Mob… What was your Shishou’s name?”

“Why are you asking…?”

“Mob please, just tell me this.”

“You seem different. Are you mad?”

“I’m not. Mob, please tell me, what was your Shishou’s name…?”

Mob hesitated. He pulled his hands away from Reigen, and answered with only a whisper.

“…Mogami. He was Mogami-Shishou.”

The name twisted tight like a fist in Reigen’s chest. It flooded his veins with an icy horror, a nauseous understanding, a horrific feeling that threatened to hollow him out from the inside.

The hum of the television. The buzz of the lights.

“…Reigen?”

The rushing of blood in his ears. The tingling numbness in his fingers.

“…Reigen…?”

He’d been there. Right there, on the floorboards above. Mob had not made a peep. Not a sound. Not a single indication. Reigen had left that house assuming it was empty. He’d left Mob to rot.

“Reigen, please…?”

It was cold now, in this house.

Chapter 24

#A Breach of Trust #ABoT #ABoT Update #43 MINUTES TO SPARE #HOT DAMN

259 notes · View notes