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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

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Hue and Cry XVIII

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), trauma, some elements untagged.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: The reader and Zemo try to figure out what’s next.

Note: I actually think we’re closer to an end then the beginning. My goal is to finish this before moving onto anything else but that might be my original stuff so I might take a little break after this series to figure that out! Your patience and following along has meant the world to me. <3

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

MASTERLIST

In the coming days, trunks were opened and stuffed with clothes, blankets, and miscellany. The servants did much of the work as when you were asked what to bring, you chose three plain dresses for you and several more outfits for Elina. Zemo tutted and ordered his staff to fill the chests.

There was no distinct urgency however as the horses were to be re-shoed before you set off and the baron seemed content to enjoy the summer sun with your daughter. He would sit with the two of you under the tree or take her on a walk of his sprawling green or dangle some ornament before her to reach for.

Your mind didn’t retreat from the prospect of your departure. He said a fortnight at longest, you had to leave before that. You worried about Elina and how she’d miss him and how she’d fare on the road. She was a healthy child but you couldn’t help but think of all that could go wrong.

The third day after the announcement of your looming trek, you sat on the balcony as Elina chewed on berries and Zemo sat with a book. The air was thick and damp from the heat but the sun was tamped out behind the gathering clouds. He wore his shirt untied at the top so that the fur of his chest peeked out and you wore a sleeveless cotton gown in a pale blue.

“Do you intend on negotiating? Truly?” you asked as your mind wandered.

He looked over the book and reached over to scoop up a slice of strawberry from Elina’s shirt and flicked it into the saucer, “what do you mean?”

“Are you going to try to seal the alliance they want or is it all a ruse?”

“My liege has given me leave to approach their proposal however I wish. If they present some benefits for us then yes, I should like to have peace but… they’ve not offered anything before that we couldn’t find elsewhere,” he shrugged and lowered the book, “are you concerned for them? The people who let you suffer as such?”

“It is still my homeland but that is not what I’m worried for. I wonder how long your patience can wear on,” you said.

“We have spoke on this, we both know--”

“Yes, I know, but… how long should I have left with my daughter?” you hissed.

“You think I mean to take you from her? Perhaps march you to your death?” he scowled.

“I know however this turns out, my place in it is perilous,” you retorted, “do not mock my fears.”

“I do not--” he took a breath and his sneer softened. He chuckled as he leaned forward, “you are stronger than before, you know that? You snap like a lioness. I thought you underestimated me but I see you only misjudge yourself.”

“You are vague with me so how can I trust--”

“I have seen you through your recovery, through a labour, and a life beyond that,” he said, “I only ask a little more for all that I’ve done.”

You sat back and cupped your chin. You looked at Elina, dark juices smeared around her lips. She was entirely undisturbed by the bickering of adults. You reached over and took her tiny, sticky hand.

You thought of Lord Barnes and if you should face him again. The idea made your blood run cold. Would he hate you? Would he still want you? You did not doubt he would have some cruelty left for you but as you were, scarred and hobbled, would it be different? And if he discovered your daughter, what then?

“He can never know about her,” you said softly and cautiously looked at the baron, “please, he can’t--”

“If he ever sees her, he will only know her to be mine but I have no intent upon my daughter being near that brute in her lifetime,” he growled. No little baroness but ‘my daughter’. You smiled at Elina and she squeezed your finger.

“I am grateful for all you’ve done for her. I know you didn’t have to--” your eyes strayed beyond the railing as some distant movement flurried beneath the sun. You squinted and leaned on the arm of your chair as you tried to see the specks along the horizon.

Zemo followed your gaze and stood. He went to the golden scope he kept on the balcony and put his eye to it as he adjusted the sights. He tilted it and stood stalk straight as if he’d been struck. The scope bobbled and he steadied it.

“Get her to your rooms,” he said, “lock the door and don’t make a sound.”

“What? What is it?”

“They are early,” he hit his open hand with a fist, “the letter… it could not be. The king must’ve assumed and sent the party prematurely.” He went to Elina and lifted her. He kissed her cheek and waved you up to your feet, “go on, take her. Keep her quiet as you can. I will house them on a lower floor but they cannot suspect you, understood?”

“How do you--”

“The banner, it is all I can make out,” he said as he grabbed your cane and rushed you back through his cool chambers, “you will lock the door and I will have Ulrich keep watch over the corridor.”

“You didn’t see who it was?” you asked as he opened the door and thrust you out into the hallway.

“You will know when I know,” he assured, “keep your candles unlit and draw the curtains.”

“My lord--”

“I did not plan for this,” he said as he marched you down the hall. You tried not to stumble as he still had your cane and you only had him to keep you from falling, “my lady, I do fear you will not make it to the Creek as we planned.”

He stopped at your door and you hugged Elina as you leaned against the wall. She was entirely untroubled by the sudden upheaval, ever a happy baby. “My cane,” you pointed to his hand as he gripped the silver topper, “please?”

“Oh, I-- Yes,” he handed it to you then reached to open your door, “keep that close…” he said, “just in case.”

“We’ll be as quiet as we can,” you assured him as you held Elina against your hip and limped with your can into the dim chamber.

“I will have Tess secret up some food before their arrival but you do not come out for anyone but me. I will knock,” he tapped a pattern on the door, “like so.”

“Yes, my lord,” you squeezed Elina as the nerves stormed inside of you.

He sighed and gripped the door as he leaned on it, “I only have a few hours to hide the evidence of you and all we’ve done to see you off. Even so, they will not suspect anything unless they are fed crumbs, yes?”

“I understand, my lord,” you stiffened and forced back the panic, “we will see what comes and do as we must,” you swayed Elina as she began to fuss, “for her.”

“For her,” he repeated, “now I must go.”

He closed the door and you set Elina down on the rug with the mouse Tess had sewn for her. You went to the door and twisted the latch into place. You turned back to watch your daughter as she tossed the toy and giggled. She pushed herself up to her feet, more certain everytime she stood. The time was passing much too quick.

🏰

You tried to distract yourself by playing with Elina and keeping her quiet. You worried however, the few times she made noise, that you would blow it all. When Tess brought the food, it was easier as your daughter grew hungry and restless. Once she had a proper meal in her, she was ready to lay down. She dozed beside you on the bed as you listened to the activity below.

First, you heard the horses through the window and the rattling carts and carriages. The voices were too distant to discern above a muffle and you weren’t so foolish as to peek out, even from so high up. You calmed yourself by watching Elina sleep but you knew you would not rest that night.

The sun sunk further behind the clouds and the evening approached with a dullness which forewarned of storms. You flinched at every noise, even floors below, and waited and waited and waited.

You had faith in Zemo, he was a great pretender. It was that very quality which kept you wary of him for so long.

When Elina stirred again, you quieted her cries with your tit but she wasn’t taking to your nipple as eagerly as before. It calmed her for a while but she was soon awake again. You let her explore the chamber but not far from you and kept her away from the clacking wooden blocks gifted her by the baron.

And then the knock came as the sky blackened and grey clouds rumbled above. The rhythm drew you to the latch and Zemo slipped through the door. He was quick to lock it again as you ambled without your cane, afraid to tap the floor too hard with it. Elina greeted him with a shrill cry but it was blanketed by the bluster of the rising chaos in the heavens.

“The storm will frighten her but it should also help hide her,” Zemo said plaintively, “I hope.”

“They are here and settled?” you asked.

“Yes, so they are,” he confirmed as he picked up Elina, “They are too concerned with themselves to worry about any dead women hidden above.”

He sat in the armchair as the girl played with his beard as she liked to do. He smiled and let her, poking out his tongue until she did the same. He bounced her on his lap and she gibbered noisily.

“They are floors down, you should be safe to exist but if she cries, you will have to be quick to quiet her,” he girded.

“Anyone we know?” you asked as you sat on the foot of the bed and rubbed your hip.

He was silent and kept his attention on Elina. He raised his hand and let her bend his fingers to her will. She grabbed onto his ring and twisted it around his knuckle.

“My lord, is there--”

“Yes,” he huffed at last. He kissed the child’s forehead and set her down to crawl across the carpet, though she didn’t go far before she was distracted by her stuffed mouse.

“Who is it?” you asked as you folded your hands.

He rubbed his forehead then pushed his head back, “it isn’t him,” he assured, “if they were callous enough to send him or he was fool enough to come, well, we wouldn’t be having this placid conversation.”

“Who?” you asked again.

“His dog, Lord Rogers,” Zemo spat, “I don’t know which is worse. The man was watching Melinda as a wolf would watch a deer. I don’t even know the girl has flowered yet and he would be sniffing at her skirts. Despicable.”

“Rogers?” you breathed and your chest knotted.

A roll of thunder boomed at that very moment and made you gasp. Elina stopped playing and her lip began to quiver. You slid off the bed to your knees and went to her and gathered her up. You cooed and hushed her and she clung to the collar of your dress. You watched her face as the fear retreated and she turned to watch the window flash. The terror turned to curiosity in an instant.

“Ha, look how brave she is,” he snickered.

You nodded, speechless still. Your nose tingled and your eyes burned. You were so overcome at the idea of that man being so close. You recalled that day in the forest, your singular mistake, then the scene in the carriage, and that on the staircase when Zemo himself had kept you from his perversions.

“My lady?” he said, “you look unsettled.”

“Take her,” you murmured then cleared your throat, “please, take Elina.”

He got up and took her from your arms. You pulled yourself up by the bedpost and leaned against it, your grip tightened around the carved wood. Your chest pattered in time with the downpour against the castle walls. You shook as you felt the scar along your face and those that led down beneath your dress. It hadn’t just been Barnes.

“Lady?” Zemo got closer as Elina babbled.

“I… can’t breathe,” you said and turned to fall back onto your rear, the mattress dipping beneath you as your fingers clung to the post, “I can’t…”

‘A bird, a bird, high above the cloud…’ he began to sing as much to Elina as you, a tune in his own tongue, ‘a wing, a wing, flaps without a sound…’ he rocked the girl but kept his eyes on you, ‘an angel, an angel, looking down on me. A blessing, a blessing, cast upon the lea…’

He reached with one hand and drew you up to your feet. He let you lean against him as he embraced you against your daughter and kept swaying in time to his voice and the sudden onslaught of the storm, ‘a lady, a lady, spinning at her wheel. A mother, a mother, her will as strong as steel…”

You clung to his sleeve and buried your face against the thin cotton. He kept singing until Elina was quiet and the rattling of your bones stilled. You were embarrassed at the sudden emotion which overcame you and the dampness on your cheeks. He carefully sat you back down and shushed.

The rain continued but the thunder passed. He moved carefully to lay Elina in her cot and stood as you hid your face behind your hand.

“I’m…” you uttered.

“No, that man. I remember that day,” he sat beside you and gripped his knees, “I know what he would’ve done and I am wise enough to know it was not the first he’d touched you.”

“It was long ago,” you said, “I shouldn’t be so… frail.”

“You are...strong. You must stay strong for her,” he sniffed and touched your elbow, “but you feel it now.”

“Feel what?” you blinked at him.

“The longing… for vengeance?”

You stared into his dark eyes and your chest continued to twist. Your spine went rigid and your jaw clenched. “I do,” you nodded and looked over at your daughter, “I feel it so very deeply.”

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typical-simplelove · 4 years ago

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Peter Pan (M. Tkachuk)

Summary: Based off of Kelsea Ballerini’s song, Peter Pan. What happens when Matthew strings you along in an adventure and can’t grow up?

A/n: This idea came to me and I wrote it in 2 hours. I’m sorry for any hurt I caused you.

Warnings: Mentions of sex, Avengers: Endgame spoilers (yes, I’m a Marvel nerd), angsty (very), unresolved ending

Word Count: 5k (including song lyrics)

I hope you enjoy!!

Taglist: @goalision @coffee-ontherocks @glassdanse @barzal-burakovsky @petey-patty @boqvistsbabe @beauvibaby @heatherawoowoo @rmaye @mellany1997 @heaveniish @tkapuckit @stars-canucks (Do you want to be tagged in my fics? Fill out this form.)

The smile, the charm, the words, the spark Everything, you had it I guess I had a naive heart, cause boy I let you have it You said I was your only I never thought you'd leave me lonely

There was something about him, something that drew you in. You couldn’t quite say what it was. However, it was there. Was it the way the sweet words of love and adoration flowed so easily from his mouth? Was it the charm he so easily expressed and had? Was it the way his hair sat on his head so beautifully? Was it the spark that you felt was there? No, the spark that you insisted was there? Was it ever there? You fell for him. Your naive heart fell for the boy. You couldn’t even call him a man. He was a boy. Playing with your feelings and your heart. He took what you gave him, ate it up, and came back to when he wanted. He said he was only seeing you. Did you believe him? Yeah, you did. You weren’t sure why. You knew the way he was. He acted like the boys in high school. He acted like your young cousins and brothers. Yet, you allowed yourself to fall for him. You fell for a boy who didn’t know how to be a man.

You fell for a boy. You fell for Matthew Tkachuk, a person who was notorious for being a boy who would do nothing but hurt you. Unable to ever be mature in romantic relationships. He wanted the adventure and the love. Matthew wanted all the easy parts and disappeared when things got hard. He always came back when things cleared up or when he needed someone to make his heart rush. You always let him back into your life despite what everyone said. You told them that it didn’t matter. Matthew cared for you. He had feelings for you. He wasn’t using you to have an adventure. He would smarten up and realize what you had to offer on his own time. Right?

Matthew Tkachuk was a boy. It was a mistake to fall for him, yet you did. You fell for him. You took the bread crumbs he gave you and ate them up. You never asked for more because deep down you knew that he wouldn’t give them to you.

Matthew Tkachuk was lost in Neverland. He was a lost boy. He refused to grow up. Why did he need to? He had all this money, glory, and fame at his disposal. There was no need for him to grow. He had a girl who was devout to him and would always be there. That was, until you left. Until you realized you deserved better. Matthew didn’t have you anymore when you realized that Matthew was Peter Pan and never wanted to grow up.

Sometimes good things have to end. Sometimes you have to think for yourself. That’s what you did. Matthew couldn’t give you what you wanted. You wanted someone to love you all the days of the year, not just when he wanted to. Matthew loved you on his terms - a sign of a boy. He was lost. You weren’t. You needed to leave, so you did. You left Matthew Tkachuk because he refused to grow up. You weren’t going to be there the next time he came running to you. Matthew wasn’t good for you. He couldn’t give you what you wanted. He was a boy who couldn’t have an adult relationship. He would keep coming back to you and telling you he changed. He didn’t. He never did. He never grew and never realized what he was doing.

The next time when Matthew came back to you, you were going to turn him away. You didn’t have time in your life for boys. You wanted, no deserved, someone who would care and love you in the way you should be.

You're just a lost boy, with your head up in the clouds You're just a lost boy, never keep your feet on the ground

The first time you met Matthew, you were on cloud nine. No one looked at you the way he did. No one smiled at you the way he did. No one made your heart rush in the way he did.

He bought you a drink as people do in bars. It was different, though. He didn’t want to sleep with you. No, he did but that wasn’t the ultimate goal. There was a glint in his eyes that told you that he didn’t want only a hookup. The way his smile curved when you didn’t walk away from him. That should have been the first sign. He was playing a game. He knew what he was doing. Matthew knows about girls like you. He knows that girls like you want someone to make them happy. Someone to come home to and to make memories with. He wanted a girl like you to be part of his tally. Matthew wanted you as one of his adventures.

And you let him do that to you. You let Matthew sweep you off your feet. You let Matthew use you to be one of his adventures of his bachelor life. He didn’t want something serious. You told yourself he would change his mind. You kept telling yourself that. He would eventually want something serious. Right? He just needed to realize what he wanted on his own. Matthew knew though, you weren’t going to have something serious with him. Matthew knew exactly what he was going and, deep down, you did, too. You knew Matthew was going to string you along and just make you one his stories he reflects on the night before his wedding. You were going to be one of those girls in his life that Matthew would look back on and say ‘thank you for making me realize that I wanted to settle down’. You weren't endgame for him even though you wanted him to be. There was no one on this planet who made your heart rush, made the heat instantly rush to your face, or made your smile just because you thought about him. There was no one quite like him in your life.

Matthew was different, you kept telling people. He was different. Your friends were telling you to be careful. That you did. You made sure you guard your heart because you didn’t want to get heartbroken. Slowly, though, Matthew chipped his way into your heart and it was only a matter of time before you fell. It was a matter of when not if; you’d collapse because Matthew couldn’t give you what you wanted.

At first, you and Matthew didn’t have any labels. You both could go out for drinks casually or maybe a movie night every now and then. Nothing monumental. You were ready, though, to take the next step. You wanted to be more with Matthew. You thought knew that he wanted the same thing, right? You both weren’t technically exclusive but it was also implied that you both weren’t seeing other people. Well, that’s what you thought. You didn’t talk to any other people other than Matthew. Why would you when you had Matthew? Someone who made you incredibly happy and made your insides all warm and fuzzy. You brought it up numerous times, yet he always brushed it off and said let’s not make anything too complicated. So, you didn’t. You left it at that because you wanted Matthew. You needed Matthew. Your life began to orbit around the Flames’ schedule because that’s what Matthew wanted. He was going on an adventure that made his heart rush. He knew exactly what he was doing. Matthew knew exactly what you wanted. He wasn’t going to give it to you, though. He was too lost and immature to realize how much he was hurting you and how much he would hurt you. To him, this was fine. Matthew was going to string you along and let you be.

This pattern continued on for six months. You and Matthew were, again, not exclusive but it was also implied that you weren’t seeing anyone else. So you thought. The first time Matthew hurt you and made you feel terrible and unworthy of any kind of love should have been a red flag. You shouldn’t even have to label it as the first time. It should just be ‘the time when’. No first, second, third, fourth, etc. Why did you let Matthew have this power over you? Easy, he made you feel loved, special, and happy.

Until he didn’t.

You went out for drinks with your friends a Friday night after work. You wanted to see Matthew; no, you were dying to see Matthew. He said he had plans, so you made your own plans. You put on the outfit that made you the most confident and if it happened to be the one you wore when you met Matthew, then so be it. You walk into the rowdy and raucous bar. You looked around and your face paled. You weren’t sure why it shocked you considering you and Matthew weren’t officially exclusive, but it still hurt. Matthew was sitting at a booth with three beautiful girls surrounding him. Girls that you knew he wouldn’t be stringing along if he were seeing them. You weren’t sure why it hurt so much. This was the game Matthew was playing. This was the adventure that he was taking. It didn’t matter if you couldn’t see him playing it, Matthew was stringing you along. This night was one of many where Matthew was playing. He was a boy. He didn’t want to grow up and realize what he had in front of him.

You tried to ignore Matthew that night, but you couldn’t. His laugh was ringing throughout the bar and it was the only thing you could hear. Your friends looked at you with pity in their eyes. Yes, they told you to be careful and this would be the perfect ‘I told you so’ moment but the sadness in your eyes stopped them. Your friends wanted to walk over to Matthew to confront him. They didn’t. You chose to forget and ignore what was happening across the bar.

At 11:24 that night, you decided you had had enough. You wanted to go home; you couldn’t take it anymore. You wanted to be the girl that Matthew was laughing with not watching it happen. You say goodbye to your friends and walk out of the bar. You wish it were that easy. On your way out, a guy who was probably your age ran into you and spilled his drink everywhere. You cried out in shock of the cold drink meeting your chest. The cry out made Matthew’s eyes perk up. He knew that sound. He isn’t sure why he recognized it. Matthew looked up and saw that you were talking to someone else. You were laughing and giggling with this guy. You didn’t tell him to get away. Matthew wanted to know why. Also, what were you doing there? Why didn’t you come up to him? Why didn’t you opt to go see him? One of the girls sitting next to him tapped Matthew’s shoulder and he realized why. You weren’t going to come up to him whilst he was preoccupied with someone else. That was the way you were. You thought about other people’s feelings first and didn’t overstep your boundaries.

Matthew instantly gets up. He has to fix this with you because then how else would he be able to continue his adventure? He needed you to be the one to excite him and make his heart race. Matthew ditched the girls and his friends at the booth and ran after you.

“Hey,” someone said to you as they grabbed your arm. You turn around and see Matthew’s face. “Why didn’t you come and say hi?”

You remember looking at Matthew with disgust. He wanted to know why you didn’t interrupt him talking with other girls? He was with other girls. This was one of those perfect opportunities to tell him how you felt but you couldn’t. You weren’t sure why. No, you could. You knew that if you told Matthew exactly why you didn’t go over to him, he wouldn’t want to keep seeing you. You didn’t want that. You couldn’t sabotage whatever this was. You needed Matthew in your life like you needed air to breath. So, you lied. “Oh, I actually didn’t see you.”

Matthew sighed a breath of relief. That means that you didn’t see those girls. That meant that the game he was stringing you along with was going to actually work. He could continue playing his game and continue the adventure you brought. “Why don’t you come in and hang out with my friends?”

You shake your head and try to blink back tears. You couldn’t. You would never fit in with those types of people. “I’m actually going to head home. Maybe another time?”

“Oh, come on, don’t be that way. Come, for me?” You so wanted to bend and go in with him. In the first time in this six month relationship, barely, you finally had a thought of sense.

“I can’t. I’m sorry.” You walked away. You hoped, no begged, for Matthew to chase after you. To call out to you and insist you stayed. You wanted him to call out to text him that you got home safely. He didn’t. He walked back into the bar like it was no big deal and that he didn’t ruin your evening.

When you got home that night, you hopped in the shower and cried. You weren’t sure why you cried. The fact that Matthew made you cry should be another red flag to you. You were crying over a boy who didn’t care for you the way you did. You were crying over a boy. A boy! Not even a man. Not someone who had complex feelings and thoughts. A boy who only wanted you for the thrill. He was only with you because he knew that you weren’t going to leave. He knew the game he was playing.

You're always gonna fly away, just because you know you can You're never gonna learn there's no such place as Neverland You don't understand You'll never grow up You're never gonna be a man Peter Pan

This kept happening. Matthew kept on stringing you along and you often cried yourself to sleep. You weren’t sure why you couldn’t leave. For the life of you, you couldn’t understand why Matthew had this effect on you. He was like a drug and you were addicted. You couldn’t stop being around him. You could be in the same room but twenty feet apart and you’d have this sense of tranquility. You weren’t sure why you even bothered with him. Six months after that night in the bar, Matthew and you still haven’t gone exclusive. You weren’t seeing or talking to anyone else. You assumed he wasn’t either.

The second time Matthew hurt you should have been the last time. For some reason, Matthew was intoxicating. You just couldn’t leave like he could so easily. Matthew had the ability to just randomly up and leave. He would talk to you for three or four days straight and then stop talking to you for weeks. You should have stopped talking to him altogether. You should have blocked his number and on Instagram. You just couldn’t do it. No matter how much you tried and hyped yourself up to block him, you couldn’t.

The second time. This time hurt more than it should have. He told you to meet him at a restaurant close to where you work. So you did, you brought a change of clothes to work so you’d look nice. You put a beautiful dress that accentuated your curves perfectly. He told you he put a reservation under his name. And he did. Matthew put a reservation for the two of you under his name at seven. You showed up at 7:15 thinking being fashionably late would strike your appeal. It didn’t. He wasn’t there. You told yourself he was running late, too. You sat down at your table and waited. You looked over the menu and people watched. Your phone hit 7:45 and you decided to text him. He didn’t reply. It was 8:00 when you realized he wasn’t going to show up. You were starving and didn’t want to make anything, so you ordered your meal. The waiting staff were nice and you think they put your meal as top priority. They probably realized that you got stood up and wanted to put you out of your misery. You left a generous tip.

You left the restaurant at 8:36 and was going to walk to the bus station. You were walking when you looked up and saw Matthew’s familiar head of hair. You stopped. Your heart broke into a million pieces. He stood you up for someone else. Is that what he’s been doing this time? Going to you for the emotion and love of a relationship and going to her for the excitement and fun and sex of a relationship. Was that all you were to him? A joke?

You watched Matthew and this other girl walk into a restaurant. You had to walk by the restaurant in order to get to the bus station. You prayed that they didn’t have a window seat. The universe didn’t like you that much. They had a window seat. Actually, they had an outdoor patio seat. You walked by them and begged for their attention not to be on you. You didn’t pay attention to them. You ignored them. You remember Matthew calling out to you. You heard him call you ‘someone he knows’ as if you two weren’t a thing. Well, you actually weren’t. Yes, you both slept together and went on dates. But, as you now know, doesn’t mean that you two were exclusive. Yes, you weren’t seeing anyone else but that didn’t mean he wasn’t. You got on the bus and willed the tears to stay away until you got home. It worked. You weren’t sure what you’d do if you cried whilst on the bus.

The minute you walked into your apartment, you collapsed. The tears began streaming down your face. You weren’t sure why you were letting yourself to continue getting hurt by him. He’s stood you up before; however, normally you didn’t catch him with another girl. Normally, he texted you an apology. Was he with her all this time? What were you doing? Matthew was playing a game with you that you didn’t know what the rules were. You were in uncharted territory. You were like Henry Hudson looking for the Northwest Passage. You were like the Avengers after it was revealed that Thanos had destroyed the Infinity Stones. You were lost.

Despite this hurt, you kept on giving him excuses. You kept saying, what if he forgot? What if she was just a friend? You knew, however, deep down, that this wasn’t the case. You knew that Matthew didn’t care for you the way that you did.

You still went back to him. You went back to Matthew, the boy you cared for. The boy you were falling for. You were eating up the small bits of crumbs he gave you. You were waiting for the whole loaf. You were waiting on a boy who didn’t know what he was doing to you. You were falling for a boy. A boy! An immature boy who didn’t want to grow up. A boy who thought he lived in Neverland where he had forever to act like this. A boy who thought that it was okay to treat you like this. You were falling for a boy who would continue to fly away from you and then come back and you’d welcome him back. He flew away because he knew that you’d take him back. All this, and you had never been referred to as his girlfriend. You didn’t refer to him as your boyfriend because that’s not what you guys were. You were nothing but an adventure to him. You were nothing but an adventure that quickened his pulse. You were nothing more than just a girl who he could lead on and use for his games. You didn’t matter to him the way that Matthew mattered to you. Matthew didn’t carve out a part of his life for you the way that you did for him.

He was a boy lost in a world of adults.

Deep down, I knew that you were too good to be true But every piece and part of me wanted to believe in you But now it's happily ever never I guess now I know better

You wish you could say that after he stood you up, you stopped talking to him. It wasn’t. Sadly, Matthew still continued to hurt you. And you let him. You weren’t sure why. You kept telling people that the times that you were together made up for all of the times he hurt you. All those times he stood you up, ignored you, disappeared on you, or made you cry were made up with good memories. What were those good memories? Those were so far and in between that you couldn’t even remember what they were. If someone had to ask you what your favorite memory is with Matthew, you’d have to pause and think for a moment. Actually, many moments. Oftentimes, you changed the subject. Deep down, you knew that those memories didn’t exist. Matthew hasn’t made you happy in a long time. But, your heart raced every time that you saw him. That, to you, was enough to keep him in your life and not block him out.

One night, you were up waiting for Matthew. He had a Flames charity event and told you it was team only and no significant others. You believed him. You soaked it up and believed him. Matthew never gave you any reason for you to doubt what he was saying. He told you he’d stop by afterwards, so you waited. It was 10:57 when you got an Instagram notification. It was Annica. She posted a photo on Instagram. You open it up and look at the photo. Your face pales. She was at the charity event. So Matthew lied. That was the right thing for you to think. You think you wouldn’t have defended Matthew, right? Sadly, you made up excuses for him. Your conclusion was that only exclusive and labeled girlfriends could attend. That made sense, right? The Flames organization wouldn’t want some random girls to show up. Content with this answer, you closed your phone and returned back to the show you were watching.

You weren’t sure when Matthew would be home, so you texted him. You opened up Instagram to waste some time. You checked the time; it was 11:46. You scrolled and your eye caught on what the Flames had posted. It was photos from the Flames event that night. You swipe through the first three photos. All photos of the team. The fourth photo caught your attention. Matthew was standing there with Annica, Elias, Jacob, and another girl. Had this been any other situation, you would have assumed it was Jacob’s girlfriend. However, you knew he was single as he told you so just recently. Also, this was the same girl that Matthew was with the night he stood you up. To make matters worse, she was standing at the end of the picture and Matthew’s hand was visibly on her waist. You click on the photo and see that she’s tagged. You go to her profile and sigh in relief that it’s public. You notice that she’s updated her story. The first photo is of her and Matthew taking a mirror selfie in an elevator. The second photo is of Matthew kissing her. Matthew was kissing another girl. He lied. Matthew lied. He was in this relationship with another girl and was still seeing you. He was kissing you and sleeping with you as if it were no big deal. Did she know? Did the team know? You’ve met the team numerous times. Did they know? You look through her feed and see many photos of Matthew. Them on dates or just out and about. Matthew was hurting you and stringing you along. He didn’t care.

You weren’t sure why this time you finally realized what was happening. You weren’t sure why it was this instance that finally broke your heart. You couldn’t take it. You immediately blocked Matthew on Instagram and unfollowed everyone on his team and anyone you followed because they were friends with Matthew. You went and blocked his phone number and deleted every photo of him. In the morning, you decided that you would purge your apartment of anything Matthew. You went to bed and cried yourself to sleep.

You fell for a boy who used you for a game. You fell for a boy who only wanted an adventure. You fell for a boy who only wanted to play. There was nothing more than that. He never cared for you in the way you did. He led you on for almost two years and you defended him. You let him do this to you. Yes, Matthew was to blame but so were you. You let him do this to you.

He was Peter Pan and you were Wendy. You grew up but he didn’t.

You're always gonna fly away, just because you know you can You're never gonna learn there's no such place as Neverland You don't understand You'll never grow up You're never gonna be a man Peter Pan

The next morning, you got rid of anything that reminded you of Matthew. You also told your landlord that you were not going to renew your lease at the end of the month. You had to leave. You knew that if Matthew had any way of finding you, you’d let him in and back into your life. You started looking for new apartments and a new job. You couldn’t stay in Calgary. You had to leave. You couldn’t stay in a city where someone who broke you so badly was.

You stayed in a short term apartment until you found a new job and place outside of Calgary. You couldn’t stay at the apartment you were at. You knew Matthew and you knew that he’d just randomly stop by to surprise you. Normally, that would make your heart melt. Now, you were callous and ruthless. You couldn’t let him into your life. You couldn’t let yourself see him. You knew that the minute you looked into his eyes and saw his smile, you’d cave. You refused to let yourself do that.

You got a message from Jacob the other day. You read it but ignored it. You didn’t care that it would be marked as read. He said something about how you disappeared off the face of the earth and Matthew was scared as to where you were. Now he cares? Not all of these other times that he broke your heart and made you cry? Most people would find that sweet and romantic. You knew better. You knew that he knew that you finally caught onto his game. You know that he knows. He’s worried that you’re going to tell this other girl the truth.

Jacob sent you another message shortly after saying that he was worried about you, not Matthew. Your heart warmed knowing that someone cared about you; however, you were skeptical. You didn’t want to open your heart again. You replied to Jacob and told him that you were fine. Jacob must have told Matthew because Matthew emailed you. He went to the effort to look for your work email and send a message. You almost caved. You were about to reply but then you remembered what he did and you ignored it. You blocked his email.

Two days later, you found a new job. You were moving to Toronto for a new job. You gave your two weeks notice and planned everything you possibly could to leave right away. The longer you were in Calgary the more it hurt. When the day finally came to go to Toronto, you breathed a sigh of relief. You were sad to leave your friends and to be far from your family. However, you knew that you needed to heal and find yourself again. Your friends and family knew that you couldn’t heal or find yourself again if you remained in Calgary.

You fell for a boy who couldn’t give you what you wanted. You let this boy take your feelings and use them the way he wanted. You let him ruin you. You let Matthew Tkachuk do what he wanted and you didn’t fight back. He was lost and didn’t want to grow up. You knew that one day, Matthew was going to realize that he made a mistake. He should have locked you down because you were amazing. He’s, somehow, going to find you and you know you’re not going to let him get to you. Because he was never going to grow up. One day, Matthew will find someone who he loves and will want to have a true relationship with. Sadly, that wasn’t you. However, if this thing with Matthew can teach you something, it’s that you know what you deserve. You deserve someone who will love and care for you. This person won’t stand you and see other girls. This person won’t drag you along for almost two years and not make anything official. You weren’t going to date a boy ever again.

You weren’t going to date someone who was a child and lived in Neverland. Never again. Someone like Peter Pan never learns and never grows. One day, when you find yourself again, you’ll open your heart to love again. Someone like Matthew Tkachuk isn’t going to ruin that for you.

Your home of Calgary may forever be tainted with terrible memories, but your new home of Toronto is home to change and growth you’ve made.

Matthew Tkachuk used you in an adventure in his life and used you like you were a game. Nothing mattered to him. He didn’t care. He just knew that you’d always let him back into your life and forgive him. This time, you know better. You’re not going to welcome him back.

You weren’t going to fall for a boy who didn’t know how to grow up. Peter Pan lost Wendy because he couldn’t grow up, and Matthew lost you because he couldn’t grow up.

Yeah, you'll never grow up And you're never gonna be a man Peter Pan Never gonna be a man

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk x reader #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine #nhl writing #calgary flames imagine #calgary flames x reader #i'm truly sorry for the angst in this #claudia writes

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shorkbrian · 4 years ago

Text

Enough

My take?

Bakugou asks you out - it honestly comes out of nowhere.

Why would a pro hero be interested in just another paper-pusher working in his agency building?

(NSFW, rough fucking, slight predatorXprey)

You were flattered to say the least, but also intimated. He had stormed up to you at your desk (the man had never spoke to you before, so you didn’t know what to think) and slammed his hands down, rattling your pens in their cup, making you jump.

“You’re gonna go out with me”

“W-what?”

“Did I fucking stutter? Go out with me.”

Had you missed something? You had never talked to the man in your life, had only seen him as he came and went, your work station one of the ones on the same floor as his “office”.

There had been no indication that he was interested in you - there had been no indication that Bakugou even knew you existed.

But you didn’t want to insult the hero, you knew he was proud and brash and maybe not the best at feelings, so maybe he’d been wanting to ask you/ talk to you for a while.

Still, you didn’t feel comfortable saying yes.

Maybe it was the way he stood over your desk, practically leaning into your space, leering down at you with those bright red eyes. You didn’t like his tone, the way his words were a statement instead of a polite request. Almost as if he was ordering you to go out with him... or else.

So you brushed him off, you need some time to think about it, have to see if you have any free time (”I’ll give you a whole damn month off, lets fucking go do something or some shit.”) and you had to quickly come up with poor excuses, ones that both of you could tell were weak, fake.

Bakugou had just set his jaw, before clicking his tongue and storming back into his office, leaving you alone at your desk.

Yeah, that had been a weird day.

The next week at work had been weird too, Bakugou glaring at you whenever you unintentionally looked in his general direction. He caught you in the break room, leaning in the doorway with a cup of coffee clutched in his calloused hands.

The man just smirked, stood still, made you squeeze your way past him even though he was perfectly capable of moving.

He had bumped into you in the elevator, mouth set in a firm line that somehow seemed pleased when the elevator filled up with other people, allowing him to crowd into your space, literally breathe down you neck.

The pro hero managed to “accidentally” trip and spill his cup of water all over you, making your shirt stick to your skin, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment. He had scoffed at you, before you had hurried past him and rushed to the bathroom to try and pat your shirt dry with paper towels.

By the third week of Bakugou being an absolute shithead, you had made your decision - not that you were going to let him know that. He hadn’t asked you about going out any further, and by now you knew, you didn’t want to get involved with that.

Bakugou was too volatile, too unstable and angry and insecure. You wouldn’t be able to handle even trying to connect with him.

So you did your best to avoid him

----

And oh, did Bakugou notice.

He didn’t like being ignored, being fucking teased. Because that’s obviously what you were doing, playing hard to get. Well, he was good at this game, always got his prize, everything that he wanted in the end.

It was clear that you wanted his attention, any attention for that matter. You wore those tight little shirts, buttons almost straining at the seams, the top button undone so Bakugou could see down you shirt every time you bent over in his line of sight.

Those slutty skirts, short and form-fitting, the slit up the back giving teasing glimpses of your legs as you walked. Every skirt you owned made your ass look great, Bakugou enjoyed admireing the view everyday whenever you were turned away from his office, bending over at a co-workers desk to look at some documents or some shit like that.

Your silky stockings that made your legs look so long and soft and smooth, the high heels that clicked with each step. Even though each and every outfit was modest and work-appropriate, your body just wouldn’t quit. You looked hot, Bakugou wasn’t afraid to admit that it was the reason why he had noticed you.

But there were plenty of beautiful women employed by his agency.

You were special.

There was something about you, the spark in your eye, the straightness of your spine. You were bold, weren’t willing to roll over and show your stomach. Bakugou knew you were stubborn and confident and stupidly self-assured.

It intrigued him. You hadn’t thrown yourself at him, respected his space - that’s why you were allowed on the same floor as his office, one of the few desks that was in view of it.

He didn’t care about your existence at first. No, you were just another shitty extra. But damn, he had sure taken notice when you put an idiot in their place.

A fucking mailman had tried to “hand deliver” a package - meaning he was going to try and get up in Bakugou’s face, beg for an autograph, fanboy all over his office and be stupid and annoying and clingy. Bakugou was left wondering why the receptionist had even let him up, in which case damn, he should probably fire her or something.

Bakugou hadn’t even noticed the man until a shout drew his attention away from the boring paperwork on his desk. There you were, hands on your hips, staring down an angry mailman who was flailing his arms like a goddamn octopus. The man was mad, shouting at you about delivering the package, before you promptly snatched it out of his hands.

You set it to the side on your desk, before crossing your arms and turning back to the shocked mailman. You informed him that he could either get out now, or you’d drag him out by his ear, since he wanted to act like a pissy little baby.

And damn, did that make Bakugou pay attention to you.

Unfortunately, after the mailman had left with his tail between his legs, you hadn’t even attempted to take the package to Bakugou. You had asked one of your coworkers to do it, Bakugou had watched you gesture to the box on your desk while talking to one of the other employees. Truthfully, Bakugou was a little disappointed you weren’t going to come into his office.

But from that day on, he was hooked on you.

And now, with you trying to play coy, being a little bitch that couldn’t own up about their feelings? Bakugou was furious with you. He had been man enough to admit his feelings, to ask you out on a date, show his interest. And what had you done? Brushed him off, gave little fucking stupid excuses and tried to smile your way out of things.

Bakugou could see what you were playing at.

Little tease.

He could tease right back.

After weeks of your stupid flirty game, Bakugou was done. It was clear you weren’t interested in him, kept avoiding him and turning the other way whenever you spotted him. Tried to take the stairs in order to not run into him on the elevator, conveniently got sick whenever Bakugou wanted to do trust building exercises with the team working on his floor.

He didn’t need your fucking approval, he could take what he wanted. You thought you were better than him? You were nothing but dirt.

Granted, you were pretty dirt - dirt that made his heart clench tight and his dick twitch whenever he thought of you in your little pencil skirts.

But still dirt.

And for some reason, even though you had subtly turned him down, you still decided to be the worlds biggest tease. Bakugou was going to snap, he was frustrated and horny and angry that you didn’t even have the balls to tell him in person that you didn’t want to go out with him.

All day you’d been acting extra flirty, laughing with your coworker over some stupid shit, the sound making Bakugou’s do little flips. He saw you accidentally drop a stack of papers - bend over to pick them up, perfect little ass sticking out just for him. You had ate your lunch at your desk, coincidentally Bakugou also randomly decided to do the same, watching you lick yogurt off your spoon. God, the way your tongue swirled around the spoon, licking up the creamy white substance had Bakugou popping a stiffy, had him chewing through his vegetables with a little more force than normal.

After lunch you had given a quick stretch of your arms, letting your back curve just right and Bakugou wanted to swear as you let out a breathy little moan as you stretched out a sore muscle, no one else around to hear it but him.

Fuck.

Getting through the rest of the work day was hell, Bakugou remaining seated at his desk so he wouldn’t have to be bothered with trying to hide his boner when he stood up. He had to watch you welcome your coworkers back from lunch, smile at one of them, let out a stupid little giggle at some stupid shit one of the fucking stupid little employees said.

He tried to put you out of his mind, focus back on his work. He was managing to do it pretty well actually, until his bladder got the best of him and he had to make a trip to the bathroom. Luckily by then his boner had gone down.

There weren’t many people on this floor, no need for separate bathrooms - just one single room, unisex.

Bakugou knocked on the door waiting barely a second before pulling it open, almost blowing up the damn thing as someone practically fell onto him.

“Sorry! I was just opening the door and I didn’t hear you knock…” You trailed off as you realized who was attached to the arms steadying you.

Bakugou glared at you, not listening. He was focused more on the fact that your breasts were squished up against his chest, could feel your rapid heartbeat, was so close that he could see the bright little specks of color in your eyes as you gazed up at him with a shocked expression.

With a flurry of movement, you pushed yourself away from your boss, stumbled backwards, and promptly fell flat on your ass.

Now normally, Bakugou would burst out laughing, or maybe sneer and goad you about being clumsy and dumb, but not now.

Not when he had caught a glimpse up your skirt as you fell away from him.

HIs heart was beating so fast in his chest, Bakugou didn’t even register your quick “So sorry sir!” as you scrambled to your feet, hurriedly trying to straighten out your clothes. He could only stare at you, try to control his breathing, stop himself from jumping you right then and there.

Were you serious? Teasing him like this, leading him on, being an absolute slut with no remorse? He could barely believe you. As you dashed past him, cheeks flaming, Bakugou watched you go, a plan forming in his head.

He was going to teach you a lesson.

——

Bakugou waited until the end of the work day, 4:55, before exiting his office and stomping over to your desk.

“Hey, I need you in my office in twenty minutes.”

You looked up at him, confused, brow furrowed. “Bakugou-san, it’s almost five.”

Bakugou could care less, sneering. “And? I need you to stay later. You and I are gonna have a little discussion about your compliance with company rules about work attire.” You turned bright red, glancing quickly down at your outfit. “Of course, I can talk to you now if you’d like, out where all your coworkers can hear me tearing you a new one. …Your choice.”

Glaring up at him, you shook your head, spitting out “I’ll see you in twenty minutes Bakugou-san.”

He smirked as he turned away from you, swaggering back into his office. The man liked your little spark of defiance, the stubbornness hiding deep down.

The two of you would be having a lot of fun in a little while.

There wasn’t much more for him to do except wait, scroll through his phone, boots knocked up on his desk, leaning back in his office chair, hand behind his head. It was almost amusing, watching you say goodbye to your coworkers as they left, pretending to straighten your desk and finish up whatever you had been working on.

Ten minutes passed, Bakugou watching you squirm out of the corner of his eye as each subsequent “goodbye” of your peers left you more secluded with your boss.

Twenty minutes passed and you got up, straightening out your skirt before coming to knock loudly at his office door, pushing it open before he could acknowledge your presence. He raised an eyebrow at the subtle show of disrespect - maybe you knew what game he was playing, were trying to rile him up even more? Every little play of yours made his blood burn hotter.

You sat down in the chair across his desk, folding your hands in your lap, tucking your feet to the side - the very picture of professional employee. Bakugou kicked his boots off his desk, leaning forward over his desk.

He didn’t say anything, just watched you, narrowing his eyes as you lifted your chin, staring straight back at him.

“If you had me stay late just so you could try to intimidate me, that’s disappointing.“ Bakugou shrugged at you, and you almost snorted before continuing. “I’m curious as to why I’m here - my work attire is always appropriate, I complete my work on time, there’s no reason for complaints. What am I not doing for you? I’m a good employee.”

“Well, for starters-“ Bakugou stood up, rolling his neck, relishing in the subsequent pops from his bones releasing stress. “You could stop always being such a fuckin’ tease.”

The look of confusion on your face was priceless.

“It’d be nice if we could get this game over with too - much as I like playing, I wanna get to the part where my cock is down your throat.”

Mouth dropped open in shock, you quickly snapped it shut, a blush rising on your cheeks. “What game? This is inappropriate Bakugou-san-“

“What game?” Bakugou scoffed. “This little game of cat-and-mouse. Damn, didn’t take you as the dense type. Are you just trying to get me to punish you? You’d like that, wouldn’t you - little slut.”

Bakugou knew you weren’t playing a game with him, knew that your teasing was unintentional. But your obliviousness made him hard, and it was fun watching you rocket to your feet, indignant at his words. Before you could even get a response out, Bakugou spoke again, starting to walk around his desk towards you.

“Seriously, don’t act fucking stupid. If you want me to spank you so damn bad, all you gotta do is ask.”

He held out his hands, as if it was ridiculous that he had to tell you this. The blond could tell you were starting to get what was about to happen, eyes flickering down to the steadily-growing bulge in Bakugou’s pants. He could see the wheels turning in your head, the reasons he wanted to talk to you after everyone had left for the day, why he had been such a creep these past few weeks.

You bolted.

Heels clicking against the floor, only able to take short steps in your pencil skirt, brain blank with fear.

This was exactly how Bakugou had wanted this to go.

He wanted to chase you down, pin you despite how you struggle, and fuck you like an animal.

It was easy for him to cut you off from the elevator, leaping over desks and sliding in front of the doors before you could reach them. With a frustrated cry, you whirled on your heel, dashed towards the stairwell. Bakugou beat you there too, lunging at your form and pushing you to the side before you could open the door.

You stumbled, a heel coming off in the process. You shucked off the other shoe, taking a second to throw it at your boss. Bakugou laughed as he dodged the strong throw, your heel thudding uselessly against the wall behind him.

“Keep running bitch, you won’t get far - there’s no where to go.” He taunted.

You barely waited a moment before taking off across the office floor again, able to go faster without difficult shoes. You were heading back towards Bakugou’s office, the man realized. A smart move - the door locked, there was a phone you could use to call for help. Too bad you wouldn’t even reach the door.

The pro-hero grabbed your shoulder, pulled to whip you around to face him, making you stumble backwards. Without missing a beat, he slapped you across the face, palm burning. That wasn’t part of the plan, but Bakugou was worked up, running on adrenaline and emotions. Your head whipped to the side from the force of the slap, shocked.

Taking advantage of your sudden stillness, Bakugou grabbed your waist, lifted you up and into his arms. Your arms were flailing now, trying to punch and hit and scratch but even with your strength you were barely a nuisance to the pro-hero.

Here’s the part that he had trouble with - where was the best place to bend you over? Your desk? Should he shove you to the ground and rip off your skirt? Up against the wall where he could thrust up into you with wild abandon?

On his own desk?

That sounded good.

The man marched to his office, kicked open the door and then kicked it shut, wincing when you landed a solid kick to his knee that twisted the joint a bit too far to the left. “Goddamn, you still gotta lot of energy? That’s gonna change, I’m gonna fuck you until you pass the fuck out.”

You shrieked at his admission, doubling your efforts to try to get the man to loosen his hold on you. Bakugou dropped you onto his desk so you were sitting upright, wrenched your thighs apart, stood between them as he wrapped a hand in your hair and pulled your neck back as he pushed himself flush against your body.

“Mm, you feel real damn good. Like the way you struggle ’n shit - rubs just right over my dick. Feel how big I am? I’m gonna fuck you open with it.”

He could hear your choked whine, still too proud to beg. No, you were too stubborn and proud to beg and plead right away. Bakugou knew you would after he broke you down though, had you drooling over his desk.

The man used this moment to bite at your neck, relishing your gasp as he bite down roughly on the side, before quickly sucking over the red indentions of his teeth. Your hands were on him, one wrapped around the wrist of the hand wrapped in your hair, the other hand pushing against his chest as if that was going to make him go away or some shit.

His hand not wrapped in your hair fisted into your shirt, uncaring of the fabric as he flexed his arm, literally tore it off your upper half. Bakugou didn’t have the patience to take it off properly; He had waited too long for this, he was almost lightheaded with how much blood was rushing through his dick right now.

You were wearing a simple bra, nothing fancy - which was good, cause Bakugou ripped that off too, leaving you bare from the waist up. He was breathing heavily, panting as he quickly glanced at your body, taking in your soft skin, the rise and fall of your chest as you squirmed and whined and tried to escape from his grip. He liked the way you leaned your upper half away from him, following the hand pulling your hair so it wouldn’t pull your strands, subsequently pushing your lower half against your boss.

The blond groped roughly at your tits, giving quick little slaps to each one to watch them jiggle.

“You have been such a fucking tease, you know that? Wearing these tight outfits, little shirts that don’t even cover your tits. Every time you bend down I can see right down ‘em, see what the tops of your tits look like.” With a grunt, Bakugou bent his head, biting roughly at the top of your chest. “Makes me wanna fuck your tits, spit all over ‘em until they’re dripping, make you hold ‘em together around my dick. God, that’d be hot.”

He let go of your hair, hands falling to your waist to pull you closer so he could grind his bulge between your legs. With him not pulling your head back, you could focus on what he was doing, fight back.

Bakugou felt the burning pain on his cheek, then heard the sound, then registered that you had just slapped him. Fucking bitch. With a growl, Bakugou grabbed your face, squishing your cheeks painfully in-between his fingers, bringing your face forward so he could press his forehead against yours.

“Try that shit again, see what happens. I can assure you it won’t be fuckin’ pretty. I don’t mind, but you probably would.” He threatened. Your eyes shined, not wet with tears, still sparking with the fire of defiance.

Bakugou wanted that spark. Did he want to extinguish it? Fan it into a blazing fire? He didn’t know, he just wanted.

He glanced at your lips quickly, instinctively licking his own before making eye contact again. He couldn’t resist - didn’t want to. Bakugou surged forward, capturing your lips with his own, immediately biting and growling into your mouth, using the hand on your waist to move you against himself, humping into your clothed pussy.

When he pulled away, you were gasping, a string of saliva dripping down your chin.

The blond gripped at his throbbing cock through his pants, groaning. His hands moved to your skirt while pulling you to your feet, clumsily fiddling with the zipper in the back, trying to tug it down with one hand while the other kneaded into your chest.

With how you were positioned, it’s no surprise when he felt you bite down onto the side of his neck.

Bakugou laughed, tapering off into a moan as the pain bloomed in his neck.

Fuck, that felt good. He didn’t mind you biting at him, even if you were doing it to try and get away from him, and not out of lust.

Finally beating the zipper on your skirt, Bakugou stripped off the garment, whistling when you were revealed to him, no panties covering your sex. There you stood, nothing but smooth, sheer panty-hose covering your legs.

Bakugou flipped you around, shoved your face into his desk. He needed to be inside you now, he was done with games, done with the teasing, done with the dirty talk.

You were bent at the waist, ass up in the air. The blond quickly undid his pants, pulling down his boxers just so his dick could be pulled out. There was already precum beading at the tip, and Bakugou hissed as he gave his member a quick stroke. Letting go of his cock, the man took hold of your panty-hose, right at the crotch, smirking as you wiggled around, yelling profanities.

Damn, you really were perfect for him.

The panty-hose ripped easily, a large hole that exposed your cunt, the barest hint of wetness in between your folds. The blond didn’t want to wait to prep you, simply spat into his hand, gave his cock a quick stroke to cover it in his saliva, then lined himself up, cock nudging at your pussy.

“Relax your fucking hole bitch, this’ll hurt less.” He paused, surprising himself. Usually he wasn’t so considerate. “Or not, again, your choice.”

And with a snicker, the man began slowly pushing in, grunting as he was immediately met with tight resistance. But Bakugou wasn’t a quitter, and what he wanted, he got.

It took several minutes - minutes of you beginning to cry, beg for him to stop, shrieking at each new inch that sunk into you. Bakugou on the other hand had his head thrown back, calloused hands gripping your hips tightly to prevent you from moving anywhere but back and further onto his cock.

And then he was bottomed out, balls pressed against the top of your pussy, the pressure teasing your clit.

“Jesus Christ, You’re such a damn tease, but fuck, this pussy’s worth the work.”

You squirmed, before stilling as you gasped, able to physically /feel/ your boss’s cock twitching inside of you.

Bakugou didn’t waste any time getting to work.

“You have been riling me up every damn week. I fucking hate you and you’re slutty little body, making me all hot n shit- haven’t been able to focus on anything. Stupid bitch.”

He was thrusting into you, pushing you across the desk before pulling you back onto his cock.

“Bet this is what you wanted the whole time. It’s why you brushed me off, huh? Ignored me like that? You just wanted me to hold you down and take what I fuckin’ want.”

Deep down, Bakugou knew that wasn’t true. It was clear by the way you struggled, your pathetic cries, you whimpering “No, no I’ll rip your fucking throat out!” On each thrust. But even deeper down, Bakugou didn’t care whether you wanted this or not.

He did, and that’s what mattered.

His abs were clenching, pleasure shooting through his gut as you tightened around his cock, practically milking him. The suction was heavenly, made him groan, made him relax down against your body, sprawling to cover your back.

Like this, Bakugou let his arms rest over your shoulders, his hands grabbing the other side of the desk. Your hips were trapped against his, pinned to the desk. There was no where for you to go, you could barely breathe with the man’s weight on you.

But it let Bakugou hammer into you like a stallion.

You whined as his speed increased, aided by his grip on the desk, his hips working furiously, skin loudly slapping against skin.

With a growl, Bakugou buried his face in between your shoulder blades, mouthing roughly at the skin there, panting and growling and groaning like an animal as he fucked you.

Fuck, he was close, fuck.

With one last thrust, his balls tightened up, his dick jumping. He quickly pulled out, immediately reaching his hand down so he could fuck into his fist, and within seconds the man was cumming over your back.

Fuck, that felt fucking amazing.

When he was able to think clearly again, actually bring air into his lungs, Bakugou looked down at you, laying limp against his desk. There was a shine of wetness between your thighs, your pussy glistening and clenching around nothing.

“Aw, poor little tease wants to cum?”

He could tease too, giving your ass a quick, light slap. With an embarrassed shudder, you nodded imperceptibly. Bakugou chuckled, bringing his fingers down to the puffy little nub nestled at the top of your pussy. “If you want me to make you cum, you gotta say so. Don’t try and tell me you aren’t turned on’ you’re a shitty-ass liar.”

You trembled, before managing to spit out “Make me cum.” Bakugou shuddered, loving the hate filling your voice, the emotion. You sounded like you wanted to kill him, strangle him with your bare hands, and yet you were still begging for him to make you cum. How pathetic.

“Mm, too damn bad-“ Bakugou pulled his fingers away from your cunt, slapping your ass again, a little harsher this time. “Maybe next time I’ll let you cum. Teasing sluts don’t get to have shit, gotta earn it first.”

Maybe next time he’d fuck your throat.

#yandere thoughts #yandere bakugo katsuki #yandere bakugou #yandere bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou #yanderebakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou #bnha #tw noncon #predator #prey

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kaeyas-beloved · 4 years ago

Text

Be You {Leviathan x Reader}

Leviathan x Reader (They/Them) || Obey Me!

Warning(s): None (Well, actually I make Levi bully Mammon for less than a paragraph)

Note: This was a request I received from someone on Wattpad!

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

Finally, Leviathan’s done it. It’s been a long three days, hours upon hours having been poured into this playthrough.

“Woop woop! Aren’t I the best!” he praised himself, smiling wide. He’s skipped meals, pushed assignments to a later date and avoided any outside interactions to finish this game. His sight may be blurry and his limbs numb but if those were the sacrifices he had to make to go full completionist then it was all worth it. Now, time to celebrate a well deserved win.

“I think this calls for some of Ruri-chan’s celebratory season 3 limited edition candy and-!”

A chorus of knocks on his door immediately snuffed out his joy. Levi scowled, turning to glare at his door from his chair, it’s gotta be Mammon. The third born is absolutely positive that it’s his scummy older brother - it always is - back yet again to mooch more money off him for a trip to the casino. The usual slander he and his brothers would throw at the second born was on the tip of his tongue, ready to fire at will.

“Hey Levi? You there? It’s me....”

A voice that definitely doesn’t belong to the second born piping up and Levi, halfway through spouting the first syllable, shuts up all together. That’s his normie. A weight presses on his heart: he was just about to yell and insult his Henry…

Clearing his throat in hopes of gaining some kind of composure (all previous anger having diminished) the usual “What’s the password?” came out in a stutter. The demon was only acutely aware of his heart beat. How it skipped periodically. How it raced like he himself just ran a marathon. Levi waits a moment for the human to finish reciting the TSL excerpt. His hands begin to shake, his palms exuding profuse amounts of sweat. Gah! Why was he so nervous? Yeah, he’s aware that he’s just some gross shut-in otaku but he shouldn’t be this anxious! It’s not like this is the first time the exchange student has hung out in his room... alone... with him…

“Yo Levi?”

“Yes MC?”

“You think you could open the door now? Please?” Snapped back to reality, Levi hastily opened the door, finding himself regretting it soon after.

“I, uh, MC? What do you…?” his voice trailed off, orange gradient eyes locked on their garments. Immediately he sputtered, taking a step back. A bright scarlet coated his pale cheeks. Levi tried to hide it with his hand, though it was proven useless. The sea demon's at a toss up; should he screech? Slam the door shut? Combust all together!? At the rate he’s going, number three is looking pretty probable.

On the other end of this exchange, the human stood almost timidly out in the hall, fingers fiddling with one another while their eyes darted anywhere but at the man in front of them. The words of the fifth born rang in their ears:

“You absolutely have to wear this dear! My brother would surely fall head over heels for you, even more so than he already is!”

Oh whyyyyy did they trust him? Cause he had knowledge in fashion and love? Yeah, that was it. Still, if this turns south Asmo is going to get a lecture worse than any Lucifer could ever give… Damn, they really should’ve never let the lust demon shoo them into his private bathroom and make them change into this girly outfit.

And it hit them all at once: Levi doesn’t like it, what they’re wearing. What if he never talks to them after this? Maybe if they leave now then there will still be a chance they can forget about this.

Time went on slowly, like people who walk through mud are, and MC just about tuck tail and ran, what they had planned and gained courage for be damned.

Levi had other plans though.

Only now registering that the two were standing out in the open for all to see, in a blind and desperate attempt to save himself and the human from embarrassment, the third born latched onto their wrist, yanking them into the safety of his room. Unfortunately, demon strength is a funny thing and Levi had handled them with more force than he meant to, the human crashing into his chest - hard.

Perhaps it was instinct -- a need to protect the fragile being within his grasp -- but the demon's arm found purchase around their form, pulling them almost impossibly closer as they tipped. The pair, balance long gone, toppled over, landing with a thud.

Somehow, just like in all the romance anime he’s watched, Levi found himself hovering over them, arms propped on either side of their head. Their noses brushed, both staring frozen into each other's eyes. It wasn’t everyday that either of them were this close to one another, the exception being when the duo falls asleep playing video games. God, with this kind of proximity he was sure that the normie could hear how fast his meek heart was pounding. If this went on any longer he might actually die.

“Levi?” They whispered, their voice so quiet that he almost missed the call of his name. He however did catch their whisper and tensed up before coming back to the here and now, catching sight of the ‘what’ that led to their current position. Standing, Levi’s face burned hotter than ever before.

‘It was all because of them,’ he thought, turning away turning away with tense shoulders as he still tries to mask the red that licked all the way up to his ears. ‘It’s always their fault when I start to feel like I do now!’

“S-stupid n-normie! Why are you even wearing that?” he asked, chancing a glance over his shoulder. Levi did have to admit… they looked kinda cute in those clothes… and it looked like something Ruri-chan would wear too…

Gah! No no no focus Levi!

The ‘normie’ didn’t answer right away, instead raising to their feet and opting to grab a bag from beside the door. That wasn’t there before.

“Asmo…” they sighed, turning back to face the demon, nervousness swirling within them. Now or never, “Asmo said you’d like it if I wore something like this” So this is Asmo’s doing? Damn him… “Anyway, here, take it.”

“Wha-?” A shimmering gift bag the same colour of the water Henry his goldfish swam in was thrust into his hands, whatever he was about to say dying in his throat.

A present? For him? Oh why must a no good otaku like him have to go through such an intimate endeavor???? He just can’t take it!

Then again, this was like that one scene from season 2 ep. 22 of this anime he binged: I Forget Important Dates all the time which causes me to get into really awkward situations. This time I forgot about my Birthday and my Crush handed me a bag before confessing their love for me!

So-! Spurred on by fictional characters and MC’s urging “go on, open it”, Levi tore the tape, presented with his spontaneous gift: a popular multiplayer game from the human world; one near impossible to get in Devildom.

“WHAOOO!” MC couldn’t help but think how much he’s acting like a kid on Christmas, the notion cute in their opinion. The human stood still for a couple minutes, allowing their friend to rant and gush over the game (and how cool they were for even acquiring it).

“But…” the purple haired demon calmed down, “why did you suddenly give me this?” What? Did he not know what today was?

“It’s… it is your birthday isn’t it!?” Don’t tell them Asmo lied to them about Levi’s birthday!

Levi pulled out his phone, his eyes widening to the size of saucers, “No, it is my birthday,” he assured. With all the gaming he was doing he must've failed to noticed, which is strange considering the last time his special day drew near he practically counted down the days.

“MC.” He got their attention, looking them right in the eye, his words and actions portraying a sureness and sincerity, “Thank you and…” As quick as lightning strikes the ground, the human had themselves pulled flush against Levi once more, his head resting on their shoulder and nose buried in the crook of their neck. His hair, so soft and fluffy, left a ticklish sensation on their skin.

“And about what you said before. With Asmo. I do like what you’re wearing but…” he tightens his hold, “I like you just the way you are. I know you don’t usually dress like this and I want nothing more than for you to be comfortable, like how you make me. If that means dressing tomboy-ish then so be it. I want you to be you: the human only you can be: my Henry.”

“I’m glad you feel that way…” They smiled, arms wrapping around his torso. They hope their gratitude is able to shine through in the hug, “Now, ya wanna play your new game?”

“Yes!” He smiled, pulling back and raising his hand. They return the grin, suppressing a chuckle seeing as the demon reminded them of the YES demoji. “Oh, but um! Would you like to change first? It’s not that I don’t like seeing you dressed like that or anything but like I said I want you to be comfortable but also I don’t think my heart can take it anymore… wait that’s not what I meant!” That made them chuckle though.

“Do I have to?” They teased, enjoying the reaction they got out of the third born. Levi gulped, ducking his head while whispering a small no. “Then maybe I’ll stay like this a little longer. It is your birthday after all.” Tugging the envy demon towards their usual gaming spot they let Levi set up the game before the two plopped down in their spots.

“Oh and Levi?” He hummed, tilting his head, the light of the screen illuminating the side of his face. They hugged him once more, “Happy Birthday”

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

[Masterlist]

Thank you for reading!

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plainlo-inthemorning · 3 years ago

Text

A Loki TVA/Lokane fic. Rating T.

Previously: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 (of 6)

Shine a Light, part 5

He is aware that the love of his life is digging her fingers into his arm and saying his name.

He is aware of Stark standing to his other side, visor off, speaking to someone on the phone. His voice is hard.

But most of all, Loki is aware that all their lives were just changed by a great big terrifying rip in the seam of reality.

Neither Jane nor the Avenger could possibly be completely sure of what they saw. Loki, as much as he desperately wants to, harbors little doubt.

The man he held in a death-grip only minutes ago and who just now disappeared through a doorway conjured out of thin air was somehow … himself.

Another him. Just as the man had said.

After witnessing from afar the double kiss Jane, Loki, who was coming back from a swim, had been more than ready to skip past introductions and just sever the intruder’s head from his body.

But as soon as he had laid hands on him, a torrent of images had flooded his mind – chaotic, confused images that seemed to span past, present, future and beyond.

The shock had made him lessen his grip and the double had used his (his!) magic to throw him off.

With some distance between them and Stark suddenly there as well, Loki had tried to let his rage quell the dizzying realization. Unsuccessfully.

He is still shaking, clutching a dagger in each hand. He drew them instinctively as the other made for the door.

He should have caught him!

“Loki! What did he say?!”

“What?” His thoughts are racing in too many directions to hear her.

“The … man, what was he saying to you?!”

Jane is looking up at him with those beautiful brown eyes, worry and urgency all over her delicate features. Though not fear, Loki notes. His ever-brave wife. Both her hands are now clamped around his wrist.

That thing kissed her.

The daggers disappear and Loki wraps both arms around the mother of his unborn child, almost crushing her to his chest while still staring at the spot where the double vanished.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, love”, he murmurs. He suspects things are very much not okay.

So does Jane, of course.

“Loki, was it … oof, not so tight … “

She wriggles against him, and he remembers his amor. And her condition. He immediately relaxes his arms a bit while letting the leather and metal melt back into the clothes he wore before: Black jeans and a fitted, dusty green t-shirt (his “rockstar outfit”, Jane had called it, when Loki first started switching up his human wardrobe some years ago now). Drops of saltwater still cling to the ends of his slightly curly raven locks.

“Tony! Jane, Loki! What on Earth was that?”

Pepper jumps out of the car parked in front of the house and runs towards them. She must have seen everything as she drove down the road following her flying husband.

“The verdict’s still out, Peps”. Tony nods at Loki. “You wanna chip in here? I just called the boy-scout at headquarters and told him to be on guard for one of the magician’s interns playing a prank”.

Loki shakes his head slowly.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think Stephen had anything to do with this”.

“You’re right, I didn’t”.

All four of them turn around to see the sorcerer step out of a swirling ring of light, his cape billowing around him. The mahogany floor and paneled walls of his Manhattan mansion are briefly visible behind him before the portal closes with a hiss of little sparks.

Strange is wearing an even sterner expression than usual which only adds to Loki’s growing sense of dread.

Tony, however, groans loudly.

“Dude, really? Couldn’t you at least have let us have dinner before party crashing? Not shaming your bachelor lifestyle or anything, but this was couples’ night!”

“Tony!” Pepper hits her husband on the arm.

Strange ignores him.

“I’m afraid the arrival of your surprise visitor indicates that a set of … unfortunate events have been set in motion”.

As always, his voice is as even as if he was reading the weather forecast, but by now Loki has learned to differentiate the (very) subtle nuances between scorn and sincerity. Strange places his hands behind his back and regards them coolly. “I’ve had Wong reach out to Doctor Banner and director Fury. They should be here shortly. Stark, you may want to-”.

Tony narrows his eyes, lip twitching.

“Hey, Bleeker Street, you know I have low tolerance for you showing up and barking orders without giving two f**** for context. How did you even know that something was going down here? By all means, don’t keep us in suspense until the cavalry gets here”.

Strange doesn’t answer, but the way his eyes dart to Jane sends needles through Loki’s heart.

“Let’s go sit down, shall we?” With one eyebrow raised, Strange puts on a suave smile and gestures towards the house. The effect is a little startling.

Jane ducks out from under Loki’s arms. “Jane, don’t you want to-“. She brushes him off.

“Yes, good idea, Stephen. Let’s go sit down”. She motions for Strange to follow. “Welcome to our home. I was actually making drinks before, but I think I need to add a bit more kick to them…”

Her voice is oddly calm, and Loki fights the urge to grab her and magic them both far, far away, not caring that she would be furious with him for making decisions on her behalf.

He’s brought back to the present by an even odder sound as Strange actually chuckles.

Loki is not sure he’s ever heard it before. Then again, it’s not that he really knows Strange when it comes down to it. Like Tony, Loki finds the wizard exceedingly arrogant.

Pepper is the first to follow Jane and Strange across the lawn while Loki and Tony hang back.

“Real ladies’ man when he wants to. Who would have thought”. The billionaire superhero scoffs. His suit has folded itself off and into a briefcase next to his feet.

“Tony-“

“Uh oh. First name basis. So this really is an emergency”.

Loki faces his friend. Often in the past years, as they’ve grown steadily closer outside of “work”, he has secretly marveled at how long they’ve come since someone threw someone else off a building after being called a diva.

And attacking a city with an alien army.

Jane always insisted the two “hotheads” (her word) had a lot in common when not trying to murder one another (be it with weapons or sarcastic commentary), and Loki has to admit she was right. The metal man is fiercely intelligent, and Loki has been enjoying the quick-witted snark between them infinitely more than he ever valued the company of Thor’s band of gullible warrior groupies on Asgard.

“Well?”. Tony is regarding him with eyebrows raised, expectant. “Give me your take on this cause I’m starting to put together some rather outlandish theories myself here that I’m kinda hoping you’ll thwart ASAP”.

Loki draws in a deep breath.

“That thing with Banner at the tower two years ago-“

“Fuck!” Tony exhales, exasperated. “I knew you were gonna say that”. He squints into the distance towards the ocean, his mouth a tight line. It’s a rare day that Tony Stark is caught under a clear blue sky without sunglasses but for once he doesn’t seem to notice.

Loki takes a step closer to him and lowers his voice so they won’t alert the others just yet.

“I told you then and you didn’t want to listen! Everything about Bruce’s story was off. I know he didn’t remember much after Steve took him down, but you all pretty much accused me of trying to get back at him for, well, you know what, and I kept telling you I thought someone had gotten to him! Now-“

Loki searches for the words. It’s beyond absurd.

“That man was a version of me, Tony. I have no idea how, but I felt it. I saw into his mind. It was filled with images from my past and then … other, recent memories. Dark ones. He came from nowhere. Literally. It didn’t feel like a place. I tried to discard it as a trick, you saw that, but…” Loki runs his hand through his moist hair. “Stephen obviously felt something tear open too. And that is not a good sign”.

He has Tony’s full attention.

“Tear open? Could this other you be associated with your old boss? With Thanos?”

Loki winces.

“No, I don’t think he’s involved”, he says sharply. “But I can’t be sure …”

Tony catches his tone pats his shoulder. “Okay, okay. Shake it off. Didn’t mean to suggest anything. Let’s say he’s not. I’d much prefer that, at least until the wizard presents us with an even uglier imminent threat to the universe. Which, judging by the fact that he’s even here, willingly sipping cocktails in your kitchen as we speak, he probably will”.

Tony throws his hands up with a dramatic air.

“And here I thought the most challenging part of this weekend would be to convince you two to come see Hamilton with us in the city next week!”

“Who’s-“

“Never mind. Did you get a look at that gadget your guy was holding? Boy, he looked like an office slave who’d slept under his desk for a month before getting fired, didn’t he? Were you ever into accounting yourself by any chance?”

Loki shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. Immediately he sees the image of the double kissing Jane, his arms wrapped firmly around her supple body. Rage rushes right back through him and his eyes snap open.

“Stark - I can’t. But yes, I did notice the device. It looked like a phone”.

“Yeah, somehow I don’t think it was the new iPhone”.

Tony shakes his head.

“The two of us and we didn’t take him down. Fury’s gonna have our badges”.

The director of SHIELD and Bruce Banner arrive barely 15 minutes later through a portal in the middle of the meadow-like lawn, following Wong and both looking grim and out of place as they weave around patches of wildflowers to reach the porch.

“Gentlemen, I trust you’re well”. Loki greets the trio with an only vaguely sarcastic nod as he holds open the screen doors to them, like a good host. Despite what some may still think, he can behave.

He could have just used magic of course, but he figures Banner is freaked enough as it is just by being here. The scientist hasn’t spoken more than five words to him since 2014 and at least three of them were expletives.

Once inside the small living room, Bruce goes to stand by the window and busies himself polishing his glasses with a little too much vigor than seems warranted.

He avoids Loki’s eyes but looks up and smiles wearily as Jane comes over to say hello.

Fury leans against the doorframe to the hallway and crosses his arms, face a closed book, and, by the sound of it, Tony is going through the cabinets in the kitchen trying to find something to spice up Jane’s pre-dinner cocktails.

Pepper is talking to Strange and Wong on the blue IKEA couch (assembled by magic after the attempt to go at it “as a team” turned into a shouting match), and Loki is about to politely ask Strange to please spit it out right this minute, when Jane is next to him, taking his hand.

“We need to talk. Now”.

Her voice is low and steady but her eyes insisting. She squeezes his fingers.

He squeezes back. “Come”.

Loki looks to Fury but he’s focused on Strange who’s listening very closely to something Wong’s saying.

Not letting go of Jane’s hand, he turns towards the kitchen. In the doorway they pass Tony who’s now holding what appears to be a glass of scotch. He must have given up on the gin and tonics.

“Hey, where are you two going? Forget about playing hosts okay, let’s just get started with part two of the evening’s entertainment”.

“In a minute”.

Jane pushes past him, ignoring Tony’s look and dragging Loki with her.

She closes the door behind them.

“Okay, so…” Jane looks around nervously in the small kitchen with the rustic white fronts and old brass handles. She loves that kitchen. They haven’t changed a thing since moving in. Loki reaches for her, but she takes a step back. “Jane, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have gotten there faster. Did he …“

“I need you tell me exactly what he said to you”.

She is absentmindedly opening and closing her fists in the way she does when that brilliant astrophysicist mind of hers is working out an intricate problem in the lab.

Or, Loki knows, when she’s about to deliver him bad news.

He clears his throat. “He said he was me. And that something big was happening”. There. “And then he said he was sorry”.

Jane studies his face.

“That he was sorry? For what?”

“He didn’t say. He stepped through the door”.

Jane is quiet and now it’s Loki’s turn to try and read her expression.

“What did he say to you? I assume he pretended to be me …?”

Jane holds up a hand and bites her lip. Loki swallows.

“Loki, when we were staying at the flat in London, after we defeated Malekith…”

“What?” Loki furrows his brow in confusion. “Why are we-“

“The poison from the monster’s blade, it had you slipping in and out of consciousness for days. You were so feverish…”

“Yes, I know. I was there”. Loki’s blood is slowly turning very cold, but he musters a smile. “And you were amazing, love. Although some might say you took adv-“

Jane interrupts him in the middle of his blossoming smirk. A slight blush appears on her own cheeks.

“Yes, um, it’s not about that day”. She gives him a stern look. “The other day, later, when Thor left after you two went and had your, um, talk … there’s something I need to tell you …”

The door to the living room opens behind them.

“Actually, if you don’t mind, Doctor Foster, I would very much like to hear this too”.

Stephen Strange steps into the kitchen. The door closes behind him.

Part 6

#loki #loki series #lokane #tva loki #loki fanfic #loki ff #lokane ff #lokane fanfic #loki x jane #jane foster #shine a light #plainlo inthemorning #doctor strange #stephen strange #tony stark

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maybe-your-left · 4 years ago

Note

Girl when was the first time dr ren romanced reader chan?

Ren was nervous.

He had never tried this before.

It wasn’t his style, not in Medical school, undergrad or even high school. Ren wasn’t the guy people found charming, or handsome, or understanding. Any girl he fucked was just that, a girl, and he told them straight up he wasn’t going to talk to them after.

But now there’s you.

Waltzing into his life, with no fucking warning, burrowing into his cold heart. Ren thought you would be a quick fuck, something pretty to see when he had the time, that was it! You seemed to be that way too, young and smart. Still working through school, didn’t have time to be chasing men.

He was lucky you even gave him the time of day, after you rocked his world. And every night after that, your silky cunt clenching around his cock. Ren felt like passing out just thinking about it, hot and bothered as he sat at his desk.

All the patients were gone for the day, he had finished his chart work. Nursing staff had bid their goodbyes, telling him to have a good weekend or whatever. Ren tapped on the desk with his pen, the only sound in the room now that the halls were empty.

“This is stupid,” he muttered, throwing down the pen to cradle his face. It had been four days since he spoke to you, 6 days (if you’re counting) since he saw you. Ren had tried to play it cool, you usually texted him a few days after fucking to say hello and let him know what was going on.

Or that one time you called him because you were busy with your hands. And you both ended up just existing together on the phone, you doing homework while he read through charts. Talking like you were face to face.

Radio silence now.

Maybe you were done... it would be understandable. There were much younger, more emotionally available men in your corner. Or women, don’t think he forgot about that time you told him about. That he now fantasies about when he’s lonely...

Ren was no prize, from the outside yes he was attractive. Unconventional, but broad, thick, nice hair, deep voice, big hands, a ‘monster cock’. But he wasn’t what people called good company.

He grabbed his phone out, wincing when he saw no messages from you. The last thing in your thread is a message from Ren saying ‘have a good day.’

Ren typed out a message, didn’t want to seem too desperate.

Hey, I just got off work. Can you be at my place tonight?

Nailed it.

He waited.

Waited.

Watched the message sit there for 3,4,5,6... oh no 10 minutes?

👍🏼

———

Ren was so excited, he didn’t respond to your emoji. It would seem too forward, so he left it at that and grabbed everything for the weekend. Stopping at a few stores for supplies, some bottles of wine and cheese.

Do women like flowers?

You would be the first woman he had been with sexually for longer than a month... do they expect flowers?

What if you’re allergic?

“Fuck,” he grabbed some anyway, if he panicked he could throw them out the window before you arrived. Ren rode up the elevator in silence, trying to steady his breathing so he could focus on getting the apartment ready.

Fumbling with the keys when he made it to his door, Ren let out a sigh of relief when he got in. Setting everything on the countertop, he popped open a bottle. Taking a few swigs to make sure it wasn’t poisonous.

He decided to put the flowers in a vase, how he had a vase he wasn’t sure, that way they could look like a gift to himself in case you hated them. No big deal, he would just be crushed if you did. Ren took a quick shower, after a small workout so his muscles would be on display for you.

Ren noticed when he was naked and you basked in each other’s embrace, you liked to trace his shoulders and biceps. Fingering the veins that laid under his skin, cording down to his wrists. Before you’d suck on his thick fingers...

A knock at the door drew him away from his pinning, maybe he would get you to lay with him tonight. Long enough to smell your hair while you drifted off like a tired, fucked out little kitten. He schooled his features before opening the door, ready to see what gorgeous outfit you wore this evening for him.

“Hi, don’t touch me I’m sick,” you shoved past him. Sneezing into a tissue you held in your hand, he watched with startled eyes as you dropped a bag on the floor. Looking around the room confused, you looked awful. Cheeks red, nose colored, lips puffy and swollen, your eyes were tired. Decorated with under eye bags, your hair was a mess. Separated into two twin braids down your scalp, it looked like you slept in them. Creating a halo of frizz.

You coughed into your elbow, “Whys it so dark in here?”

Ren blinked, shutting the door and approaching you slowly. Shocked to see you moving around his kitchen like you owned it, flipping on more lights. Taking a mug from the cabinet, he watched you turn on his keurig.

“Pretty flowers,” you nodded to the vase, “Your girlfriend get them for you?”

“Are you,” he approached slowly, “Are you sick?”

You laughed, well tried. It was a hoarse rasp, something that shredded your once sweet melodic laugh, “No shit sherlock, you should be a detective instead of a doctor.”

He watched you make yourself some tea, handing you a box of bags that you couldn’t reach. Ren was shocked, you didn’t tell him you were sick. He would’ve understood, and how could you be still enchanting when you looked like a drown rat?

You sighed in relief as you inhaled the scent. “Sorry, I’m grumpy. Been fighting this for like a week now, did you get me sick?”

He shook his head quickly, “No-I didn’t.”

“Well, you do work at a hospital,” you mumbled, sipping slowly before waltzing out of the kitchen. Ren followed you slowly, watching you snatch a blanket, the same one you laid on when he fingered you on the couch.

Curling yourself into it before kicking open the door to his bedroom. Setting your mug down on the nightstand, after finding a coaster, and plopping down in his bed.

“So, you wanted me to come over?”

“Yeah.”

You both stared in silence, Ren watched you bite your lip. Suddenly nervous even though you waltzed in like you owned the place. “Look,” you coughed for a moment, “We can have sex, I just can’t do anything. So I can just bend over or whatever, then I can leave after.”

“What?”

“That’s why you called me, right? We haven’t had sex in a week, and you have flowers and wine and all that so, here you go. Be warned, I don’t have matching underwear on tonight.”

Ren watched as you tried to underdress, struggling to present yourself to him. He rushed over to you, pinning you to the mattress, “Hey-stop,” you coughed hard, “Don’t push on my chest, just wait a second and then you can do what you need to.”

“No,” Rens voice was sharp, even startling himself for a moment, “Stop undressing.”

You looked at him confused, your glassy eyes now clouded with insecurity and regret. Ren had to stop you, explain that he didn’t call you over for just sex.

Well, he wanted to have sex, but that wasn’t the main point. Ren watched you recoil, swallowing thickly as your eyes brimmed with tears, “Okay, um. Well I’ll just go, I’ll see ya around.”

You swung off the bed, letting the blanket fall. Ignoring your tea that was steaming on the table, he chased after you. Grasping the back of your hoodie, ignoring the sounds of your sniffling.

“No, stay. Please,” he wrapped an arm around you, keeping you flush with his chest, “I-I just wanted to see you.”

You felt you wiggle, turning to look up at him with wide eyes. Sneezing, very adorably he might add, before speaking, “Really?”

“Yes, I am a doctor, I could take care of you...”

“Oh.”

Wrong thing to say...

“I missed you, or whatever.”

You stayed still.

“And,” he mumbled, “The flowers are for you, I didn’t know you weren’t feeling great. I would’ve gotten some food that wasn’t wine and cheese.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, looking over at the counter from his arms. Rens heart swelled when you leaned your head against his chest, both of you sighing in relief.

“First thing we are doing,” Ren tugged you back to the bedroom, “Is getting you in a bath while I burn your clothes.”

———

ROMANCE THE DR REN WAY is a disaster.

TAGGING: @finn-ray-nal-beads @onlykyloscenes @candycanes19 @historyandfandoms50 @caelum-phyriina-vermillon @ghoulian13 @mrs-kylo-ren @millenialcatlady @relationshipwithmybed @dancingmicrobes @wayward-rose @contesa-lui-alucard @daydreamsofren @insufferablelust @ohdamnadamm @mariesackler @caillea @safarigirlsp @jalexunderthestars @shesakillerkween @glassythoughts @zimmermansbrat @not-the-teen-witch @jynzandtonic c @roanniom @celestiasin @glassbxttless

#adam driver #kylo ren #adamdriver #ask fridays #3.12.2021 #doctor ren #doctor kylo ren #surgeon au #tw: sickness

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 4 years ago

Note

A large box materialized in the corner of the room, decorated gaudily with purple wrapping paper, a bright red bow, and raw macaroni glued over practically every visible inch of the box. If you listened closely, you could make out the occasional giddy giggle coming from the inside of the box whenever it wiggled, demanding the attention of the beautiful birthday boy.

“Vil’s gonna love this!” Mac gushed to themself from the inside of the box, dressed up in thick clown makeup and an equally excessive clown outfit. “He’ll open the box up, and I’ll pop out to greet him and tell him that I’ll be his birthday present and his personal footstool, if he wants…”

Within the darkness of the box, they flushed a bright red, fanning their face like the lovestruck fool they were. Whenever they could make out the sound of his heels clacking on the attic floor, Mac shivered excitedly at the thought of his feet slamming down on their back and keeping their face shoved against the floor for them to drool onto.

The beautiful Queen needs a loyal court, and was there anyone better than to play the role of the court fool than the head empty pasta fanatic? Mac thought not.

*pokes Mac with a stick*

Come get your dinner.

At long last, evening had set in, and the last of Vil’s fan club had been sated and sent off for the day. The once brilliant blue sky had darkened to a deep violet--nearly black--and the stars, one by one, awoke from their daytime slumber to play amid the moonlight. Night Raven College, touched in silver, was a new world entirely.

Vil ran a hand along the nape of his neck and sighed.

“Excellent work, Roi du Poison!” Rook sang, patting his dorm leader on the back. “You’ve survived the onslaught--though you appear to be a little worse for wear from it.”

“I am not in need of your insightful commentary at this time, Rook,” Vil warned, his tone pointed.

The huntsman did not flinch--not a single beat missed. He removed his hat and held it close to his chest as he dipped into a bow. “Oui.”

A moment elapsed before Rook lifted his head, eyes creased teasingly. “... Though I would still advise you, mon roi, to retire early for the evening. All this stress may lead to a breako--”

“I am in need of some fresh air,” Vil declared sharply. “If you have need of me, I will be outside.”

“... Bien sûr.”

The birthday boy turned and swept out of the stuffy attic. Down the staircase he descended, and out into the bitter night air--or rather, he would have, were it not for ramming his foot into an oddly placed box, covered in bright purple and red, and raw macaroni pieces.

Vil hissed and drew his foot back--but to his alarm, the box began... wiggling intensely and... giggling?

“What in the name of the Great Seven is this doing here?” he wondered out loud, but no response came.

Out of curiosity, Vil cautiously prodded the box with his foot again. The touch immediately elicited another loud giggle.

Something... No, someone is in there. Vil brought a hand to his forehead, heaving another sigh (what number was it now?).

His manager had warned him about accepting suspicious packages--particularly crazed or rowdy fans would sometimes send nasty pranks or parcels with dangerous goods inside. He wasn’t about to risk his health and safety for a shady package. Vil would go fetch Rook to open it for him--

Bu then it happened.

The box flew open, and out erupted...

A clown.

Quintessential--face painted a stark white, garishly colorful lips, eyes, and cheeks, a bulbous and round nose, a fluffy rainbow wig... Even the outfit was clownish, the fabric baggy but bright, with a frilly collar, gloves, and massive shoes that squeaked with even the slightest movement.

The clown let out a whoop of excitement, leapt out of the box, and eagerly honked their nose. It squeaked loudly, like a dog’s chew toy or a kazoo.

Vil stumbled back a few steps in complete and utter astonishment. He squinted through the thick clown makeup and gaudy clothing, his mind slowly piecing together the familiar facial features.

The cheesy potato.

“Mac... Is that you?”

“Heehoo,” Mac honked their nose again. They wore the widest, goofiest grin Vil had ever witnessed, even by the standards of his most lovestruck of followers. “Happy, happy birthday, Vil!!”

He ignored the greeting and cut to a question. “... Dare I ask why it is that you are dressed in such an outlandish getup?”

“Hehehe... Actually! It’s cuz... I’m your birthday present!!” Mac declared, splaying their arms out.

“You... what?”

“I’m your birthday present!!” They repeated, practically vibrating with zeal. “Cuz every queen needs a loyal court jester...!!”

“I am in no need of such--”

“Please please please please PLEASE let me serve you!!” Mac wailed desperately, flinging themselves at Vil’s feet. “I’ll tell the dumbest jokes, and I can be your personal human footstool--you can step on me whenever you want!! I’ll make you the tastiest, cheesiest pasta, and maybe we can get closer and then move in someplace together and live a nice domestic life, and have lots of kids--I’ve already got their names picked out--and and and...”

“Stop. You’re drooling,” Vil said coldly. His cruel, frigid tone sent a shiver down Mac’s spine, filling them with a sense of ecstasy that only he could deliver.

“Heheheh...” They wiped saliva from the corner of their mouth with the back of their hand. “Sorry, I just get so excited when I talk about you.”

“I know,” Vil groaned, cradling his forehead in a hand. “... I know.”

“Are you... angry with me? I-If you are, please take out your rage by stomping all over my back and snapping me like a glowstick!! PLEASE USE ME, SCHOENHEIT!!”

“You never seem to stop spouting nonsensical logic.”

“I don’t need logic...!! Because I have something way better than logic: LOVE!!”

Vil glanced away.

A deathly silence fell over the foyer.

For one horrible, dreadful moment, Mac thought they had done something wrong. It wasn’t like Vil--confident, beautiful Vil--to be at such a loss for words. Was he so terribly cross that he couldn’t even bring himself to spit out any insults at them? Did he hate them so much that he didn’t even deem them worthy to receive his vitriol?

“H-Hey, Vil... Did I.. Did I go too far?”

“... Pfft.”

“Huh?”

Laughing.

Vil was laughing.

Well, not a full-on deep, rumbling belly laugh. It was more like a faint chuckle, soft and delicate, like wind chimes blowing in the spring breeze.

“You never cease to amuse,” Vil remarked, his perfectly groomed brows pinching together, and his lips forming a mocking smile. “Lifting my mood after a long and arduous day certainly takes talent. Perhaps you are more suited to playing the role of court clown after all.”

“Ah, I... I am?” Mac perked up. “I am!! See, see? I can make myself ultra useful to you, Vil--so please accept me as your birthday present!!”

“Hmm. We shall see about that. For now, though...” Vil bent down to meet you at eye level and, extending a hand, he pulled you up from your miserable heap back onto two feet. “We should return to the party.”

“W-We?!” Mac’s heart fluttered.

“... Do your ears work? Yes, I said we. I won’t have you sitting here cold and alone, like some sad, limp noodle that was never properly cleaned up. You will join the birthday festivities, the same as any of my other guests. Is that clear?”

“Yessir!! Whatever you want, Vil!!”

“Good. Now let us away.”

And so, hand in hand, the queen and his clown headed off to their gala.

#Vil birthday takeover

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adorethedistance · 4 years ago

Text

Something to Lose - Luke Patterson X Covington!Reader

JATP masterlist

Requested: luke imagine idea so Luke’s old gf is dead and she’s calebs daughter and is trying to get him to stay with her instead of cross over and then he doenst show up in stand tall . I just had this idea and near had a fit trying to get it down love ur writing also 💖

Warnings: angst, a lot of crying, I don’t even think there’s swearing in this one.

Words: 2293

A/n: I hope I did the request justice. This was kinda stressful the entire time writing it just bc of all the ideas that came. Like I’d be writing and then my brain would be like ‘hey what if this happened’ and then I’m like ‘oh that’s evil. put it in the fic.’ you know?

I begin nervously playing with the tulle skirt of my above-the-knee length party dress. I wanted a mini but dad refused to let me be visible to ghosts and lifers in anything ‘revealing’, so we compromised on above the knee. It’s a pretty dress, the black long sleeves are sheer and the back is completely open, and that’s as scandalous as dad would allow. Ironic considering his dancers’ costumes are cut out fringe leotards and nude tights.

And speaking of dancers,

“Who was that?” I ask Francesca as she comes to stand next to me by the black music stands, branded with the infamous Hollywood Ghost Club logo.

“Who was who?”She takes a tiny sip of water and readjusts her massive blue and purple feather headdress. Dad always chooses the most extravagant costumes. Sometimes I wonder how they’re able to dance without falling over from being so… top heavy I guess?

“That guy you were dancing in front of in the denim coat?”

“What are you talking about? I was dancing in front of Willie.”

“Nice try, I know that was Angie. Maybe next time.” On the first day the girls set foot in the place they were such amazing dancers, dad invited them to perform front and center if they wanted to join the club. The downside was he could never tell them apart. I don’t know how though, they’re not indiscernibly identical. I made it my goal to always be able to tell them apart, and they made it their goal to get me to mix them up just once.

“We’re gonna get you one of these days.”

“Yeah, sure. But, uh, do you know who he is?”

“I don’t but maybe you will?”

“What?” Glancing up to Fran’s face she gives me a look and directs me with her eyes before smiling smugly and walking away. I follow her gaze to see my dad standing on the far side of their table, talking with the attractive stranger. His excitement makes his every movement animated and he can’t even seem to string a coherent sentence. Inviting them to sit down, dad starts saying something about Willie and magic? The conversation doesn’t last long and once he leaves, I debate whether or not to approach the handsome stranger.

“Who are we looking at?” I’m startled when I hear Angie’s voice in my right ear.

“Oh. The one at the front table in the denim overcoat.”

“You mean the one Franny was dancing in front of?”

“She already tried that.”

“Dammit!” I laugh at yet another failed attempt.

“I don’t even know why you guys bother anymore.”

“Whatever. Why are we staring at him?”

“I’m debating whether or not I should talk to him.” Angie sends me a look that says ‘have more faith in yourself’ which I gleefully ignore.

“Shoot your shot. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“My dad could interrupt and say something totally embarrassing. He wasn’t done talking to them, he just had to do rounds.”

“Girl, have you seen how many people are here tonight? He’s not gonna be done any time soon, so go while you still have some time!” Angie punctuates her sentence by gently pushing me forward, and I stumble in the direction of the cute stranger. The sudden jerky movement seems to catch his attention and his eyes soften once they meet mine. He smiles softly as a greeting and when I return the look, he takes that as an invitation to walk my way. I’m standing in the middle of the dance floor, frozen partially out of fear and partly out of curiosity.

“Hey, I’m Luke,” denim extends his hand politely and… extremely flusteredly? He sounds breathless and a touch fearful. I’m used to the energy as the club intimidates first-timers. I take his hand,

“Y/n.” Omitting my last name tends to do me a lot of good.

“Wow. That’s really pretty,”

“It’s nothing special.”

“You’re really pretty.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“So, uh-“ he trails off in search of a conversation starter, “What brings you to the Hollywood Ghost Club?”

“Oh, you know... just uhm- just a night out.”

“Do you come to the Club a lot?”

“You could say that. It’s pretty much a second home.”

“Y/n, darling. There you are!” Luke watches my face drop from its pleasant ‘chatting with guests’ expression, to a relaxed almost-frown.

“Here I am.”

“And I see you’ve met Luke.”

“Yes sir.”

“I trust my daughter is keeping you in good company?”

“Your daughter?” Luke nearly chokes on the mystical air of the Hollywood Ghost Club.

“I did not choke!”

“You choked.” Luke and I argue over the details of how we met, in the backstage/dressing room area of the Club. It feels like lifetimes ago, but it wasn’t. And yet in such a short time, we had become completely infatuated and comfortable with one another. So much so that me wearing a floor-length evening gown and jewels doesn’t make me feel out of place with his jeans and flannel shirt.

Despite my light laughter, Luke’s face is fairly flat. He’s beginning to stare off into space, inattentive from our lull in the conversation.

“Hey, you okay?” He snaps back into reality.

“Uh, yeah.”

“You don’t sound so sure.” After a long moment of hesitation, he begins to speak, not looking up from the scuff on the linoleum flooring.

“Y/n, I have something to tell you.”

“What’s up?”

“The boys and I… We… we have unfinished business…”

“Of course you do. That’s why you’re here- why all of us are here.”

“We’re gonna play the Orpheum tonight. At seven.”

“That’s so cool! Tha-” I feel my words trapped in my throat. “That’s your unfinished business... Play the show you never got to before you died.” I feel a well of tears flooding my bottom lash line. They’re not tears of sadness. “That’s your unfinished business. And you’re playing there tonight. Why didn’t you tell me as soon as you found out?!” I cry out in anguish. Luke’s face falls from a somber reluctance to break the news, to utter heartbreak.

“Y/n, I-”

“I thought we had something.”

“We do!”

“Then why would you wait to tell me until,” I check the analog clock on the wall behind him, “An hour before you go?!”

“I wanted to enjoy our last day together without having to think about it. I didn’t think it’d make you this angry.”

“Well, I am angry, Luke!” My sentence is punctuated by Luke getting zapped by a jolt of electricity. He groans as he tries to remain standing upright. The tears streaming down my face slow from a mix of anger to extreme worry.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Your dad gave us a ‘club stamp’ that first night we left.” My face falls slack as I register what he’s just said. Without another word, I furiously push out of my chair and out of the dressing room. Each stride is larger than the last as I let my legs carry me into the wings of the Club’s circular stage. When I have the familiar silver tinsel entrance in sight, I stop cold in my tracks. In front of me stands Alex, in a dazzling pink coat and diamond-covered oxfords, and Reggie, in a luxurious red vest and coat covered in black floral detailing. In front of them stands my father in his extravagant purple number that’s reminiscent of his outfits he wore when performing.

My frustrated steps carried me into his sight and the volume of my strides drew the two boys’ attention behind them. Luke. Luke stupidly followed me out here, and father merely looks at me and blinks authoritatively before redirecting his gaze onto my boyfriend.

“There you are. I knew I was missing a third musketeer.” With a snap of his fingers, dad has poofed Luke out from behind me and poofs him back in between his bandmates. When he reappears he’s wearing a deep blue suit with a black, tiered chiffon collar and bowtie.

“Isn’t it nice that you’re all here together?” Dad launches into his huge speech, seemingly convincing them to stay at the club. He mentions everything they want can be theirs here like Willie, the glory of performing, connection with an audience. As he speaks, he steps forward and reaches up. I go to yell and reach for Luke, but nothing comes out. There’s no sound coming from my mouth, and the undersurface of my black heels feel frozen solid to the ground. Dad notices my movement and shoots me a look to knock it off. Luke sees and as he moves to turn his head, dad reaches up to keep his focus forward before adjusting Luke’s collar for him. He continues with his big speech as another jolt graces all three boys at once.

“I suggest you accept my offer because the clock is ticking,” he downs one more sip of water, preparing to perform, “Ouch. You know where to find me.”

When he disappears onto the stage, I’m released from my spot and the momentum of my struggling launches me forward. Luke turns around just in time to catch me and once he does he doesn’t release me from his arms.

“Luke, I didn’t-”

“Shhh. It’s okay. You’re okay.” He holds me in his arms, one hand on my head to cradle me close to his chest and the other wrapped soothingly around my waist.

“He’s right,” I choke out my words through heavy sobs, “You don’t know that the Orpheum is really your unfinished business. What if it’s not? These jolts could kill you, Luke. For good. My dad may be powerful, but he doesn’t have the power to bring you back from this.”

When I look up, Luke has a heartbroken expression painted all over his face. Before I can speak again, Alex poofs out from beside us. Sharing a worried expression, Luke and I look out onto the stage where dad has him soloing front and center.

“I-I-I, I made a-a promise-”

“To Julie, I know. But if she’s really as wonderful, and as kind, and understanding, and loving as you describe her to be, won’t she understand?” Luke’s expression softens in realization.

“You’re actually considering staying with Caleb?” Reggie asks Luke incredulously. Before he can receive an answer, he, too, is poofed out onto the stage in Alex’s previous spot, to play a jazzy bass solo. Luke looks all around the backstage area, at the audience, between his band members, and at my dad. Finally, his eyes settle on mine. I can’t read his expression; I wish I knew what was going on inside his head.

“Stay.”

Luke and I run out of time when dad calls his name. He’s poofed us apart so I’m frozen against the downstage wall, out of sight from the audience, and Luke is struggling his way onto the stage.

Dad has him soloing for the audience, to create a musical dialogue between the two of them. Luke, conflicted, looks between me and my dad unsure of how to feel. The performer side of him must be loving the high that comes with performing in the club, but the loyal side of him, I can tell, is yearning for Julie.

When the song ends, the three boys share a single look of concern and remorse, no doubt for Julie. I can’t help but feel selfish asking him to stay. It’s not fair for me to ask him to choose between me and her... But that’s not what I’m asking. If all three of them stay here, they don’t risk dying for good. Surely Julie can understand choosing life, or the afterlife rather, over freedom is a rational trade.

Coming to his senses Luke runs off stage.

“Y/n-”

“It’s selfish of me to ask you to stay-”

“I’m staying.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to die, Y/n. If that means I have to play in your dad’s band, fine. But at least we can be together.” Luke runs the pad of his thumb across my cheek to wipe away the tear shed out of joy. Our moment is ended when Alex and Reggie have also returned backstage.

“Boys, if we stay here, we’ll get to live and make music for as long as we want.”

“You said it yourself, we made a promise. To Julie.” Reggie almost looks like he wants to cry.

“If this is what you want- to spend eternity playing jazz solos behind Caleb -I can’t stop you. But I’m not gonna let Julie down. Not again.” Alex searches Luke’s face for any hesitation. When he doesn’t find the change of heart he’s looking for, Alex nods and fidgets with his drumsticks in one hand. The sudden swell of emotion leads the two of them to hug each other tightly; I can’t imagine their pain of knowing they might never see each other again. When they let go, Luke and Reggie share in a hug and the heartache pulls Alex into their hug.

“Can you do me a favor?” Luke asks, sniffling away a few tears. Reggie and Alex nod,

“Anything.”

“Will you tell Julie she’s a star for me, one last time?” A sharp jolt hits the three of them in unison once more; a signal that it’s really time to say goodbye. With sorrowful smiles, Alex and Reggie poof out of the Hollywood Ghost Club for the last time.

When he turns around, Luke’s face is red and puffy from crying and the sight breaks my heart clean in half. I pull him into a hug and press a lingering kiss to his cheek.

“I love you, Luke.”

“I love you, Y/n.”

***

A/n: YOWZA this really made my heart hurt for Julie sm. I love her and if this were canon I’d have actually kermit.

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13 @kaitlyn2907 @itz-jas @crybabyddl @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @calamitykaty @morganayennefertyrell @n0wornever @dream-a-little-bigger-x @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys @amazinggracy @kaitieskidmore1 @asdfghjkl-fanfics @ghostlygreenbean @juliefromaustralia @merceret @jemimah-b99 @ifilwtmfc @thesweetestsinner @imsydneywalker @lovesanimals @thebloodthirstyvampress @bumbleberry-pie @losers-club6 @tefilovesreading @dmcfarland1@joynerxmercer @kexrtiz @talk-on-the-street @phantompogues @konciousdreamer @sunsetcurvej

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babbysquid · 4 years ago

Text

Not A Whiskey Drinker Pt. 2

Author’s Note: Oh my goodness thank you all for the positive feedback on NAWD! I’m really enjoying writing this and living out my own fantasy. The DRAMA begins in the part after this so prepare yourself for that!

Warnings: mild cursing

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

Sunday had passed by quickly and it was now Monday at 8am. Your interview was at 9. You studied your reflection in the mirror. You were wearing the outfit that Parker had helped you pick out but had the shirt buttoned all the way up. Grabbing your bag you and throwing on your shoes you looked at yourself one more time. Chewing the inside of your cheek you took a deep breath.

“Fuck it.” you whispered to and you unbuttoned the top two buttons of your shirt, just as Parker had done previously.

You stood outside a tall office building and looked up. It looked modern and new, but not imposing. Swallowing hard you pushed your shoulders back, raised your head up, and strutted through the front door. Fake it til you make it as they say.

“Hi I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” you said to the receptionist at the front desk. “I have an interview with Mr. Daniels.”

“Ah yes Mr. Daniels has been expecting you. Give me one second and I’ll take you to his office.” said the receptionist.

“Ah it’s okay Sara, I got it.” said a voice from behind you.

Turning around you saw a gorgeous woman. She wore a white button down and black slacks. Her short haircut was modern and cute. It suited her face really well. Thick glasses sat on the edge of her nose. She gave you a kind smile. Looking at her outfit and her appearance in general you suddenly felt self conscious. Maybe you should’ve stuck with the fully buttoned up shirt.

“I’m Ginger.” she said, extending her hand.

You took her hand in yours as you introduced yourself and the two of you walked to the elevators.

“So you have an interview with Jack?”

You nodded.

She laughed a little and it almost seemed like she was taking pity on you.

“He’s a good guy, but he’s definitely a character. He means well though.”

You smiled back. New York City was definitely filled with interesting and strange people. Your mind quickly thought back to the cowboy you met on Friday.

The elevator dinged and stirred you from your thoughts. Ginger guided you to a pair of mahogany doors.

“Well. This is where I leave you. Good luck Y/N.”

“Thank you.”

Taking a deep breath you knocked on the door and waited. A second later you heard some footsteps and you mentally prepared yourself for whoever was inside. The door swung open and your jaw dropped. You couldn’t help it.

Before you stood the same cowboy that had prevented your fall. Quickly you snapped your jaw shut. He was just as handsome as you remember, if not more handsome. He was still wearing his black stetson. Instead of the long camel coat he wore when he was in the park he was wearing a blazer with matching slacks. The blazer had a classic cowboy look but was still somehow modern. You flicked your eyes down to confirm your guess, he was wearing cowboy boots. He was wearing a pair of simple wire glasses and they looked good on him.

“Well isn’t this a coincidence?” said the man, “Come in, please.”

He stepped aside allowing you to enter the office.

For as modern as the building appeared, Mr. Daniels’ office felt lived in and warm. It was covered in mahogany and leather. An old globe sat on a shelf and other bits and bobs decorated the office, including what appeared to be a cow skull. You didn’t realize you were staring until Mr. Daniels’ honeyed voice made you blink.

“It’s real if that��s what you’re thinking.” he said.

You turned and realized he was much closer than you thought, practically close enough to touch you. You swallowed hard. He smelled good.

“Well let’s get started, shall we?” he said, stepping back and motioning to a chair that sat in front of his desk.

Wordlessly you moved to the chair and sat down. The whole act of confidence you had suddenly vanished. Mr. Daniels was slightly intimidating and holy hell was he attractive.

“Now Y/N — you don’t mind if I call you that?” Mr. Daniels asked.

“Y/N is fine yes.” you said, slightly unsure about the familiarity. Your previous job you were never addressed by your first name, it was always Ms. Y/L/N.

“Would you like something to drink?” he asked, swiveling in his chair to grab a bottle of whiskey and two glasses from behind him.

You smiled, appreciating the offer but politely declined.

“I’m actually not a whiskey drinker.” you said. Mr. Daniels laughed loudly as if he knew something you didn’t.

“I know it’s odd that I’m here interviewing for a whiskey company Mr. Daniels—

“Please, call me Jack.” he interrupted.

“…Jack,” you said slowly “but I promise I’ll be dedicated even if it’s not my drink of choice.”

Jack smiled and poured himself a glass of the amber liquid. Leaning back in his chair he studied you. Feeling his gaze on you, you gave him a small smile, trying to convince him that you really would work hard.

“Well Y/N,” he said after a second, “you got the job!”

Your brows furrowed. There was absolutely no way he was serious. He only asked if you wanted a drink, the company’s drink no less, and you said no. No interview questions, no asking for documents or recommendations. Nothing.

“I know you might be surprised but here at Statesmen we like to do things a little differently. And don’t worry about not liking whiskey. Who knows though, you may warm up to it.” he said, giving you a wink.

“This certainly was the easiest interview I’ve ever done.” you whispered under your breath. But according to the booming laugh that came out of the man sitting in front of you, your whisper wasn’t quiet enough.

“I assure you Y/N that you’ve already gone through an extensive interview process. The company has contacted past employers of yours and done copious amount of research and background checks into your resume. It may have been easy on your end, but not on ours.”

‘Certainly the weirdest interview I’ve ever done too.’ you thought.

“Well!” said Jack, clasping his hands together and standing up from his chair. “You start tomorrow. Let me give you a quick tour so you can settle in easy tomorrow.” In a flash he was around the desk and holding his hand out to you, a million dollar smile on his face.

Letting out a short breath you pushed away your anxiety and trepidation. If this was gonna be your new job you may as well start acting like your normal self. You grabbed his hand with assurance and stood up from your seat.

Neither one of you moved.

Standing there your eyes were glued to the sight of your hand being dwarfed by his. Slowly your eyes moved up to meet Jack’s. They were the most gorgeous shade of brown. Dark but still with a warmth and spark that drew you in. The glasses he wore framed them perfectly. Subconsciously you lightly bit your bottom lip. You blinked and the trance was broken. Slowly you removed your hand from his, but your palm was still tingling from the skin to skin contact.

“Thank you by the way.” you said breaking the silence.

Jack gave you that smile again and it felt like your internal organs had been turned to soup.

“Don’t worry about it darlin’. I’m quick on my feet and happened to see a beautiful young woman in need so I helped.”

You almost choked at the words he spoke.

“Let me show you to your space.” said Jack, his hand moving to lightly sit on the middle of your back.

In any other professional circumstance if someone did this to you you’d immediately call HR. In this instance however Jack’s gesture felt comforting and gentlemanly, not creepy and an intrusion of personal space. To summarize, you enjoyed his touch.

The two of you strode out the doors and walked a short distance down the hall to a door. Leading you inside Jack explained how this would be your personal office. You had never had a private space just for yourself in your workplace. You laughed softly.

“Something funny?” said Jack, looking down at you, hand still on your back.

“Never had my own space before. This place is almost bigger than my apartment.” You looked up at him with shining eyes. Jack swallowed thickly. Your big eyes were something else and certainly affecting him.

“Hah. Well I just hope you don’t move in here! Gotta have a separation between work and play.” said Jack, winking at you.

You could feel your face heating up at the comment as Jack led you out of the room and your heart was beating faster than it should’ve. Unbeknownst to you, so was Jack’s. He wasn’t expecting his new PA to be the gorgeous girl from the park. Admittedly he had thought about you a couple times since, beating himself up for not inviting you to coffee or something.

Outside of your new office stood Ginger.

“Ah sweet Ginger!” said Jack, removing his hand from your back. You silently mourned the loss of contact.

“This is my new peach of an assistant Y/N.”

“I know Jack.” said Ginger, rolling her eyes. “How do you think she found your office?”

“Always one step ahead Miss Ginger.” said Jack, flashing his smile again.

“Come with me Y/N and we’ll get you put in the system.”

“Pleasure meeting you darlin’ and I cannot wait til tomorrow.” said Jack, winking one last time before turning on his heel and sauntering back into his office.

“Is he always like that?”

“He’s always been a ladies man. You may be his assistant but make sure he knows who’s in charge. Keep him on a short leash.”

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

“So how was it?” Parker asked, taking a bite out of her pizza. She had come over to eat dinner with you and get all the juicy details about the job interview.

“Weird. I mean I got the job, but it was still weird.”

“First off yay! Secondly, what do you mean weird?”

“Well the building was way more high tech than I expected but the thing that was the weirdest was the interview itself. The only thing he asked me was if I wanted a glass of whiskey.”

“To which you said no.”

“Yeah…” you trailed off.

“I know that look Y/N. What’s on your mind?”

“Jack Daniels is the cowboy from the park.”

Thankfully Parker had swallowed her bite of pizza before hearing this, otherwise there’d be a chewed up wad of cheese on your floor.

“WHAT?”

“He was acting kind of flirty too.”

“So you did unbutton the shirt!” Parker said, a look of pride on her face.

“Parker that’s not the point. Afterwards when I was talking to the head of networking and media she explained that Jack is like this with every woman. The hat I need to show him who’s in charge, even if he is my boss.”

“That’s hot.” said Parker taking another bite.

“Shut up he’s my boss.” you said, pushing her shoulder. “I get what she’s saying though. I’ve dealt with guys like that before. Admittedly they were in their 20s and went to the same college as me and weren’t actually adults who I worked with.”

“How old does this guy look anyways?” Clearly Parker had a different agenda than you.

“Parker…” you gave her a glare.

“Okay okay message received.” she put up her hands in mock defense.

You looked down at your pizza slice and picked at the bit of cheese that had slid off of it.

“So how’re you gonna fend him off while still creating a good relationship?”

“Guess I gotta use that stubbornness you were talking about earlier.” you said giving her a small grin.

taglist: @absurdthirst @space-daddy-owns-me @agentwhiskeypussyindulgence

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #jack daniels #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #not a whiskey drinker #NAWD

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saturatedboy · 3 years ago

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The paw of a Lion (Ethan!Winters x Karl!Heisenberg)

(Can be found on my AO3) Requests- Open

Chapter 5 is under the cut

The quiet babbling of the child was concealed by an aeroplane noise being broadcasted from the adult’s mouth. “Here comes the aeroplane,” Ethan had interpreted making an engine noise before moving the green plastic spoon with Rose’s favourite food around in front of her giggling face. Rose, following the movements of the spoon,

had opened her mouth wide in excitement, giggling when Ethan had placed the spoon into her mouth and watched as she clamped her mouth closed around it. Being careful, he slipped the spoon out of her mouth before grabbing a dirtied tissue beside him to dab away any spillage falling out her mouth. The father was silently thankful that his child wasn’t much of a fussy eater, only at the start she was until she realised that ‘hey I’m getting food’ crosses her mind.

Repeating this process whilst making funny faces to make his child laugh, Ethan had glanced at the clock just above the doorway to the hallway to see the time. “Hey Rosemary, how do you feel ‘bout seeing our neighbour. Hmm? You want to- it seems you do with that bright smile of yours.” He discarded the small bottle of baby food into the bin and threw the spoon into the sink before returning to his jumping daughter. Brushing his hand soothingly over her blonde head, he picked her up from under her arms and cradled her into his arms. “Time to get changed.” He spoke more to himself than his intrigued daughter as she stared up at him with her eyes filled with curiosity.

Heading up the stairs, Ethan took the time to think about the actions of the day. He had his tests done, as well as his daughter’s. Next thing he had spoken to two of his neighbours, one refusing to give up on thanking him and the other being quite quiet yet showing her gratitude through her doll. He even got her name which he will try his best to remember since he hadn’t got a clue when there next meeting will be. Then things went slightly downhill but at soon rose when he had been pushed into Heisenberg’s shenanigans. Who knew the Lord was suffering from some memories- maybe he shouldn’t be so harsh on him? He still functions like a human, just has some ‘upgrades’ to him. But, don’t they all.

Pushing open the door to his room, Ethan laid his daughter down on the double bed within his room and moved towards the set of drawers that held a television. Luckily, he was allowed signal to television programmes (even though there were only 2 he was allowed to reach). A sudden image of Lady Dimitrescu watching the child programme crossed his mind, letting him push out a dry chuckle. “I should maybe go see them soon. Maybe the daughters would like to play with Rose?” Looking back at his daughter seeing her move the fabric under her fingers drew a loving smile from the father. “Yeah, they’ll be curious about you alright.” Dragging out a plain white shirt from his drawers, Ethan threw his blue one off and replaced the white one onto his body. Fastening the buttons, he looked over at the body mirror that stood by his wardrobe on the other side of the room near the door to the bathroom and hummed. “Rosemary, talk for tie or stay silent for no tie.” The child looked at her talkative father and clapped, babbling words in her on language. Ethan took the sign and walked back over to the drawer, rummaging through the top ones for a black and blue tie. Taking the black one, he wrapped it around his neck and left it hanging untied.

Dropping down, he opened the bottom drawers to bring a pair of dark grey pants out and a black belt out. “Be right back Rosemary,” Ethan had walked towards the bathroom and left the door open slightly so he could still hear his daughter. He was quick to swap pants, walking out the bathroom whilst buckling his belt up through the pants loops and starting on his tie. Having her father walking around a lot had the baby giggling. Shooting Rose a funny face with his tongue stuck out, Ethan watches her roll about of the bed with her eyes lighting up from the sun glistening through the window. “I look like I’m about to go on a date,” He gave himself one last look in the body mirror before returning back to his daughter, gently picking her up as he let her fiddle with his tie.

His last sentence had been jumbling in his mind as he ascended down his steps to grab his shoes. A date? No no, this wasn’t a date. Just a get together as an apology. That’s it! An apology meal made by Heisenberg and himself. With Rosemary. Like a famil-

A sudden tightness wrapped around his throat as Rose pulled on his tie hard. A small choking noise came out from him as his face scrunched up. With his eyes going slightly wide in pain and shock, he helped his daughter release the tie from her tough grasp and placed her on the ground as he scanned over his shoe choices. Going in simple trainers wouldn’t do- it would look weird with his outfit. But going in smart shoes, that’s what you would wear on a date and this was NOT a date. Taking his trainers, Ethan tied the laces into sloppy bows and picked up Rosemary after, being wary of her grabby hands.

Looking himself up and down then looking at his pride and joy, something seemed off. Missing. “Urgh don’t do this brain. Now what’s missing?” Looking between the two, Ethan felt Rose once again grab his tie. “You’re so grabby today, what’s going on, oh. Right.” Priding her hands off him once again, Ethan made his way to the lounge room and looked at the couch. There was a stuff monkey there sitting next to the television remote. “Ah ha! Do you want him? yeah you do. That’s why you’ve been grabbing papa the whole time.” Ethan progressed onto the stuff animal and grabbed it by its body, handing it to his little Rose who was about to reach for his tie again. Seeing her favourite teddy dangling in front of her face, she had her hands reaching out for it and her mind went completely away from the strange material that she was once holding before. A sense of relief washed over the blonde before handing it to her, seeing her face light up with enjoyment. “Time to head to a meal now. Hopefully it doesn’t turn out wrong” He kissed the top of her head and walked out the room into the hallway once again.

It had been two days since getting back to a somewhat normal life. To think these were the entities he was once trying to kill, them doing the same Vise-versa all because of Mother Miranda. “She’s dead,” A whisper came from him as he approached the door handle to the outside world. “We are out from there.” Twisting the metal knob, the sudden darkness of the outside world was glazing his eyes. Dark clouds swarmed the sky, the sun setting behind them fearing the uprising moon and their army of stars. Looking around as the door shut behind the males, he walked off his porch. The crisp cold swept over his body, making him slightly regret not bringing a jacket with him. However, that didn't matter, his daughter was luckily wrapped up in a long shirt and a really woolly jumper gifted from her mother. She was settled all in warmth.

Taking the left on the dirt road, he followed it around the circle going clock-wise. The house of Heisenberg had gradually grown larger in size as he gained closeness upon it. An unsettling feeling set into Ethan’s stomach as he remembered seeing the boarded-up windows- which were still boarded up at the time. The garage next to it seemed to be closed although the smell of car petrol did not go unnoticed. Holding his daughter closer to himself in one arm, Ethan stepped up to the two floored house and walked straight to the door. Looking to see if his daughter was uncomfortable, which she wasn’t luckily, he raised a first and knocked against the spruce door with a small horse engraving on it. ‘Huh, strange’ Ethan thought, letting his fingers trail over in engraving after knocking three times. ‘How strange, I have a lion engraving on mine.’-

His thoughts and finger trailing were pulled away from the door as it had swung open, revealing the scuffed-up host of the dinner wearing a tank top that had turned grey with splotches of grime and rust. He had a sizzling cigar in his mouth and an annoyed expression on his face for all eyes to see because of the lack of a hat and shades he would usually wear. Soon however, from not seeing his ‘sisters’ dress, he took a step back and tried to wrap his head around what he was seeing. “Erm,” Heisenberg was the first to make a sound. He took a quick look at Ethan, seeing as his white shit he wore nestled nicely against his forearms and his pants highlighted his legs and calf muscles. “T-Totally didn’t...forget?” The cigar that was hanging in his mouth had dropped onto the floor, seeing the other dressed in a formality way.

Biting his lower lip straining a smile, Ethan had struggled to hold in his laughter as he watched the others eyes move about to not stare directly at him. Hunching over being wary of Rose, Ethan let his laughter loose feeling excitement bubble up in his stomach. “You kno-haha. You know,” He spoke, finding it harder to keep his laughter contain to sensible giggle, “I wouldn’t have expected this.” He made a motion with his free arm, the arm moving up and down as though he was presenting Heisenberg to his daughter.

Feeling embarrassed at the given situation, Heisenberg went to protest. “Well- it was shot notice, okay? I’ve been busy and today has been long.” The Ex-Lord defended, biting the inside of his cheek as he glared at the father who had finally loosen his laugh to a soft chuckle. Nodding, not trusting his mouth anymore, Ethan silently agreed at what the Lord was getting at.

“Yes. Yes. You’re quite right. However, it was you who asked for me to come over.” A sigh left Karl’s lips; his shoulders deflated as though a bubble of tense had just been popped within his blades.

“Alright, c’mon. Come in- I need to go wash up.” Moving to the side, Karl let Ethan in along with his little Rose looking around at her new surroundings. From what Ethan could tell as he heard Karl shut the door behind him, the place was rather fitting for Karl’s aesthetic. Unlike his, Karl’s first floor was fully open. However, it seemed the structure was the same, just without the walls. The floor was made from spruce wood, with the four walls being painted in a forest green. He had a love seat along with a couple of arm chairs that surrounded a coffee table with a television in front. Ethan guessed Karl had no idea how to use his television seemingly there was ‘CAUTION’ tape wrapped around it. Pinned on the walls however, there were many tapestries, all different colours and images printed on them. He was surprised he couldn't smell any sort of chemicals in the air, meaning the shorter one was most likely spending all his time in the garage rather than the actual home itself.

“Your place is surprisingly comforting.” Ethan had turned to only just see Karl walking up the steps to the second floor. With a shrug, Karl leaned over the handrail.

“Eh? Tis alright I suppose. Much prefer my factory but it is what it is. Be down in a few.” He called before ascending up the stairs leaving Rose with his little Rose to scout around the room. It was a comfortable temperature, not to cold, not to warm. Being careful, Ethan placed Rose on the floor seeing that there weren’t any hazards about and let her crawl on her hands and knees.

“One day you’ll start walking and I’m going to lose you,” Ethan spoke, watching his daughter fondly as she took off in a sprint crawl away from her father. “Hey, where are you going,” He called out, chasing her as she wondered about thinking her father was chasing her because they were playing a game.

Up on the second floor, Heisenberg had entered the shower fully striped. Letting the water run down his body, he leaned against the wall pointing his head down. “Fuck,” He whispered, dragging a hand down his face. He felt like a complete douche for letting the night slip his mind. Here he was, with Ethan fucking Winters downstairs, as well as his daughter with him. Karl wasn’t even ready for this, everything felt like it was moving too quickly- “What am I thinking,” He breathed out heavily.

Ethan wasn’t his- they couldn’t be moving too quickly with anything. They weren't dating, and that thought hit Karl like a compressor. Grabbing the shampoo, he squirted it into his palm and lathered it up in his palm before scrubbing his scalp hard with it. A soft groan was released from his throat as he hit a certain spot with his fingers coming tangled in the knot of his hair. Pulling hard, a soft pant of a moan left his lips, forcing him to lean back up and crane his neck back. He felt exposed to the cold air, before untangling his fingers from his mess of a hair and tilting his head back under the running water to get rid of the shampoo quickly. He didn’t want to leave Ethan waiting too long.

Going against the idea of using conditioner, He grabbed the body wash after squeezed it into his hands. Throwing the bottle down, he ran his hands over his body harshly. The feeling of his thick hands running over his own chest down to his happy tail had no right t be as exciting as it was. He didn’t understand, was it because Ethan was downstairs? Did he want Ethan to catch him like this? Impurity thoughts channelled through his mind, leaving him in a panting mess. A sudden grasp came to his dick below, making him second guess his fantasies flashing through his mind. Looking down, he saw his hand grasping his dick, the hand moving down to reveal the flushed red head begging for attention. He was uncut, both at the top of his dick and around his lower regions. He didn’t have time to shave, or even find a doctor to circumcise himself. Why should he? He didn’t have a reason to.

Letting go, he watched the skin cover the needy head before going back to washing his body. This was not the time to be getting hard whilst his main guest was downstairs with his little one for the matter. Maybe at a later stage he would do the unimaginable when alone but not when he had guests. Karl knew better than to go ahead and jerk himself off whilst people were about, he learnt that the hard way when being caught by one of his Soldats in the past. Scary time. Ones he prefers to not remember.

Making sure his whole body was clean, he rinsed off the bubbles and turned the shower off. The coldness of his home hit him; he wasn’t use to the temperature just yet. His factory had always been boiling, he loved the feeling of the heat trapping him. He missed the place already- it hadn’t even been 3 days since he last saw it. Wrapping a towel securely around his waist, he left his bathroom not bothering to pick up the dirty clothing he had worn previously and walked towards his bedroom that was very clean. He hadn’t slept there; no he was too busy in the garage part of his hoe. The place was somewhat a safe space already- he felt a little at home there. His bed was untouched, the floor being free of any dirty clothing. Looking about, he walked towards his drawers and opened them up to see a collection of shirts and pants. Grabbing the first things he saw; he unwrapped his towel and let it drop. He didn’t really think much about drying his body fully before pulling the shirt on. It was a brown shirt and dark blue dress pants. Fastening the buttons up on the shirt, he rolled the sleeves to rest just above his elbows and dragged the pants on, finding a bit difficult to pull all the way up. However once up, they fit fine upon his waist. The feeling of wearing something much different to his usual attire was- awkward. He felt like he was about to go to Lady Dimitrescu wedding or something, although he would go in the most unkempt clothing to annoy her. But he had to, he saw how Ethan was dressed. He was well kept, nothing like Karl. Ethan was just-

Ethan was the most perfect creation ever to be created.

“You’re going to look hot for Ethan,” The encouraging words to himself helped him a little to feel safer in the clothing he chosen. He just wouldn’t expect to ever be dressed like this but here he was, prancing around his room thinking about the possibilities that could happen in the next couple of hours. Downstairs he could hear the laughter of Ethan once again accompanied by Rose’s happy cries.

“Huh, this feels like a family moment,” He chuckled to himself as he began to walk away from the bedroom. To hear noise filling the place that wasn’t the dead, but rather people who were alive- this was the closest Karl had ever felt to be a part of a family. The word brought a strained smile to his face. A family. Him and Ethan, and with the little brat to be a family. “Bad Heisenberg, no thinking about shit like that,” He scolded himself before descending this time down the stairs to overlook at Ethan on his knees who were making what seemed to be a toy in his hands, dance for his daughter. “Seem to be enjoying yourself there Ethan,” He spoke, rounding off at the end of the stairs to walk towards the father and daughter who were in the middle of the whole room.

Ethan gave Rose the toy and stood back up, dusting dust off his pants. “And you seem to be having fun dressing up for me, is it?” The teasing tone in his voice did not go unnoticed by the former Lord, a smirk rising onto his features. A deadly glare casting through directed towards the father.

“I could say the same for you darlin’. Even went with a tie. how cute.”

“Alright mister, you got me there. So, what you thinking about cooking good looking?”

“Well, I was- w-what?” The rhyme from Ethan’s words had made Heisenberg feel warm. A fluttering feeling casted over his whole body as he stood in front of Ethan, little Rose between both of their feet. Although he was sure Ethan was just teasing, his words felt real to hear.

“I didn’t say anything, so what we doing,” the words fell quickly from Ethan’s throat, an embarrassed look invading his face as he crossed his arms and tried to give a smug smile to play his words off.

“Yeahhhh, sureee.” Heisenberg watched the pale skin of Ethan's become influenced by a red shade, his nose slightly flaring. Grabbing hold of his shoulder, Heisenberg turned Ethan around and walked towards where the open kitchen was, being careful to not trip over the baby on the floor. ”So if I’m good lookin’, what does that make you buttercup?”

Ethan shook his head disapprovingly, looking at Karl with a raised brow. “It slipped out; nothing was meant by it.”

“Oh, but sweetheart, did it really though~”

“What are we cooking Karl?” Ethan had pretended to not hear any of the nicknames that came from his host- he didn’t want to show any reaction towards them no matter how much a daring grin wanted to be stretched onto his lips. He had to remind himself he only just divorced his ex-wife. He didn’t want to date and neither did he want to feel any sort of attraction towards his own former killers...but was Karl really a former killer- he did try to help him? That was for another time.

“You’ll come aroun’ one day. I don’t know what to make.” Karl leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched Ethan’s facial features change every second, clearly not knowing what emotion he should really be showing at his words. ”You what?” He choked out, sticking with a dumbfounded look.

Karl threw his hands up in surrender. “I don’t know how to cook. I lived of cans Ethan, and coffee. It was either cans, or Duke for me.”

The air between them both became unknowingly colder. Ethan had to give himself a few moments to think. He did feel bad at what Karl just told him, to be living off a one-way ticket for meals or risk getting ill. The man in front of him really didn’t know anything about the outside world. “Okay, luckily I do know how to make food.”

“Like a house wife.” Karl piped up, running a hand threw his wet hair as it dripped water upon his shoulders wearing that sharp grin of his.

“I’m not a house wife Heisenberg.” Ethan began to search through the small fridge that was under one of the few counters in Karl’s kitchen. Looking through, he began to make a mental note to get the Lord to join him on a shopping trip to get food. Clearly the agents had spent more money on building fancy places rather than getting things for survival.

“Damn, back to last names huh? I must really be in trouble with you mister.” Suddenly, a flying tomato came flying at him and hit him in his head. “hey! That was uncalled for.” He spoke just barely managing to catch the vegetable as it bounced off his head. In return, Ethan shrugged and continued to rummaged through his fridge picking out certain items. Karl stood and watched, not complaining about the side view he was getting of Ethan down on his knees-

“Where do you keep your spices?” He asked a she stood back up, shutting the fridge with his foot and looking back to quickly check on Rose.

“Cupboard above you.” Karl answered back, also looking at the baby who was smashing the toy monkey onto the floor. Karl had to sniffle his laughter back, slightly proud of the baby’s destruction.

With a quick bang of the cupboard, Ethan had pushed all the items he got out towards Karl. Leaving them by the shorter one, he went to o wash his hands in the sink. “Karl, can you grab a baking tray, grater and rolling pin” Ethan asked as he wiped his hands down on a towel.

“Ethan, have you forgot I don’t cook?”

“Rolling pin looking like a cylinder, grater looks like-” Karl had begun to laugh at Ethan reciting and describing what kitchen equipment looks like. Banging a closed fist onto his chest, Karl swept stray hairs from out of his face.

“Ethan I’m joking.” Before Ethan could even get annoyed at Karl, Karl had already started to move about the area with a happy jump in his step, glad that Ethan was slightly annoyed at his actions. He loved getting a rise out of the other, it just added on the things he loved-

Loved...yeah. He was in love with Ethan. He wasn’t going to complain against that.

“So, what we making papa?” Heisenberg asked, looking at the ingredients all laid out by all the cutlery he was sent on a quest to gather.

“We are making pizza.” Ethan answered back, already starting on making the pizza sauce from scratch.

“Pizza huh?” Karl ponded out loud, watching as Ethan began to use the grater and great cheese.

“Yes. You can start rolling out the pastry if you want. Grab the rolling pin and use the flour to make sure the pastry doesn’t stick to the counter top.” Giving a playful salute to Ethan, who rolled his eyes out and gave a soft kick to the others leg, Karl stood by Ethan and sprinkled flour on top of the counter. Clapping his hands by Ethan to watch the flour dust go poof in his face, Karl was already moving onto laying out the pastry from its packet on top of the flour.

He was given a sharp pain on his ear as he looked quickly at his attacker with furrowed brows. Ethan had flicked the man on his ear shell and stuck his tongue out like a child. Karl’s ear had swiftly turned red but it didn’t bother the lord much really, it only made him eager to try tease the other. “Gotta try harder sweetheart,” Karl spoke to him, rolling the pastry out and flipping it every now and again.

“Nah no can do. I can’t hurt you.” Ethan called back, moving the cheese and grated away from him before grabbing the baking tray and laying out parchment paper on it. Karl gave a scoff at Ethan's words, stepping away from the pastry and instead standing behind Ethan. Like a snake, Karl wrapped his arms around Ethan’s torso and stood on his tiptoes to look over Ethan’s shoulder.

“You can’t hurt me~” He whispered in his ear, tightening his grip on the father’s torso. In return, Ethan swallowed a lump in his throat and turned, flicking Karl on his nose. The pinch of pain made Karl recall backwards and rub his nose.

“I think I just did. Oops.” Ethan turned back around and picked up the pastry to lay out on the tray. “Want to grab a spoon?” He called behind him, waiting for a response as he worked on stretching the pastry in the tray.

Thinking for a moment, Karl went back to leaning against the counter with his arms crossed right bedside Ethan. “What’s in it for me?” He asked, as he simpered looking pleased with himself.

A ragged sigh came from Ethan’s mouth as he turned and copied Karl’s actions by leaning against the counter. However, he didn’t cross his arms. “How about, you get me the spoon and you’ll get a reward.”

“What is this...reward?” Karl leaned to the side, getting closer towards Ethan’s face. The hesitation from the other left plenty of time for Karl to come up with a total of 6 different ways he could be rewarded for getting cutlery- and none was safe for Rose to hear.

Wetting his lips, Ethan smacked his lips together before speaking slowly and a notch deeper than his usual tone. “The reward will be...a day shopping with me.” And all previous ideas flew out of his head. Karl pulled away from Ethan and pouted.

“That sounds shit.” He spoke, becoming grumpy over the fact of shopping. He had seen Villagers do it in the past, buying things. It just looked, none eventful.

“That’s not all.” Ethan held back a grin as he watched Karl become curious again. “I’ll let you hold my hand the whole day.”

“DEAL!” Ethan watched as Karl sprinted off to a drawer and opened it up, grabbing a large spoon and skipping back to Ethan with it in his hand proudly. “Better keep to your side of the deal now papa. Don’t you be forgetting it.”

“I won't forget- I don’t even think you would let me especially with the way you just acted.” Just to hopefully annoy the Lord, Ethan got him in a headlock and with his knuckled, rubbed them against the top of Karl’s head watching him squirm in his grasp.

“Oh C’MON!” He shouted, pushing out of Ethan’s grip and showing him away. Ethan finally let loose of is laugh and grabbed the counter for support. The sight of Ethan being happy made Karl soft. It was a fuzzy feeling with him. ‘Butterflies...that’s what this is’ he thought trying his best to sketch the view into his mind forever.

“Okay! okay,” Ethan wheezed out, “Back to making the pizza.”

#Karl Heisenberg #karlheisenberg #karl hesienberg #ethan x karl #Lord Karl Heisenberg #ethan winters #ethan x heisenberg #karl heisenberg x ethan winters #resident evil 8 #winters x heisenberg

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torterrachampion · 3 years ago

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A completely unhinged discussion about every one of Chloé's outfits and how I feel about them:

under the cut because it's too long

First up, Chloé's childhood outfits. I will admit the details are hard to make out. In the first image she's pretty much covered completely in a cloak. All we can really see of her dress is the sleeve but I think the sleeve is cute. Solid 5/10 Chloé outfit. Nothing noteworthy but perfectly serviceable and I think she looks cute bundled up in a cloak.

Then we have the dress she's wearing while her father promises to make her human. I like dark colours on Chloé and the dress does suit her but again, not many details that can be made out. I like the collar that can be seen briefly in one panel but I'm not a fan of the headpiece really. It's cute though 6/10

Next up, this outfit is only seen very briefly in one panel. It's what Chloé wears at her father's bedside when he dies. Chloé's wearing a light shawl/cloak and a dark dress, neither of which can be seen particularly clearly. 0/10 this makes me sad and there aren't even any cute/pretty details.

Then there's Chloé's mourning outfit after her father's death. It's a simple black dress and a veil. I really like the veil honestly, it looks super pretty in my opinion and the dress isn't bad either, I like the detail on the collar and the little white ruffles at the sleeves. It's probably Chloé's simplest outfit and that makes it stand out as quite unique and interesting. Still, -100/10 this makes me even sadder than the last outfit I never want to see her wear anything like it again.

Next up the dress she was wearing when she met Ruthven! I love when she has ribbons tied around her neck so that the ends can billow dramatically behind her! Top notch for when she's being more threatening. The ribbon does lose points though for looking potentially scratchy/uncomfortable according to my sensibilities anyway. Of her outfits this looks like one of the warmest ones, potentially because she's carrying a really lovely shawl most of the time when wearing it. I like when she looks comfy and the shawl is very good for that! Maybe this is just a manifestation of my desire to wrap Chloé in a warm blanket? Anyway, the details on the bottom of her sleeves and around the white part at her shoulders are a nice touch that I'm really fond of. I like the puffiness of her sleeves too and the little flower on the front of her dress is cute. 8/10 great outfit, very pretty.

This one only appears in a few very small panels but nonetheless I am unreasonably fond of it. It shares some elements with the previous dress but is clearly a different outfit. The sleeves of this dress are pretty, I like any that have ruffles at the bottom and the neckline of her dress also pleases me. The shawl is nice and again plays on my desire to see her rugged up and safe. I am extremely in love with the little bow around Chloé's neck, it's incredibly appealing. 7/10 love this but can't see enough of it to rank it higher since these are the only panels it shows up in.

Next outfit! From the time she met Jeanne and one of the outfits she was most consistently drawn in! Point one in its favour, it's dark and I've already stated that I'm biased towards dark dresses on Chloé. Really I love everything about this to be honest. The necklace and choker combo is so pretty and it may be my favourite of Chloé's many neck accessories. I like the lacy collar of her dress and the bow with the rose in the middle too! I absolutely adore the sleeves on this dress, they just look so cool to me! The sleeves are potentially my favourite thing about this outfit ngl. I also think the dark cloak she wears on top of it briefly looks quite nice, it seems really soft and warm. Also there was a very brief flashback that I think involved this outfit (based on the sleeve) in which Chloé was wearing gloves and I don't know why but I'd really like to see her wearing gloves more clearly now. I just think she'd look cool. Overall this outfit is 10/10 perfect I am incredibly enamoured with it.

I've said I like darker colours but regardless I still think this one suits Chloé perfectly well and am not docking points for colour. First off, my favourite Chloé shawl, it's so big and flowy! Looks warm and is still very pretty. The skirt of this dress is really nice. I love all the bows and the way the layers are separated. It's beautiful! Chloé's choker is one of the ones I'm less fond of. I think I just dislike the beads over the top of the fabric? Not sure. It's still very pretty regardless. The sleeves on this dress are awesome too! I like how wide they are at the ends but also the beaded bits higher on the arm that match her choker. This outfit is very well coordinated and it looks amazing! 9/10 superb

Next we have an outfit that upfront is being judged more harshly because it is solely associated with Chloé in one of the worst states she's ever been in and therefore gives me bad vibes. I enjoy the cape attached to this dress, it's very dramatic and adds a cool flair to this. Also stands out because neither Chloé nor any other character has worn anything else quite like this to date as far as I can remember. I like the bow around her neck and all the bows running down her chest too. They're cute! But also they may be a bit much for me? Makes the front of her dress look very busy. The sleeves are top notch though. I love them. Some of the prettiest sleeves Chloé's worn. Not sure if this is just me but something about this dress doesn't feel Chloé enough. It looks good on her but somehow feels like it suits her personality less than some of her others. 7/10 gorgeous but the vibes throw me off.

Next up is pretty much all she's drawn in throughout the part of her backstory connected to JJ. The only instance in which she wore this without a cloak was when she was still putting it on to go help Jean-Jacques after he became the Beast but I haven't included that panel. She wore a few different cloaks with this outfit that looks pretty similar, though my favourite has to be the one with the ruffles on the hood. I just love it! Though the one with the soft looking hood and bigger bow is a close second. I enjoy the sleeves on this dress, the ribbons tied around them are cool and I'm partial to how they flutter around. The dress itself is pretty, I like the darker part of the skirt in the middle and the details at the bottom of the dress. The bodice of the dress is also nice, I appreciate the buttons running up it. I don't have any particularly strong feelings about Chloé's choker in this outfit but I like how it matches the rest of what she's wearing. A strong 8/10

We have three panels of Chloé in her nightgown and all of them make me sad. It looks cute and the detail around the collar part that I can see is nice. Unfortunately, this is hampered by the fact that Chloé was in a terrible state of mind while wearing it and there aren't any super clear pictures. If Mochijun ever drew Chloé in a nightgown again and she didn't look horribly depressed it would go up the rankings greatly because it would be very cute and I'm weak for Chloé looking cute. For now though 2/10 is the best I can give it because it upsets me.

Last up Chloé's main outfit. I love the ribbon at her neck that billows behind her dramatically and I'm equally enamoured with the big bows at her shoulders and waist. They're so pretty and they blend in with the rest of the dress seamlessly. The lacy parts around the sleeves, the bottom of the dress, the neckline, etc. are really cool, I like how they flutter around and they just generally look incredible. I love the skirt with the little roses and the slightly lighter coloured parts that break up the blackness. The rose on Chloé's chest is also very pretty, I adore how Mochijun coloured it in the volume 6 inner cover. This outfit also has the best Chloé shoes, I love her boots so much (no, I did not talk about the shoes in her other outfits. Yes, I could have. But these shoes are the only ones that matter!). The sleeves on this dress are top tier as well! I like how they flare out at the bottom and the bits at the shoulders. It's just so pretty! This outfit is stunning, jaw-dropping, the pinnacle, 100/10 I am in love with it. Is it boring to pick the main outfit as the best one? Maybe, but it simply is the best. Objectively. Because all my Chloé opinions are correct.

#vnc #vnc manga #chloé d'apchier #I've been feeling deranged about chloé lately so have this #vanitas no carte

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missjaystone · 4 years ago

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What’s up, Doc?

This is my submission for darkficsyouneveraskedfor ‘Watching-Stalker AU Challenge’ (And yes, after asking initially from an entirely new account before posting on a secondary blog, I’m too embarrassed to tag Roo again.)

Prompt 11: Everyone knows about celebrity stalkers, but what happens when a celebrity is the stalker? Kinks: Forced Pregnancy/Breeding, A/B/O

Word Count: 3000

Relationship: Dark!Steve x Fem!Reader x Dark!Bucky Trigger Warnings: nonconsensual/dubious consent, forced pregnancy/breeding, A/B/O dynamics, abuse of power(?). PLEASE DONT READ IF THESE OFFEND YOU (PS Everyone: I’m sorry to redirect everyone to another blog but I’m too nervous about having 'missjaywrites’ as only a secondary blog. The first blog post on miss_jay_stone with stay but that blog is officially abandoned. Henceforth everything will be posted here.)

Being a doctor meant stressful moments, being a military doctor meant stressful days, weeks, months, or years. However, being a doctor specifically for the Avengers was an entirely new level of pressure. Being the person to patch up or perform surgery on literal superheroes made you miss working in the middle of warzones. You knew one wrong move could quickly spiral into a major issue, but you knew this when you took the job.

The choice itself wasn’t easy, there were more than enough reasons for you to respectfully decline, reasons like; despite being as accomplished as you were, you were still fairly young, the pressure was enough to age someone half a century, there were about a dozen security measures in place to make sure you said nothing to anyone, numerous contracts and NDAs to sign, and possibly the biggest reason to say ‘no’ was what you really were. An omega. You could very well be arrested because of how many official government forms you’d falsified and signed stating you were a Beta. You did what you had to do to accomplish your goals and it landed you in the medbay of the Avengers compound, often in close contact with the numerous Alphas on the team.

In your opinion, you were pretty physically average and never thought of yourself as someone that turned heads. That was more than fine by you, the less attention you had on you the better. Recently, though, you felt something subtle change, you always felt like somebody was looking at you, even if nobody else was around. The constant feeling and incessant nagging in the back of your mind sent a chill up your spine daily. There were some days where you found yourself feeling something like an internal tug towards whatever alpha was close by and now more often than not, the closest alpha was one of the two blue-eyes super soldiers. If you had listened to the alarm bells in your head, you would have left your job the moment you felt something strange.

You would’ve moved to Calgary or Portland or Dallas, but you brushed it off as silliness and an overactive imagination. And because of that, here you were, stuck in a web of your own design, your protruding stomach a reminder of the mistakes that led to this situation. Of course, you’d love them when they arrived but that wouldn’t lessen the naivete you felt for falling into their game. Their words forever holding your heart and soul firmly in a vice grip. “C’mon, doll, you can be our good little ‘mega and get everything you could ever want” “We can keep your secrets safe, we’ll make sure nothing bad can ever happen to you.” The words seem to play on repeat in your mind. You can pinpoint the exact moment a small mistake led to where you were now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 8 Months Prior~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wow, where are you going all dolled up like that?” Your colleague and friend Alex asked as you stepped out of the storage room with a bundle of clothes in your hand. He paused typing his report to watch you gather your things. “I’m going to a 50s themed party with a guy I’ve been seeing and he’ll be here to get me soon,” you answered, motioning to the very-50s inspired outfit you wore. “Lucky you, kid, knock him dead but use protection,” he called with a chuckle as you left towards the elevator. You rolled your eyes at his comment but got a chuckle out of it yourself. He loved acting like he had 25 years on you instead of 10. The entire elevator ride down you were checking to make sure everything was perfect and not a hair was out of place.

You didn’t even look up when you stepped out of the elevator into the lobby. You did however look up, when you collided with a firm body. Your apologies were stopped by two things; the feel of cold metal on your back thru the thin fabric of your top and the strong scent, familiar scent of cedar & sandalwood and sage & pine. “I’m so sorry about that Captain Rogers, Sargent Barnes; that was totally my fault for not looking and I’m incredibly sorry to have almost steamrolled you,” you rambled awkwardly as you hurriedly tried to step back and put space between you and them. It took several long moments before Bucky removed his hand from your back, putting both in his pockets.

“Don’t worry about it, accidents happen,” Steve said with a smile that just didn’t seem quite right. There was an uncomfortable couple of seconds where you felt their eyes raking over you and you would’ve sworn their pupils dilated. “You know, it’s funny, you look like you’re straight out of a magazine from the 40s,” Steve said with a chuckle to break the silence. “Thank you, sir, I have a date at a themed party and this is the theme,” you sheepishly replied. The blond cleared his throat to cover what almost sounded like a growl at the name ‘sir’ and his features momentarily hardened when you mentioned it was a date. His smile was quick to return “well we don’t want to hold you up, enjoy your weekend, Doc and we’ll see you around.” You politely thanked him and returned the pleasantry before stepping passed them to leave. If only you had looked back, you would’ve seen them begin an intense, hushed conversation before they disappeared into the elevator.

That little conversation seemed to be when all of this started, but it was only little things that never drew much thought. At least, it started small; things on your desk would be moved, lights would be left on when you showed up the next day, your door would be unlocked, just little things that you couldn’t definitively say you did or didn’t do and the feeling of surveillance being minute and random. Then it got bigger; clothes you’d left at the office would disappear like jackets you kept in case you got cold or a spare change of clothes if what you wore got messed up, and papers you were sure you’d put away would be scattered on your desk but the feeling of being watched was more often, and one or both of them often came around for seemingly any reason. Like when Sam came in to get stitches after a mission, Bucky stood to the side almost brooding when you only mildly acknowledged him to tend to his friend.

Then alarms started to go off in your head but you ignored it. They were celebrities, they were superheroes. There’s no way on Earth they’d give you more than a second though. Your internal alarms kept going off; you never felt alone anymore, even in your own home. Your cozy little home that you’d fallen in love with always felt like somebody else was there or had been there. You often felt like your skin was burning, especially when they were around which was now multiple times a day, you always seemed to run into them. Bucky was normally quiet when you crossed paths, always asking if you felt okay and commenting on your flushed and flustered appearance, taking two steps forward for every step you took away from him. Steve seemed to be more physical whenever you two met around the building, he’d pull you into a friendly hug before you could object and make conversation with you, often brushing hands with you or setting his hand on the small of your back.

It went on like that for two months and you’d never been more thankful for fall to turn to winter, the cold breeze helping to sate your increasingly uncomfortable temperature. You thought everything had passed when you started to feel more normal and they stopped coming around you as often.

One night you decided to stay late to get some reports finished, submitted, and filed properly. It was perfectly fine for a while but then you felt yourself heating up again. Even after removing your scrubs and changing into some clothes you stored here, you were still burning. Soon you were fidgeting in your seat, trying to find some way to quell whatever what happening with you. You ended up nearly running to the bathroom to splash cool water on your face and get something to drink but you should have just gone home.

When you took two steps back into your lab, you were immediately pulling back against someone’s broad chest with superhuman strength. On instant contact, a familiar and unnerving scent surrounded you; cedar and sandalwood. It was Bucky hold your back flush against his chest. Panic set in seconds later when you felt him pressed into your lower back, the size alone was enough to take you out of your paralyzingly-afraid state. But it wasn’t like that helped any; you were an average human and he was a Super Soldier, it took no effort to keep you in his grasp. All he had to do to keep you in line was move one hand around your throat and growl quietly in your ear.

“Easy, doll, if you move too much he may have to hurt you and that's the last thing we want,” a calm voice said, the tone almost soothing. Steve stepped into sight from where he’d been looking at some things on your shelf. “I know you’re probably a little confused but we’ve been keeping an eye out for you. Keeping creeps away at bars, making sure your train ride home goes without incident, taking care of the men you go on dates with. You’ve quite the active social life doll,” his voice was tender as he approached you, gently stroking your cheek. By now your eyes were wide with bewilderment as your brain attempted to process this situation. “We want you to be our good little Omega, start a family with you, and give you everything you could ever want or need,” Steve continued when your attempt to speak came out in a whimper.

Just as you went to correct him, Steve stopped you, cupping your cheek “please don’t lie to me, doll, we can’t create a future built on lies. We always thought you were a cute little Beta but after running into you that day, we both got a nice strong whiff of your cleverly hidden Omega scent, made us both incredibly hard, especially in that outfit that looked like it was from our time. That little incident made us see you for what you are; a good little ‘mega perfectly tailored for us, made to be our girl and have our pups. Unfortunately, we had to wait sometime to wean you off of those nasty chemical suppressants but now that you’re on the verge of your first heat, your body is more ready than it ever will be to take us,” Steve explained in that eerily calm voice, the intimacy of the town and him gently stroking your cheek was easily beginning to jumble your mind as it told you to do what you’d been fighting for years, what you hoped to always avoid.

“Steve,” Bucky grumbled, finally speaking up when his friend paused, he’d started steadily grinding his hips against yours for friction. “I-I can’t, I d-don’t want this,” you stammered out, nearly biting your lip off to keep yourself from whimpering or moaning as you felt Bucky’s hard-on against you, so close to where you needed but didn’t want it to be. “Well, that’s why we’re giving you a choice, princess. We don’t want anything bad to happen to you and if you’re our girl we can make sure nothing bad ever happens to you. You’ll be the safest person on the planet. Alternatively, people will find out about your status and well, perjury, falsifying federal documents, and falsifying medical documents are serious. You’d lose your medical license permanently and it’ll be at least a decade in prison but that’s not what we want,” Steve reassured before planting a small but quick kiss on your lips and smiling.

“C'mon doll, you can be our good little 'mega and never have to do anything ever again, you’ll never have to worry about money, job security, gross bar creeps, medical issues. We just wanna take care of our girl,” Bucky whispered in your ear, his tone too gentle for the situation. When you began to object again, a strong cramp in your abdomen had you nearly double over with a pained moan. You’d have been on the floor if Bucky wasn’t holding you and Steve wasn’t in front of you. “We can make all of this pain go away right now, just say you’ll be our best girl,” Steve coerced as he moved a few strands of hair out of your face. You knew you couldn’t open your mouth without moaning in pain or screaming so you furiously shook your head. Steve continuing to stroke your cheek, though small, was enough to distract you from noticing Bucky untying and pushing your shorts down.

As much as you hated yourself for it, you moaned out in surprise when you felt Bucky’s cool metal fingers rubbing your clit slowly. The man let out a groan and pulled his hand back, smirking as it glistened in the dimmed lights of the lab “fuck, Stevie, she’s so wet for us.” The words renewed your sense of panic and you began struggling hard. That seemed to be all it took for Steve to let go of his restraint. He lunged forward and captured your lips in a harsh, hungry, and dominating kiss. The blond wasted no time ripping your shirt and bra away, sending buttons flying to the floor. He didn’t break away from the bruising kiss as he began to fondle your breasts, paying extra attention to the nipples. In your state of unwanted pleasure, you didn’t notice Bucky quickly unzipping his pants and pushing them and his boxers down enough to free his aching member.

An entirely new sense of panic filled you when you felt his head nudging at your entrance; you would not make it through this in one piece, they were going to split you in half. When Steve’s lips finally left yours, he haphazardly pulled his member out and pulled you down until your face was level with his cock. When you didn’t do anything, he seemed to signal to Bucky who then buried himself into the hilt and moaned out happily, his breathing hitching as he mumbled “fuck, so tight, feels s'good.” Just as anticipated, you opened your mouth in a silent scream of pain and forced ecstasy, he gladly took the opportunity to thrust into your mouth, making you gag when his tip hit the back of your throat.

It took them no time at all to set a bruising rhythm, their moans and groans combined with your muffled cries of pleasure and fear filled the moan. You hated the way you felt your body betray you, how your core ached from Bucky to go faster, how your mind was quickly falling into the role of a submissive little Omega that you’d avoided all your life. Pretty soon you were beginning to move with them, the logical part of your brain being overshadowed by the need to please the two Alphas violating you.

“That’s it doll, that’s our good little Omega, such a good girl cooperating with her Alphas,” Steve cooed soft praises as he proudly watched the last of your resolve vanish. He took one of your hands and wrapped it around the part of his cock that wasn’t in your mouth, helping you build up a good stroking motion before letting go. He held your hair in a makeshift ponytail and tugged whenever he felt you run your tongue along the veins. Bucky on the other hand had a vice-like grip on your hips as his thrusts gradually became erratic. He reached underneath you and started rubbing your clit quickly, this time with his flesh hand. “C'mon doll, cum for your Alphas, you’re gonna feel so good being our Omega,” he muttered into your ear, nipping at your earlobe.

You couldn’t stop yourself. Between his words and the way he rubbed your clit and Steve’s praises and encouragements, you didn’t stand a chance against doing what he asked. You came with a muffled scream as your searing orgasm raced through every one of your veins, leaving you in a seemingly endless state of white-hot euphoria. You could barely acknowledge the feeling of Bucky erupting inside of you, filling you with his seed. His thrusts slowly becoming more languid.

“C'mon, hurry up,” you heard Bucky say, even though it sounded muffled and far away to you. You admittedly whined at the loss of his member even though he still held you up. You coughed when Steve removed himself, finally taking in deep breaths of air. They switched places quickly, Steve emitting a groan as he entered you more gently than Bucky did. This time, you didn’t hesitate before taking Bucky’s cock into your mouth, just following the part of your brain that said to submit to them, that they alone could bring you this much pleasure and everything they promised. Steve gave a few thrusts before he pulled your hips flush against his and spilled himself with a content moan.

You all but collapsed to the floor when they were done, them being the only reason you didn’t. Bucky scooped you up bridal style after Steve wrapped his jacket around your used, naked form. You were only semi-conscious as they carried you out of the lab, barely awake enough to mumble out “where are we going?” “We’re going to our room, little 'mega, and we’re gonna keep doing this every night until we see you round with our pups and we’re gonna make sure you’re treated like a princess, our princess,” Steve said, using his soothing tone from earlier. Barely clinging to consciousness, you merely nodded. The last thing you remember before passing out into sweet, sweet dreamland was you saying “alphas know best.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Current~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You looked down at your stomach before looking back at the sonogram in your hands; clear as day, you could see two 8-month-old babies. You’d stopped fighting when the pregnancy tests turned positive, they were very clear that no matter where you went, they’d find you and bring you home. They kept their promise about giving you everything you could ever need or want and protecting you. They kept their promise to keep you safe and always be there for you. You resigned from your position and didn’t renew your rental agreement, officially moving in with them in a bigger room. Once you safely passed the second trimester, they claimed you as theirs and let you claim them as yours. You’re not sure if you’ll ever forgive how this started but it wasn’t so bad.

#StalkerChallengeFic #Dark!Bucky Barnes #Dark!Steve Rogers #Alpha!Bucky Barnes #Alpha!SteveRogers #Dark!Stucky #TW: NonCon #TW: DubCon #TW: Breeding #Steve Rogers Smut #Bucky Barnes Smut #Marvel Smut #J Wrote

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short-wooloo · 3 years ago

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For funsies imma just post all of Federation of Fear here

https://biosector01.com/wiki/Federation_of_Fear

Chapter 1

Vezon opened his eyes, astonished to still be alive. The last thing he remembered, he was surrounded by Zyglak, who seemed immune to his wit and charm. Then there was a flash, the sensation of being grabbed by someone far stronger than he, a weird sensation of travel, and darkness.

He looked around. The room he occupied was a large cell and he wasn’t in it alone. Vezon didn’t recognize any of the other four occupants, all of whom stood well away from the others. By reflex, he started calculating how long it would take to disable them and how quickly he could pick the lock of the cell door.

Vezon’s musings were interrupted by the appearance of a sixth figure outside the cell. He was tall, lean and strong, wore a domed helmet, and carried a wicked double-bladed sword. The newcomer looked over the five prisoners as if they were cargo-hauling Ussal crabs up for auction.

“My name is Brutaka,” the visitor said. “I know you have questions – I’m not here to answer them. Where you are, who I work for, what this place is – you don’t need to know. What you do need to know is that there are two, and only two, ways you can get out of here.”

A Xian female stepped up to the bars and said in a dangerously soft voice, “And they are?”

“You can walk out, Roodaka, under your own power, and carry out a mission for some friends of mine,” Brutaka replied. “Or I can carry you out, plant you in a hole outside, and we’ll see if anything grows.”

Brutaka turned his attention to the others. “All of you have something in common – you have all had dealings with the Brotherhood of Makuta. Roodaka, here, betrayed them to the Dark Hunters, then betrayed the Dark Hunters as well – now both sides want her dead. Takadox and Carapar over there are Barraki, whose armies were crushed 80,000 years ago by the Brotherhood. The Makuta in the corner is Spiriah, who fouled up an experiment on the island of Zakaz so badly that his own people marked him for death.”

Vezon timidly raised a hand. “Excuse me, oh brutal, blade-wielding, lover of gardening. I have never met any Makuta face to mask and wouldn’t know one if he stepped on me and ground me into the dirt. I think maybe you wanted someone else … I’m Vezon with an ‘n,’ you see, not Vezok with a ‘k,’ and --”

The crab-like Carapar loped over, picked up Vezon by the neck, and bounced him off the back wall. “You talk too much,” the Barraki growled.

“Oh, yes,” Brutaka muttered, shaking his head. “This is going to work out just fine.”

Chapter 2

Roodaka was furious. As she walked along the waterfront, clad in a cloak made of plant fibre, she imagined over and over again all the disgusting things she would someday turn Brutaka into with her Rhotuka spinner. One way or the other, he was going to pay for this.

Brutaka and his team – Roodaka, Vezon, Carapar, Takadox, and Makuta Spiriah – had arrived on the shores of the island of Stelt in a small boat. As soon as Roodaka recognized the skyline, she began to protest. Stelt was the home of the late Sidorak, her former comrade, and his people. Worse, Roodaka had set Sidorak up to be killed, and it was likely everyone on Stelt knew that. She would be about as welcome there as a Kikanalo stampede.

But Brutaka had insisted they would need a bigger boat to get where they were going, and this was the easiest place to get one. The only other team member to voice an objection was Spiriah, who believed Brotherhood of Makuta agents were waiting in every village to grab him.

“And just how are we going to purchase this boat?” Roodaka hissed. “We have no equipment, no arms other than yours, not even those ridiculous Matoran widgets. We have nothing of value to offer in exchange.”

“Of course we do,” Brutaka answered, as he pushed open the doors of a trading house. “We have you.”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Carapar had seized her from behind. The team, along with the struggling Roodaka, stepped inside the dimly lit and foul smelling shack. The proprietor was one of Sidorak’s species.

“We’re here to make a purchase,” said Brutaka. “Your fastest ship, outfitted with supplies for a long voyage to the south.”

“To the south?” snorted the trader. “Meaning I will never see my ship, or you, again? Unless you can make me rich --”

Brutaka took the hood off Roodaka, who glared at him with murder in her eyes. “Would the reward you’ll get for capturing the killer of Sidorak be payment enough?”

The trader smiled and invited the party out to view his prize craft. So excited was he by visions of the wealth that would soon be his that he never noticed Takadox had slipped away. The boat turned out to be good-sized, well armed with disk launchers, and large enough to accommodate at least a dozen beings. A crew of large, blue and gray armored bruisers were at work on it now.

“We’ll take it,” said Brutaka. There was a loud splash from the ocean side of the ship, but no one paid much mind to it.

“And I’ll take the murderer,” the trader said. “Sidorak was no prize, but we can’t let Vortixx and Rahi kill our kind and get away with it, now can we?”

There was another splash, then another, and another. Brutaka ignored them. “Of course not. But if you want people to believe you caught this dangerous criminal, you will need to look like you’ve been in a fight. A light tap to your head would do the trick, perhaps. My colleague, Vezon, can handle it – you won’t feel a thing.”

“Ever again,” Vezon chimed in, smiling.

Splash. Splash. Splash.

The trader looked over Vezon, who was nowhere near as physically imposing as the rest of the team. How much damage could he do? “All right,” said the trader. “One blow – a light one! – just to look convincing.”

Vezon’s grin grew wider. Roodaka struggled against Carapar’s grip. Brutaka walked casually away from the scene, surveying the boat. Vezon drew his fist back. Then, in one smooth motion, Brutaka whirled and whacked the trader in the back of the head. The trader crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

“Hey!” said Vezon. “He was mine! I woudn’t have hurt him … much … and I only would have needed three or four hours and the right tools, just to make sure he would be no trouble.”

“That’s the point,” Brutaka replied. “You enjoy your work a little too much. Now everyone on board – that includes you, Roodaka.”

They climbed on the ship to find Takadox standing alone. The Barraki took a little bow, pointed to his hypnotic eyes, and said, “The crew decided to go for a swim, all at once. Imagine that.”

“Why all the trouble?” muttered Carapar. “We could have just stormed in and stolen the ship.”

“And had all of Stelt after us?” asked Brutaka. “Not to mention every Dark Hunter and Brotherhood member around, as soon as they heard Roodaka was here?”

“But what about the trader, you fool?” said Roodaka. “He saw me!”

Brutaka laughed as the ship moved slowly away from shore. “Who’s going to believe anyone stupid enough to stand still and get hit?”

Chapter 3

Brutaka and his bizarre crew had been at sea for three days when he called them all together. “It’s time to let you know our mission. And before you ask, you were all chosen for this trip for one very good reason: You’re expendable. No one is going to care if any of you live or die, which makes you ideal for this job.”

Carapar grumbled something unspeakably foul. Brutaka chose to ignore it.

“We are going to an island far south of anything on any chart,” Brutaka continued. “But it’s not uninhabited. In fact, it has one very special resident: a Makuta named Miserix.”

Now it was Spiriah’s turn to mutter something, though his words were more in shock than in anger.

“Miserix, for those of you who don’t know, was the leader of the Brotherhood of Makuta before the current holder of that title,” said Brutaka. “He was overthrown and wound up imprisoned on a volcanic island. He’s guarded by Rahi and the Great Beings know what else – things someone figured would be able to kill an escaping Makuta. And it’s our job to break him out.”

At first, none of the team members said anything. Then Takadox spoke up. “And what do we get out of this? Money? Power? Our freedom?”

Brutaka smiled. “You get to live another day.”

“And what do we do with him after we have him?” asked Roodaka. “Hold him for ransom?”

“That’s not your concern,” Brutaka replied. “All of you have a role to play in this mission. When we get close to the island, you will be given weapons and equipment. Try to run, at any time, and friends of mine will hunt you down – friends who make me look like a big, cuddly Ussal crab.”

It was Vezon who spotted them first. A small fleet of ragtag vessels was approaching from the west. They were about the ugliest boats one could imagine, slapped together from remnants and wreckage and barely sea-worthy. But he wasn’t focused on the look of the ships, but rather the identity of their crews.

“Zyglak!” he shouted.

The others rushed to the rail to look. Sure enough, the reptilian beings known as “the Great Beings’ mistakes” were manning the ships. Notoriously violent and destructive, Zyglak hated the Great Spirit Mata Nui and anything associated with him. It was doubtful they were paying a social call.

Brutaka tried to steer the ship away from them, but the wind and waves were not cooperating. After a few minutes, he realized why: Makuta Spiriah was using his power over weather to keep the ship in place.

“Did you really think it would be this easy?” said Spiriah. “I deduced our goal days ago and passed a message to my Zyglak friends through channels on Stelt.”

Vezon looked horrified. He had spent many days a captive of the Zyglak not so long ago. It wasn’t an experience he was anxious to repeat. “Friends? Zyglak don’t have friends... just meals they haven’t eaten yet.”

“They are outcasts,” said Spiriah. “And so am I. Now, Brutaka, I am taking command of this ship. We will be setting a new course, for the island of Zakaz. It was there that I met defeat and disgrace – there that my grand experiment failed, because the inhabitants were too savage to know what to do with my gifts. It is their fault I was cast out of the Brotherhood – and now they are going to pay!”

Chapter 4

It had been three days since Spiriah’s takeover of the team’s vessel. Since then, they had steered a course for the island of Zakaz, surrounded on every size by boats filled with murderous Zyglak. Spiriah had been acting every inch the captain of the ship, ordering the others about and being particularly hard on Brutaka. Through it all, Brutaka said nothing and made no attempt to strike at Spiriah.

“To think, we were beginning to feel a little afraid of him,” Takadox said, gesturing toward Brutaka.

“Speak for yourself,” Carapar replied.

“Home,” beamed Vezon. “True, I’ve never been to Zakaz... I’m not even really one of the native species... in fact, they’ll probably kill me on sight... or worse, tie me upside down over a spiked dagger plant... but at least I’ll die at home.”

Roodaka had abandoned any hope that Brutaka was going to act and concentrated instead on Spiriah. “The Brotherhood has overextended itself in recent years,” she assured him. “Warring with Dark Hunters and Toa... they are weak. If you struck at them now with your army, you could take over Destral and rule the universe. Of course, you would need someone by your side who knows all the factions and how best to use them...”

Spiriah looked at her as if she were something stuck to his boot. “I would sooner offer my neck to a dull axe blade than trust you, female. Your name has become another word for ‘treachery.’”

“Better that than being another word for ‘failure,’” Roodaka muttered.

The conversation was ended by the appearance of land off the port bow. It was the island of Zakaz, in all its ruined “glory.” A handful of Dark Hunter vessels could be seen in the waters nearby, on patrol. At a word from Spiriah, the Zyglak vessels attacked. Taken by surprise, three of the Dark Hunter ships were sunk immediately. The others beached on the shores of the island, only for the crews to be slain by a mob of Skakdi natives.

Spiriah laughed at the sight. “The Skakdi believe they know what savagery is,” he said. “But they have never met the Zyglak. And the Makuta believe they know all the colors and shapes of revenge... but I will introduce them to a shade darker than even they could imagine.”

The mini-armada surged forward, Zyglak already preparing to storm the beaches. They were still 500 yards from shore when the first Zyglak ship suddenly lurched and began to sink. This was followed by another and still another. Soon, Zyglak vessels on every side were taking on water, gaping holes torn in their hulls below the water line.

Takadox rushed to the rail. He caught a glimpse of beings just under the water, attacking the Zyglak craft. From a distance, they almost looked like his old ally, Ehlek. Whatever they were, they moved like fish underwater and the ships were no match for their claws.

Shocked by the abrupt annihilation of his force, Spiriah was unprepared for Brutaka’s attack. An energy blast knocked him off his feet, a well-placed kick kept him on the ground, and then Brutaka’s blade was pressed against his chest armor.

“Go ahead,” Brutaka said, coldly. “Use one of your powers. Think you can do it before I rip open your armor? And how long do you think your energy will last out here, with no body to occupy? Or maybe I should just throw you overboard right now.”

“How... ?” Spiriah began.

“How did I deal with the Zyglak?” said Brutaka. “Simple. You have friends; so do I. Mine are an species of water dwellers who were specially modified by my employers to kill Makuta. They live off the coast of Zakaz, and right now they are practicing their skills on your Zyglak. You don’t want to look... it’s messy.”

“Wait a minute,” said Takadox. “Not that I am complaining, but how did you manage to get in touch with these ‘friends’ of yours? You never left the ship.”

Brutaka hauled Spiriah to his feet. All around, the ocean was littered with wrecked ships and dead Zyglak. “Spiriah had his friends following us. And I had someone following us since we left Stelt, just in case of emergency... and here she comes now.”

The others turned to see a small skiff approaching from the east. Its lone pilot was a female, lithe and well-armed. As she came alongside and clambered above the ship, Roodaka noticed that her left arm was completely mechanical. For a moment, she almost felt sorry for Spiriah.

“This is the last member of our team,” said Brutaka. “Treat her as you would me... and be sure she will treat you even worse than I do. Her name’s Lariska.”

Chapter 5

Lariska stood at the bow with Brutaka, watching the ship cleave through the water. Behind them, the other members of the team were keeping a careful eye on Makuta Spiriah – not that they could have done much to stop him if he tried to make a break. But Brutaka had done a little math and explained to Spiriah how many hours he was likely to survive once the Brotherhood of Makuta knew where he was. Then he assured Spiriah that if the ship and its occupants were all destroyed, the Brotherhood would be notified immediately where to start looking.

That was a bluff, of course. But Spiriah had spent a lot of his life fleeing from his former comrades, and running and hiding get to be habits after a while. As Brutaka expected, Spiriah bought it and backed off.

The ship had veered away from Zakaz and was on its way south. There was one more stop to make before they headed for their ultimate target. This was the one Brutaka dreaded – it was time to arm the team.

The island that came into view was little more than a piece of barren rock. It was not the original site for this meeting, but plans had changed. Two Order of Mata Nui members, Botar and the nine-foot tall warrior named Trinuma, had been dispatched with a cache of weapons for a rendezvous on a small, wooded island just off the mainland. But a Makuta named Icarax had spotted their appearance and attacked. The fight was furious, but brief. Botar was slain, crushed by the Makuta’s magnetic power, and Trinuma barely escaped to tell the tale. In desperation, he stored the weapons at the first place he came to before returning to Daxia with the tragic news.

The ship dropped anchor just off the coast. Brutaka warned Takadox and Carapar he would be keeping a careful eye on them on the swim over, just in case they got any funny ideas about diving deep and escaping. Vezon was the first to react when they set foot on the rocky shore.

“There is something... wrong here,” he said, his tone unusually serious. “Something beyond even my powers to cope with.”

“You don’t have any powers, freak,” Carapar roughly reminded him.

“I don’t?” Vezon said, seemingly confused. “Where was I when they were being handed out? Let me see... Makuta’s lair... Voya Nui... tunnels... prison... how could I have missed the meeting, I was always where the action was.”

“Quiet,” said Lariska, dagger drawn. “There is one true statement in your babble. There is something not right in this place.”

Brutaka approached, carrying the weapons. Takadox took a long, thin blade, while Carapar grabbed a broadsword. Roodaka pounced on a Rhotuka launcher. Brutaka handed Spiriah a projectile weapon and warned him with a cold smile not to point it at himself... or anyone else. Vezon got a spear, which he turned over in his hands with no real enthusiasm.

“What’s it do?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Brutaka answered. “But with your powers, you don’t need it, right?”

Vezon brightened. “Right,” he agreed, having forgotten once again that he had no powers. Carapar growled in frustration and stalked away.

“We have what we came for,” Takadox said nervously. “Let’s go.”

“There’s something in that cave up ahead,” said Lariska. “I can hear what sounds like breathing, but it’s a... wet sound, as if the being were inhaling through mud. And there’s something else... it almost sounds like... something slithering.”

Spiriah took a step back. “I know where we are,” he said, his eyes darting from side to side as if expecting an attack. “Mutran told me of this place, though it didn’t look like this ages ago. We have to go. We have to go now!”

But it was already too late. Vast walls of rock suddenly sprang up from the shore line, forming a 200-foot high wall around the island and cutting the team off from their boat. “Blast it down,” Brutaka ordered. But even the power of his blade was not enough to penetrate the stone.

Spiriah had shapeshifted himself some wings and was trying to fly over the top. A sharp spear of stone erupted out of the top of the wall and impaled one of his wings, sending him spiraling toward the ground. Lariska ran, leapt, hit the wall feet first, and propelled herself into mid-air to catch the falling Makuta.

There was no time to marvel at her athletic feat or make other attempts to escape. For now a voice was coming from the cave, but not a voice like anyone present had ever heard before. It sounded like the slimy, repulsive sound that comes when a nest of feeder worms is disturbed. Even Brutaka had to suppress a shudder.

“Visitors,” said the voice. “At last.”

“Who are you?” said Brutaka. “Did you imprison us here? I warn you, you don’t know the power you face.”

A massive tentacle shot out of the cave, wrapping itself around Brutaka and pulling him inside. The next moment, he was in the presence of something so horrible, so alien, that it took all his willpower just to hold on to his sanity.

“Now,” said the entity that held him in its grip. “Now tell Tren Krom of your power.”

Chapter 6

Brutaka tried to close his eyes. It didn’t help. He couldn’t get the image of Tren Krom out of his mind – a writhing, crimson mass of tentacles emerging from a gelatinous central core, with two dead yellow eyes that somehow followed every movement without ever moving themselves. At least, that was what he had seen at a glance – somehow, Brutaka knew to gaze for long at Tren Krom would be to invite madness.

The entity seemed over time to have merged with the stone floor and walls of its cave, so that lurker and place of concealment were one. The acrid stench of decay hung over everything. In vain, Brutaka tried to break free of the grip of Tren Krom’s tentacle. He could feel the strange being trying to probe his mind, but so far, Brutaka’s mental training had allowed him to resist. If that should fail, he knew, the secrets of the Order of Mata Nui would be exposed to this monster.

“What wonders have come into my universe in the millennia since my exile?” Tren Krom said softly, his voice as revolting as his form. “I must know!”

Hesitantly, the other members of Brutaka’s team had entered the cave, only to wish they hadn’t. It was only Lariska, protosteel dagger in hand, who kept them from fleeing.

“You think me an alien... an ‘other’...” Tren Krom continued. “But I am of the substance of this universe, and I walked here long before you or even Mata Nui himself. Have you not heard the tales?”

“There is a Tren Krom in legend,” said Brutaka. “But... the tales obviously left some parts out.”

Tren Krom laughed. The sound made the team wish death would come for them right now. “Before the Great Spirit Mata Nui was born, the Great Beings created one being who was purely organic. They taught me the ways of the universe they were creating and they placed me in its core. There I was to remain, maintaining the heat, the light, all the forces that made their creation whole...”

Brutaka had managed to work an arm partway loose. With a little luck, he would be able to get his hand on a dagger and cut himself free... all he needed was time. “So what happened? How did you end up here?”

“My time was always to be short,” Tren Krom replied. “I was to shepherd this universe until Mata Nui was prepared to take power. A Matoran of Light came to me and said the hour had come for me to move on... a crafter of canisters he was, whose sanity did not survive our encounter. I surrendered myself to my fate, only to be exiled here by the Great Beings and bound to this rock.” His voice tuned heavy with bitterness. “The universe, it seems, did not need two entities supreme.”

“What... what do you want with us?” whispered Vezon. “And please don’t say someone to hold your mirror for you.”

“I would know what has gone on in the universe in the last 100 millennia,” Tren Krom answered. “My visitors have been few in number. You seven will remain here and I will gain the knowledge I need from your minds... of course, sadly, you may have no minds left when I am done.”

“Why ask us?” said Lariska. “You obviously don’t really care.”

“Would you shut up?” hissed Carapar. “Rule number one: don’t annoy the giant, tentacled monster, or don’t they teach that one in The Shadowed One’s school?”

“Be quiet,” snapped Lariska. “Tren Krom... your universe is in danger. It’s our job to help save it. If you keep us here, you’ll be hurting the one thing you helped bring into being.”

Carapar edged slowly to the side, sword in hand. No one paid any attention – all eyes were on Lariska, who had been grabbed by one of Tren Krom’s many arms. Without the discipline Brutaka possessed, her mind was an open book to the entity. She screamed as a lifetime of memories were sifted through in an instant, screamed as she saw glimpses of the ancient mind of Tren Krom. When he finally released her, she collapsed on the stone floor.

“Mutran,” Tren Krom muttered to himself. “So long ago now, I entered his mind … and he mine … and so he learned how best to strike at Mata Nui. He and his kind have dared reach for power that fate chose to deny them. How... intriguing.”

“It’s more than that,” Brutaka said. “Tell him, Spiriah – tell him what will happen to him if the Makuta succeed in their plans.”

“If the Plan succeeds...” Spiriah began. He glanced around as if one of his former comrades might be somewhere nearby, listening. “A shadow will fall... Makuta will rule the universe, their will enforced by Rahkshi. Anyone with the power to threaten that rule will die... and that means anyone.”

“Impossible,” said Tren Krom. Suddenly, the minds of every team member were filled with nightmarish images projected by the tentacled entity, visions that would sicken even the mad. “No one can approach without my assent. No one can fight me. No one can kill me. I am eternal!”

Brutaka had his dagger in hand now. “Maybe not,” he said. “But I’m betting there was a time you said no one could bind you... and look what happened.”

Tren Krom paused in thought. Brutaka started to make his move, then caught Carapar out of the corner of his eye. The Barraki was raising his sword to strike the entity. It was too late to shout, too late to stop him.

Carapar brought his blade down, confident he had taken his enemy by surprise. Then a third eye suddenly appeared on Tren Krom, one gazing right at Carapar. The Barraki froze in mid-blow. A shaft of energy shot out from the eye, bathing him in its glow. The next instant, Carapar shattered into fragments as if he had been made of crystal. Then there was nothing left of him but a pile of glittering dust on the stone floor.

“I helped to birth a world of order,” Tren Krom whispered. “But from what I have seen in the female’s mind... you have turned it into a universe of madness and fear. It is not worth saving. But it is the universe you and your kind deserve.”

Tren Krom hurled Brutaka at his team. Spiriah used his magnetic powers to catch him before he could slam into the wall. The tentacles withdrew then, wrapping themselves around the core of Tren Krom’s being.

“Go,” the entity said. “Take yourselves from my prison... take your memories and plans with you... for the horrors already in your minds are worse than any I could visit upon you. I condemn you to your fate – life in the universe you and your kind have made.”

No one was going to take the time to argue. Gathering up Brutaka and Lariska, they fled the cave even as the stone walls that surrounded the island receded into the sand. Only Takadox paused to look back at the cavern where Carapar had died, wondering for a moment just what it would take to end the life of a being older than the stars.

Chapter 7

Brutaka and Lariska stood together, watching Takadox standing silently by the rail of the ship. “I worry about that one,” said Lariska. “He has not spoken a word since we left Tren Krom’s island, after the death of his friend Carapar.”

“Friend?” snorted Brutaka. “Barraki don’t have friends, just people they use – and Carapar was Takadox’s favorite puppet. Besides, don’t waste your worry on him – save it for us.” He pointed off the bow. “We’ve arrived.”

Looming out of the mist was an island of black sand and jagged rock, volcanic peaks and strange Rahi arcing and wheeling through the sky. Despite the bright light that played off the waters around it, the island seemed to be in perpetual shadow.

“Welcome to Artidax,” said Brutaka.

Vezon approached, chuckling. “Hope we survive our stay.”

Brutaka looked around at his team – a Barraki, half a Skakdi, a Makuta, a former queen of the Visorak, a Dark Hunter, and himself. “Well, if we don’t, who knows? The world might be better off without us.”

Brutaka and Spiriah, being the two most powerful team members, led the way to shore. As they trod on the ebon sands, all seemed quiet. “So you know nothing about the defenses here?” asked Brutaka.

“Only what Krika sometimes talked about. Ideas he had,” said Spiriah. “You realize this whole thing is a terrible idea.”

“What?”

“Freeing Miserix,” said Spiriah. “He can’t stop the Plan. All we will find here is an early death. Listen, we -- ”

What happened next was startlingly fast. The black sands began to swirl around Spiriah, forming a hand which grabbed the Makuta and started dragging him down. Brutaka grabbed Spiriah’s hand, calling to the others, “Help me!”

Lariska, Vezon and Roodaka rushed to his aid. Takadox hung back, occasionally glancing toward the ship as if contemplating escape. The pull of the sand was too strong and Spiriah’s mask had almost disappeared beneath it. Then Roodaka fired her Rhotuka launcher, the spinner striking the living sand and mutating the grains into a swarm of fireflyers. Unable to maintain its grip in this new form, it freed Spiriah. The Makuta crawled back onto the beach, cursing.

“I’m an idiot,” Brutaka said. “I should have realized – Krika rigged this place to sense the presence of a Makuta and react. He didn’t want Miserix escaping, or any other Brotherhood member finding him and finishing him off.”

“Then I would be insane to go any further,” said Spiriah. “I brought you here – you don’t need me anymore.”

“On the contrary,” said Lariska. “I think you would be very useful. Anyone ever hear of a stalking kinloka?”

Surprisingly, Vezon was the only one who nodded. When everyone turned to look at him, he shrugged. “Vezok. He saw lots of things, and since I came from him, I saw them too. Say, when we are done here, who’s up for killing him? I’ll even clean up after.”

Lariska turned back to Brutaka, ignoring their lunatic companion. “Kinloka are rodents, found in many places, among them Zakaz. When the Skakdi need to cross land that might be booby-trapped, they send the kinloka through first. The creatures set off the traps and the Skakdi can cross safely.”

“And the traps here are sensitive to Makuta,” said Roodaka, smiling. “I see, I see. And come to think of it, Spiriah is somewhat rodent-like.”

Spiriah, back on his feet, looked right at Brutaka. “No. Not even if you threw in the chance to eviscerate that Vortixx --”

“Watch your mouth,” Roodaka spat, aiming her launcher at him, “while you still have only one.”

Brutaka put his arm around Spiriah and led him away. “You’re not looking at the big picture here. When all this is over, the Brotherhood could still be a powerful creature, only without a head. It’s going to need a new leader... and the beings I work for will remember who helped them... and who didn’t. Trust me, they have long memories.”

It only took a few more minutes of whispered conversation before Spiriah turned back to the group and announced that he would be their guide to Artidax. He immediately set off inland, with the rest following. Lariska fell in beside Brutaka, saying, “You know full well he could never be leader of the Brotherhood.”

“Let him think he might get to be the head,” Brutaka replied. “It will distract him from the fact that he might well lose his own here.”

Their path took them right up to the slope of a volcano. A tunnel had been bored through the mountain at some point, the only way to directly traverse the island. Spiriah was striding on ahead when Vezon leapt in front of him, holding up his hands. Then he pointed downward, at a razor-thin vine stretched across the path. It led up to a pile of boulders poised precariously on the slope.

Spiriah stepped carefully over the vine, followed by the others, and went into the tunnel. It was only when they were already inside that Brutaka noticed someone was missing. “Where’s Takadox?”

Lariska turned. “There! Look out!”

Brutaka turned to see Takadox bringing his blade down on the vine. In the moment before an avalanche of rocks cut them off from the Barraki and trapped them in the tunnel, they all could see his evil smile.

Chapter 8

Brutaka pushed aside a pile of rubble and struggled to his feet. Around him, Spiriah and Roodaka were using shadow energy to blast themselves free. Vezon and Lariska were nowhere to be seen.

He glanced back toward the now blocked tunnel entrance. A few blasts of power would no doubt clear away the pile of rocks and stones, but Takadox would be long gone by now. There would be time to settle with him later.

“I’ve got him!”

Brutaka turned to see Lariska holding a squirming Vezon by the throat. “I caught him sneaking down a side tunnel,” the Dark Hunter said.

“Let us track down that traitor,” snarled Roodaka. “I want his shattered body beneath my heel.”

“We’re here to do a job,” Brutaka replied. “We keep moving. All of us,” he added, looking hard at Vezon.

The tunnel proved to be far more than a mere pathway. It opened upon a vast underground cavern spanned by a narrow bridge made of fibrous protodermis. Down below, the floor was littered with a massive tangle of what looked like dead branches intertwined with each other. Deep channels had been carved into the walls by lava flows over the centuries. Strange flying Rahi hung from the ceiling, their six eyes blinking slowly at the sight of intruders into their realm.

“Remind me not to let Makuta Krika arrange for my next pleasure trip,” muttered Spiriah.

“This whole island is volcanic,” said Brutaka. “Minor eruptions over the years, but nothing major. Tahu and Kopaka are supposed to have taken care of the problem. Otherwise, we would probably be flash fried by now.”

“No Carapar, no Takadox,” said Vezon in a sing-song voice. “Who will go next? Spiriah the Sullen? Brutaka the Boorish? Vezon the Vanquisher? Or Lariska --”

The Dark Hunter whipped out a dagger and flung it into the stone right at Vezon’s feet. The mad half-Skakdi turned to her, smiling, and said, “Or Lariska, the wise, wonderful, and gloriously homicidal.”

Brutaka led the way across the bridge. At the far side, light spilled through a narrow opening. The symbol of the Brotherhood of Makuta was seared into the stone beside that portal. Someone – maybe Krika, maybe Miserix – had marked their path, so long ago.

“What are we going to do with this legendary Makuta when we find him?” asked Roodaka. “What makes you think he will help the likes of you?”

“Miserix hates the Brotherhood for turning on him,” Brutaka replied. “He would ally with three Matoran and an Ussal crab if it would get him revenge on his fellow Makuta.”

“And so what will he be for you?” Roodaka pressed. “A general? A hero? A symbol around which to rally resistance to the Brotherhood?”

Brutaka shook his head. “Nothing quite so grand. He’ll be a weapon, like a Rhotuka launcher or a ghost blaster. And we’re going to aim him right at the Makuta fortress on Destral.”

Roodaka smiled. “And who, might I ask... are ‘we’?”

Brutaka smiled back, the grin of a Kavinika about to feast. “Now, now … what you don’t know won’t cut you in two and dump you off this bridge.”

“I hear something,” said Lariska. “Up ahead... it might be a voice... or the rumble of the volcano.”

“I hear something too,” said Vezon.

“Shut up,” replied Roodaka.

“And I see something as well,” Vezon continued. “But since you aren’t interested...”

“We’re not,” Roodaka snapped.

“Personally, I always find my comments and observations most interesting,” Vezon rambled on. “You haven’t truly lived until you have seen the world through the eyes of madness. Why, half the time I don’t know if what I see is what’s really there, or what I wish was there … or what I pray, I beg, I plead is not.”

“Why did we bring him again?” said Spiriah.

“He breaks up the monotony,” said Lariska.

“I’d like to break something much more satisfying,” hissed Roodaka. “I hear Skakdi make a most appealing sound when you snap them into pieces.”

“But, since you seem to have no interest,” Vezon continued, utterly disregarding his teammates’ comments. “Well, then, I won’t tell you that the floor is moving. You can find out on your own.”

“The floor is...?” Brutaka repeated. He looked down. Far below, the tangled growth of dead branches had indeed begun to shift. The reason why rapidly became clear: they weren’t branches at all, but the twisted limbs of thousands of crimson insects, now disentangling themselves from each other. Apparently, it was time to wake up and they were ready for their morning meal.

Swifter than anyone could have predicted, they began to swarm up the walls of the canyon on every side. In an instant, they had blocked the openings on both ends of the bridge. The surrounding rock was now gone, buried beneath a skittering sea of red and thousands of unblinking, predatory eyes.

“No, no, no,” said Vezon, shaking his head. “Too late to apologize. Much, much too late.”

Chapter 9

Brutaka scanned the cavern with narrowed eyes. The glowing eyes of the insects all around made it feel as if he were trapped in some lunatic starfield. Behind him, he could hear Vezon humming softly to himself, as if out for an afternoon stroll.

“Do we fight our way out of here?” asked Lariska, hand on the hilt of her dagger.

Brutaka’s answer was to turn to Spiriah. “Okay. You control Rahi. Make them clear a path.”

“On one condition,” said Spiriah. “Once I do, I go free. I turn right around and march out, take the boat – if Takadox hasn’t already – and leave. And I never see or hear from any of you, or anyone associated with you, again.”

“I wasn’t asking you,” replied Brutaka. “I was telling you.”

“I am a Makuta,” said Spiriah. “Disgraced, perhaps; a victim of jealousy and prejudice, most definitely. But I will not be dictated to by some obnoxious, insane --”

Brutaka hit Spiriah a solid blow in the mask, knocking the Makuta over the side of the narrow bridge. Spiriah caught on to the span, just barely, and hung in space.

“I think this is what they call ‘in no position to deal,’” said Brutaka. He triggered his mask power, opening a dimensional portal in space just below Spiriah’s feet. “If I move that opening just a little bit further toward you, you’ll find yourself in a dimension full of beings made of solid light. Know what they eat there? Shadow. You’ll be a food bank for them, Spiriah, but I have to warn you – they’re always hungry. And they don’t close their mouths when they chew.”

Spiriah said nothing. Instead, he reduced his density and floated up and away from Brutaka’s portal. Then he drifted back down to the bridge and turned solid once more. “I’ll do it,” he said. “Then I leave. I advise you not to try and stop me.”

The Makuta concentrated, triggering his power to control Rahi beasts. Nothing happened, other than restless stirring among the insects. After a few moments, Spiriah gave up in frustration. “They’re already under the control of a more powerful will. It must be Miserix.”

Brutaka gestured toward the wall of insect life that blocked the way they had come. “Then I guess you’re not leaving.” He turned to Lariska. “And we’re fighting. You stay back with Vezon. Roodaka, Spiriah and I will lead the way.”

On Brutaka’s signal, he and his two powerful allies unleashed their powers at the insects who blocked the passage way up ahead. As quickly as the crimson creatures fell, more came to replace them. Worse, the ones behind were now skittering across the bridge, closing in on Vezon and Lariska.

“I have an idea,” said Roodaka, summoning a Rhotuka disk into her launcher. She fired at the insects up ahead, the power of her disk mutating them into unrecognizable creatures. An instant later, the other insects fell upon the unfortunate victims of her attack. The mutated insects were dead in seconds, killed for being different than the rest of the species.

Seeing that her ploy had worked, Roodaka repeated the process, this time focusing on the insects blocking the end of the bridge. As the mutations took hold and their former allies turned on them, an opening appeared in the wall of living creatures. With a roar of triumph, she led a charge across the bridge and into the tunnel beyond. The team didn’t stop running until they were well away from the cavern.

“Are they following?” asked Brutaka.

“They don’t seem to be,” Lariska answered. “Maybe they don’t like to leave their nest.”

“”Or maybe they just know we have to go back out that way, so they can eat us then,” Vezon offered, cheerfully.

“Maybe there’s another way out up ahead,” said Brutaka.

“Or maybe we’ll get to like it here,” said Vezon. “A few grass mats, some cave drawings, the heads of my enemies mounted on the wall … it could be quite pleasant.”

“Brutaka!” Roodaka called from up ahead. “I think you had best see this.”

The team rushed through the tunnel to join Roodaka. She was standing at the tunnel’s end, looking out at another vast chamber. More specifically, she was looking at the largest occupant of the chamber, a massive dragon-like beast chained to the stone floor. All around it flew much smaller Rahi, darting and dodging the shadow hand that occasionally shot out from the creature’s chest.

“What … is that?” asked Lariska.

Brutaka shook his head in amazement. “Well, it’s about 40 feet tall, red and silver, with four legs, a tail, and a nasty disposition – and it’s who we’re here to rescue.”

“Miserix,” whispered Spiriah.

“All right, we can take him home,” said Vezon, “but don’t expect me to clean up after him.”

Chapter 10

Vezon looked from the massive, chained form of the dragon-like beast to his partners, then back at the dragon, then over to Brutaka. He opened his mouth to speak, but Brutaka cut him off.

“Don’t say it,” said Brutaka.

“We’re going to need --” Vezon began.

“A bigger boat. I know,” Brutaka said. “Anybody know what those... things... are flying all around?”

Small, winged creatures were indeed flitting all around the dragon. Now and then, one would let out a scream that shattered rock. “They’re called klakk,” said Makuta Spiriah. “Something Mutran created a long time back – their sonic scream is formidable. They must be meant as guardians.”

Brutaka frowned. Guardians, all right, but against whom? He knew the dragon was in fact Makuta Miserix, ex-leader of the Brotherhood. He had been ordered executed, but Makuta Krika had instead chained him up here on the island of Artidax. It was Brutaka’s job to rescue him so the Order of Mata Nui could use him against his former organization.

At that moment, Miserix suddenly took notice of them. His great eyes narrowed as he spoke and his voice rumbled like a distant avalanche. “Who... are... you?”

Brutaka started to say, “Friends,” then decided he didn’t really want to be considered a friend of that thing. “We’re here to free you,” he said instead. “Can you shapeshift to a smaller form?”

“Why would I wish to do that?” asked Miserix. “Do you know how many of these creatures I had to absorb to reach a size where their screams no longer pain me?”

“See, the size is a problem, your immenseness,” Vezon cut in. “We only have a small boat, hardly more than a raft, really, and if it sinks we have to swim. Personally, I am not big on swimming – some friends of mine went for a swim, I heard, and now they look like sea snakes, just a head and a spine. And I have no spine, so I would be just a head, and --”

Miserix’s eyes glowed red. A burst of laser vision struck Vezon, sending him tumbling backwards. “Gnat,” muttered the Makuta.

Turning to check on Vezon, Brutaka saw that Spiriah had backed way up into the shadows. Miserix noticed too and bellowed, “Tell that one to come forth.”

Spiriah took a reluctant step forward. At the sight of another Makuta, the dragon smiled. “Spiriah. I do remember you. When Teridax rose against me, you were one of the first to be by his side. I have so looked forward to meeting you again.” Brutaka tightened his grip on his weapon. He did not like Miserix’s tone at all.

“Do you know I have not seen one of my species since Krika left me here?” Miserix continued.

“We all meant to come,” Spiriah said hurriedly. “Teridax wouldn’t let us. We all knew we would benefit by your experience, your power, your very presence.”

“But you did not come,” rumbled Miserix. “So now I shall benefit from yours.”

A hand made of living shadow erupted from the dragon’s chest, grabbed Spiriah, and pulled him into Miserix’s body. There wasn’t even time for a scream.

Vezon, back on his feet, stopped dead when he saw the Makuta consumed. “I thought we were here to rescue him from captivity,” he whispered. “Not from that mid-day empty feeling.”

“You know, we could just leave you here to rot,” Brutaka said to Miserix. “Or wait for the next volcanic eruption to rain lava down on your oversized head. Or... you could have your chance to take revenge on your brothers. What’s it going to be?”

Miserix considered. Then he leaned forward as far as his chains would allow him and said, “Make your attempt, for what good it will do.”

“I have seen those kind of chains before,” said Lariska. “They grow and shrink with him. They feed on his own power and use it to hold him.”

Brutaka hefted his weapon. “Can they be broken?”

“Not without causing him great pain.”

Brutaka gave a grim smile. “I’ll cry tomorrow. Find me a weak link. Roodaka, we are going to need your help.”

The Vortixx had been silent since they had entered Miserix’s presence. Brutaka had no doubt she was planning something. But she dutifully stepped forward and stood beside him, her eyes never leaving the chained Makuta.

“There,” said Lariska, pointing to a segment of the chain that held Miserix’s right arm. “We concentrate our fire there.”

Brutaka and Roodaka took aim, he with his blade, she with her outstretched hand. Energy and shadow bolts struck the weak segment of chain, bathing it in a continuous stream of power. After several minutes, the substance of the chain began to flake off. After a few more, it began to crack. Then the link shattered to pieces. Miserix screamed, loud enough to crack the mountain itself.

The klakk reacted instantly, flying toward the rescue team and unleashing their sonic screams. Vezon and Lariska fought them off, while Brutaka used his blade to parry the streams of sound. Meanwhile, Miserix raised his arm tentatively. Seeing that it was indeed free of its bonds, he reached over with it and tore the other chain from the ground. This time, he did not scream, but only smiled.

The klakk were gaining ground now, driving the team back toward where the insects were still lurking. Miserix watched the battle for a moment in silence. Then he opened his mouth and unleashed a power scream that felled the klakk, along with Vezon and Lariska. Brutaka and Roodaka barely remained conscious. Crawling over, Brutaka checked on his two team members – both were still living.

“Now, then,” said Miserix. “Where is Teridax?”

Brutaka laughed. “And if I tell you, you have no reason to keep us alive. Gratitude is not high on the list of Makuta emotions. I’ll show you. But you are going to need to shrink down to make it out the way we came.”

“Your lack of imagination is disappointing,” said Miserix, in as close to good spirits as a Makuta ever got. He reared back and struck the side of the mountain with all his might, once, twice, again. The rock cracked and began to crumble. Miserix followed up with his fragmentation power, reducing the entire side of the volcano to shards of stone. Beyond it, Brutaka could see the sky and the sea.

“At last!” said Miserix. “After so many millennia – I am free!”

Before Brutaka’s startled eyes, the dragon grew wings. Then Miserix turned his crimson-scaled head to Brutaka and said, “Come. Show me where my enemy hides, so I may grind his armor to dust and feed on his energies.”

“No!” shouted Roodaka. “They want to lead you into a trap! Listen to me, I too am an enemy of the Brotherhood. Brutaka wants to use you, to sacrifice you as a pawn in a war against the Makuta. I want you for an ally!”

Miserix lowered his lead and leaned in so that his massive face was up against Roodaka’s. When he spoke, it was in a whisper. “Little one, I am Makuta Miserix. I am no one’s pawn. I am no one’s ally.” His next words came in a roar that drove Roodaka back into the rock wall. “And I am no one’s fool!!”

Brutaka watched, looking unimpressed. “Are you done?”

Miserix nodded slowly. “Let us go. I have a universe to rediscover.”

Brutaka loaded the stunned Roodaka and the now semi-conscious Lariska and Vezon onto the dragon’s back. Then he climbed on himself. Miserix unfurled his wings and stepped out into the open air. They soared high above the island, pausing only long enough for Miserix to make a muttered vow to come back and destroy the place one day. Brutaka noted that the team’s boat was gone – Takadox had gotten away after all, then.

Let him run. It doesn’t matter, thought Brutaka. A storm is coming to this universe, and when it hits, there will be nowhere for anyone to hide.

Miserix spread his wings and turned toward the north, carrying his passengers into the unknown.

The End

#bionicle #federation of fear #brutaka #barraki #takadox #carapar #lariska #vezon #roodaka #spiriah #tren krom #miserix #makuta

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etherrealoblivion · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter Twelve: We May Have A Problem

Table of Contents

Fic summary: Owning a bookstore in downtown D.C. came with its fair share of downsides. You never thought that being the target of a serial killer would be one of them. Luckily, a nice FBI agent by the name of Spencer Reid is assigned to watch over you. What's the worst that could happen?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Words: 1,810

MASTERLIST

When you woke up, Spencer was standing, fully dressed and talking on the phone.

“No, I didn’t hear anything. . . . Yes, it had been open but this morning it was closed and so was her bedroom door. . . . A new one? . . . What book? . . . Okay, I understand. . . . Yes, sir. . . . You too.”

He hung up, running a hand through his hair and turning towards you. Startled to see you awake, he came near and sat on the couch.

“Hey,” his voice was much gentler than it had just been on the phone. Presumably, he’d been talking to Hotch, his boss.

“You said ‘A new one’. Is there a new victim?”

“I really don’t think—“

“Spencer.” You didn’t have time to argue with him about whether or not you should know what was going on. “I need to know.”

He must’ve known it was no use putting up a fight. He sighed softly before he spoke, setting the tone for the conversation.

“Yes. There’s a new victim, pushing the total up to six. I shouldn’t be telling you this,” he said, more to himself than you.

“I need to know,” you repeated, urging him to go on. “Please.”

Silent for a moment, he said, “Okay, but first get dressed and eat breakfast. Then we’ll sit down and talk.”

Right. You were still missing your pants. And your last shred of dignity.

So you stood, went to your bedroom, and dressed in jeans and a tank top. It would be a decidedly unremarkable outfit if not for the fact you never wore very exposing clothes, such as a tank top. This particular one happened to expose just the right amount of skin. You wondered if Spencer would notice. Not that that was important! Someone had been killed, for christ sakes.

“What time did you get up?”

He’d found a box of cereal and poured two bowls. The living room was much cleaner and you suspected he’d tidied up, ridding the room of evidence of last night.

“Six,” he said with a mouthful of cereal, not sparing you a look. “Y/N, there’s something I need to tell y—“

You had stepped into his line of sight and his jaw had dropped. It was like a moment out of a sitcom.

“What is it?”

Suddenly aware of the way he was gaping at you, he adjusted, looking at you in confusion.

“What’s what?”

You would have laughed at his shock if not for the pressing matter at hand.

“You said there’s something you need to tell me?” and you sat next to him, picking up the bowl of cereal and eating.

“Right. Yes, um. . . .” he hesitated for a moment, putting down his bowl and breathing deeply. When he looked at you, you understood that there was something more to what had happened.

“Just tell me,” you took his hand in yours and he let you. Strange how you were the one in danger but you frequently found yourself comforting him. Not that you were complaining! It actually felt nice to take care of someone else. Made you feel less useless.

“Last night . . .” you drew a quick breath in anticipation of the discussion to come. “Last night, someone snuck into the apartment.”

You released the breath you’d been holding. That wasn’t what you were expecting. You waited for him to go on.

“When I woke up, the window and door to your bedroom were closed even though last night they’d been open. Someone must have entered the apartment. Presumably the stalker. I’ve already called the team and they’re sending a unit over.”

He paused, giving you the opportunity to ask, “Why didn’t he . . . kill me?”

“We’re operating under the assumption that he doesn’t want to kill you. He wants to play out a fantasy with you but since he’s too scared to approach you, he has to substitute you with other women. However, we have to assume that he won’t stop killing until he finds some way to play out his fantasy with you.”

“What’s the fantasy?”

Spencer paused.

“We aren’t quite sure. Each of the victims was killed in a unique manner based on certain books. A copy of each book was found at the crime scene. We’re still unsure as to why he’s choosing these specific books as there’s not a lot that connects them.”

“How did he kill them?” you didn’t want to know but you had to.

He seemed to understand this so he answered without too much protest.

“The first victim was found with a copy of The Handmaid's Tale. She’d had her eye scratched out and was hanged. The second book was The Picture of Dorian Gray, victim found stabbed next to a self-portrait. The Telltale Heart and The Great Gatsby pretty much speak for themselves. The most recent one was 1984. She, uh . . . had a cage strapped to her head and . . . well, you can picture the rest. Are you okay?”

Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, breath frozen in your throat, putting a pattern together.

“That’s only five. What book did the new one have? How was she killed?”

“Oh, um. A Clockwork Orange. It looked like he made her jump out of a window. What’s wrong?”

You stood and started to pace slowly, processing all this information. Absentmindedly, biting your nails, you thought hard if it was just a coincidence.

It can’t be. Is it? It must!

“Y/N!” Spencer was in front of you, crouching slightly with his hands on your shoulders. “What’s wrong? Should I not have told you?”

Rather than answer, you pulled him to your room, flicked on the light, and sat on the floor in front of your nightstand. Underneath it was a little cabinet, both doors closed, a little latch locking them.

You looked at Spencer. He looked so worried like it was his fault all this was happening. You wished you could kiss all worries away so that it was just him and you and nothing else. But you couldn’t. There was something far more pressing now.

With a flick of your wrist, you unlocked the cabinet and opened it. There were two little shelves, each holding an assortment of books.

“I keep my oldest classic books in here,” you said, watching his expression change to understanding as he saw the books.

The first six on the top shelf were the exact ones that had been found at each crime scene.

Spencer’s team had arrived two hours later, preceded by an entire Crime Scene Investigation unit. Your entire apartment was cordoned off, the only people in and out being the FBI personnel, so you were standing in the hallway, watching people help themselves to your apartment.

“Y/N?” it was the blonde woman. “I’m sorry we haven’t been formally introduced, I’m Jennifer Jareau, I’m the media liaison. We’ve decided to release this case to the press. It might help push the killer out of hiding, attract more attention.”

You nodded, understanding what that meant. They’d have to give all sorts of details that involved you. What the victims looked like: you. Why he was killing them: you. And who he was really after: . . . you.

“We also need to change your cover, move you to a safer spot.”

You looked at her, confused.

“Why?”

“He clearly knows where you live, who is with you, and how to get in. We’re going to relocate you to a secure location. Doctor Reid will take you as soon as your things are packed.”

“Wait, I don’t want to go somewhere else. I wanna stay here. Can’t you just put more cops nearby?”

You were being stubborn, you knew. But your apartment was the only place you felt comfortable anymore, anywhere else and there was the threat of being attacked. Only now, that threat applied here.

“We need to keep as many people working on catching the unsub as possible. The more people worrying about you, the less trying to catch this guy.”

It was blunt but she was right. They needed to be focusing on taking him down, not keeping you safe. They needed the best people on the case. Then why. . . ?

“Then why is Spence the one protecting me? He’s a literal genius, shouldn’t he be heading up the case?”

She looked at you quizzically, like she was trying to figure you out.

“What?” you spat harshly, having had enough of not getting answers.

Coolly, surely from years of experience dealing with impatient people, she replied, “Doctor Reid has expressed a . . . request to keep his assignment with you.”

You took a moment to process that information. He’d asked to stay with me. He’d requested it.

“Why?”

Jennifer was looking at you analytically; like she was deciding the right thing to say.

“I don’t know.” And you knew she was telling the truth. She honestly had no idea why Spencer would choose to stay with you rather than help catch the killer.

You smiled politely at her, “Thank you, Jennifer.”

“My friends call me J.J.” she smiled back, lightly placing a hand on your arm comfortingly. Her phone rang. “If you’ll excuse me.”

And she left you in the hallway, surrounded by people yet feeling so alone, wondering when Spencer would be back.

J.J. had to work late, fixing the stupid paperwork error she’d made earlier. Hotch was the only one still there.

Deciding to check in with him before she left, she knocked on the door to his office, already stepping in.

“Hey, I’m gonna head out. You good?”

“Hmm,” he grunted, not looking up from the case file.

Debating whether or not to prod, she sat in the chair across from him. He glanced at her, realizing he’d been dismissive.

“Sorry,” he said, wiping a hand over his face and sighing.

J.J. chuckled. “It’s ok. It’s been a rough week.”

“Tell me about it. This guy hasn’t been leaving any indicators of who he is, where he works, and why he’s targeting this girl.” Hotch slapped the file and sat back.

J.J. shuffled in her seat awkwardly.

“Has Reid ever . . .”

But she trailed off, prompting Hotch to look at her seriously.

“Has Reid ever what?”

“Has he ever asked to be assigned as a protector? Rather than be in on the case?”

Hotch looked at her suspiciously, trying to recall previous cases.

“Not that I can remember. Why? Wondering what makes this case different?”

J.J. shook her head.

“It’s not the case.”

“What do you mean?”

She smiled sheepishly.

“We may have a problem. Earlier, outside her apartment, she was talking about how she didn’t want to move locations. And—”

“—Well, that’s normal. She feels comfortable where she is, wary of pushing her comfort zone.”

“Hotch,” J.J. said seriously, prompting Hotch to look at her again. “She called him ‘Spence’.”

After a moment Hotch sighed, face-palming.

“Shit.”

Taglist: @aperrywilliams @mjloveskids666 @dolanfivsosxox @criesinreid @fanficsrmylife @racerparker @sammypotato67 @lukeskisses @reidcrimes @you-had-me-at-hello-dear @l0ve-0f-my-life @thatsonezesty13 @yourmisosoup @queenofthebees003 @pinkdiamond1016 @matthewreid @perverted-guardian-angel @boiled-onionrings @rainsong01 @the-lovely-emma-swan @andiebeaword @itsmoony

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #reader insert #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds #fluff #angst #jennifer jareau #aaron hotchner #slow burn

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