#I don't toss around the word trigger cause fuck if I know what counts and doesn't and it doesn't really matter

[medicinemane]

Flies are overwhelming me and making me lose my shit

One flew into the fridge while I was getting something out, wouldn't leave, so that fucking sucks that there's gonna be a dead fly to find in there next time it's getting cleaned (covered the little bit of uncovered food)

Then there's one fucking in here, been landing on my screen, and then just dive bombed my arm and fucking feeling it touch me...

If you haven't seen that one picture from when I was cleaning out the trailer I don't think you get why flies upset me so much, why they set me off and I can't fucking deal with them. Even if you have seen it, then you should realize that that's an echo of the past in that picture, and that I was fucking living with those flies while growing up

I want to exterminate every last fucking fly, you just don't get how much they bother me, how much they upset me

Update from while I was writing the tags: that's right, fucking die you stupid shit; you land on the floor and don't move when I come over to you slowly and you fucking die and never bother me again

[agere-fics]

Pretty Kitty

pairing: cg!logan howlett x little!reader

word count: 683

content warnings: cursing, usage of "daddy" and "dada", mean guy judging both you and wolvie

summary: you paint logan's nails!

@sleepyboy-stuff you seemed interested in this so i tagged you!

♡

For years in the making, an after battle nap became routine. He couldn't just nap anywhere, though. It had to be on brown, leather couch in the x-mansion living space. The couch was old, worn, tattered, even blown up a few times. But damn if it didn't lead to the best sleep Logan's had in ages.

He wouldn't consider himself a light sleeper but something definitely triggered his consciousness. Shuffling, movement, soft mumbles. Someone was here.

He groaned and squinted his eyes open, tensing at the blurry figure next to him. He shifted away from it quickly. Who would even dare to- oh.

"Don't move, daddy, you'll mess up my artwork!" you whined.

He breathed a sigh of relief. Logan wasn't under attack. It was simply his sweet little bub kneeling beside the couch, holding his hand and painting red onto the nail of his pinky finger.

"Hey, bub." he muttered.

You turned to look at him with bright, sparkling eyes. You were so happy to see him. "Have a good nap, daddy?"

"You know it." he rumbled.

Your eyes shifted back to your task at hand. You brushed a bit more red onto his pinky finger, trying very hard not to get polish on his skin. Daddy wouldn't care but you knew you would care. It's got to be perfect for daddy!

"Whatcha doing?" he asked.

"Making daddy a pretty kitty." You picked up his limp hand and showed him your work so far. Logan didn't mind the nickname. He liked anything you gifted him.

However, he did quirk his brow at a certain implication. "Wait a minute, I thought you said I was already pretty?" A sliver of a smile poked through his serious facade. He can't actually be serious with you, you're way too cute for him to be all grumpy, wumpy. You've got him tied around your finger and he's a-okay with that.

"Wait but you are, daddy! You are! I'm just uhhhhh...." You looked around the room, aimlessly searching for an answer. "OH, I'm making you even prettier! The mostest prettier ever!"

The sliver of a smile turned into a full grin. He sat up and observed his now painted hand. "What colors did you use?" He wouldn't be your daddy if he didn't test your knowledge just a little bit.

"I used some red and pink and blue, oh and orange, and only a little yellow cause it's basically empty, see?" You turned the bottle upside down and shook it before tossing it to the side. "Do you like your nails, daddy?"

Logan lifted his hand, moving it this way and that. Up, down, left, right, sideways, up ways, down ways, more ways. You patiently waited for his approval with wide eyes. "Of course, I do, pumpkin. It's perfect."

You pulled him closer by his shirt, jutted your lip, lowered your brows, and squinted your eyes. With your other hand you pointed at him very sternly. It took everything in Logan to not coo at your cutely angry expression. Your face was scrunched, just like your daddy does sometimes. "Never take it off, daddy."

"Don't worry," he giggled. "I won't."

"What's happening here?" came a voice.

Mr. Butern... the professor of mutation genetics. When did he get here? "Turning into a pretty little princess, huh, Logan?" he scoffed and began to walk away.

Logan moved quickly and shoved the professor against the wall. His claws came out to play, pricking at the meanie's neck.

"Say another word and I will slice your fucking head off-"

"Daddy, that's a bad word!" you scolded.

Your daddy turned to face you. "Apologies, pumpkin." He turned back round. "Now, you tell my little one how good of a job they did."

The other guy stuttered, shaking so bad he must be a milkshake inside. "You d-did a good j-job."

Daddy dragged him to the tattered couch and shoved him down. "Sit your ass down."

Daddy's face immediately went from angry to mushy mush as he looked at you. "Bub, I think you should give him a makeover, too."

"Right on it, Dada!"

♡

[courtforshort15]

Drinking Buddies

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

Other characters: Jessica Jones

Summary: Your friendship with Jessica Jones is solely based on drinking and giving Matt Murdock a hard time. You think it's the best thing ever.

Word Count: Just about 1,800

Trigger warning: Characters are drinking

Masterlist

Your vision is absolutely swimming and the noise of the bar isn't any less overwhelming. Loud conversations, louder music, the stale scent of beer floating around you. It's a lot, but you're gonna power through it like the badass bitch that you are because you're not ready to call it quits for the night. You forcibly swallow down the nausea.

Spitters are quitters.

You're not quite sure if the phrase necessarily applies to alcohol, but the sentiment is there.

"You good?" You snap your head around, noticing that Jessica is eyeing you in amusement. The sharp movement causes your head to spin.

"Wha--? I uh...yeah," you tell her disjointedly before offering a wide, drunken smile. "I'm good. Like realllly good."

Jessica snorts before tossing another shot back. She's not exactly sober either, but she's definitely better off than you right now. "You sure? Because you kinda look like you're about to fall off the chair and crack your head open."

"You'd catch me before that happens."

"Would I though?" She says it in such a blasé tone that you find yourself struggling to figure out if she actually would just let you fall.

Would she?

Fuck. You don't know.

"I'd press charges if you didn't," you threaten, doing your best to glare at her. It doesn't work, mostly because there's two of her and you don't know which one to focus on. "It would be all your fault."

"I don't think not stopping you from falling counts as a crime."

"That's what you think," you disagree, and the words could not sound more slurred. "The Supreme Court probably disagrees with you on that."

"Funnily enough, I don't think they'd give a shit," she says dryly.

"We could look at filing a civil case, if nothing else," a familiar voice pops up behind you. "Sue her for all she's worth. Which probably isn't much, if we're being honest."

Your head whips around, and you find yourself wobbling in your chair, teetering on the edge. A hand snaps out to settle you. Matt's face is full of concern, his other hand reaching out to grab the glass of water that's resting in front of you, wordlessly encouraging you to drink it.

"Aw man," you sigh, shooting Jessica the stink eye as you regain your balance and push the water away. "Why is he here?"

"You suggested karaoke. We all know you're too far gone when you hit that point."

"You're a goddamn traitor, Jessica. You didn't need to call him."

"He's your husband," Jessica states flatly.

"He's boring," you complain drunkenly. Her eyebrows raise in humor as she glances at him in consideration before nodding in agreement. "He never lets me stay out late."

"He's standing right here," Matt says dryly. His hand rests at your back as if nervous you're going to fall off your chair. Which, fair. You're pretty wasted. "And he's here to take you home."

"You weren't supposed to rat me out," you try glaring at Jessica again. Her smirk tells you you're unsuccessful in intimidating her.

Having super powered friends sucks.

"I didn't rat you out," she tosses back nonchalantly. "He already knew we were gonna be here. He was probably listening from a few blocks away the whole time like a weirdo."

Matt doesn't deny it.

"Yes, but you weren't supposed to actually call him."

"I may be able to lift a car, but I am sure as shit not carrying your drunk ass home. That's what husbands are for," Jessica tells you bluntly, but she's still smirking. "I am here to drink with you, not deal with you after."

You gasp, hand flying to your chest, absolutely wounded. "Rude. Why are we even friends?"

"Mostly because you like having someone else around to call Murdock out on his shit."

You ponder it for a second, then nod. "That is a fair point. Hey! Do you want to come over for waffles? Waffles sound amazing right now and we have a fantastic waffle maker at home."

Matt opens his mouth. "I don't think--"

"Shush, Matthew, the grown-ups are talking," you interrupt, placing a finger over his lips. He gives you an unamused look and smacks your hand away.

Jessica absolutely cackles.

"As much as that sounds like a great time, I'm going to pass on this one. I've seen you puke enough times."

"I'm not going to puke! You have zero faith in me."

"I can practically see your mouth salivating from here. You're like twenty minutes away from it."

You do a quick check in with your body and determine she's...probably not wrong.

"Okay, but you've still only seen me puke like twice."

"And that was more than enough," she says flatly. She tosses her credit card on to the bar top after glancing at the no doubt hefty bar tab the two of you have racked up. Matt throws his own card out to split the bill. What a wonderful husband, taking one for the team. "I have no interest seeing your dinner and the seven shots you knocked down come back up."

"Seven?" Matt asks incredulously.

"And three beers," Jessica adds, not so helpfully.

Matt looks decidedly not thrilled. "Fantastic."

"It was a rough day at work, Matt," you moan miserably, briefly burying your face in your hands for maximum effect as you unsuccessfully fake an excuse for being drunk off your ass. "I deserved it."

"It's Saturday. You didn't have work today."

A brief pause.

"Yesterday was a rough day at work," you amend. He's not impressed.

"You're a horrible influence on her," Matt states as he gives Jessica a look that suggests he's pretty annoyed. The woman shrugs, unconcerned.

"Your wife is a disaster all on her own, pal," she says with a grin.

"I'm the disaster?" You ask in mock outrage. "No, no, no, dear friend. Matt is the human disaster. Can't even go a week without needing stitches or blaming himself for all of the world's problems."

Jessica snorts. "You're not wrong there."

"I think it's time to leave, sweetheart." Matt pockets his wallet once the bartender hands him back his credit card. Jessica signs the receipt for him. You glance briefly at the total that's been charged to his card and decide to not to tell him what it is, knowing he won't be happy about the amount. He'll find out later, anyway.

Whoops.

"But it's only like 10pm," you protest loudly to Matt, shoving the issue of the credit card bill aside and focusing on the more important things. "It's too early, the party's just getting started."

"It's almost 2am."

"Oh," is all you say before eyeing Matt suspiciously. "Did you finish your patrol early just to come harrass me then?"

He doesn't answer, just continues to look like he can't decide if he's amused or exasperated that he's probably going to have to literally drag you out of here.

So that's a yes.

"Okay, so the party's already in full s-swing," you hiccup. You're determined to succesfully plead your case. "We still have at least another hour before bars close."

"We both know you're already going to be a mess with how much you've had to drink so far," Matt replies as he shakes his head. "Let's not push it. It's late and we have plans with your parents at 11am."

"I'm not sure using logic with her will work right now," Jessica tells him looking almost bored. "You gotta treat drunks like children."

"I'm sure you have plenty of experience being on the receiving end of that," Matt fires back. Jessica just shrugs because everyone knows he's completely right. "But I think I know how to handle my drunk wife."

"I'm just saying," she holds her hands up in mock surrender. "Might help if you treat her like she's the nicest baby drunk you've ever seen."

"Yeah, daddy, you gotta be nice to me," you slur, patting his chest. The glare Matt sends your way causes you to erupt into drunken giggles. "Whoops, sorry. Forgot he doesn't like it when I call him daddy in public. That's a bedroom only thing."

"Christ," Matt hisses under his breath.

Jessica laughs with absolute glee. She lowers her voice significantly so that only the three of you can hear her. "Never letting that one go. The Daddy of Hell's Kitchen."

You shriek with laughter, causing nearby patrons to look at you in annoyance. You lower your voice to a slurring whisper. You're absolutely fucked up on alcohol at the moment, but you're not interested in outing his identity. "Daredaddy has a nice ring to it, too."

Jessica's grin is absolutely merciless as she hones in on more ways to tease your husband. She's a great a friend like that. "Daddydevil could also work."

"Oh, I like that one. What about--"

"We're done here," Matt interrupts you before you can continue, grabbing your jacket and purse off your bar stool. "Come on sweetheart, it's time to go home."

"Noooo," you whine, trying to push him away. Matt doesn't so much as budge, the asshole. "Jessica and I are still having fun. Go be a Debbie Downer somewhere else."

"I am having a ton of fun right now," Jessica says before taking another shot. When did she get another shot? You want one. "Please, tell me more of your bedroom secrets. This is great."

Your eyes light up. "Okay! So Matt really likes it when he gets to--"

"No," Matt groans, throwing his head back as he no doubt prays for patience. "She doesn't need to know anything, it's none of her business."

"But she's my friend," you tell him, feeling a full blown pout coming on. He's generally immune them, but you try anyway. "Girls share these types of things."

"She's not a girl," Matt all but snaps, and he looks extremely irritated at this point. "She's a menace."

You turn to Jessica, eyebrows raised, offended that your husband is being so rude to your friend. "When did he get this grumpy?" You ask her in a stage whisper. "Do you think I need to suck his cock more? Maybe I should--"

You're abruptly dragged out of your seat and yanked towards the door before you can finish what you're saying, Matt's cane angrily tapping in front of him. You giggle, finding it funny that he's so pissed, he's barely pretending to use it.

Jessica is absolutely howling behind you, and Matt throws a middle finger her way before pulling you through the exit door of the bar.

"Bye Jessica!" You screech at her on your way out. Jessica waves, laughing too hysterically to say anything back. "I love you!"

You manage to not puke until you're home, so you count it as a wildly successful ladies night out. Matt glowers as he holds your hair back. "You're never hanging out with Jessica again."

Joke's on him. You've already made plans with her for next weekend, and Karen and Claire will be joining.

It will be magical.

[moonlight-prose]

AS TIME GOES BY | ORANGE COLORED SKIES

a/n: it has been a minute since bucky got a one shot. i rewatched what if zombies and with the enabling of @themarcusmoreno this came to life. basically it's angst and filth so hopefully you enjoy! i haven't written smut since the beginning of november so i have no idea how this sounds. it's in the what if universe. this is not beta read and very little editing has been done so there's most likely mistakes. might evolve into more parts. who knows.

summary: the end of the world! such a strange reality to survive him, but you had him. that is until things take a turn and you find yourself stuck with a choice.

word count: 5.4k+ (i'm back baby)

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS GO AWAY, rough sex, some dom and sub vibes, choking, overstimulation, pussy slapping yes okay don't look at me, one second of edging, usage of the word sir, violence IT'S A ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE, a tad bit of gore, so much angst it's ridiculous, some debauched p in v sex, cussing. i think that's it but let me know if i missed anything!!

The end of the world.

A horrible concept to think about...right? Only what if things turned out that way? What if...zombies ravaged the streets of New York, people turned to mindless creatures that feasted on human flesh, and life just had to be that way. Originally the topic was purely cinematic. Something to joke about, but never take seriously, until one day the world shifted and suddenly...there you were.

Shooting a gun in the middle of the street as you try to grasp for any food left. Enough to make a dinner that wasn’t purely canned food again - or the cooking done by Peter Parker. None of you had expected the ambush, or even the attack from one of his friends...but then it happened. You had been shoved into a street, surrounded by the disgusting faces that left your heart racing from fear and adrenaline.

Three mags down and only a few bullets left meant you were signing off your will in your head. Mentally writing a final letter to those you loved and hoping that he could hear your thoughts. You would not go out this way. That had been your final wish. You’d rather put a bullet in your skull then allow yourself to turn into one of them and so with a resigned sigh you leapt onto the rusty looking dumpster and counted the minutes until you’d have to do just that.

One.

Two.

Three.

“Where the fuck are you Parker?” you muttered, kicking the face of an undead man who you didn’t recognize. Good riddance, you were much too close to your own death to care about those who were already beyond help.

A thud echoed behind you and you didn’t have enough time to even turn around before a hand clamped around your neck. Yanking you backwards and off the dumpster to the ground. Groaning, you grappled for the gun that was knocked out of your hands and pulled the trigger, hoping that whatever tossed you was just another person.

The sight of a red haired woman standing above you, her face ripped open and blood dripping from her jaws caused you to freeze in place. You hadn’t seen her since the day they left; her goodbye still replayed on a loop in your mind from time to time and each time it tore you to shreds. To know that someone you considered your greatest friend hadn’t come home to you. The breath was knocked from your lungs as she stared at you, eyes turned yellow from the disease.

“Natasha,” you whispered, unable to raise the gun.

You should have taken the shot. Put one right between her eyes, but there was no use...you had already run out of bullets with no extra mag in sight.

“It’s me,” you said. Of course you knew that she wouldn’t be able to recognize you; understood that her brain was too far gone for her to even know her own name.

Standing slowly you held your hands up in surrender in the hopes that she wouldn’t do much. Only that seemed to trigger her mind to see you as nothing but a meal. Never did you think that you’d have to be contemplating the thought of how you’d kill your friend, but you now had reached a point in your life where things didn’t surprise you anymore. A broken scream left her mouth as she lunged at you, hands outstretched and jaw opening.

Even as a zombie she knew how to fight. How that was even possible you didn’t know.

“Natasha!” you screamed, blocking her hit to your chest, mentally thanking the tact vest lined with vibranium for holding up when she bit down. Slamming your foot into her stomach you reared back right as she did, flipping forward with your hand on the ground to steady you. Only to meet her eyes - noticing she did the exact same move.

It was hers after all.

“Don’t do this,” you whispered, begging her to come back. Even for a moment. Only that moment never arrived. Something was digging their hands into your arm and attempting to drag you away - to where you had no idea - but all you could do was do your best to get away from them.

Cursing and shouting to get someone’s attention, you fought against the zombified version of what looked to be a mailman. To your relief a call of your name echoed through the unusually empty street before a thwip hit your ears and you were being dragged in a completely different direction. You yelped, quickly grabbing for the web that connected you to Peter as he pulled you to where Bucky was waiting.

“Fox!” Sharon shouted, tossing a mag in your direction and shoving a rusted pipe directly into a zombie’s chest.

You only had seconds to shove the mag into place before you were being charged by Natasha; her form practically teeming with fury. To say you were unprepared was an understatement. You couldn’t do this. Kill your best friend? How would you be able to justify calling yourself a decent person after this incident? How could you look on her memory with fondness?

The questions seemed to race through your mind all in a millisecond, because in a burst of adrenaline and reflexes you were once again pulling the trigger and watching it...hit her in the shoulder.

“No!” you cried out, seeing her leap back into the deserted street, vanishing from sight.

The moment hadn’t even processed in your mind before a knife was slicing through Peter’s web and you were being dragged to your feet. It was Bucky yanking you into his body and wrapping his arms around you that brought you back to the living. That gave you a chance to inhale the scent of him, burying your face into his neck, all the while your heart felt as if it would surely rip right out of your chest. You waited with baited breath in the hopes that you’d simply wake up.

Maybe this was a dream, a cruel trick of the mind.

Natasha wouldn’t be one of those things and you would be safe and sound in bed with the man before you, but even as you counted to three in your head you knew. This gory reality you resided in was permanent. Forever a world that you would live in until the day you took your last breath, until you could no longer fight for the survival of what you cared for.

What was the point? When you had lost so many already.

Bucky pulled back, cupping your face and running his thumbs along your skin in a minuscule act of comfort. Right there. This - this moment of careful consideration for one another, of checking to see if the hurt lay beneath the surface. This was the point. This is what you were fighting to save and so with a deep breath you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face into his neck once more and breathing him in.

Grateful that he still stood there, holding you just as tight as he always did.

“It was her,” you mumbled, fighting back the sting of tears. “She looked right at me and didn’t see me, Buck.”

His warm breath hitting the back of your neck let you know he didn’t like what he heard. Sure, you were healthy - safe in his arms physically. But that didn’t measure the amount of mental damage you just sustained by seeing the woman who you had fought with - laughed with - as a zombie. Horrifying didn’t even cut it. No, there was no word to describe the wound that only grew the longer you pictured her standing there. The familiar glint in her eyes went completely only to be replaced by something else.

Something foreign, feral.

“That’s not her anymore,” he breathed into your shoulder, arms still clutching tightly onto you.

“I know I just-”

“Look at me.” To your disappointment he pulled away fully, grasping onto your waist to make sure you didn’t go anywhere. You wanted to look anywhere else in order to avoid the hardened look in his eyes, but you couldn’t get your gaze to stray somewhere else even if you wanted it to. “She’s become as mindless as an animal with rabies.”

“Bucky don’t-”

“You need to hear this,” he said. “Natasha, Tony, Steve-” his voice cracked slightly, eyes glazing over with tears he never let fall. Not once. “-they’re gone.”

“I know that,” you snapped, yanking away from him. “I know they’re not coming back. That no cure can save them. You don’t have to remind me of the truth, because it’s stuck with me.”

“Fox.”

Holding up a hand you moved back, needing more than anything to breathe fresh air. Where the stench of the dead didn’t permeate every fibre of your lungs, making you practically choke on it. This was your reality. Living a desolate life of just trying to survive and yet...you wished more than anything you could go back in time. Return to the days when all you had to worry about was the next mission Fury sent you on.

When you could look at Bucky and see a man who was merely working through his past. Who’s eyes didn’t make you tense up each time you saw them glance your way.

He was not the same man you fell in love with, but you weren’t the same person he fell in love with either. Both of you had been destroyed by the endless war, chipped away until only dust remained. Two human shells of the people you used to be, clinging to one another in the hopes that you might find a semblance of who you were again. That no matter what, deep down, you were still the love of his life just as he was yours.

Some days it was hard to tell who was more broken, but today you won that round.

Still fighting back tears, you grabbed the rifle on the ground, swinging it around your shoulder by it’s strap and following Sharon down the street. Normally it was a race to get out of the area before the others found you, but today everything had turned calm. Eerily quiet as all of you continued on your way with Peter swinging above to keep an eye out for the worst.

“He means well,” Sharon’s voice broke through the loud noises in your mind, helping you to shove down the impending doom that seemed to settle beneath your skin. Reminding you that this was it, this was all life could be.

“I know he does,” you sighed, fiddling with the knife in your hand. “He doesn’t understand. Seeing her like that...it broke whatever soul had left inside my body.”

She huffed out a laugh, glancing at the sky for the flash of red, letting her know Peter was still there. “He understands more than you know Fox.”

“But he-”

“Lost someone too.”

The echo of your footsteps coupled with Bucky’s and Sharon’s seemed to be the only noise in the city today, but you didn’t mind it much. Her words struck a chord in your heart - yanking it so hard that you were sure you’d ripped something open. Were you bleeding from the wound? Had your heart finally been torn to shreds completely?

You understood what he’d lost, knew that Steve was his last family, his last memory of a world that you weren’t a part of. So how could you turn your anger on him when he was facing exactly what you were facing? Shame filled your body, nearly overflowing due to your small act of complete and utter stupidity.

“He’ll forgive you,” she said, bumping your shoulder with hers. “He always does.”

“I feel like you’re reading my mind.” Smiling, you heard Peter call out your names, the facility up ahead. “It’s getting creepy Carter.”

“It’s a skill,” she replied, grabbing onto the web that Peter sent down. “Learned it from my aunt. It’s kind of hard to get rid of.”

Bucky was directly behind you; his body heat soaking into yours even as he stood mere feet away. You wanted to blame it on the fact that you were perpetually cold, but even you knew it was more. Somehow - you were both connected on a deeper level than either of you fully understood. A string of the fates that tied you together, growing taut and straining from the weight of your sorrows.

Instead of turning around and kissing him like you wanted to, you stepped forward, grabbing the web with both hands and feeling as Peter began to hoist you up. There were other ways to get into the facility, running along the rooftops, being carried by the teenager who seemed to take on the world by himself. But today this was your way. Forcing yourself to remain focused on what lay ahead rather than turning back to watch as Bucky grew smaller the more distance was put between the both of you.

“Thanks Pete,” you huffed, leaping onto the roof of the facility and opening the latch of the door Sharon let close behind her.

“Anytime Fox.”

Climbing down the ladder you heard Bucky land on the roof above you, his voice muffled by the shut door. The apology still remained on the tip of your tongue, ready to burst out at a moment's notice, but you couldn’t set it free. Not when the sight of Natasha ready to rip out your throat with her teeth still replayed in your mind. You would find him when you had time to process what you witnessed, the urge to vomit growing with each second.

Eventually you’d lose the battle with your stomach, but for now you downed a glass of water and pretended like everything was okay.

None of it was - you knew that and yet you couldn’t stop yourself from shoving down the emotions. Replacing the anger with anything else in order to get your mind off the tragedy of losing your friend. It was only after you’d spoken to Happy and Hope did you realize...that Bucky was nowhere to be found.

“He’s in his room,” Sharon said, cleaning up the rest of her gun and sliding the mag back into place. “Didn’t say a word to anyone just left.”

Cringing slightly, you thanked her for the update. He was acting this way because of you. Burrowing into his own mind where he believed things to be safest in order to preserve himself from the pain you had caused him. Heading down the darkened hall you heard the shuffle of shoes come from the other side of his door. No doubt he was pacing - again.

You knocked, feeling bad for hoping that he wouldn’t answer. Except all that was squished out from existence once he opened the door and you saw his face. No longer did the wall remain, his stoic barricade that he kept up in front of everyone was gone, obliterated. Leaving him with an utterly broken expression. Without a word you stepped forward, enveloping him in a hug. One he reciprocated almost immediately, letting go of the door in favor of grasping onto you instead.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered into his neck. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

He sighed, hand gripping the back of your neck to pull you back and before you could allow another apology to slip free he was slotting his mouth against yours. Roughly kissing you with a fervor that had you melting into his hold. The act was unexpected, but certainly not unwelcome. So, you dug your hands into his hair in order to drag him closer, teeth digging sharply into his bottom lip - hard enough to draw blood.

The stress of the day, the pain, every bottled up emotion you’d both been keeping to yourself came to the surface in one large wave. Crashing into your bodies and overwhelming you. This wasn’t merely about working off the adrenaline that still coursed through your veins, this was more. A chance to grip at the one thing that still grounded you. To hold it in your hands and keep it close.

A growl tore from his chest when you licked into his mouth, inhaling for breath as the kiss turned feral. You were desperate to feel that connection again, to remind yourself of the one thing you fought for. This man - this person who worshiped you - he was your equilibrium; the gravity that kept you on Earth.

“Bucky,” you moaned softly, hand running through his hair as his teeth latched onto your neck. Sucking his way down until he hit the collar of your - his - shirt.

“My cunning little fox,” he crooned, lips sliding down your sternum with each button he undid. His hot breath only seemed to warm up your body even more, filling your veins with an agonizing need that only he could rid you of. “I’m the one who should be saying sorry.”

“No-”

His lips on yours again cut you off and before you could retaliate - prove to him that everything he believed wasn’t true - he was walking until your leg hit something. Causing you to stumble and land on the ground. You yelped when a stinging pain went through your knees as you landed, but you also laughed. Felt the pain begin to wash away slightly at the notion that the both of you were safe, he was here with you and that was all you could have hoped for at the end of the day.

“Come here baby,” you whispered, perfectly content to remain on the floor. All you cared about was bringing his lips back to you somehow.

Bucky didn’t have to be told twice, not when it came to you. You - the one who saved his damned soul from a hell that wished to envelop the both of you. Although he knew you’d argue that it was him who did the saving, he knew the truth. You kept him afloat and sane in a world that would happily chew him up and spit him out. Neither of you could contain the emotions that you kept away from the rest of the world, because they were too real.

Too raw to be seen by anyone but each other.

You yanked him to you, the desperation setting in once more, lips biting at any piece of skin you could get to. It was him tearing off the shirt he wore beneath his suit that set you off completely; had your hands gripping at the muscles of his back while he rocked his hips into you. There wasn’t enough time to spend with him and yet it seemed that there was all the time in the world.

The laws of the universe froze just so you could have a small chance to show him how much you loved him. A few moments to whisper your longing, no matter how eviscerating it felt, into his skin in the hopes that he’d finally understand what he meant to you. He was everything and more. The anchor that kept you from floating away in the horrendous waters of this damn city that was infested with an array of gory truths.

“You almost died today.” His voice was hoarse, the emotion he tried to hide at the sight of you being put in a situation he couldn’t get you out of finally broke the last of his walls down. “You-”

“I’m here,” you breathed against his lips, cupping his face to keep him there as a moan broke through your tender words from the way he roughly thrust against you, forcing stimulation to your clit from your tactical pants. “I’m with you.”

A broken sound tore from his throat, smashing the last bit of your soul and sending you into a spiral. You felt voracious for him, almost depraved by the way you tore at the belt of his pants. Feeling him tear at your own clothes as well until your pants were at your knees like his and he was yanking your hands away from his skin.

Soft, tenderhearted, beautiful. These were things you could no longer give to one another, because life had ripped it from your hands. The world told you that to be reverent with one another was too wholesome - too virtuous - for a reality that now existed merely to kill you.

His teeth dug into your skin along the side of your breast, biting his way towards your nipple as he pressed his thumb against your clit immediately. You had no warning before the sensations assaulted your mind, your nerves; forcing everything into a level of heightened you could barely keep up with. Only you fell into it happily. Cried out some form of a cuss word as he shoved you into a high that wouldn’t last for very long. You knew why he did this, why he watched you with eyes that drank in your every expression, each movement you made.

He needed to know you were alive.

Lifting your head, you caught his lips with your own, moaning sweetly into his mouth as his tongue slid against yours. Hot, broken, and rough was all he could give you, but it was enough to salvage whatever pieces of your soul remained.

“You’re not dying on me,” he roughly bit out against your skin, teeth biting down on your jaw and leaving a lovely stinging sensation behind. “Not while I’m still breathing.”

“Bucky!” His fingers slipped in between your folds, dragging the slick you were practically dripping up until he was back to working over your clit. Stimulating you in a way that had your hips rolling into his palm and your head falling back to the floor. You wouldn’t last more than a few more seconds, but he knew that all too well by the harsh grunt of your name he sent your way.

“You want to cum?” he asked, shifting to cup your head and tilt his way. His hips kept your legs trapped - open and spread for him - as he started to thrust his fingers into you. The bottom of his palm was still grinding into your clit.

It was too much for you to handle and yet you found yourself begging wantonly for more. Meeting his eyes you nodded, eyes wide with a look that drove him off the edge - that turned him into the hardened man you knew today. He used to joke that he’d have to become the ruthless man he once was in order to survive such a grisly world. Only you knew he wasn’t joking.

In the blue of his iris you caught the feral glint of a soldier who only knew how to kill, how to bring pain unlike anything you’d seen before. That’s what you latched onto. What you dragged forward and showed him, because even through this zombie infested city, even through the hardships and horrors, you loved every part of him. Even ones as broken as that lonely soldier who fought a war that never ended.

The smile he flashed you wasn’t him, but that man and you couldn’t deny the way your walls clenched around his fingers at the sight. Two people who were beyond saving, finding one another again and realizing that you liked the debauched versions that remained. Found solace in the pain.

In an act of absolute cruelty he pulled his hand away, watching as you whined for him. Words spilled from your lips, things you wouldn’t have normally said before you met him, but there you were. Just shameless enough to beg at his feet for the chance to feel that rush of pleasure, that high only he could give you. A small part of you knew he got off on it - on watching you beg - but another part of you, much larger, knew that he did this for you.

“Ask nicely,” he whispered.

You couldn’t recognize yourself anymore. No longer did you hide away the desires that once felt too sinful, far too much for you to handle. Yet there you were - at the mercy of this man who you trusted your life with. Words so sugary sweet flowed from you smoother than any whiskey and you watched in glee as his eyes grew darker, lids drooping from the sound of you.

“Please,” you whined. “I need it. I’ll be good, I promise. You can do whatever you want with me baby, just please, please, please let me cum.”

Sliding your hands through his hair you tugged sharply on it and tilted his head back to lick along the column of his neck. Sucking softly on the spot beneath his chin that you knew he loved; digging your teeth in just enough to leave a mark. No one would see it, or even care, but you would. You’d admire it and know that this man who played your body like an instrument, was yours.

“I need to cum...sir,” you said, hearing his intake of breath and smiling smugly at the notion that you had him right where you wanted him.

Only you didn’t anticipate for his last bit of control to snap in two - so loud you nearly heard it echo off the walls - because he was pulling away completely. Your cry of protest cut off when he gripped your waist and flipped you until your knees were firmly planted on the floor; hands stopping you from hitting the ground completely.

A hand gripped your throat, tilting your head back until your eyes met his. “You want this?”

The last bit of tenderness that either of you could salvage was this - a moment where everything faded away and it was just him and you riled up to a point of incoherency. Nodding, you licked at your lips and bit down to stifle the scream as he slowly pushed into you. You’d pick this moment to stay in rather than go back out there as soldiers; remain here with him as he moans into your shoulder, each small push into you, driving him mad with pleasure.

“Always so fucking good,” he rasped, one hand gripping onto your hip as the one of your neck tightened slightly. “So - shit - so perfect.”

He stilled once his hips met your ass. Seemingly content to remain there, rubbing small circles into your skin with his thumb while he gained some semblance of control. You however were gone. Obliterated by the sheer feeling of him filling you completely.

“Move,” you whined, pushing back in the hopes that he’d do something.

The stinging sensation on your ass followed the echo of his hand slapping you had your walls clenching around his cock. If he was standing, that feeling alone would have brought him to his knees, but tonight he felt greedy and so he brought his hand down again. Reveling in your choked moan of his name.

“You said you would be good,” he said, pulling your head back and pressing his lips to yours as he pulled out slowly. “Right?”

“Yes sir,” you replied. He slammed back into you, forcing your eyes to roll back while he swallowed your cry.

“My good girl.”

The slowness of his thrusts vanished once the feelings from before came rushing back to the surface. Reminding the both of you that you were aching for something else to ground you. Something more than just tenderness and whispered words. Pulling out he thrust back into you hard enough to jolt you forward and force your hands to slap against the floor. You barely had time to make a sound, because he was forcing the breath from your lungs. Each thrust, rough and desperate like you were.

Dropping your head between your shoulders you slammed back, practically impaling yourself on his cock, walls contracting tightly around him at the sounds he let out. It was exactly what you needed. A reminder that even through everything, you had one another. That you were alive. His hand gripped onto your shoulder, using it as leverage to pull you back as he thrust forward, forcing him so deep you could hardly form a coherent thought.

It wasn’t until his hand returned to your throat and yanked you back did you realize that you were saying words. Mumbled out nonsense, but words all the same.

“‘M yours.” His fingers met your clit, jolting your hips as the tension built in your stomach; the coil winding tight enough to hurt. “Your good girl. I love you.”

“Yeah?” he asked, lips pressing against your ear and hot breath washing across your cheek. “You’re going to be good and cum on my cock?”

Gasping your hips rolled down to meet his hands right when he changed angles, shoving right up against the spot that had sparks going down your legs. You couldn’t stop the scream of his name even if you wanted, the coil in your stomach now felt painful as he shoved you higher and higher. Once he realized he’d found right where you needed, he continued that way; thrusting into you in a frenzied manner that could only be described as wild.

“Do it,” he bit out, tightening his hold on your throat even further and slapping your clit to watch your body jolt. “Cum for me,” he whispered into your ear. “Cum on my cock.”

Your body locked up, walls clenching down so hard that you were practically strangling him. There was no holding back anything anymore. Not when he brought his hand down one more time, slapping your clit and sending you even higher. Wailing his name in a broken voice, you flooded his cock.

He didn’t stop moving, continuing to shove against your g-spot until it became near painful, but he wanted more. He wanted to see you shatter for him again and again until there was nothing left in your body to give. Growling out your name his thrusts became sloppy, stuttering slightly as he reached his own high.

“One more,” he begged, fingers rubbing against your clit until your legs shook. “I want one more. Give it to me please.”

“Bucky! Oh - fuck!” You sagged against him, your walls fluttering around him, the pleasure that rushed through you rendered you immobile, until all you could do was tilt your head enough to watch him.

“Good girl.” Half a dozen more thrusts and he was shoving himself into you until he could go no further and wrapping his arms around you as he flooded your cunt. The warmth of it sent shivers down your spine, causing you to clench around him one more time and milk him completely. “Fuck. I love you. I love you so much.”

The delirium had set in, sinking deep into your body until he had to maneuver you to the floor gently. You moaned softly when he slipped out of you, his and your cum now dripping from your spent cunt. It’s only when his fingers pushed it back into you did you jolt back to reality, focusing once more on the man who licked the remnants off his skin, groaning at the taste.

“Come here,” you said, opening your arms to welcome him into your hold. His body pressed you into the ground, lips attaching to your own as the high began to slowly fade from your bodies.

“I thought I was going to lose you today,” he replied, voice cracking.

Nudging his nose with your own, you ran a hand through his hair and pushed it away from his face. “You didn’t. I’m right here. I’ll always be here.”

“What if you-”

“Bucky look at me.” Blue eyes now cleared of lust met yours. “There’s nothing in this world, not even zombies, that can take me from you. Nothing. I’ve been here since before all of this and I will be here after.”

“You sure?” His tone had shifted into being timid, terrified that one day your words would be nothing but an empty promise. Something that neither of you held control over.

Smiling, you kissed him again. “‘Till death do us part. You die, I die. That’s the deal baby.”

“That’s the deal,” he breathed, pressing his forehead against yours and letting out a breath; the weight lifting from his shoulders slightly.

There would always be the horrors that lie outside in the city that had now turned into a hunting ground. A place where predators fought against predators, where you fought for your lives, but here...in this small room. This is where you found the broken bits of each other and helped to put them back where they belonged. Where you loved until time itself stopped and orange skies faded into black nights.

[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

Never enough |Chuuya comfort x Reader

Angst and fluff time

Never enough |Chuuya comfort x Suicidal depressed Reader|

Warnings- mentions of Self-harm, heavy depression, suicide, lack of love for one's self. -I honestly wrote this as a self-comfort cause I needed something, so it really is triggering-

Word count- 1,700 words (roughly)

Life is a storm, full of calm eyes and rough winds that threaten to knock you over. Within life, there are ups and down; rough and soft moments in the storm. Tears are like rain, drizzling and pouring. There are light cries and heavy cries just like the sky. Happiness, fear, sadness, anger; emotions are weather. There are sunny days; happiness, thunderstorms; fear, rainy days; sadness, hurricanes; anger.

The clouds wept today. Wrapping around the moonlight, it hid the light. Water made heavy clinking noises against metal. The rush of cars swooshed against water as they sped by, the sound of a silent street followed. There were no voices, no couples, no people within eyesight or earshot. Today was a rainy day; a sad day. Tears fell in pattern with the falling water. Crimson dissipated within the water. Flowing down the roof the water washed it away. Clothing stuck, hair fell, eyes continued to look down.

You felt alone, afraid, disgusted, and angry with yourself and others. Your legs dangled off the edge of the roof. Listening to the music of sadness; a rainy night, you hummed. There was nobody else there with you, besides your thoughts you were alone. Though it was no surprise, it happened all the time.

People leave, people move one, people are not permanent. There is death in life; life in death. You pondered the meaning of such similes often. Running arms over your soaked clothes you choked on sobs. Letting out silent cries you shed the pain. Out of alcohol and still sober enough to feel you tossed the empty bottle to the roof entrance. It shattered to hundreds of pieces, adding sound to your cries. This isn't normal; to feel like this. You hated the things you’ve done, the job you could not back out from. You hated the way you looked. It didn’t matter what people said to you about being perfect the way you are. The small voices of people who put you down stood out. The ones that edge this crippling insecurity stuck out the most. They say the smallest flame can do more damage than the largest flame. It makes sense though, a large flame grows from the smallest flame. The large flames that start that size often take a while to do the same damage a building flame has done. Words worked like that; the smaller words that came from those close built into raging flames.

You shouted curses under your breath, looking to your lined arms, you choked back another sob. Why, why did you do these things? They were temporary freedoms from this pain but it never lasted; like drinking. Everybody needs a way to tell these feelings to fuck off, but at points, it doesn't work. Those thoughts cross the mind. The permanent solution to what they call a temporary problem. It isn’t always temporary, sure it goes at times to reveal the sun, but then it returns three-fold. It never leaves forever, they say it gets better, but sometimes it's hard to see that light at the end. Sometimes it's so far away it seems impossible to reach unless somebody else can help.

Everybody says it’s alright to be like this. Yet, they never help, they never offer up their hand to pull you out of the quicksand. They never attempt to push you forward in the tunnel. They stand, and they watch you break, until it’s suddenly benefiting for them to step in. Then, they dare to ask why you’re like this. It’s not a choice, it’s not something that can be so easily controlled. It’s a monster with its talons tearing into you.

So maybe, that’s why you did it. That’s why you inched closer and closer. Maybe that’s why you looked up and shut your eyes. Tapping fingers against the rooftop's edge. Humming tunes to try and steer your thought from doing the last resort. Just before the wrong decision could be made, you were grabbed and pulled back.

You felt so far from the world, nothing was clicking or connecting the dots. A harsh sting to your cheek brought your mind swirling back to the present. Noticing you were paying attention, the dark silhouette of a short male shouted words. “What were you thinking!” he hissed holding your shoulders with a firm grip.

“I… I don't know?” you mumbled feeling the tears swell in your eyes again.

“You don’t know? What the hell, I know we're all a little messed up but you can't…” it fell on him, his voice cutting out as he fell to his knees. His hands slid around you. Firmly holding you, he yanked your soaked body to his. His umbrella only hid your bodies from the wind with his ability. “How long, tell me how long.” his voice was breaking but still stern.

“I don’t know? Weeks, months, maybe years?” you don't move, afraid and cold, you could not meet his eyes. “Why do you care? You’ll just end up the same as everybody else. I’m worthless right? I mean, everybody leaves me alone. I don't fit beauty standards to perfection. Nobody would want me so, why not? Why not take the shortcut to happiness?” you were slapped again. It was light, but it stung enough to snap you from those thoughts again.

“Ya well think about somebody else! I don’t need two suicidal idiots! Having one to worry about is enough! Not that I worry about that mongrel! I do about you though, you’re my drinking partner. You’re the one who managed to get me to open up to being touched! I don’t hug or act... soft with anybody else! You don’t get to take that away! I don’t care what you look like, sound like, fuck, I don’t care about anything but what’s in there. In that fuckin heart! I am not a softy, you know I don’t say shit like this often but… you can’t do that! If you're miserable enough to really be willing to toss it all away, then you should talk to somebody!” his voice was panicked. Yes, he was being selfish. He knew that this wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t a feeling you could so easily overcome. Yet, here he was hoping that you would let him help you.

“I'm sorry! I’m so sorry! I just… I thought… wouldn’t it be better for everybody though? Sure you'd be sad at first but you'd forget about me!” Chuuya shook his head. Meeting your eyes with his clouded ocean ones. Tears fell, almost unnoticeable within the pouring rain.

“No, no I wouldn't! I wouldn't because I love you! I fell in love, I don't know how or when it… it just happened! Isn’t this enough? One person, am I not enough? If I had known I’d have held you to me, given you all the cuddles you ever needed!” he buried his face into the crook of your neck. He didn’t care if you felt the same or not at this point. He just needed to let you know somebody cared for you.

“Chuuya…” a light in the tunnel, it formed inside the tunnel.

It is, as they say, eventually you will meet that light. You will find meaning in your life. Something good will happen, then, all the people who put you here will be nothing but bad memories, and lingering ghosts of the past; You can move on. A light will come to you eventually, no matter how dark it seems, that light will show itself. In a friend, a relative, a job offer, an achievement. Those beads of light spread and eventually, they will pull you out enough to know true happiness.

When Chuuya looked worriedly to you, he was taken aback by your arms tossing around him. Your tears being muffled by his own lips. He kissed back before pulling away. Even if you still felt low you were slightly feeling better. Just knowing there was somebody to hold you like this was enough to curve the thoughts for a while.

He took his jacket and wrapped it around you, lifting you into his arms. He carried you to his penthouse, setting you down on the couch located in his bedroom. He looked around, finding one of his larger hoodies he tossed to you. He started hot chocolate as he waited for you to change. You’d probably be sick tomorrow, given it had been cold and you were drenched.

He carried the mug back to the couch, placing it down, he frowned. Walking to a closet, he pulled a small towel out. Rubbing it against your skull as you sniffled, he sighed. “Do you need anything else?” shaking your head, you grabbed his arm.

“Just… some cuddles?” he nodded holding you close, trying to warm your frigid body up. “Did you mean it? You'd really care if I…”

“Yeah, I did, is there a problem? I know it may not mean much. I know how depression works, at least a little bit. It’s not something that can be easily controlled. I just want you to know that you are perfect to me. If somebody ever tells you otherwise, I'll crush them to a pulp.” cracking a small smile, Chuuya's eyes lit up. “There we go, a small smile is a win. So you like me being all protective? Good, I’m a little territorial.”

Looking at him you nodded. “Yeah… okay.” you still sounded so sad.

“I'm serious! I’d squash even Mori if he insulted you in any way! You’re the most perfect thing I've ever seen and known! You're beautiful outside and inside, people are just jealous of how perfect you are.” he was trying to lift your spirits and it seemed to work a little.

“Can we just stay like this?” Chuuya nodded, letting you lean your head on his shoulder. He didn’t move even as you fell asleep.

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Call Forth Love- Chapter 4

So I planned for this chapter and the next to originally be one but as I started writing it, the words kept flowing and oops....now its really long. So I decided to split it. This means that I’m pretty much done with the next chapter so I’ll be able to get it out in a few days! Yay!

Also, Ivar is pretty manipulative in this chapter. Someone made a comment in the last chapter that I want to acknowledge. Going forward this is kind of a theme but I just want to put that warning statement- if this is triggering for you, please read with caution. There is nothing explicit or graphic but its still manipulation. 

Words:4000

Warnings: swearing, manipulation

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius​

Series Masterlist

Sitting in the office at work, Kari sipped on her smoothie as she plugged in numbers for an inventory order. She had just finished teaching one of her morning classes and was now doing some paperwork for Lydia while on her "lunch break". 

 She jumped when her phone suddenly buzzed- a text alert. Surprised and curious as to who would be texting her at this time, she unlocked her phone to see the text from an unknown number. 

 Unknown: hey u busy 2nite?

 Kari: who is this?

 Unknown: u fav person

 Kari: OMG! Ed Sheeran?!

 She giggled quietly to herself, returning back to the laptop screen. Normally she ignored any calls or texts from unknown numbers, but it had been a good morning and she was feeling playful. When there was no return text, she shrugged the conversation off and returned to the order. Apparently, the unknown number did not get the reaction they were hoping for or realized they text the wrong person. Either way, she did not care. 

 A couple minutes later, her phone started to vibrate repeatedly. Looking down, she saw she was getting a call from the unknown number. She hesitated to answer, but by the third ring her curiosity got the better of her and she answered it. 

 "Hello?"

 "FUCKING ED SHEERAN? REALLY?"

 She sat there stunned. "Ivar?"

 "Of course, it's me. Who the fuck were you expecting?" He asked, angrily. 

 "How did you get my number?"

 He ignored her question, his voice suddenly sounding muffled. "Yeah, yeah, I'll be a second…. damn it. I know!"

 "Who is that?" 

 "My brother.” He scoffed, muttering something unintelligible under his breath, before speaking to her again. “I have to head back into a meeting now."

 "Oh, ok?"

 "You didn't answer my question."

 Her mind was still reeling from the fact that Ivar Lothbrok had her number and was calling her out of the blue. "What question?"

 He huffed, exasperation evident in his tone. "Are you busy tonight?"

 "Why?"

 "I want to take you out."

 "Ivar," she sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead, "I told you, I can't."

 "Yeah and I don't believe you, so…."

 "No. I'm sorry but the answer is still no."

 "Fine. I have to go." He snapped then abruptly ended the call.  

 Slowly, she pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it. What just happened? Before she forgot, she added his number to her contacts since she had the distinct feeling this would not be the last time he contacted her. Once done, she set her phone down and dropped her head into her hands. 

 It had been two days since he drove her home and she said they could be friends. In those two days, this was the first contact they had. She had hoped he grew bored with her since she was not playing his game, that she refused to go out with him. Maybe he finally decided she was not worth his time and moved on? Which was for the best. She could never fit into his world, there was no space for her there. Nor did she want to. She was happy, content with her life. 

 It was better for her to not allow Ivar into her life. That's what she repeated to herself as she tried to focus on the inventory order. 

 *****

 "Just put the bags right there, thank you." Kari said, placing the grocery bags, one in each hand, onto the tiled floor. The kitchen in her townhouse was small, two people could barely move around in it without bumping into one another. Thankfully, she did not spend much time in the kitchen. Cooking had never been her forte. 

 "Do you need anything else? I don't mind staying to help." The dirty-blond haired man asked, setting the two bags he carried down onto the floor. He started to shuffle forward but seemed to think better of it and leaned against the half-wall separating the kitchen from the short hallway. 

 "Erik, it's fine. If anything, I owe you. You never let me pay for gas money."

 He shrugged, and tucked his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. "It's not a big deal. I needed to shop too."

 "Still, it's not fair to you." She turned around from placing the milk in the fridge to look at him. 

 "If I think of something you can do to repay me, I'll let you know. Deal?"

 "Perfect."

 "Do you still want a ride to work tomorrow?"

 She shut the door and jokingly waved a hand at him. "See! You're too nice."

 "I'd be ‘too nice’ if I also showed up with coffee for you."

 She laughed, moving some frozen fruit into the freezer. "You're too perfect to not have a girlfriend." 

 He rubbed the back of his neck, a flush growing on his cheeks and drawing out a boyish smile. "I don't know if I'd say that. I'll let you get to it. I'll meet you outside at nine?"

 "Thank you, Erik."

 "Of course." He popped his head around the wall to look into the living room. "See you, Alana!"

 "Bye, Erik!" The response came from the living room. 

 Kari continued to put her groceries away as she heard the front door click shut behind him. Somehow, she needed to figure out a way to pay him back. 

 Erik lived in the townhouse next door alone. When he learned that Kari did not own a car, he offered to give her rides whenever it worked out for both of their schedules. At first, she had been hesitant, still not having lived in the townhouse for long but eventually gave in because he always acted like such a gentleman. Every time he saw her, he made sure to greet her and ask about her day. He always held the door open for her and anybody else close by. A negative word never passed his lips, rather choosing to focus on the positive in life. A routine soon started to form and every two weeks they would meet up outside of their townhouses and go grocery shopping together. When she did not have to work early, he would occasionally give her rides to work since the bank he worked at was only a couple blocks away. That was the extent of their interactions though. She wondered about inviting him over for dinner as to thank him but she always chickened out in asking him. Perhaps that was what she needed to do after all.  

 Once all her groceries were put away, she headed into the living room, seeing her roommate and friend sitting on the couch with the TV on to the Great British Bake-off but looking down at her phone. 

 The brunette asked, dropping onto the second couch. "How was work?"

 "Good. You?" Alana looked up, her make-up flawless like usual on her delicate features. 

 "Nothing too exciting."

 "You know, if you'd waited two hours I could have taken you to the store."

 Kari nodded, fiddling with her diamond stud earring. "I know, but you're so busy with work and school. I know you like relaxing when you come home and Erik said he was free today."

 "Did he now?" Alana asked with a smug look.

 Kari tossed a throw pillow at her. "Don't start this again."

 The blonde caught the pillow, still grinning like the Cheshire cat. "You know he likes you. He's just too shy to ask you out."

 "He's a friend, it's been like seven months, I think if he was going to ask me out, he would have done it by now."

 "He. Is. Shy." Alana enunciated, as if talking to a child. She rolled her blue eyes, leaning back against the couch. "Shit, he only started to actually talk to me this summer."

 "Cause you are intimidating."

 Alana threw the pillow back at Kari. "Bitch, it's cause I radiate sexiness and he can't handle it."

 "That is most definitely it." 

 "Well the guy I hooked up with last weekend said I radiated sexiness."

 Kari wrinkled her nose, looking over at her roommate. "I don't want to hear that. It's bad enough when you bring them here."

 "You know, it wouldn't be the worst thing for you to actually go out with Erik. He's…. sweet." She quietly stated, eyes back on the TV. 

 "Yeah."

 "I'm fairly sure he'd treat you better than that fucker of ex."

 Kari picked invisible lint off her black leggings, apprehensive about where the topic was going. Her love life, and lack of it, was something Alana liked to remind her of frequently as of late. "Honestly, I'm even sure anymore he should count as an ex."

 "Well you were supposed to be exclusive, right? And then you find out he's been fucking other girls the whole time. That counts as a shitty ex."

 She winced at the reminder of her one attempt at dating. "I don't…. I don't think I'm ready."

 The blonde pointed a finger at her roommate without turning her eyes away from the TV. "Well don't wait around forever, you'll miss out."

 "Says the woman who hooks up with a different guy almost every other weekend."

 "And I'm not missing out!"

 Kari laughed. Feeling her phone vibrate, she pulled it out of her pocket and checked it to see a new text from Ivar. 

 Ivar: hell no, if we r gng 2 see the Northern Lights thn we're gng 2 Iceland or Norway.

 She smiled at the text, quickly typing in a reply. 

 Kari: fine, we'll add that to the list. Can I please put South Africa back on the list?

 She fiddled with her diamond stud earrings, looking back at their conversation throughout the day. Just looking at all the texts, she bit her lip to try and contain the smile. 

 Ivar had texted her in the late morning, asking her out again. To which she just texted back a one-word answer- "no". Apparently undeterred, he ignored her 'no', saying how he wanted to take her to this popular restaurant. Somehow the conversation spiraled into creating overly outrageous "dates" he would take her on, each one more fantastic than the last, with her encouraging and creating her own ideas. Their texting had lasted all day, and she found herself actually looking forward to his responses. Something she never would have expected, especially after how rudely he hung up on her the prior day. 

 So far her favorite "date" involved him renting out the entire Roman Colosseum in Rome and having a candlelight dinner in the middle of the arena. The most amusing one was when she suggested they go skydiving. He shut down that idea saying they would have to be strapped to instructors and the only man she should ever be strapped to was him. 

 Her phone vibrated in her hand, alerting her to his response. 

 Ivar: u r not swimming w/ sharks 

 She giggled, trying to imagine his facial expression. She actually had no desire to do half of the stuff she suggested but it was funny to get a rise out of him. 

 Kari: African safari?

 "What are you giggling at?" Alana questioned, giving her the side-eye. 

 The smile dropped from her face. "Nothing."

 "That doesn't sound like nothing."

 "Just a funny meme." She deflected, getting to her feet. There was no way she could tell Alana she had been texting Ivar all day. "I'm going to shower."

 As she headed upstairs to her room, her phone vibrated again. 

 Ivar: do u jus luv danger?

 Kari: I'm talking to you, aren't I? 

 She headed to her bathroom, turning the shower on and checking the temperature. In a spur of the moment decision, she tossed in a eucalyptus shower bomb. 

 Just before she jumped in, she looked at her phone one last time to find his response.  

 Ivar: touche, kitten, touche 😘

 *****

 The soothing soundtrack of nature played over the speakers in the yoga studio room. A few women were already in the studio with their yoga mats out, either stretching or quietly conversing as they waited. Depending on the day, the ten am morning class could be busy but typically it averaged about fifteen to twenty women.

 Kari bent over, touching her palms to the floor. Even though she would not be continuously doing the routine along with those in her class, she still liked to be limber and have her muscles warmed up. This was a beginner class, where she spent a good portion of the time either correcting people's forms or showing how to do a certain pose. A few of her coworkers complained about teaching beginner classes since when the participants walked through the door, you never really knew what level they were at. 

 Checking the clock hanging over the door, she saw she had five minutes before her class started. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, enjoying the pull of her muscles. The door to the studio room opened but Kari continued to stretch, shifting to a downward facing dog pose, holding it. She could hear some people moving around but she focused on her breathing.  

 "Mmm, I could get used to seeing this."

 The familiar voice behind her, caused Kari to try and whip around in startled surprise, only to end up crashing onto her ass. 

 Above her stood Ivar with a devilish smile. "Hello, kitten." He softly said with smolder that instantly made her flush and a tendril of warmth curl in her belly. Standing there in his jeans and red shirt with his hair pulled back in a man bun, it was unfair how striking he looked. Even the braces over his legs did nothing to deter from his attractiveness. 

 She rose quickly to her feet, wiping her hands over her leggings and peeking at the others in the room. Most were curiously watching their interaction but remained where they were. 

 "What are you doing here?" She hissed, turning her gaze back up to meet his. "How did you find me?"

 He rolled his eyes. "You were wearing a Whole Wellness Yoga Studio shirt when I drove you home last week. Plus, hearing from Gyda that you work here…. You're not that hard to find."

 That made sense, even if she disliked the logic. "Ok, fine. Why are you here though?"

 "I want to take you out tonight."

 "Oh gods." She could not believe what she was hearing. The prior day they had spent most of the day texting and sure it was fun, but her answer had not changed. When he had not text her this morning, she assumed that was the last she had heard from him. Apparently, he decided to ask her out in person instead of over the phone like the past two times. "Ivar… No."

 "Why? You keep saying you can't but never why."

 "It's just…. look, I don't want to date."

 He took a step closer, face inches above hers. His voice dropped low, an underlying current of anger in his tone. Those piercing blue eyes challenged her. "You say that but I don't think that's the real reason. So, until you tell me the truth, your 'no' means fucking nothing. Friends tell each other things, right?"

 "You know, I don't think we should be friends anymore."

 He chuckled, still standing too close for a normal conversation. "Too late. I like you."

 "I'm still not going out with you." She placed her hands on her hips, trying to appear confident, hoping desperately he did not hear the wavering in her voice. 'This was for the best, it was best for both of them' she repeated in her mind. 

 "Fine. I'll wait for you to change your mind." He winked and stepped back. To her horror, she watched as he walked over to the side of the room where she kept her water bottle and light jacket. He grabbed a nearby chair and dragged it over before dropping down with his legs in a manspread, that stupid smirk still on his face. 

 She stomped over to him, whisper-shouting at him. "What are you doing?"

 "I'm waiting."

 "What?"

 "I'm not leaving until you agree to go on a date with me."

 "You can't...no…. Ivar." She whined. 

 "I walked all the way here to see you, even though my legs are quite painful today…. you wouldn't kick a cripple out when they just need to rest, would you?" He asked, eyes widened in mock innocence. One of his hands rubbed at his knee in exaggerated fashion as if to prove the discomfort he was in. 

 She groaned. "I hate you."

 "No, you don't." He gloated, then nodded towards the clock. "It's ten o'clock, it's time to start your class, I believe."

 Without another word, she moved to the front of the room. She refused to play this game. Her answer was 'no' and no matter what he said or did, her answer would not change. The whole time she could feel his rakish gaze on her, reminding her how tight her leggings and purple tank top were. She tried to focus on her class, smiling at the women she recognized and the ones that she assumed was new. "Let's begin. Everyone start in mountain pose. Take deep breaths, let's center ourselves."

 "Kari!" 

 She looked over at the older woman, Ingrid, who called out. The woman was easily one of Kari's favorites, doting upon those who worked at the yoga studio, and becoming the unofficial grandmother of them. Ingrid had been coming to the yoga studio for years but was forced to only take beginner level classes after a bad fall the prior year. She loudly complained about her doctor being an idiot and how she felt fine, but Lydia refused to let her attend any other class than beginner classes until otherwise said by her doctor. 

 "Yes?"

 Ingrid's hazel eyes twinkled with mischief from the front row where she stood. "You planning on introducing that handsome young man you've got over there?"

 "No, we are going to ignore his presence. He's going to be leaving soon." Kari flatly stated with a polite smile.

 "Hi! I'm Ivar!" He announced with a charming smile, his bright blue eyes alluring under the dim lights. Giving a little wave with his fingers, he continued, "I hope my presence doesn't bother all you lovely women, I just came to see my girlfriend and ask her on a date tonight."

 A chorus of "awwwws" filled the room. 

 Kari wanted nothing more than to bang her head against a wall. Or preferably, Ivar's head. She could not believe the audacity of him.

 "Where are you taking her?" One of the newer women asked in a flirty tone, pulling her shoulders back to emphasize her ample chest. 

 Ivar barely glanced at her, keeping his focus on Kari. "It's a surprise. I wanted to do something special."

 "Young man, if I were a few years younger, I would fight Kari here so you could take me on a date." Ingrid said with a laugh. 

 "I would be honored to take a lovely woman like you on a date." He sent a playful wink to Ingrid. 

 "Alright, let's get back to yoga." Kari tried to redirect the attention. Annoyed and upset did not even begin to describe how she felt. 

 "Well it was lovely to meet you, young man. Kari should have told us her boyfriend was so handsome. We might have convinced her to bring you in sooner for some eye candy." Ingrid teased. 

 "He's not my boyfriend." Kari retorted, shooting a glare at the smug raven-haired man. 

 "And that is why I'm trying to take her on a date." He placed a hand dramatically over his heart, eyes staring at her beseechingly. "Just for her to give me a chance."

 "Get her some tulips. Those are her favorite flowers." Karina called out from the back of the room. 

 "Can't go wrong with chocolate!"

 "Oh! Read her a sonnet and dance under the stars together!"

 "This is so romantic…. like something out of a movie." Someone loudly whispered, making a few others laugh. 

 Kari dropped her chin to her chest. Tears welled in her eyes. She knew those in the class meant well, that they were really just trying to help. But they were helping the wrong person. Why would Ivar not leave her alone? She told him 'no' multiple times, that should have been enough. Her tolerance for his behavior was waning rapidly and honesty she was not sure if she would fight back…. or surrender. 

 The chair scratched faintly on the floor followed by his footsteps landing audibly as he crossed the room to reach her. She refused to lift her head, her eyes squeezed shut. Not just to pretend she could not feel him standing so close to her, but to try and hide the single tear that rolled down her cheek. 

 "Kari." He whispered, the sound a caress of her name. 

 Still she did not move. 

 Gently, he tipped her chin up, forcing her to look at him. His thumb wiped away the evidence of her tear. It was those captivating eyes, the ones that could both scorch everything in view but also send flames of desire dancing across her skin, that met hers. To her surprise, there was a softness in his gaze, a vulnerability, that was reminiscent of the few times they were alone. As if with just her, for a brief moment, he let his guard down and she could glimpse the real Ivar. 

 "Go out with me." He murmured faintly, stroking her cheek with his thumb. Standing in front of her, his broad back to the class gave them a semblance of privacy. "Please."

 "Why can't you let this go?" She begged quietly, staring up at him. 

 "I told you, I'm persistent." He smiled, almost shyly. 

 In his words, it felt like there was such a depth to them she was unaware of. That he was confessing something to her in which she did not have the key to fully understand. 

 She sighed softly, closing her eyes for a moment before looking at him again. "Fine. I'll go…. But it's only as friends, ok? This isn't…. Romantic. Just…. Just friends."

 "Sure, just friends." He leaned forward and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to her cheek. "I'll pick you up at seven."

 She nodded, feeling torn apart inside. 

 After a lingering look that breathed a flame into her belly, he spun on his heel to face the women. "She said yes!"

 A few cheers and clapping reverberated in the small yoga studio room. 

 "I graciously thank you all for your sound advice and encouragement with helping me to woo the beautiful Kari. Wish me luck as I plan to thoroughly spoil her tonight." Ivar dramatically bowed, shooting a quick wink at Kari as she watched him. 

 She desperately tried to fight the small smile off her lips. No one could say that Ivar was not charming or charismatic when it suited him. 

 As he finally made his way to the door, he turned around just before pushing it open. "Wear something nice." He said, pointing a finger at Kari and then walked out like a dream where one cannot decide if it was a nightmare or not. 

 The brunette ran a hand down her face before shoving aside her emotions and plastering a customer smile on. "I'm so sorry about all of this. Let's get back to it. I promise it won't happen again, ladies."

 "Kari, dear, you have fun with that boy tonight." Ingrid spoke up, eyes darting to the now closed door and back to the yoga instructor. "And if you don't want him, let me know. I'd still jump on him in a heartbeat. That boy has the prettiest eyes, I swear."

 A few sounds of agreement echoed in the room. 

 Kari could not stop her smile from turning genuine at Ingrid. No matter the situation, the feisty, older woman always knew how to make her laugh. "I promise I'll let you know. Now, back to mountain pose please."

 Silently, she hoped tonight was not a mistake.

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

I would do this

Pairing | Kai Parker x Reader

Warnings | smut, rough, spanking (kinda), sex, make dom

Word count | 896

Summary | Kai not letting you go out wearing something because it's too revealing and this happening.

You walked down the stairs to the boarding house, your heals clicking against the wood. You headed over to the door and picked up your bag, double checking you have everything.  The second he saw you kai's eyes nearly popped out his head.

"Where do you think your going dressed like that?!" He demanded.

"I'm going to the grill. I'm meeting bonnie and Elena. Hey, do you think I could borrow your car?" You asked innocently, not seeing the problem.

"At least you won't be drinking." He muttered

"What was that?" You asked impatiently.

"Of course you can borrow my car, y/n," you smiled and grabbed his keys off the side.

"If you get changed into something less...distracting." Kai continued. You hugged and dropped his keys back on the small table. You took a few steps forward so you were in the living room with him and placed your hands on your hips.

"What is your problem kai? It's not distracting and you're not my boyfriend so I'm struggling to see why I should even listen to you. Hell, I don't even know why you're here, you're such a creepy little asshole-" he cut you off as he stood from the sofa and stepped forward, less than a foot away from you. His tall frame towered over yours, even with you wearing your heals. He smirked and brushed a curl from your face, you could feel yourself stiffen as his cool rings touched your soft cheek.

"Do you know what I would do if I was some guy at a bar and I saw you dressed like that?" He questioned lowly and seductively. You swallowed your fear as he leant down and whispered,

"I would do this." And with that he brought his hand up and ripped your dress down the centre and tossed it across the room. He shoved you so you were bent over the dining table with your ass facing him. He used the flat of his palm to press you further against the cold surface. You gulped and anticipated what was next, knowing you'd never seen kai like this before.

You felt his hand connect harshly with your ass, making you jump a little and causing a chuckle to fall from his lips. The sound of his zipper being pulled down the track and his jeans pooling at his feet filled your ears before the fabric of your white lace panties was ripped from your body, which was just about the hottest thing ever. You but your lip at the suspense, feeling his hand rubbing the flesh of your ass lovingly before it came down on the other cheek, ever harder than before.

"My handprint looks so good on your ass, babe." Kai cooed from behind you, beginning to give himself a couple strokes. Without warning he thrusted into you roughly, sending you forward into the table even more.

"Fuck Kai." You moaned as he instantly picked up a bruising pace, continuing to give your ass harsh but pleasurable spanks every few pumps. You gripped the sides of the table, so tightly you worried that you might break the polished wood. Your cheek pressed into the cold wood also, while Kai's free hand had a death-grip on your hip, which was sure to leave bruises the shape of his fingers later on. Kai’s groans of pleasure were insanely hot and only pushed you further towards your climax.

Kai brought his hand from your hip and wrapped his around your hair, pulling you back to you were flush against his chest and he could whisper in your ear. To top it off, he reached his other hand round to rub your clit in rough, fast figure of eights. The pornographic sound of your moans echoed through the room as Kai relentlessly pounded into you, chasing both yours and his climaxes. To drive you even closer her began whispering all the stuff he wants to do to you in your ear, making arousal instantly pool at your entrance.

The sound of skin slapping against skin was all you could focus on as Kai muttered,

“Come for me babe.” Into your neck as he littered it with harsh kisses. The knot in your stomach instantly released and Kai shoved the fingers he was using to rub your clit into your mouth, groaning loudly as you swirled your tongue around them to clean them off.

His pace sped up even more as he chased his orgasm, his hips snapping into yours so quickly it was almost at an inhumane speed. You moaned as loud as you could around his fingers as he hit your gag reflex and he cane in you in hot spurts, your name falling from his lips. His release triggered yours and your now shaking frame sank back into his as he thrusted a few more times to finish you off.

“Tired baby?” He cooed in your ear again and you nodded, your body barely able to stay upright without his for support. “Oh babe, I am far from done with you tonight.” He whispered lowly and lustfully, making your eyes widen as he pushed you over the table again, positioning his head between your legs.

[mysticgalaxie]

After Dr. Randolph Bell broke it off with Quovadis, and he assumed that all would be fine, after the dust settled. He couldn't have been more wrong.

Chapter 2

Word count:1543

View on wattpad:

https://my.w.tt/tgW8SFZXkcb

It was a unusually quiet night at the hospital. Kit was still on call, she had to work some overtime at the hospital. As she walked past the nurses station, she heard a nurse talking to their friends.

"Its pretty quiet tonight." They said.

The people just kinda stared at her, as if she had said a devils curse. Which, everyone had a feeling she did.

"Never say the q word." Another nurse warned, as they got word an ambulance would be brining in a stab victim.

Kit sighed and turned to the nurses.

"What is the address of this place? Like, how far away?" She questioned.

The nurse looked down and answered her, telling her the address, which Kit knew was the bar that all of her colleagues had went to.

Kit crossed her arms and slowly nodded. "That's where Dr. Bell and his colleagues went after shift. They should still be there. Be ready for them to arrive." Kit warned, worry in her tone. She knew of Randolph's falling out with Quovadis, and what could have possibly gone wrong. She just tried not to think too much about that until she was sure about what happened.

But she couldn't shake the feeling something horrible happened.

~

As Gordon stepped into the groups line of sight, it was as if a fiery rage exploded in Conrad's eyes. "You son of a bitch!" Conrad yelled, his hands making fists instinctively.

This only seemed to amuse Gordon, who laughed in response to Conrad. "Ooh, it would appear somebody is feisty~"

Conrad's fists shook. He nearly went to step forward but he felt a gun press against his temple. He froze, as Gordon grinned. "Ah, yeah. If i were you, I'd stay put."

Conrad growled lowly, staying quiet as he knew it wouldn't do anything but make Gordon even happier. He glanced at the clock on the wall, and he felt slightly defeated as he realized it had only been a few long minutes since he called 911. He feared they wouldn't be here fast enough.

His eyes wandered back to Randolph, and his anger only grew. He shouldn't be in this situation. He wanted nothing more than to go help him.

Nic was in a bit of a panic mode, Devon was silent but trying to help her relax. Mina, who was beside aj and Conrad, just touched Conrad's arm. She didn't want to say anything given their current situation.

After a moment of staring  at the group of doctors, Gordon got bored and walked over to Randolph's body. He knelt down, touching some of Randolph's blood. He smirked, tossing Conrad's bloody shirt away. Quickly, blood began to pool around Randolph.

Conrad's voice cracked a bit as he managed to speak. "Please, let me help him." He nearly begged, and Mina just gently rubbed Conrad's shoulder.

Gordon rolled his eyes. "He fucked me over, he fucked over my company and now he will pay the price."

Conrad was all out of options, and so was everybody else. Everybody was panicking a bit but Conrad seemed the most panicked and/or determined out of them all.

"Please. I'll do anything you want. Don't kill him. Don't let him die. Please..." Conrad begged again. Nobody in the room reacted aside from Gordon, who didn't even step away from Randolph. He kept his eyes on Randolph's body as he spoke to Conrad.

"Tempting. But my plan has gone PERFECTLY! There's not a chance in hell I'm letting this go!" Gordon yelled, causing Nic and Conrad to both flinch. Conrad had never felt more helpless in his whole life. And that was saying something.

Gordon then regained his full composure as he stood up. "Well, I believe this shitshow has gone on for long enough. Let's end this, shall we?" He smirked, and as he pulled out a gun Conrad felt tears start to bubble at his eyes. Nic was in shock, everyone else was either blank or panicking in their own way.

Gordon pointed the gun at Randolph's head. "Don't do this! Just let him go!" Conrad yelled, but it was futile. As Gordon placed his finger against the trigger, Conrad found himself holding his breath, not even realising it. He thought his heart might just stop right there. He knew it was over.

Until the bartender ran over and attacked Gordon. Gordon ended up shooting higher up on the wall in surprise, thankfully it missed Randolph.

Gordon and the bartender kept fighting, none of the other men shot because they didn't want to hurt Gordon. While the two fought, they heard sirens outside. Gordon, in a panic pushed the bartender off and shot him in the head. Mina gasped in surprise. Conrad and Nic flinched in surprise.

Gordon panicked still. "What the fuck!?" He yelled. "Get the fuck outta here!" He spoke as he took one last look at Randolph before he quickly ran out. The rest of the group had no choice but to follow.

Conrad ran over to Randolph as quickly as he possibly could, tears running down his face before he could stop them. He pulled Randolph close to him, trying to put pressure on the wound. He used the other hand to check his pulse, and feeling how weak it was nearly sent Conrad spiraling.

Aj and Devon walked over to check on the man who had gotten shot, though they both knew he had to be dead after that. Mina hugged Nic, trying to get her to calm down even a little bit. Normally, everybody in this room was stone faced during danger. But this was personal. Nobody really knew how to feel.

Within a matter of seconds, paramedics rushed through the door and over to Conrad and Randolph. Conrad was a bit hysterical as the paramedics pulled Randolph away from him and onto the gurney. They started to work on him, trying to stop the bleeding as much as possible before getting him into the ambulance.

Conrad stayed against the floor, just staring at Randolph's body. He didn't know why he was reacting this way. Randolph was just his boss, it wasn't like it was his family. But right now, he couldn't control his emotions much less figure them out.

He wasn't hearing anything that was happening. He was zoned out, but as soon as they started wheel Randolph outside, Conrad jumped up. "I'm - I'm coming with him." Conrad spoke, and the paramedic nodded. As they got Randolph into the back of the ambulance, Conrad looked down at his blood covered hands. Each time he got this much blood on his hands it wasn't any easier than the first.

As soon as he could, he got inside the ambulance. The paramedics shut the doors, and Conrad turned his attention back to Randolph. Without really thinking about it, Conrad grabbed his hand and held it. He didn't let go the whole ride to the hospital.

Back at the bar, Nic, Mina, Devon and Aj had to stay back. They knew the cops were going to arrive and want to question them about what happened. And they were nervous about telling the truth. They knew Gordon would come for ALL of them after this. But they couldn't defend him or lie to the cops. They knew what they needed to do.

After around 5/10 minutes, the ambulance arrived at the hospital.  They jumped up and got Randolph out as quickly as they could, as doctors rushed out to help them. Conrad stepped out and stepped back, knowing they needed space. That and he knew he wouldn't be any help. The cold air hit his bare chest, causing shivers to run up his spine.

Kit ran out after a moment, looking at Randolph as they wheeled him off, then back to Conrad. "Oh my god Conrad, What happened?" She asked, trying to keep composed as she could see Conrad was far from it.

Conrad snapped out of his state a bit as he looked up at her. "He was stabbed... Gordon page and Quovadis orchestrated everything... We were all held at gunpoint... Gordon almost killed him and I couldn't help him. If he dies I.." He cut himself off with a deep inhale.

Kit frowned. "That's absolutely terrible... I'm so sorry that happened. But I know Randolph. He's been through a lot, I'm sure he'll be just fine." She tried to convince Conrad.

Conrad looked at her. "Nic had a bad feeling about everything. I should have just listened to her... If we had listened maybe he'd still be okay..." Conrad spoke. He was in slight denial, going over everything that had happened before Randolph got stabbed. Thinking of everything he could have possibly done to prevent what happened.

Kit moved closer and touched his shoulder. "That's the denial talking. Don't let it rule you. Come on, lets get you cleaned up.." She spoke with a gentle smile as she led Conrad inside. She was worried but Conrad came first. There wasn't anything she could do to help Randolph, anyway.

But she knew that if Randolph survived, not only would it be a long road to recovery, it would be hell to fight through their war with Quovadis. This was just the beginning.

[excindrela]

Can I request some vav make out or smut story that will be unfortunately interrupted by other members walk in in the middle of everything and don't stop teasing them about it. With ayno or baron.

Hello Anon!! OMG- so sweet of you to request something!! I never get requests!!  Thank you so much!!

Ok, you gave me a choice, and since I usually write Ayno, I decided to write BaRon! I don’t know if this was what you were looking for, but I hope you like it!! 

Pairing: BaRon (Chunghyeop) of VAV x female reader (with a cameo by the rest of VAV)

Word Count: 1496

Warnings: Cussing, making out

2020 had been hell on your relationship. First your boyfriend left on a 12 week tour right before Valentine’s Day – only to get stuck in South America and Puerto Rico before his group finally retreated home to shelter from the Corona virus. But then they had been locked up in quarantine for 2 weeks because they had been outside the country… and then the agency had them sheltering in place for another month. So, when the “no visitors” restriction was lifted, suffice to say you were desperate for some physical contact.

It wasn’t like Chunghyeop wasn’t desperate too. But they were staying secluded, and the boys were busy working on a comeback…and then the agency decided to move buildings. Getting alone time together was hard anyway: you had three roommates and he had six…but your boyfriend was a little devious.

Your sweet BaRon had it all figured out. “Ok! Here’s the plan: Jacob is taking everyone out for BBQ. I’m going to stay for the first course, and then I’m going to leave and come get you from work. We can go to the old building- no one will be there. Dinner will last at least another hour, and then the guys will go back to the dorm. We can get a couple hours before anyone starts looking for me.”

It went off without a hitch. He left the restaurant and picked you up in an Uber right as you finished work. His thumbprint passed you into the dark, silent, red brick building. You could still see the outline where the A-Team Entertainment letters and the banners with the boy’s pictures had hung on the wall. It seemed a little sad.

 You climbed the silent stairs and entered the still, shadowed practice room. BaRon connected his phone and suddenly the sound system sprang to life with Bruno Mars’ “Versace On the Floor”. He twirled you around before pulling you against him to sway in the darkness. Warm hands & strong arms pressed your body against his as he began leaving soft kisses on your neck.

“I missed you jagiya”, he whispered in your ear before he ghosted kisses all the way down to your shoulder. You sucked on his earlobe as you slid your hands down his well muscled back and on to his thicc ass. He moaned as he fit his mouth to yours. Your tongues fought for dominance with kisses so hot and desperate you almost didn’t feel him glide the zipper of your dress down and the fabric slither to the floor.

Now Camila Cabello was telling you that half of her heart was in Havana, but your whole heart was right here in this deserted dance studio pounding in time with the beautiful man who was very sensually cha-cha-ing you backwards toward the couch that sat in the corner of the studio, while he undid the clasp of your bra with one hand. You admired his coordination as he casually tossed your bra over his shoulder without missing a beat.

You had managed to get his shirt unbuttoned – but not off. You did manage to get his pants undone, and they fell to his ankles in a sudden rush causing you to fall backward onto the soft cushions with BaRon’s luscious body on top of you. No complaints: you’d always had a fantasy about fucking in the studio, and now here you were. Totally worth waiting for.

One of the advantages to dating a dancer was his incredible sense of rhythm. You were enjoying that skill immensely as Chunghyeop’s hardened body ground against your heat in time to Taemin’s “Want” blaring from the speakers. You moaned loudly; head clouded in a love-drunk fog…

Until you were blinded by every halogen light in the room snapping on and your ears assaulted by a high-pitched scream. You let out a matching high-pitched scream in response, as you took in Ziu’s wide eyed horrified expression. “It’s not what it looks like!” you yelled. “Yes, it is. It’s exactly what it looks like!” BaRon replied.

At that moment, alerted by the inhuman sound Ziu was still making, Van, Jacob, Ayno & Lou rushed through the door. They spent half a second looking around in confusion before spotting the two of you on the couch. You knew you should have done something, but you just laid there in your lacy underwear, trapped under BaRon, like a deer in headlights.

Van started laughing hysterically as he turned around and walked to the far corner of the room, holding his sides as he dropped to his knees and pounded the floor, unable to contain his mirth. You felt your face growing hot.

“AAAAHHH!!!”, Ayno cried, covering his eyes, “Chunghyeop-hyung…you should be doing this somewhere alone!!”

“We were alone until you idiots showed up!” BaRon retorted, “What are you doing here? You were supposed to be going back to the dorm after dinner!”

“I forgot my textbook and Ace wanted some sheet music he was working on.” Lou supplied.

As though summoned by the mention of his name, Ace finally strode through the door with the boys’ dog, Cash, hot on his heels. “What the-“ he began as he took in the situation and then spotted the two of you still laying immobile on the couch. “Oh fuck…” he said with a roll of his eyes as he turned and exited the room again.

“Almost…” BaRon mumbled.

Lou looked at the two of you in disgust. “What made you think this was a good place to go for it? We sit on that couch hyung!”

“Well, we used to,” Ace responded dryly as he re-entered the studio.

While everyone was distracted, Jacob had wandered to the middle of the studio and retrieved your discarded bra and examined it, a devilish smile creasing his lips when he had spotted the tag with your cup size. He was now surreptitiously peeking around Ayno trying to get a look at what filled them.

“Cobi! What the hell are you doing?? STOP STARING AT HER!”, Ace thundered, his voice tinged with exasperation as he reached up and smacked Jacob upside the head.

Jacob just grinned, but you turned eleven shades of red and tried to hide your face with your hands.

That seemed to trigger Ayno’s sense of propriety, and he unzipped his flame-sleeved Palm Angels hoodie (the one that cost more than you made in a month), and came over, head turned to the side and eyes averted, to wedge the jacket between you and BaRon and save some shred of your modesty. His chivalrous gesture was immediately ruined, however, as he whipped out his phone and leaned in for a selfie with the two of you. You laid there wide eyed & horrified as BaRon smiled and threw out a peace sign, and you heard the shutter click.

“Dammit Ayno!!” you shrieked as he somersaulted away from you, holding the phone you were desperately trying to snatch just out of your reach. “I swear- if that ends up on your Instagram, I will break both your ankles and you won’t dance for a year!!,” you threatened vainly against the sound of his laughter.

A low growl caused Ayno’s laughter to abate and BaRon to lift his torso and crane around slightly as you leaned out from underneath him to see Cash in the middle of the room…with your dress in her mouth. Van was slowly advancing on her- hence the growling. He reached out lightening quick to grab one end of the fabric, but Cash wasn’t letting go. “Cashie! Cashie! No! Give! Give!” he commanded as the Sharpei tugged and shook her head back and forth. Seeing Ziu start to sneak up on her, she gave a forceful yank while hopping backwards. There was a horrific ripping sound as the dress tore apart and the victorious canine darted between Ziu’s legs and bolted out of the practice room and down the stairs with her prize. “Cash! No! Sit!”, Van hollered as he ran out of the room to give chase, with Ziu right behind him.

You sighed. “I liked that dress. I wore it twice, and now it’s a dog toy.”

Lou shook his head. “That’s it. I’m out. Have fun.”, he said as he quit the room.

“C’mon pabo, let’s go”, Ace said looking unsurprised that both Jacob and Ayno responded to the insult by moving toward the door, “Let’s leave loverboy to it.”

“At least I have someone to make out with!” BaRon called.

Ace laughed, narrowed his eyes, and proceeded to yank his friend’s pants completely off, swinging them over his shoulder as he walked out the door with them.

You were suddenly alone again, and you both burst out laughing. “I’m so sorry”, he said.

“That’s ok. They’re never going to let us live this down, are they?” you said, still giggling.

Chunghyeop’s smile was still huge, his eyes little upside-down crescents, “Nope!” he said cheerfully, “This will live on forever! …but I think we should take our chances with your roommates from now on.”

[bbrandy2002]

The Fall of Cordonia

Chapter Seven (Final)

A/N: Sorry it has taken so long to get this one chapter finished. I have had several things in my personal life that have been quite stressful, I can't even begin to explain what I've been dealing with and I won't bore you with details. I do want to thank @kingliam2019 for asking about this fic several times, it gave me the little boost I needed and for pre-reading chapters for me. Also @burnsoslow for pre-reading snippets and giving me advice. And @sirbeepsalot who has advised me throughout and is just truly a wonderful person.

C/N: I was told I shouldn't end it this way and didnt plan to, however I had a change of heart. I hope its not too disappointing.

Warnings: DARK!! Gun violence, murder, mental illness, major character deaths, suicide, its brutal....but...its not (you will see what I mean).

Word count: 2909

---------

"Hello Son, I've been expecting you."

Liam and Drake stopped dead in their tracks, slack-jawed as the woman who stood before them became clearer. The once image of virtuous beauty and kindness, now an aged souless boor. Her blonde hair now silver, and her flawless ivory skin had heavily creased and worn.

Her voice cut Liam like a knife as it was a sound he had not heard in twenty five years. There was no love or nurturing in her flat blue eyes, just a haggard woman caught up in her own destructive nature.

Liam fought the temptation and overwhelming urge to run for Eleanor. He needed to feel her long awaited gentle arms wrapped around him again -- to soothe his hurts and wipe away his tears. Like any child would covet from his mother, he wanted her to want to do those things. It soon became clear she was neither interested in entertaining his boyish fantasy nor rekindling their bond.

Cradled in her arms was Liam's infant son-- his own flesh-- and a child he was prepared to give life and limb for if need be.

He stepped forward to approach them. As both of his arms reached out in desperation for Nikolas, Eleanor pointed her gun at him.

Liam fell to his knees in surrender, weakened by the sight of a weapon aimed at his only child. He begged earnestly for her not to hurt his son.

Drake cocked his gun and was ready to enact his own vengance if she hurt the baby.

"You always were soft, my boy," she said wryly as she lowered the gun to her side and shifted a crying Nikolas in her arms.

Liam gave her a pleading look with an arm outstretched towards her. "Mother, I'll do anything if you give him to me. I"m begging you...just give him to me please."

Eleanor rolled her eyes and huffed with annoyance. "Stop your groveling Liam, you sound like your father -- may he roast in flames for eternity." She signed the cross from her forehead to her chest and both shoulders with a dry smile, still clutching onto her pistol.

He eased to his feet cautiously, his mind wracked with confusing thoughts of who he was now dealing with. "Okay." He nodded. "What do you want?"

Eleanor crossed the small sitting room and laid Nikolas in a bassinet. She then placed a pacifier in his mouth to sooth him. She stood, hovering over the baby before flashing an icy glare back to Liam. "I want what I set out for thirty three years ago -- Cordonia."

Like a tidal wave mounting in intensity and wrath, Liam's emotions began to build in ferosity. "You fucking had Cordonia, Eleanor!" He snapped angrily, pounding his fisted hand on the table before tossing a lamp off of it.

"Did you forget that? You were the queen, goddamn you! You had everything a person could ever dream of!" He trailed off and shook his head into the palms of his hands. With his breaths labored, he looked back up with tears in his eyes, "Was any of it real?"

Eleanor ran her tongue over the front of her teeth and stepped away from the bassinet to approach Liam. She stopped just short him and looked up at her towering son, her hands clasped together at her stomach. "I was never supposed to fall in love with your father, you were never supposed to be anything more than a spare to tie me to that kingdom. I had a part to play ... and I do believe, my boy..." She patted Liam's cheek with a cold smirk. "I played it magnificently."

Liam looked down at the petite figure standing before him, a shell of the woman he once knew -- or thought he did at least.

She had the pistol still glistening in her ragged, cold fingers, aimed straight at his heart. Eleanor could pull the trigger right then and nothing would make him feel any worse than the words she just spoke.

Liam swallowed the bile that burned his throat, his eyes dancing upwards, shocked by her admission. His whole entire childhood was a lie and that was a bitter pill to swallow. "I see," he muttered softly with a nod.

"Oh Liam, don't look so glum, it was just politics. I planted all the right people in your brothers life to ensure he would turn into the low life piece of shit he became. I needed to make sure MY heir would sit on the throne. All you had to do was accept the alliance offered to you. You, your sister and I could have conquered the world."

"You are one sick, twisted bitch," Drake spoke coldly through the tension.

She smiled back at him amused. "Why, thank you, Drake...I could say the same of your precious little momma."

"Leave my mother out of this," he growled defensively, playing her words off.

A look of pure delight beckoned Eleanor whose eyes began to glisten as she cast her focus on Drake, "Oh, I could never leave Bianca out of this, she was quite helpful to me at one point. Its amazing the lengths one would go to when blackmailed.", she laughs with a cackle, "Your father never saw it coming from her". She feigns shock before acting like she was shot in the chest.

"Drake, she's a liar, don't listen to her". Liam tried to reason with him before Eleanor got completely under his skin. He didn't know if what she was saying was true, but, he knew he had to plant a seed of doubt before she could plant the seed of revenge.

Drake could only stare at her with teeth clenched and eyes squinted, "What does she mean Liam...what the fuck is she talking about?"

"Bianca was a whore.....", Eleanor continued, with a slight grin.

"Shut up Eleanor", Liam interrupted her.

"......she fucked everyone at court..."

"Shut up!!", Liam raised his voice over hers.

"....I caught her on her knees with Constantine..."

"I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP!!", Liam continued.

"She killed your daddy for me Drake, she thought she could be one of us....such a dumbass, that common trash bitch. She was an easy quick lay according to the men at court. Your daddy stuck around for you and your sister, unlike Bianca, who left after her worn out pussy couldn't pay the bills any longer. That was your momma....that is your momma", she emphasized.

The gun shook in Drake's hand as his finger coiled the trigger backwards. His fathers death and his mothers absence growing up was always a sore spot for him. He could feel his blood boil and an intense heat burn though his body.

Liam shook his head at Drake with an empathetic look, attempting to halt any impulsive reactions. One wrong move from either one of them could be deadly and he couldn't take a chance on Nikolas's life.

"Go ahead Drake", Eleanor continued her taunts, "pull the trigger...like mother, like son...avenge your fathers death and your sisters too...I hear she died nice and slow, exactly as Bianca sucked dick".

"Drake, NO!"

The blast of a gun was inevitable.

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

Riley was sitting up on her bed with a blank stare, her back resting against a pillow propped up on the headboard. Bertrand was seated in a bergere across the room, holding a sleeping Bartie.

Liam had texted him earlier about checking on Riley, citing her psychiatrist was a part of Amalas' cronies. When Bertrand arrived to her quarters, it was eerily quiet, passing only a nurse exiting with a full tray of food, Riley hadn't eaten.

As her eyes remained fixed forward, not having moved in the hour he had been there, he felt her gaze shift onto him. Bertrand looked up from Bartie and watched his Queen shed one lonely tear. The look of nothingness, sent a chill down his spine; what was she thinking, did she even have thoughts? What could cause such distress that it would break her daze enough to spare a tear.

Bertrand sat up with the resting Bartie cradled in his arms and laid him in the chair, gently swiping loose hairs to the side of his head. He walked slowly towards Riley, pausing briefly, dumbfounded that her eyes continued to follow him. "Riley?", his voice low and tepid.

He inched closer until he was standing at her bedside, easing himself down to sit next to her on the bed.

Her lush, brown hair now dull and lifeless, clung to her face and pillow; golden skin now ashen and pale. Bertrand thought of her as a sister and it pained him greatly to see such a beacon of personality and life, lay waste. He gazed at his reflection in her eyes intently, searching for a pathway into her mind. "Riley, its Bertrand, talk to me", he whispered, inching closer.

Bartie began to moan and whimper in his sleep and caught everyone's attention. Bertrand's reflection immediately disappeared from Riley's, now covered by a sinister glare. She gritted her teeth and gripped tightly to the sheets covering her frail frame.

Bertrand turned away from her to look at his son who had resumed his peaceful slumber.

"BRADSHAW!!!", Riley screamed so loudly it would curdle rushing blood, swinging a large, golden, candle holder brutally until it met resistance from the scalp of Bertrand. He slid limply from the bed, crashing to the cold, marbled floor below.

Riley watched the blood drip from the candle holder onto her perfectly white sheets, trembling at the realization of what she had just done. Her eyes rolled back as she tossed the weapon across the room, grabbing both sides of her head, rocking back and forth in a state of delirium. Chaos and noise ripping into her weakened mind, driving her further into insanity.

Her anxiety level peak, sweat pouring from her forehead, she now covered her ears to block the sounds that only she could hear.

"Liam is dead, Riley....he.is.dead", Bradshaw spoke with a sardonic laugh.

"No....no....Liam....don't leave me", she spoke through labored breaths and sobs, her dainty nails clawing at her face, leaving deep, jagged marks. She gasped deeply in anguish and pain, and muttered, "Liam....not my Liam".

__________________________

Drake flung backwards, his feet tangled in knots of imbalance, tripping over themselves from the momentum of the blast. He had a soul crushing wound, the one meant for Liam, straight to his heart. He rested after a hardened thud against the wall and slammed face down to the floor.

"Drake!"

Liam lunged forward, grabbing the still, hot barrell of Eleanor's pistol, her finger still tightly woven around its trigger.

Nikolas's startled cries echoed out with the blast, as Liam slung his mothers arm to and fro. For all her fragility, she clung to her gun as if her life depended on it....and it did.

He bent the gun so that it was pointing back at her and wrapped his finger over hers, the one that gripped the trigger so profoundly, and pulled it himself.

Eleanor fell to her knees, clutching her lower stomach, a look of anger and shock, mixed with defeat staring upward at the son she betrayed in every way, "You son of a bitch".

Liam scoffed at the irony of her words, "You're right, I am... a son of a bitch".

She slunk to the ground, lifeless with a pained scowl. A pool of crimson collecting around her like a dam bursting wide open.

He hurried himself to the son he had not seen in weeks, who was still letting out frantic cries as large tears burst from his reddened eyes. Liam wiping his own tears at the sight of his infant child, safe and unharmed. "Its okay Little Love...daddy's here now". As reached in to pick up Nikolas, he felt a seering sting in his back, causing him to let go of his baby before he could even lift him into his comforting arms.

Liam's hands instictively flung to the pain he was experiencing, feeling the warm shred in his shirt and the liquid that seeped through his fingers. It hurt to breath, to even move, but, he turned to see his mother on the floor, pointing the smoking gun up at him.

He inhaled what little air he could, closed his eyes, and spoke silently one last time to himself, "I love you Riley and Nikolas, I always will".

The next sound was the kill shot.

_____________________________

Riley jolted from the bed, tossing the sheet aside, her physical pain mired by the emotional turmoil she was experiencing.

She felt Liam slip away, a deep loneliness sweeping across her heart. She plundered further into her despondant state, knowing she could never live without him, his love, his touch, his arms wrapped around her.

Lost and battered, she found herself alone in the room they shared all their best memories, with a man she thought of as her brother, murdered, accidently, by her own actions.

She slipped to the floor on all fours, weeping softly to herself as she began the long, painstaking trek to the balcony. She crawled over Bertrand, squeezing her eyes tightly closed so that she wouldn't have to see the evil sin she had commited.

She lifted herself up at the balcony railing to a standing position, her knees wobbly from the distant crawl. With the moonlight glowing brighter than she had ever witnessed, Riley admired the stars twinkling and the sounds of crickets singing harmoniously. Her thoughts took her back to her first night in Cordonia, a race in the maze leading to a kiss with a prince. A night very similar to this one.

She peeked over the railing of their fourth floor balcony. The sweet, fragrant aroma of the rose bush below, giving her a sense of calm and ease.

Riley wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her ams for warmth from the cold night air before closing her eyes. She spoke softly to herself, "I'm coming to you Liam and Nikolas", feeling happiness for the first time since The Fall of Cordonia.

Her tiny body leaned over the railing and she let herself go. Peace and relief would soon overcome her as she flew through the air. The impact was quick and welcomed.

__________________________________

A bright light flickered as chilly hands poked and prodded at her face, fingers forcing an eye open. She squinted and winced as the light was too much on her unadjusted pupils.

"Welcome back, Your Majesty, I'm Dr. Layton. Do you know what happened to you?".

Riley's eyes flickered as she continued to adjust to the lights of the room and the image of the voice who had spoken with her came into focus.

"Queen Riley, can you hear me....do you know why you're in the hospital?"

Riley swallowed hard, realizing how dry her lips were. She tried to moistened them, yet, her tongue was bare, as well. A hand tilted her head forward and a straw was offered to her. Confused, she drew in the cool water that soothed her palate before resting her head back against a pillow. "I...I...died".

"Not exactly", the doctor spoke again while checking her vitals on the monitor, "..you were brought in after the earthquake, a piece of the ceiling fell at the restaurant you were eating in and you took a nasty hit to the head.....you've been out for a few hours".

Riley reached up, tugging the IV cord in her hand, to feel a bandage clinging to the top portion of her forehead.

An older nurse checking on Riley's bandage, asked if she wanted visitors, to which she nodded affirmatively. Not completely sure of what had happened or what was going on, she watched with anticipation as the nurse finished up and walked to the door of her room.

Riley burst into tears moments later when she saw Liam, holding a bright eyed, Nikolas, rushing into her room and racing to her side. They shared a long awaited kiss and exchanges of love, before Liam placed Nikolas in her needing arms. A flurry of emotions passing through her, knowing they both were safe and with her.

Over the next several hours, she learned that several people had been injured in Valtoria from the earthquake, but, no deaths were recorded. Her friends visited or called her one by one and she wept with joy with each person...Mara, Maxwell, Savannah, Bertrand, Drake, Leo, Olivia, Madeleine, Regina and Bastien.

During the quiet still of the night as she laid restless in her hospital room, with Liam and Nikolas laying at her side, she hesitantly shared her dream.

Liam kissed her temple reassuringly, "My love, it was only a dream...I'm here, we are all three here together, our friends and our country are safe....it was just a very bad dream".

"I know", she uttered, "it just felt so damn real...like it was a warning or something".

He wrapped his free arm around her back as she shifted to her side into his embrace, trailing her thumb gently across Nikolas's cheek. "I promise you we are more than prepared for anything that comes our way, we always come out on top, love".

"I hope so....I love you, Liam".

"I love you too darling".

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

"Amalas!", Bradshaw stands from his desk to greet her, "what brings you all the way to Auvernal this late".

She grins slyly with a gleen in her eyes, as he kisses both of her cheeks, "I have an offer I don't think you can refuse.....shall we discuss, Cordonia".

Bradshaw's lips curl with intrique and desire as he offers her a seat, "It's like you read my mind".

[hellishmess]

17: Irritating Love

August 25,2018

I ducked, dodging an arrow by the skin of my teeth.

Rey and Hardy were crouched down behind me. The stack of crates were the only thing keeping us from becoming pin dolls.

Twisting my hands, I sent out my magic, reining it in to 15 feet. Rey shivered as the death spell passed through her, leaving her unscathed.

To our right, a strangled cry sounded out in alarm. It ended with a bodily thump.

"Come on," I grit out, pissed at the lack of weapons I had.

We make it two feet before gun shots fire from behind me. I whirl to see Rey with a pistol in hand. The man she shot fell to his knees.

I kept going, weaving our way out of the maze of shipping crates.

"Aspen!" Hardy yelled out a warning, but I was already on it. A huge lift barreled for us, the forked side first.

I grabbed at my magic, wrapping it around the heavy machinery. The muscles in my arms tensed as I flung it away from us. It hit a stack of shipping containers, knocking the top one off. My ears rung from the screeching of metal attacking metal.

We kept running, darting from path to path. They surrounded us again. Rey led us to a bunker corner of two crates. We crouched down.

How many men were there?

Rey squeezed Hardy's hand in hers, gripping her pistol in her right hand. He buried his face in her neck, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.

"I'll die for you," he muttered.

She grabbed his face, making eye contact before sincere lip contact. "I'll die for you first."

"No one here is fucking dying!" I snap.

Both of them look at me, shocked by the sharpness of my voice. I inch towards the edge of the crate. A red burning line was drawn blocking our exit. It was bad news. I knew the spell. It'd burn us from the inside out if we ran through.

I briefly considered taking the time to break the spell but cast it out. It could take too long. The goons could be on us in seconds.

I look up. God if you're real...

Holy shit. The lightbulb shines over my head as my brain cells work to form a functional idea.

"Rey how many bullets do you have left?" I ask.

She checks. "5 counting the one in the barrel."

"Okay. That's not bad. Here's what we're going to do. I'm gonna cast a magical protection spell over us and Hardy you're gonna use your shields to help prevent us from being shot down."

Hardy nods but his eyebrow cocks at my use of words. "Shot down?"

A grin forms and I point up. "Yep. We're like mice in here. We don't know the territory like they do and I'm getting the faint impression that they're leading us to a trap. So we're going to run on the top of the crates. Where we can see the end and get the hell out of here."

They share a glance before standing up. "What if we can't make a jump?" Rey worries, watching Hardy climb to the top.

"I have us on that front," I say wiggling my fingers. "Don't worry. Just make sure you aim to kill and that your boyfriend can keep his shields up."

She nods, turning to climb after him. I can see the ripple through the air as Hardy manifests his shields.

I didn't wait for Rey to reach the top to climb. Instead, I climbed beside her.

My spell of protection was subtle, but I wrapped it around us in two layers.

Yells from below got us moving. Goons ran for us. Several had hellhounds on leashes. Huge, ugly dogs with hellfire in their eyes. Their jaws snapped as they saw their marks. With barks so loud it invoked fear in the dead, the air that came out of their lungs was even toxic.

I paused. My hands in claws as I twisted and snapped their necks one by one.

Hardy led us towards the edge of the maze. We were sprinting along the tops of the crates, hopping between the cracks.

"Aspen!" He warned again. I looked forward and saw that he was leading us towards another row. The jump was huge.

"I got us. Go!"

Hardy kept our pace even, not looking back as he took a leap of faith. Soon we were all rushing forward on our own momentum. With a small effort, I raised us up and carried us over the rest of the 4 feet.

Hardy paused, a grin broken on his lips. "That was cool!"

Rey clamped a hand on his shoulder, pushing him forward. "Congratulate later!"

She screamed. A big burly man had managed to climb up with us. A gun raised in his hands. There was no hesitation when he fired three shots.

Hardy gripped his palms. With his hands in tight fists, his shields stopped the bullets where they were.

People were starting to file down below us with guns, whips, and knifes in hand. One dude even had a bat and chain.

"Go go go!" I yelled.

Hardy barreled ahead, lowering his center of mass as he used his shields as a battering ram. The burly man didn't stand a chance. We tossed him over.

We crossed over to another row of crates, this time able to make the jump without my assistance.

I felt foreign magic try to take hold of us. It touched my barrier, but dispelled soon after touching it.

"Holy shit we're almost there." Hardy yelled.

He turned and hopped onto the last length of shipping crates.

"Shit," he swore, hesitating.

I saw why. There was a group of 5 standing down the line. Even more were on the ground below us. All of them blocked the exit.

Hardy winced, his eyes closing from concentration as bullets rained at us. Three of the five had guns and all of them were shooting at us.

Rey didn't hesitate. She fired three shots over Hardy's shoulder. All of them hit home in the dudes with guns. They fell to the ground, dying. One pressing the trigger and shooting at his comrades on the floor before stilling.

A twitch of my fingers had their guns flying across the lot. Only one came towards us.

Rey caught it. "Cool an uzi."

She laid it down on the ones at our feet. In my peripheral, I saw her hit a good many as they broke formation and scrambled away.

I ran towards the remaining two. One with a broad sword and the other had a chain with a heavy ball at the end.

The man with the chain went for me first. I jumped, dodging the blow to take out my legs. I got up and personal. Jabbing his eyes, before punching his throat. He choked, coughing as he swung blindly.

   I felt the air split as the sword came for me from behind. He hoped to cut through my spine with a swing that heavy.

     Dropping to the floor, I slide between the chain dude's legs, giving him a hard blow to his junk.

He yelped, high pitched and whiny.

I rolled back to my feet in a crouch. The sword had dug deep in the body of his partner. The man was a goner. Blood sprayed everywhere. His screams raised the hair on my arms.

The dude with the sword looked panicked. He grabbed the dude and shoved him off the crates. Anger flushed his face. "You."

I stood, shrugging my shoulders. "Me."

He ran for me sword first, a battle yell tore from his throat.

Dodging was always easy, but now that this man was letting his emotions carry his attacks it was especially easy.

I brandished a thin blade from my belt, making tiny cuts wherever I could when I moved away from the path of his sword.

He stopped, huffing as he realized his mistake. He was as bloody as his fallen friend. His skin clammy and pale.

I cut every major vein and artery on his arms, nicking his artery on his big throat too.

"Sorry." I apologized, before drop kicking him to the ground. He didn't get up.

I was alone up here.

Hardy and Rey were back to back, fighting the ones left that were stupid enough to still fight.

A whip wrapped around Rey causing her to tumble forwards. A pirate pulled her towards his with a dirty smile. I dropped down to help her, but Hardy got to her before me. His shields forgotten in desperation to help her.

He grabbed her, tugging back.

I grabbed a discarded gun and shot the pirate.

Rey unwrapped the whip.

We all made eye contact, all of us on the same page. We got up and ran like hell.

No one followed us as we hit the streets. The evening shadows cloaked us as we headed for the hidden car.

Hardy got there first, jumping into the drivers seat as Rey grabbed shotgun and I dove into the back.

Our doors weren't even shut before he had us spinning away from the docs.

Adrenaline and potholes made the ride rough, but thankfully we made it back to the highway.

It was silent as we all caught our breath.

"I think that asshole broke my wrist." Rey said, savoring her right hand.

"Shit." Hardy said, "Let me see."

"No dumbass you drive." I said, popping up from the back. I turned to Rey. "Let me see."

I turned on the light and saw the discoloration of her wrist. It was a swollen mess, but there was no bone sticking out and no visible protrusions.

"Jesus." I said. "It wouldn't surprise me if it was broken."

"Is it?" Hardy asked. "Can you even tell?"

"No really." I answered before asking Rey, "Can you move it?"

She tries but only gains tears. "No," she breaths out in shakes.

"Okay. Okay. Give me your hand," I said.

Hardy picked up speed as he drove us to base, taking a sharp exit that flung me and Rey to the side. "What are you doing?”

A whimper leaves her lips when she straightens up.

“I’m going to heal her injury,” I snap. “Christ what do you think I’m going to do?”

“Sorry,” he scoffed, focusing back on driving.

I pull energy from the world, focusing on the signals her body gives off along with the connections and disconnections in her wrist.

The magic soaks into her skin, restoring the cells that were broken. It only took a second.

“Holy shit,” Rey gasps. “It’s fixed.” She wiggles her wrist. “Thank you.”

I sigh, resting back. “Welcome.”

[galactichxpe]

day in, day out ❦ jjk, jhs, myg [last of us au]

◜ 　　　　　 ◝ characters » jungkook, hoseok & yoongi (main pov is jungkook)

genre » the last of us au. zombie apocalypse & a little angst

word count » 1,624

warnings » strong language, light gore

a/n » inspired by the game "the last of us." what is the last of us? the last of us is an action-adventure survival horror video game. in which the world is overthrown by infected (of different species such as infected, bloaters and clickers.)

its basically a zombie apocalyptic game with the best storyline and amazing graphics. it's my favourite video game. anyway-

enjoy !

◟ 　　　　　 ◞

he had woken up in the silence of his room. the light from the moon casting upon him causing his face to contort, rubbing his tired eyes. a hand of the clock on the wall had just ticked to 2, 2 in the morning.

he came out from under the covers, placing his feet on the floor before switching on the lamp on the bedside table. the warm light illuminating the room as he stood on wobbly legs, still feeling drowsy from waking up suddenly.

making an advance toward his door, he took a couple steps before his cellphone rang, startling him momentarily but he still picked up the vibrating device. clearing out his groggy 'morning' voice as he read the caller id.

'mom'

he answered the call without a second thought, putting the phone to his ear. "hey? it's late-"

"jungkook! thank god you picked up, i was so worried, i- your father didn't answer any of my calls or texts- is he there? i need you to put him on the phone somethings-" her rushed, shaky rambling was cut short when the line went dead, the ground shaking slightly simultaneously; jungkook gasping quietly in shock.

"mom? mom?!"

he called into the receiver and got no reply. his nerves were shaking along with his heart that was beating two times faster than before. he tossed his phone onto the bed before rushing out of his room. met with the darkness of the hallway.

"dad?!"

his steps were heavy as he jogged through the corridor, in search of his father who apparently hadn't been answering his wife's calls. "dad?" his voice grew softer as he entered the kitchen. his eyes caught sight of a yellow sticky note placed on the marble countertop, it read

"working late, be home tomorrow. feel free to raid my snack pantry :)" jungkook sighed. the sigh was of somewhat anxiousness; didn't explained why he wasn't answering any calls. he placed the note back as red lights and sirens blared past a window in the living room. and just as he was about to walk into the living room, something slammed into the glass door leading to the backyard behind him. spinning on his heel in an instant only for a gasp to leave his lips; eyes widening as his jaw went slack.

"dad?"

there his dad was. bloodied and battered, his guts threatening to pour out of him as he slammed his body against the glass again. and again, and again. jungkooks first initial thoughts surprisingly weren't to help him, but to run away. his instincts were kicking in; a gut feeling telling him that his dad was going to hurt him. his fathers actions progressively became more violent. letting out inhuman shrieks and guttural noises that made jungkook uneasy, practically terrified of what happened to his father... and what his father was going to do to him.

the glass shattered and jungkook bolted for a his fathers desk; pulling open the drawer. clasping the metal of the gun firmly in his hand before turning around. his father was heaving on the ground, bones crunching as he sloppily stood back up from the blood and glass shards surrounding his feet.

"dad?"

he groaned in response, his bleeding eyes seeming to need time to focus as they soon landed on jungkook who was in the other room, gun clutched in both hands.

"d-dad? what're you doing? are you... are you o-okay?" jungkook knew damn well his father was far from okay. he was no where near okay yet he wanted to see if his father responded rather than groaning more. the man who raised jungkook. the man who taught jungkook everything he knows. the man who loved his son unconditionally... then screamed, running toward jungkook in a harsh-violent manner.

"dad!"

he hesitated for split second. and in that split second... he saw for the last time, what little life his father had left in his eyes; before squeezing the trigger.

[ten years later]

his shirt stuck to him like a glove as he treaded through the crumbled streets of boston. the rain coming down heavily as he adjusted the weight of the backpack on his shoulders. the others were following close behind, looking as much of a mess as jungkook; mud smothering their boots and water dripping down their noses. and by 'the others', that's means the two men jungkook had met five years ago when he was scavenging an abandoned neighbourhood; that happened to not be as abandoned as he thought it was.

hoseok and yoongi; his two best friends that started as companions, which turned into acquaintances, then blossomed into trust. he could count on them, feel safe around them. they were his best friends after all.

"hey. why don't we hold up somewhere? we can stay in one of these buildings until the storm passes." hoseok practically yelled over the claps of thunder, water running down the sides of his face as he gestured to the tall, slanted buildings that had moss covering parts of the exterior, rubbled rooftops and foggy windows.

"sounds good." the two others agreed and they proceeded to climb into a hole in the side of a promising looking building. the least damaged one that is. they soon found themselves in a dark, messy corridor of an apartment building. their flashlights being of use as they cautiously walked through the halls of the creaking building. trash suddenly crumpled beneath yoongi's foot; quite loudly. withdrawing his boot thinking it didn't draw much attention; only to hear an echoed guttural cry at the end of the hallway.

a body staggered into view. fresh blood dripping from its chin as it jerked its neck suddenly, catching view of the three men watching it closely. "is it just one?"

"i think."

"it better be." jungkook muttered as he already had a rusty long pipe in hand. approaching the infected who began running at jungkook the moment he advanced toward it. he was quick to react, swinging his weapon at the shrieking man's leg. toppling forward having no time to pounce up at jungkook before he began to violently smash the infecteds head in with the pipe. crushing it's rotting brain and shattering its disgusting skull.

"alright. now that it's dead. let's find a place to crash for the night." jungkook spoke with heavy breaths as he dropped the pipe to the ground; having no more use for it. jungkook was about to return to his friends who nodded in agreement; already opening a door. when a group of infected suddenly burst through another entrance at the end of the hall to his left. he estimated ten as they started to sprint toward him, screaming. without a doubt drawing more attention to the three men.

"shit, run!"

the three boys could have easily taken out ten. but what made jungkook loose confidence was the large bloater; stomping toward him, throwing a chunk of its flesh at jungkook but missed as the man dashed down the hall. spores bursting from the bomb-like piece of flesh. it's yell was loud and rumbled through the building. it's steps shook the ground as it followed the three men closely; it's height helping it move faster with its long strides despite being large in size.

"fuck, fuck, fuck!" yoongi shouted as he took a few pot shots at the infected and bloater. managing to take a small infected down before catching up with the two others.

"this way! this way!" hoseok ordered, busting through a door waiting for jungkook and yoongi to enter before pushing a large cabinet over; barricading the door. presumably the bloater crashed against it, shaking and shifting the cabinet out of place slightly before ramming against the door again.

"that's not gonna hold." jungkook stated the obvious before everyone's eyes searched around the room; in dire need of an escape route, and fast.

"uhh.. oh! here! jungkook, give me your knife." yoongi hurriedly flipped a couch over from adrenaline. revealing a decently large sized vent, capable of allowing the three men to crawl through. he pried the vent open in record time with the blade. throwing the grate elsewhere before standing up, gesturing for the two others to lead the way. "go! go!"

they wasted no time in getting on their knees, crawling through speedily as they heard the door hinges snap. yoongi watched as the bloaters arm shoved through the crack of the door; the cabinet thankfully holding in place long enough for yoongi to crawl through the open space. but before he followed the other two he placed a fallen painting in front of the hole; hopefully hiding it enough so the infected wouldn't crawl through as well.

attempting and successfully surviving the night in the ventilation system.

┆        ┊        ┆        ┆       ┊       ┊

the three men did everything humanly possible to survive just one more day. scavenging, thieving, killing, lying... they did whatever they could if it meant they'd live to see the sun rise and fall again. half of the threat wasn't just the infected; but the people as well. all the good people died in the beginning. and all the dangerous ones lived. the good people jungkook lost... were his father, his mother, his brother, park jimin...

and himself.

he was once your typical, reckless teenager. and he grew up a killer. a dangerous man who didn't take chances... he no longer loved. no longer smiled. and no matter how many times hoseok and yoongi tried... he never laughed; not even a chuckle.

jungkook had let the world ruin him. shape him. he was gone. jungkook had died the moment he killed his father all those years ago.

now it was just day in... and day out.

[snicketsleuth]

What do Count Olaf's last words mean? Especially the part- "Get out as early as you can and don't have any kids yourself." ?

Hello, @leighlemon!

Olaf’s parting words are a direct quotation of Philip Larkin’s “This Be The Verse” (Link). One of the reasons the poem isn’t quoted in full is that it contains profanity.

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.   They may not mean to, but they do.   They fill you with the faults they hadAnd add some extra, just for you.But they were fucked up in their turnBy fools in old-style hats and coats,   Who half the time were soppy-sternAnd half at one another’s throats.Man hands on misery to man.It deepens like a coastal shelf.Get out as early as you can,And don’t have any kids yourself.[Philip Larkin, “This Be The Verse” from “Collected Poems”]

I would argue that Olaf chooses this poem for two purposes.

One is to contradict the false narrative that the Baudelaire orphans (and the “noble” side of V.F.D. in general) have built up in their heads: that education automatically leads to moral progress, and that evil people are usually ignorant.

“I know that having a good vocabulary doesn’tguarantee that I’m a good person,” the boy said. “But it does mean I’ve read a great deal. And in my experience,well-read people are less likely to be evil.”[The Slippery Slope, Chapter Five]

Of course, there is not usually a lightbulb hovering inthe air when someone has an idea, but the image of a lightbulb oversomeone’s head has become a sort of symbol for thinking, just as the image of an eye, sadly, hasbecome a symbol for crime and devious behavior rather than integrity, the prevention of fire, and beingwell-read.[The Slippery Slope, Chapter Eleven]

“Well-read!” she repeated in a particularlynasty tone of voice. “Being well-read won’t help you in this world. Many years ago, I was supposed to waste myentire summer reading Anna Karenina, but I knew that silly book would never help me, so I threw itinto the fireplace.” She reached down and picked up a few more pieces of wood, which she tossed asidewith a snicker. “Look at your precious headquarters, volunteers! It’s as ruined as my book.And look at me! I’m beautiful, fashionable, and I smoke cigarettes!” She laughed again, and pointedat the children with a scornful finger. “If you didn’t spend all your time with your heads stuck in books,you’d have that precious baby back.”[The Slippery Slope, Chapter Twelve]

Although the “villainous” side of V.F.D has a strong anti-intellectual stance, Olaf’s actions contradict this ideology (many of his plans do require a strong dose of research and literary knowledge). He goes as far as writing his own plays under a pseudonym (”Al Funcoot”), probably because he doesn’t want people to realize he actually enjoys literature.

So Olaf’s decision to prove he can recite poems is a fantastic case of duality. On one hand, he’s getting back to the days of his education by V.F.D., with a strong emphasis on the love of literature. On one hand, he’s such a wicked person that it’s a criticism of V.F.D.’s ideology at the same time. None of the endoctrination seemed to do him much good. But it’s possible he does look back fondly on his past appreciation for poetry as it’s strongly tied to the happy memories he had growing up with Kit.

“‘The night has a thousand eyes,’” Kit said hoarsely, and lifted her head to face the villain. The Baudelaires could tell by her voice that she wasreciting the words of someone else. ’“And the day but one; yet the lightof the bright world dies with the dying sun. The mind has a thousandeyes, and the heart but one: yet the light of a whole life dies when loveis done.’”Count Olaf gave Kit a faint smile. “You’re not the only one who can recite the words of our associates,” he said, and then gazed out at the sea. The afternoon was nearly over, and soon the island would be covered in darkness. ’“Man hands on misery to man,’” the villain said. “'It deepens like a coastal shelf. Get out as early as you can–’” Here he coughed, a ghastly sound, and his hands clutched his chest. “'And don’t have any kids yourself,’” he finished, and uttered a short, sharp laugh.[The End, Chapter Thirteen]

Although the “villainous” side of V.F.D has a strong anti-intellectual stance, Olaf’s actions contradict this ideology (many of his plans do require a strong dose of research and literary knowledge). He goes as far as writing his own plays under a pseudonym (”Al Funcoot”), probably because he doesn’t want people to realize he actually enjoys literature.

The second purpose of the poem is to cast a cynical, uncomfortable light on Olaf’s own life. As we learn in “The Penultimate Peril”, Olaf was orphaned at an early age by the Baudelaire parents, an event which may have been the triggering event on his path to villainay. Olaf’s response was to make Beatrice and Bertrand’s children orphans in turn and to inflict every misery he had suffered on to them. So he’s effectively become the very kind of person he hates. There’s a strong parallel with Larkin’s poem, which speaks of the incapacity to become a “proper” parent even though you’ve seen and experienced bad parenting while you were a child. It’s an ontological cycle of violence from which there is no escape. Olaf’s nefarious nihilism is strongly tied to this horrible realization.

It’s of course no wonder that the adoption of Carmelita Spats is what causes the Esme/Olaf break-up. While Esme is delighted to obtain a child to shape into her own image, Olaf seems extremely uncomfortable around Carmelita. The fact they apparently plan to steal Carmelita’s inheritance anyway only makes it worse. Anything that resembles parenting creepsout  Olaf. So it only makes sense that he utters this poem with one last maniacal laugh, as the woman he once loved dies giving birth to the child he could have raised with her.

[bbrandy2002]

The Fall of Cordonia

Chapter Five

Trigger Warning: Suicide and Violence

Word Count: 1720

A/N: Thank you @burnsoslow for prereading most of this and @sirbeepsalot for bouncing ideas around and saving my ass again.

Only one or two chapter left.

Olivia shifted away cautiously, her eyes focused on Amalas, as she prepared to defend herself to the death. Her heart pounding with great exertion, her Nevrakis blood pumping ravenously through icy veins, preparing for a battle that was too soon to wage. The price she was paying for Cordonia was worth it, but, only if she succeeded.

She reaches for the garter under her skirt, ready to strike, to end Amalas once and for all. This was the plan months ago, but, if they ever had any hopes of finding the young prince, she fears an impulsive move could be disasterous. She grips the handle tighter, droplets of moisture pool to her colorless face, confident that she is in her element. This is what she was born for and every fiber of her being, validates her skills.

Amalas glares into her green eyes, the ones that carry a hint of red hot fire and brimstone, reading Olivia like a book. Its at this moment she knows...Olivia is a traitor, but, not to the one she thought.

A rage burrows itself deep in her skin with her smile matching Olivia's curled grin.

Both women bite their lips, curious as to whom would be stealthier, more lethal, more accurate. Amalas clutches her hidden dagger, so sharp, it can cut tension and betrayal with a single swipe.

Olivia's background in weaponry and her position on top of Amalas gives her the edge. Sensing her advantage, she makes her move. Her knife slides smoothly from her garter as Amalas raises her dagger from the floor.

A clash of metal thunders together, Amalas kicking Olivia off of her, she drops to the floor, landing gracefully on her back. The Black Widow raises her dagger as she straddles the Scarlett Duchess, whom is able to pierce her side, halted by ribs from taking out her hardened heart.

Amalas falls to her side, clutching the fresh wound, blood seeping like a broken dam. Olivia knows this battle is far from over-this is just the first cut, but, then again...the first cut is usually the deepest.

She flashes a superior smile, intense heat radiating from her heaving chest, it's time to go on the offensive. Father said to never underestimate the enemy while they're down.

She stands upright, circling Amalas like a vulture, her teeth gritting, adrenaline surging, waiting eagerly for the kill shot. Her enemy winces, feeling a mixture of pleasure and pain, not even close to being finished.

Olivia steadies herself into the defensive position, "Where is Prince Nikolas?"

Amalas locks her gaze on Olivia, a slight chuckle comes out as she slashes her dagger through empty air. She wants just one hit on Olivia, to even the score, to shed the blood of the Cordonian traitor on Monterriso ground. She sways her body, feet planted firmly, "So, that's what this was.....well played Duchess...you certainly fooled me".

"It was easier than I anticipated", Olivia jets back, avoiding the next slash in her direction, "you should know by now, never trust a Nevrakis". She lunges her knife forward, grazing Amalas' arm and in return is met with a dagger lodged into her upper shoulder. Olivia's knife launches away from her.

Amalas grabs a glass vase from the end table of the sofa and shatters it across Olivia's head. Her red hair is littered with glass as she bounces off the floor.

Without hesitation, Amalas strikes, jerking the dagger from Olivia's shoulder and gripping it solidly above her lean frame.

She underestimates me. Olivia reaches for her arm, using strength and speed to force Amalas to lose her power over her. A struggle ensues between two equally, lethal women of great intelligence and tactics.

_________

Liam received the encrypted text from Olivia just mere moment's after returning from his press conference.

He watches Riley swallow another pill to help her anxiety, sometimes she's there, sometimes she not. After placing her glass on the table beside her, she can feel his gaze on her and it causes her to shake violently in fear. It doesn't take much to trigger her, a word, his cologne, touch, the sound of doors opening....everything and anyone is Bradshaw. He taunts her in her sleep and during consciousness, keeping her baby away from her with one hand and touching her intimately with the other.

She grips her sheets tighter and Liam can tell that the tension is rising in her, she's preparing her mind to relive her hell again. He yells for the psychiatrist as her relentless, desperate pleas for help shout from her lips. She's trapped again and there is nothing he can do to save her, except one thing, and he is close to making it a reality for her.

As the doctor comes in to attend to her, he walks to his closet, grabbing a small carry on bag, stuffing it with only the essentials. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, Daddy is coming Nikolas.

Liam steps out from the closet, longing to hold his wife, to tell her everything is going to be okay, but, she can't handle it. He whispers his love to her from across the room and exits, he has to meet Drake and Bastien at the car. Can he truly defeat the evil forces working against him? Is Olivia's information correct about Nikolas' possible whereabouts? He didn't know, only time would tell.

To everyone in Cordonia, Olivia went missing in Valtoria, yet, Liam knew she had been working to uncover Amalas' plans for months. The day of the attack, the widow met with him under the guise of peace, but, he sees now that it was a distraction to separate him from his child, his heir.

Under the hidden blanket of darkness, careful to avoid watchful eyes, Liam, Drake and Bastien leave for the airport.

Liam bounces his leg wildly in the plain, unmarked car, his nerves getting the best of him, sweaty palms wiped dry on his pants.

Drake gives him a sympathetic look as he peaks back from the front passenger seat, but, doesn't say anything, knowing Liam is processing this plan in his mind. Everyone in Cordonia had heard enough of the "it's going to be okay's", to last forever. Truth be told, Drake didn't know if it would, the whole thing was so fucking risky, why tell Liam a lie.

As the car pulls up to the Royal Jet, Liam stares at Drake for a moment, a look of trepidation and fear.  On Drake's shoulders, he was placing the most important task he had ever trusted anyone to do. To him, however, if Drake couldn't do it, no one could.

"Be careful Liam".

"Don't worry about me....just get Nik...please".

Drake nodded as Liam stepped from the car, bag in hand, and boarded the plane to Monterisso. He was meeting with Amalas, without security, without a friend, alone. Olivia would have to his only protection.

In case they were followed, Drake and Bastien drove to a small, undamaged airfield in Ramsford, boarding a private plane. They, too, were headed for Monterisso, in hopes of finding Nikolas and bringing him home.

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

Riley tossed and turned in her bed, the light of the full moon shining through the window. Suddenly, her breath became more labored, her eyes fluttered rapidly, her throat became tighter.

She sat up, pulling the blanket closer to her chest, her brown eyes sweeping the room, catching glimpses of Bradshaw in every corner. She couldn't scream, her body frozen , the room spinning in chaos around her. He was haunting her, the laughing, the crying, the blood of Leo dripping from her trembling hands.

She looked at the space on the bed next to her, Liam laid there with his hands rested on his stomach and a dagger sticking from his chest.

"L..Liam?", she whispered in astonishment.

Her head bobbed and weaved, she had no more tears to offer. She rolled suddenly to her side, dropping to the floor below, covering her ears.

Riley could still hear the voices, the cackles, the mocking, "GO AWAY!!!".

In one week, she had lost her son, Maxwell, her dignity, Leo, and now, she believes, the only man she ever loved. What did she have left to live for? A godforsaken country that would be a constant reminder of what she sacrificed for it.

She lifted a shaky hand to her night table, searching for her pitcher of water. Once she found it, she poured the liquid on the floor next to her. With her heart beating faster and emptiness filling her body, she shattered the glass container on the leg of her table.

Riley picked up the largest piece she could find and placed it against her wrist. Pressing deeply, the first drop of blood came to the surface and ran the length of her arm.

"Riley!!!"

She jolted and paused to search for the familiar voice that brought her comfort once again, "Maxwell..... is that you?"

All the chaos and fear dissipated from the room. All went silent and her physical pain from the injuries were felt again. With great difficulty, she lifted herself enough from the floor to see if Liam was dead on their bed. He was gone, but, even in her relief, she had a feeling something bad was going to happen to him.

Her bedroom door opened and she heard rapid footstep approaching. The nurse assigned to her crouched down beside her to scan her self wounded wrist. The nurse ran out and returned with her first aid kit and began to bandage the small wound Riley had inflicted.

"Where is the King?", she asked.

"Your Majesty, he had to leave for the night"

Riley lowered her head, watching intently on the bandage being placed around her wrist and the feeling of unease returned.

She searched the nurses confused eyes, her jaw tensed, "He's.. not coming home".

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

Liam was escorted to the door by Amalas' guards, as shouts and clashing echoed from inside. He could distinctly hear Olivia in distress and he attempted to open the door himself, but, was stopped by her guards from proceeding.

Frantic, he yells in his kingly voice, "Amalas!"

The fighting stops and seconds later the door slowly opens; its her, battered, bloodied, and breathless.

Even in distress, a toothy grin forms on her face at his presence.

"Liam".

"Amalas"

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Honorary tag since you just posted about it: @kingliam2019