#and i was like. is there a wait. are there people out there in XXI century waiting in line to get the leeches | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rollingsins · 2 years ago

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all hers, part xviii

summary: R and the Scooby-gang put into place their Ghostface trap.

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, violence, murder.

word count: 2.1k

a/n: thought it was time for the GF reveal! were you right? wrong? idk, let me know!

You make it to the school in the passenger seat of Sam’s car without speaking the entire journey.

You feel hollow. Like the world is crumbling around you, and Sam must feel it too. Her grip on the wheel is tight, sturdy, like she knows exactly what she has to do now.

What you both have to do now.

Get him. Kill him. For Tara.

Mindy’s waiting outside the school when you pull up.

She peers into the backseat, looking for Tara, looking a little confused when she can find her.

“Where’s Tara?” Mindy asks.

Sam brushes her off.

“Change of plan. Tara isn’t coming. It’s just us.”

Mindy’s eyes widen.

“Sam,” She says, voice slow. Her eyes dart to you, “We can’t do this without Tara.”

“Tara isn’t coming,” Sam stresses, “And we need to do this. For Tara, do you understand?”

Mindy blinks. She fidgets with her phone.

“I’m going to call her first and check.” She eyes you, no doubt terrified of the consequence if something were to happen to you. Tara isn’t shy about her love for you, and she certainly isn’t shy about what would happen to anyone who ever hurt you.

“She’s been arrested,” You say, voice impatient, “She won’t pick up. The only way to help her is to catch this guy.”

Mindy gawps.

“She’s been arrested?”

“There’s no time,” Sam says, urgently, “Mindy, come on. YN, go to detention.”

She puts her hands on your shoulders, squeezes tight.

“And good luck.”

The plan is so stupidly simple, yet there are about a hundred ways it can go wrong.

You run through them on your way to detention, mind whirling, barely having the strength to put one foot in front of the other.

Firstly, the band of so-called Ghost-face protectors is possibly the worst collaboration of people in the entire school to do the job. Chad’s a meathead. Liv, his ditzy companion. Mindy is all ludicrous theories and useless horror film knowledge, and you’re either so small or so weak your hundred pound, five foot one girlfriend can put you on your back without so much as breaking a sweat.

Your only saving grace, it seems, is Sam.

You’d left her with Mindy, shotgun in hand, dressed in a tank top and a pair of old ripped jeans, looking very much like she’s about to rip through a horde of zombies, rather than take on a single Ghostface.

The only bright side to this awful situation is you no longer have to worry about Tara at the end of Ghostface’s knife. But the alternative - Tara locked in a jail cell for the rest of her life, is almost as bad.

Principal Garcia greets you, looking very much like he’d rather be anywhere else on his Saturday off. Sam had called ahead about Tara and he either doesn’t care, or can’t be bothered to ask how she is.

Instead, he sits at the front of the classroom, peering down at a newspaper through his spectacles as you settle into the front desk, nervously tapping your foot against the ground.

Your eyes draw to the clock on the wall.

The quiet click. The sound of Principal Garcia flipping his newspaper every now and then. Your heart is in your throat and it’s pounding so loud it drowns out almost everything else.

This has to work.

It if doesn’t - you’re fucked.

You look behind you, to the closets lining the back of the room and pray Chad and Liv are already in there. You have one of Sam’s handguns in your backpack. You keep it on your lap, resting your hand on it, needing it close.

Minutes pass.

Ten. Twenty. Thirty.

No sign of Ghostface.

Your eyes glance up at the clock once more.

You swallow. Start to think maybe this entire foolhardy plan is all for nothing.

And then you see it.

Through the crack of glass in the door, the bone-white of the mask. The long, black mouth. The hood. And before you can so much as cry out - Ghostface is ramming into the classroom, his knife raised.

You scream.

Principal Garcia’s head jerks around.

Ghostface’s movements are steady, calculated. He rushes forward and in one easy swing, he slashes his knife towards Principal Garcia and slashes through his raised forearm.

“Sam!” You cry out.

Ghostface’s head whips around to look at you. Principal Garcia crumbles to the ground, gasping, holding his bloodied arm.

The cabinets burst open.

Chad and Liv stumble out. Chad lets out what can only be described as a war-cry and charges forward, taking Ghostface off guard and tackling him to the ground.

You stand, hands shaky as you reach for the pistol in your backpack. You click the safety off and raise it. Chad has Ghostface pinned down. The knife in his hands clatters to the ground.

You squint, heart pounding as you try to find the shot. But their bodies are entwined, Chad’s grip on Ghostface lessening slightly as Ghostface juts his head upwards and smacks it into Chad’s.

Chad cries out.

Ghostface musters the strength to shake Chad off.

You fire out a shot.

But your grip isn’t steady. Your aim all over the place. The bullet whizzes past Ghostface and lodges itself into the blackboard.

Ghostface reaches for his knife and stands. He’s tall, menacing. He steps closer.

“Sam!” You cry out.

The mask tilts. The knife in his hands gleaming. He takes another step closer, confident. Like he knows you’ll miss again.

“Don’t come any closer, asshole.” Liv says. You feel her behind you, at your shoulder, “Shoot him, YN!”

You fire again.

And miss.

All those practices with your Dad. All those bottles you’d blown clean open have nothing on the real thing. The adrenaline is too much. The fear of him is too much.

“Where’s your girlfriend, YN?” He taunts. He flashes the knife, stepping closer once more. Another step and he’d be close enough to disarm you. You stumble back, gun in your hand shaking madly.

“Guess she’s finally getting what she deserves,” He says, “And now I’m going to give you what you deserve.”

The classroom door rams open once again.

It draws both of your attention. It’s Sam, Mindy at her side. Her shotgun is drawn, her eyes blazing.

“Back up asshole,” Sam says, voice even. Her hand isn’t shaking, she’s calm. Steady. You know she won’t miss.

“Take off that mask and I won’t blow you bit from bit,” She says. She moves a little closer.

If Ghostface knows he’s cornered, he doesn’t act like it. He turns from you like you’re not a threat, looks over to Sam and tuts at her.

“Sam, Sam, Sam.” Ghostface says, “So protective. Such a good sister. I wonder if you’d still protect her if you knew. If you knew what sweet baby-Tara did in her spare time.”

Sam cocks the gun.

“Last chance,” She growls, “I won’t ask again.”

The adrenaline in your body evens out. Your heartbeat slows, the determination in your eyes settles. You steady your hands, knowing what you have to do.

Sam wants him alive. Sam wants him to see justice.

But if he’s alive, he can talk.

If he’s alive he’ll tell everyone what Tara’s done. And you can’t have that.

You lift your gun, only slightly. You close one eye, the way your Dad had taught you.

You feel ethereal. Out of body. This is what Tara must feel like when she does it. Vision tunneled, like there’s only one thing in the world you want to do.

And then you shoot a bullet right into Ghostface’s chest.

Liv screams.

The sound of the gun firing leaves your ears ringing.

Sam blinks, startled, as Ghostface stumbles back, clutching the bloodied hole in his chest.

He crumples to the ground, right next to Principal Garcia, gasping.

You charge forward, kicking the knife out of his hands.

There’s only one thing on your mind. You have to know who it is. You have to see his face before you blow it clean off.

You lean down and rip the mask off the fuckers face.

Liv gasps. Chad gawps.

Sam’s grip on the shotgun wavers.

You blink down in surprise.

It’s Richie.

His eyes are wild, hazy. Blood pours thick and fast out of the bullet wound in his chest. The look in his eyes is terrifying. Pure hatred, hatred of you. Hatred of Tara. His mouth opens like he wants to speak, but he’s too injured. He’s moments from death, you can see it in his face.

Sam almost drops her gun. She sinks back, caught only by Mindy who steadies her shoulders.

You swallow, mind racing.

All those nights with him, the games with him. He’d slept only doors down from you and Tara. Tara had been so insistent it was him and you hadn’t listened. Because it didn’t make sense.

Why?

He’s dead before he can give you an answer.

“Holy shit.” Chad murmurs. His hands grip Liv’s shoulders. He looks to you, wide-eyed, “Are you alright?”

There’s a frog in your throat. You clear it once, twice, unable to take your eyes off the man who had tormented you for the past few weeks.

“He didn’t get me.” You say. You suddenly remember Principal Garcia and look over to him. He’s clutching his arm, eyes as wide as everyone else's, but other than the gash, he looks okay.

“Sam,” You murmur, looking over to her.

Her face is white, no doubt her entire world crumbling around her.

“Sam, are you okay? We need to call the police.”

“They’re on their way,” Mindy says, rubbing Sam’s back, “I called them preemptively. Thought we might need them.”

You place your gun on one of the desks, move over to where Sam is sitting. You crouch down, rest your hands on the tops of Sam’s thighs.

“Sam,” You say, “It’s over. It’s going to be okay. This is going to save Tara.”

Sam blinks back at you but she’s barely there. She looks as though she might pass out.

“Sam,” You promise, “It’s over.”

The police arrive not five minutes later.

The Sheriff blazes through the halls, stares wide-eyed at Richie’s dead body, Ghostface mask clattered next to him.

They take your statements, one by one.

Mindy tells them in great detail about the plan to capture him. Principal Garcia is rushed off to hospital to treat his arm. Sam sits quietly, not uttering a word until she’s spoken to.

“My sister-” She says, voice hoarse. She’s blinking, slow, “You’re going to let her go now?”

The Sheriff pauses.

“It’s not that simple, Sam,” She says, “We have witnesses- she was the last person to see my son alive-”

“That doesn’t mean shit,” Snaps Sam. She gestures to Richie’s body, “We’ve given you him. Clear as day. He framed my sister and you need to let her go.”

Sheriff Hicks considers this.

She looks over at Richie’s body, a little mournful, “If you’d kept him alive we could have interrogated him and cleared Tara’s name for good-”

“It was self-defense.” Liv says, immediately, “He came at YN and the only way she could protect herself was by killing him. Right guys?”

Mindy and Chad nod in unison.

Sheriff Hicks stares at you.

“Why would he kill my son?” She asks, and it’s urgent. Her eyes flitter, a mesh of grief and sorrow and confusion, “He didn’t even know him. Why would he kill him?”

“I don’t know.” You say. You swallow, “I’m sorry, Sheriff Hicks.”

She stares back at you a moment.

Then she’s nodding, blinking away the array of emotions she’d briefly allowed you to see.

“That’s for me to figure out,” She says. She looks over at Sam, “We’ll release Tara. But Sam - that doesn’t mean she still isn’t a suspect. If we find any link between them-”

“There’s no link.” Sam says, “My sister is innocent.”

The Sheriff nods.

“I’ll call the station.”

She moves over to speak to another officer. The relief on Sam’s face is palpable. You squeeze her thigh, mirror her relief with yours.

Tara’s coming home. You’d given the police what they wanted - a suspect to pin the murders on. She’d come home and you’d kiss her and hold her and never let her go again. Your veins flood with dopamine, the nicest high you could possibly imagine.

Tara’s safe.

But Mindy's frowning. You move over to her, frowning a little.

“What is it?” You ask.

Mindy turns to you, the look in her eyes urgent.

“Richie was there that night,” She says, “The night Tara was attacked. He was there with you and he wasn’t Ghostface. Not that night.”

You blink.

Mindy seizes your arm.

“There’s two, YN,” She says, “There’s fucking two of them.”

And your blood runs cold.

#all hers #ghostface!tara #mine #fanfic #scream vi #tara carpenter #jenna ortega #tara carpenter x yn #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x yn #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader

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rose-sophia-isabella-rogers · 1 year ago

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A Steel That Went Through Hottest Fire: Chapter XXI - Putting Down Roots

Chapter Summary: A sort of epilogue. Presenting how your and your loved ones' lives look few years after the war. Did you get your happy ending? Or maybe rather a happy beginning?

Pairing: Aleksander Kirigan/Reader, Zoya Nazyalensky/Nikolai Lantsov, Fedyor Kaminsky/Ivan, Genya Safin/David Kostyk

Characters: Aleksander Kirigan, Reader, Nikolai Lantsov, Genya Safin, Baghra, Ivan, Fedyor Kaminsky, Zoya Nazyalensky, David Kostyk

Word Count: 3915

A/N: Smut alert! If you don't like it or are underage, please, don't read from "'No, I've waited long enough,' he says and enters the bedroom with you." to basically the end of this scene. Enjoy! zyoma maya olya – moon of my life eya fyela chi – I love you

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed):

@budugu

@intothesoul

@mizelophsun11

@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy

@zeeader

@marrymonrich

@wonderland2425

@chelseyyouraverageluigi

@thehufflepuffavenger1

@drinix

You sprint past the corridors of the Little Palace. People usually gasp when you suddenly show up.

'Out of my way!' you shout. 'Careful, coming through! Excuse me! Sorry! Move!'

Most of them quickly jump aside, used to it. It's not the first time they see you racing with time. Some even shake their heads, amused.

Finally, you reach the doors to Aleksander's chambers and open them with a flourish. You stop in the threshold, panting. The owner of the room raises his eyebrows, not moving an inch from his spot by his table.

'Well,' he says, glancing at his watch, 'cutting it close today. A few more minutes and I would go to drag you here myself.'

'This time it's the Queen's fault,' you say, rolling your eyes, and walk to join him. 'I swear, once she finally gives birth, I'm going to visit Nina and Matthias.'

'Can I come with you?' General asks, amused.

'Naturally,' you answer and kiss his cheek in greeting. 'I wasn't planning to go without you.'

You sigh and fall on your chair. The Darkling raises his eyebrows yet again.

'What?' you ask.

'You missed,' he answers. You look at him with confusion. He taps his lips with his finger. You roll your eyes but stand up. You lean down and join your lips. You both sigh and groan quietly. Even after all those years, kissing your husband gives you the same thrill as it did when your relationship began. Same goes with calling him your 'husband'.

'Much better,' Aleksander says, satisfied, when you pull away. You shake your head and sit back down. Kirigan pours you both teas.

'How was your day?' you ask.

'Tedious, as always,' he answers. 'Keeping Novyi Zem and Kerch from killing each other is becoming bothersome. The only reason they're not doing it is thanks to our Crows.'

'Bless their souls, even though they helped to bring you down during civil war,' you say. Your husband nods in agreement.

'You will have to show up tomorrow,' he continues. 'Nikolai has a mission for you.'

You wince. Just what you need.

'You know I hate those meetings,' you groan.

'You're the peace advisor, it's your duty,' the Darkling reminds you. 'The only reason you don't have to be on every one, is because you've been bolting them anyway, because you had new ideas your Durast mind had to test out at once.'

You narrow your eyes at him. He simply smiles and drinks a sip from his cup. He frowns instantly and looks at you with disbelief.

'Did you make my tea grow cold?' he asks.

'You know better than to annoy me,' you answer innocently and drink your perfectly warm tea. You sigh with content.

'I see your trainings with Zoya are going well,' Aleksander says.

'Yes, but I preferred them when she wasn't pregnant,' you say. 'Her hormones exhaust us both. I'm seriously wondering whether she's going to kill Nikolai one day.'

'No, he has a survival instinct,' Kirigan denies, shaking his head. 'The moment the hormones take over, he runs for safety.'

'And leaves me alone with her,' you add grimly. General pats your hand.

'Your sacrifice is noted and appreciated,' he says. You scoff but move your hand to squeeze his. Comfortable silence falls between you two.

'How are things between you and Baghra?' you ask at some point. Your husband shrugs.

'Better, but we still don't trust each other completely,' he answers. 'Which is not fair, because she seems to absolutely adore you. Especially when you scold me.'

'What can I say?' you ask with a grin. 'I've always been her favourite. And don't complain. I'm yours, too.'

'That you are,' the Darkling agrees, smirking at you. His gaze roams over your body. You shiver.

'Tease,' you say. 'I know very well we can't indulge now. You promised to visit young Grisha.'

'Yes, but while I'm away, I can give you something to think about,' he says, slowly standing up. You freeze with wide eyes.

'Aleksander Kirigan, don't you dare,' you warn him. But he stands in front of you and puts hands on the armrests, caging you.

'Or what, [Y/N] Kirigan?' he asks, already kissing your neck. You smile when he calls you that, as usual since you've taken his surname.

'Or I… I… I…' you try to say, but it's very hard to concentrate when he kisses you like that. He chuckles and joins your lips in a passionate, heated kiss. You moan and press yourself to him, wanting more. Needing him.

But he pulls away. You pout. He chuckles quietly.

'I hate you,' you murmur.

'We both know you love me,' he says, winking at you. He sits back down, as if nothing happened, and returns to drinking his tea with that mischievous smirk of his.

'I hope you realise I'm going to take my revenge later,' you say flatly, frustrated beyond measure.

'Oh, I'm counting on it,' he chuckles. You glare at him.

'I promise you, you're going to change your mind,' you say. Aleksander's smile drops when he sees the look in your eyes. He's actually a bit afraid now.

'Still, I can't wait,' he says, trying to regain his composure. You just hum and drink your tea. He can see in your eyes that your vicious mind is already plotting. He gulps. Now he's gone and done it. He's in trouble, he's sure of that.

When hours later Kirigan walks into your shared chambers, he's surprised to see the chambers covered in darkness. He walks tentatively into the room.

'Milaya?' he calls. He gets no answer. He looks into your bedroom but he doesn't find you there. He enters the bathroom… and freezes.

You're in the bathtub. The only source of light is the moonlight coming from the windows. Your body is almost completely in the water. Only your head, neck, collarbone, tips of your breasts and that taunting leg, that's hanging on the edge, are sticking out.

General gulps. Oh, he's in trouble now. He can see that. Even more when you lazily turn your head to him and smirk.

'Hi, honey,' you greet him. 'Do you want to join me?'

Instead of answering, the Darkling hastily undresses himself. He doesn't mind how it makes you laugh. He loves your laughter, so he's happy to hear it, even if you're laughing at him.

'Have I known this would greet me when I come back, I'd have tried to do it sooner,' he murmurs, hurrying to you.

'Well, it was your idea to leave me hot and bothered for a long time,' you point out, slowly raising, showing him more of your skin. He licks his lips.

'So, how are you going to take your revenge?' he asks, watching you straddling him.

'Well, I thought about it,' you start. 'And I decided it's not fun when you're expecting it. So, I'm going to take my revenge another day.'

'That's cruel,' Aleksander hums, kissing your chest, his hands on your hips. 'Now I'll be always anxious, wondering when you will strike.'

'Exactly my point,' you say, grinning, proud of yourself. Kirigan chuckles.

'Do you want to start here or wait for when we're in bed?' he asks huskily.

'Hm, that's a very good question,' you hum and start massaging him. He groans and closes his eyes. He throws his head back.

'Milaya…' he moans.

'Saints, you're really tense,' you say, frowning. 'Looks like you're getting a massage now and the good part will take place in bed.'

'Yes, please,' he grunts and grabs you tighter when you attempt to get up. 'But stay where you are.'

'That is not exactly a good position to give a massage,' you protest, raising your eyebrows. The Darkling opens his eyes and grins.

'But I have a better view,' he explains. You huff and roll your eyes. You shake your head and do your best to give him a massage while on his lap. Which turns out to be a torture because of his groans, moans and hands wandering on your body. Soon you're both hot and bothered.

'So, how about we wash quickly and move to bed?' you suggest some time later.

'Fine by me,' your husband answers, staring at you with lust. You quickly get off of him and you both clean each other. While brushing bodies occasionally, obviously. Finally, you get out, dry yourselves and…

'Aleksander!' you squeak, when he suddenly picks you up, not letting you dress yourself. 'Put me down!'

'No, I've waited long enough,' he says and enters the bedroom with you. There, he gently lays you on the bed. Immediately, he starts kissing every inch of your body he can. He hums, satisfied, when he reaches your womanhood.

'Already wet for me,' he purrs. 'Such a good girl.'

'Hello, I can see you're hard for me,' you huff. He looks up at you and you shiver from the dark look he gives you.

'Only for you,' he declares seriously, causing you to blush. Then, he starts preparing you for him. You gasp and moan, throwing your head back, when his fingers and tongue work magic on your private parts.

'Don't stop!' you gasp, clutching the sheets tightly. He doesn't. He keeps his ministrations until he has you ready for him, drenched in sweat and your wetness. He pulls away and looms over you.

'You're so beautiful,' he murmurs, gently caressing your body. 'My gorgeous wife. I still can't believe I get to call you that.'

'Feel as if only yesterday I was confessing my love to you, huh?' you ask.

'I've been such a fool, denying my feelings for you for so long,' Kirigan says and kisses you gently. 'But now�� now I can scream them as many times as I want.'

You smile at him and cup his cheek. He nuzzles into it and presses his lips to your palm.

'Are you going to get inside me or not?' you ask after a moment. He barks a laugh and slowly slides himself into you. You both moan softly.

'Ready, milaya?' he asks after a moment. You nod and he starts moving. Slowly, at first. But he speeds up with time. He wants to hear you screaming as well. His name. How good he makes you feel. He wants everyone within reach to know you're his and he's yours.

'More!' you moan. 'Harder!'

The Darkling takes your legs and puts them on his shoulders. This allows him to thrust deeper into you. He's sure your hips are going to be bruised from how hard he's gripping you. Well, just more to your collection.

'Oh, yes!' you gasp, tangling your hands in his hair. You pull and he groans. He connects your lips and you make out passionately. You move your head and kiss his neck. He grunts when you bite him softly.

'You do realise I have a meeting with a Shu-Han ambassador tomorrow?' he asks, more amused than annoyed.

'I see how she's looking at you, why do you think I did that?' you ask and kiss the spot. 'She must understand you're taken.'

'Maybe you should kiss me in front of her,' he teases you. 'Like you did during that party years ago.'

'Don't tempt me,' you murmur and join your lips again. It's messier now. Your breathing is fast and laboured. You're both close, you can feel it. You moan and move your hips to match his thrusts. He groans and goes even faster.

'I'm gonna…' you pant a moment later.

'Together,' your husband says through greeted teeth. 'One… two… three! [Y/N]!'

'Aleksander!' you cry out, as you both reach your peak. You arch your back and smile, enjoying the feeling of Kirigan filling you up. You deflate after a minute or two, or more.

'Do you want to go again?' the Darkling asks, looking up at you. You laugh and kiss him. Something tells you it's going to be a long night.

Nikolai is taking a walk among the gardens of the Grand Palace. His mind is elsewhere, though. He doesn't even really notice when Kirigan joins him. For a long moment they stroll together in a comfortable silence.

'Congratulations,' Aleksander finally speaks up. 'You have an heir. The line of succession is secured.'

'Yes,' Lantsov mumbles, still in shock. 'I have a daughter. I'm a father. Saints. How did that happen?'

'I imagine you and Zoya-' General starts, amused. The King quickly elbows him to the side with a huff. The Darkling laughs.

'Remind me, why do I keep you around?' Nikolai sighs.

'Because I'm keeping your country safe,' the Shadow Summoner answers. They both stop. Lantsov looks ahead, in the direction of the city.

'It still feels strange,' he says after a beat. 'Our country at peace. Not in a war with anyone. I keep expecting it to explode in our faces.'

'It won't,' Aleksander assures him. 'We've made sure of that. Ravka is strong.'

'And it's a safe place for Grisha,' the King adds, looking at General. 'Like you've always wanted.'

'Yes,' Kirigan confirms, smiling. 'At long last.'

'And we're no longer poor. That's nice as well. I hated being dependant of other countries' good will.'

'You mean Kerch's good will.'

'Yes. Speaking of other countries… are you ready for yet another meeting with them?'

'Do I need to be there? It's your child.'

'Yes, but you're the Second's Army's general… and my friend. I need you there.'

'… Very well. But know I shall hate every moment of it.'

'You think I won't? All those fake smiles, congratulations, blessings… I know it's Zoya's revenge for making her go through birth.'

'That sounds like her.'

They turn around and head back to the Grand Palace. They both smile when they see near the entrance a small gathering consisting of you, David, Baghra and Genya. All of you are smiling. Even Baghra has a shadow of it on her face.

'Does she feel happy and safe?' Nikolai asks, looking at you.

'Yes,' Aleksander confirms, feeling warmth in his heart. 'Thank you.'

'Hey, you did all the hard work,' Lantsov insists. 'I just helped out. I mean, I couldn't really help it. You two have been melting my heart with your love practically since day one. I know you were too busy staring at [Y/N], but I actually cried on your wedding.'

'[Y/N] cried on yours,' Kirigan says. The King looks at him, intrigued.

'And you?' he teases. General chuckles.

'Maybe a little,' he admits. 'It was a beautiful ceremony. And it felt good to see Zoya so happy. And I was right. She's a marvellous queen.'

'Oh, I know,' Nikolai says with a stupid grin. 'I love seeing her showing everyone that there's no messing with her nor with Ravka.'

'I especially enjoy when they cower with fear, seeing her eyes changing to one's of a dragon,' the Darkling says and chuckles. 'After one of such meetings, [Y/N] asked me, troubled, if her eyes turn to the eyes of a bee's whenever she's angry.'

'I've never noticed,' Lantsov says and ponders. 'Do they?'

'They don't for some reason. Thankfully. I imagine she would lock herself in her chambers again if they were.'

'Small mercies.'

They stop. They know they have to join your group and go to accept the congratulations from the delegations of other countries. But neither of them wants to do that just yet.

'So, when can I expect little Kirigans running around?' the King asks, smirking.

'I don't know,' Aleksander answers wistfully. 'We're not rushing. It will come with time. Or maybe not at all. I think we're good with both.'

You finally notice them and smile. You start heading their way.

'How is it Zoya rarely smiles when she sees me and [Y/N] always smiles whenever she sees you?' Nikolai asks.

'She always does,' Kirigan denies. 'You're just not looking then.'

Lantsov stares at him, surprised. He opens his mouth to say something, but just then you join them.

'Everyone is ready,' you inform them. 'We're waiting just for you.'

'We know and we're trying to prolong the moment of going there,' the King explains. You roll your eyes.

'Now you know why I'm always late to the meetings,' you say.

'Can't say I blame you,' Nikolai admits and sighs. 'Shall we?'

'Give us a moment, will you?' the Darkling asks, his eyes focused only on your face.

'Which means you will be joining us in ten minutes,' Lantsov says and shrugs. 'Fine by me. Hah, take even half an hour. I won't mind. Not at all.'

He walks away and joins others. You and your husband stare at each other with smiles.

'Hi,' you say.

'Hey,' General says, grinning. He caresses your cheek. You lean into his touch.

'Moi sol ye tselai,' he murmurs, moving so his lips are above yours. You can't help but smile.

'Zyoma maya olya,' you say. His smile widens. He cups your face and kisses you softly.

'Eya fyela chi,' he says.

'Eya fyela chi,' you reply. He puts his arms around you and hugs you. You smile and breathe in his scent. Safe and sound. Loved. Not alone. You finally have what you've longed for your whole life.

Baghra stirs her tea, waiting. She knows he will come late, as usual. But there will be a smile on his face. A smile she hasn't seen since Luda. She chastised him for his love for her, then. She was foolish, she knows that now. His loneliness drove him to do the unspeakable things. But maybe it was meant to be. Otherwise, he wouldn't have met you. And she knows you're the one that's supposed to be with him. Forever.

There's a knock on the door. The old woman stops the smile forming on her face. Less late than usual, but still late.

'Come in,' she invites him. The door opens and Aleksander walks in. His cheeks are rosy, but she doubts it's from the cold, and there's a smile on his face, like she's expected.

'Forgive me, mother,' he says, taking off his cloak. 'I-'

'Was busy kissing your wife, I know,' she interrupts him and raises her eyebrows. 'Or doing something more with her.'

'Not this time,' he laughs and sits opposite to her. This time she can't hide her smile. He looks at her, puzzled.

'What is it?' he asks. She scoffs. Is it that surprising to see her smiling? Hm. Maybe it is.

'Nothing,' she quickly says. Her son raises his eyebrows. He crosses his legs and arms.

'I know very well it's not,' he says. 'So? Spill it.'

'How commanding,' she says, rolling her eyes. 'You know you're not the Black General here, but my son.'

'You keep reminding me that,' he says flatly. She bites her cheek. Wrong. She's trying to mend their relationship, they both are. But her defence mechanism is working, trying to protect herself, even from her own son. And he always puts his armour on then, also trying to keep himself from getting hurt.

'It's good to see you happy,' she finally manages to say. He blinks, honestly surprised.

'I am,' he says carefully. 'And I have no nefarious plans.'

'I know that you don't,' Baghra says. '[Y/N] is making sure of that. She really is all that matters to you. I'm… sorry I ever thought otherwise.'

'You had every reason not to trust my intentions,' Aleksander says after a pause. 'Even though I've wanted your trust. Wanted you to be proud of me.'

'I am now,' she says, looking him in the eyes. 'Truly.'

He stares at her for a moment. Something blossoms in his heart. Hope? Maybe it's not too late for them yet?

'Thank you,' he says. They talk and drink tea for some time since then. The moment is gone, they're back to guarding themselves, but they're more friendly toward one another. Small steps.

Finally, he puts his cloak back on and leaves his mother's hut. She still refuses to live in the Little Palace. Maybe once their relationship is better? Who knows.

Aleksander walks toward the Little Palace. Grisha who pass him salute him, bow their heads or even smile at him. A few now don't trust him. To others he has proven himself. He's also more open now, more cheerful, so he's not that fearsome anymore. Well, they're still afraid of him, of course, he's still powerful after all, but they're no longer awfully tense around him.

'General! General!' a little girl shouts, rushing to him with her friends. 'Will you play with us today?'

'I'm afraid I don't have time, Clara,' he chuckles. 'How about tomorrow at this hour?'

'Okay!' the little Grisha answers cheerfully and looks at him hopefully. 'Will you bring Lady [Y/N] with you?'

'I'll do my best to convince her to come,' he answers, winking. The girls squeal and run away. They stop a few feet ahead, turn and wave at him. He waves back and watches them joining other Grisha children. He shakes his head fondly and gets inside the Little Palace.

'General!' he hears a moment later behind him. He turns and sees Fedyor approaching him.

'What is it?' Kirigan asks. Kaminsky catches up to him.

'Are you going to dinner today?' he asks.

'I might as well,' the Darkling sighs. '[Y/N] said she has some project she wants to finish, so she may be late. Why?'

'I just wanted to warn you,' the Heartrender explains. 'Zoya said she may drop by.'

'Ah, good to know,' the Shadow Summoner says and nods. 'Thank you, Fedyor.'

'No problem,' Kaminsky says with a smile and goes on his way. Kirigan goes to his chambers and gets to work.

A few hours later he goes to the dining hall. He frowns, as he gets closer. Usually, he can already hear Grisha chatting. But now it's suspiciously silent. He cautiously opens the door.

He stops dead in his tracks. In the middle of the room, there is a giant birthday cake. Every Grisha is standing behind it, Nikolai and some officials as well. But his eyes are on you, standing a bit to the right to the cake (Ivan, obviously, close by). You smile.

'Happy birthday, Aleksander,' you say. 'Come here and make a wish.'

Suddenly, everything strange from today makes sense. How his mother has insisted he comes and visits her. How earlier you stopped him from getting in here, distracting him with kisses and sweet words. A surprise party. Just for him.

'You didn't have to,' he says, touched, as he walks to the cake.

'Shut up and blow out the candles, so I could have cake,' Zoya says. General chuckles and stops in front of the desert. He stares at it for a moment. Then, he closes his eyes and blows out the candles. Everyone cheers and the cake is quickly cut into pieces.

'Thank you, lapushka,' he says, when you walk to him. 'Truly.'

'Of course,' you say. 'You're not going to tell me your wish, are you?'

'No,' the Darkling says, pulling you to himself. He kisses the top of your head with a smile and looks around the room, at the happy faces, at his friends, thinking about his wish.

Please, let me, and people I care about, continue to be this happy.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading this story! Thank you for every comment, likes and reblogs, and I hope you will let me know what you think of this end. Because this is the finale of the story of Aleksander and his Durast Girl. I really hope you enjoyed it. As to what's next, I have some ideas, but I'm not sure when I will post something new with this pair. Thank you and I hope to see you again!

This story can also be found on Archive of Our Own: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52696933/chapters/135806941

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streamafterlaughter · 10 months ago

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Fundamental Differing

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nav | chapter XXI | masterlist | playlist | pin board

Chapter XXII: Blood Sugar Sex Magik

tags/warnings (spoilers below the cut!): MDNI 18+ ONLY! angst, drama, confession, tension, ALL YOUR FAVORITES! rockstar!eddie x rockstar!reader, afab!gnc!reader, mentions of reader being bisexual. dual pov

a/n: buckle up people it’s a doozy. i think you’ll like it though.

cw: unprotected p in v, oral (afab receiving), graphic content not meant for people under 18. MDNI, NSFW.

a/n: haha. hey. hi guys. sorry for all that waiting… i hope it was worth it. This chapter is a little different, no prologue flashback, one scene instead of multiple. Decided this deserved its own chapter. a nice lil mindless sex scene for your reading pleasure. thanks SO SO MUCH for reading, and for your patience!

Disclaimer: i do not give permission to repost my work, please let me know if you see my writing posted anywhere else. reblogs welcome and encouraged to support the author!

—

Your POV

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. You were drunk, but not too drunk to forget what you’d said last night.

The sunlight streams through the blinds, giving the room an orange glow. It’s early, but the bed next to you is empty. Understandably. Shit! You sit up, groaning as the movement makes your head throb. You’re in your underwear, and the shirt you’d worn to the bar last night. You can feel the underwire of your bra digging into your flesh. There was absolutely no reason to go that crazy last night, not if this is the aftermath.

As you’re gaining the courage to stand, the door swings open, and you catch Eddie’s eyes for a millisecond before he looks to the floor, face beet red, breakfast burrito clenched in his grip.

“Sorry, shit, I thought you would have left by now.” Eddie tries to leave the room, but you stop him before you know what you’re doing.

“Wait! Wait,” He stops, slowly stepping back into the room. “Eddie, I am so sorry.” You blurt the words out before you can chicken out. “That was so unfair to you. I was so wasted and I was celebrating, and I wanted to tell you about it but I-”

“Y/n,” Eddie’s voice is calm, firm. “Slow down.”

You take a deep breath, centering yourself. Your head has stopped spinning since Eddie’s appearance in front of you, but you try not to make too much of that. He’s dressed in his usual attire, a pair of black ripped jeans, beat up sneakers, and a well worn band t-shirt. Today’s choice just so happens to be the homemade, one of a kind Death Dance Approximately shirt you’d given to Eddie a lifetime ago. He’s since cropped it right above his navel, exposing his midriff, including a tattoo you’d forgotten existed: Your initials on his hip bone.

Shit!

“Okay,” You start, unsure of how you’re gonna dig yourself out of this one.”I want to apologize.”

Eddie’s face contorts, confusion carved into his features. He leans against the wall, still so far away from you.

“What for?”

You gesture loosely to the air. “Well, you know, everything. Last night.”

“Everything, huh?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he sounds hurt.

“It wasn’t fair. I was drunk, I shouldn’t have barged in here, put you in that position.” You trip over yourself, feeling your throat tighten. Do not fucking cry right now.

“Well,” Eddie draws the word out slowly as he pushes off the wall and towards you. “I can only accept that apology under a certain condition.” He looms over where you sit on the edge of the bed, surrounding you. He smells freshly like cigarettes and mint, clouding your brain as he fills your senses.

“And what would that condition be?” You try to sound unbothered, but your words come out meek, nervous.

“If you mean it or not.”

You gape at him, unblinking, waiting for him to crack, to say “Nah, I'm just kiddin’! We don’t have to get into this right now!” But he doesn’t. He takes another bite of his breakfast instead before tossing it on the dresser, completely unfazed by your silence.

“Do I mean that I'm sorry?” You’re playing very, very dumb right now.

Eddie isn’t willing to drop it, though. “Sweetheart, c’mon. We’re adults. I thought we were over this tiptoeing shit.” He cocks his head to the side, eyes rolling.

“I-” You huff, flustered with the way his neck flexes.. “Look. I didn’t want it to happen like that.” You look at him, determined to get through this without actually admitting anything. “I didn’t mean to say it.”

“Why not?” Eddie shrugs, like this is no big fucking deal.

–

Eddie’s POV

He really hopes you can’t tell he’s sweating. He can feel his heart in his throat, choking him with every breath. He keeps his eyes on you to focus. He can’t let you go again. Not after those words have left your mouth.

“Why not?!” You shake your head at him, frustration practically bursting out of your ears. Good, he thinks, you deserve to squirm a little. “How about, because this is what happened the first time? We moved too fast, we didn’t think, and look how that ended up! Or, how about, you’re supposed to be getting well, and the last fucking thing you need is me distracting you. Or, because if this doesn’t go well, we still have another month on the road together! And the fans, what are they gonna say when-”

“Stop.” Eddie shakes his head, kneeling on the floor in front of you. He should be pissed, but he can’t bring himself to be even a little upset. He has the upperhand now, and all he wants is to hear you say it again. Sober, this time. “Please, just tell me if you mean it.”

–

Your POV

I should lie to him. It’s not a good idea to tell him, not right now. You could take it back, this is your chance to make everything go back to that uncomfortable, tension riddled “normal” you’ve become so used to with Eddie. Things would be so much easier if you could just lie to him. But the way he’s looking at you, with a hopeful discretion, chocolate eyes wet with unfallen tears. makes every rational thought slide out of your brain, only leaving room for the way he’s pleading with you, wordlessly, as his hands grip yours tightly, hopefully.

“I mean it. Of course I fucking mean it, Eddie.” You barely get the words out before he’s climbing on top of you, hands letting go of yours to find purchase on the mattress either side of you, and you let yours fly to his hair, tangling your fingers through it like it’s second nature. You are quickly overwhelmed by him, your space completely infiltrated. The walls you’d been reinforcing to keep him out now crumble without a second thought, and he’s the one behind the wrecking ball.

“Thank fucking god.” He mumbles against your lips, and you smile into the kiss as he lays you down on the mattress.

“Eddie, wait,” You come to your senses, one final time as his mouth detaches from yours. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Eddie has moved his mouth to your jaw, and you feel him chuckle against your skin as he kisses down your throat. “Even after all these years, you still doubt that I want this? That I want you?” You can feel his hand slide up your shirt, his skin lighting yours on fire. “You are all I want. All I could ever want. In fact,” He pulls himself away from your neck to look at your face. He’s serious suddenly, all traces of sweet teasing gone. “I should be the one asking if you want this.” He moves to get off of you, but you wrap your legs around his waist, holding him down. You’re tired of pretending not to want him, of avoiding how you feel because it’s easier. “I do. I really, really do.”

Eddie groans as you pull him back to your lips, letting the kiss say everything you’ve wanted to this whole tour. You hold his face in your hands, afraid he’ll disappear if you let go. His hand finds your skin again, sliding up your back to where your bra is still clasped. You’re nodding before he can even get the question out, and you feel the relief as he unhooks the fabric. He tugs your shirt off swiftly, and you let the straps of your bra slide down your shoulders.

–

Eddie’s POV

He separates from you then, getting up to kneel in front of where you lay on the bed, mostly exposed, save for your modest pair of black cotton panties. “Fuck,” The word comes out in a heavy breath as he takes in the sight before him. Your torso is littered with tattoos he’s never seen before, including one nestled between your tits. And speaking of, he can’t help but let his eyes land on your chest, admiring how your nipples have pebbled even before he’s really touched you.

“Still beautiful as ever.” He’s mostly talking to himself, but you smile up at him, eyes crinkling around the edges, and he feels his dick throb in his too-tight pants.

“I can’t be the only one exposed here!” You exclaim through giggles, and he obliges without argument, yanking his shirt over his head before moving back towards you.

–

Your POV

He’s been shirtless in front of you a few times over the past month, but not in this context. You watch, delighted as his abdomen tightens when you run your fingers down his stomach, along his happy trail to the waistband of his pants. You rake your fingernails over his skin, trace the new ink you hadn’t yet seen up close, listening to his breath hitch when you unbutton his jeans. Before you can yank his pants down, though, Eddie grips your hand in his, moving it back to the mattress. “We’ll get to that. Let me taste you first.” If you weren’t so eager, the words would have knocked you out, but you nod again as Eddie climbs clumsily off the bed to kneel back on the floor. He takes hold of your ankles, swiftly pulling you to the end of the mattress. You feel those pesky bats in your stomach for the first time in what feels like forever, heat rushing to your face as Eddie moves further in between your legs.

He’s in no rush as he moves up your body, lingering to place soft kisses in the crevices of your knees, the plush of your thighs, the peaks of your hips. He ghosts over your clothed heat, nose grazing your mound as he watches you writhe and plead above him. He’s amused by your eagerness, you know him well enough, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You want him, need him, and you’re tired of pretending you don’t.

Eddie is about to yank your last shred of clothing from your body when there’s a knock on the door.

—

Eddie’s POV

You have got to be fucking kidding. “What?!” He shouts, irritated, relaxing only slightly when he feels you giggling underneath him.

“Have you seen Y/n?” It’s Steve, taking his morning roll call. Eddie looks to you for the answer, but you only shrug, face getting redder by the second.

He moves to get off of you, but you follow him like attracting magnets, attaching your lips to his neck as he tries to answer his friend, causing his words to get lost in the fog, only letting out a strangled “Uhh…”

“Ed?” Steve twists the doorknob, out of habit probably. You flinch, and he feels his heart crack. “Wha- yeah! Sorry, I'm a little busy right now!” He clenches his teeth to keep from moaning as you lick a stripe up the column of his throat.

“Busy? You wanna know busy?!” Eddie can picture Steve behind the door, leaning into the peephole, one hand on his hip the other gesturing wildly. As pretty as Steve may be, the image is killing Eddie’s hard-on right now.

You’re not about to let that happen, though. “Steve, go away.” A command. He shifts, dick twitching in his pants again like a fuckin’ teenager.

“I-,” Pause. “Y/n?”

“Yeah.”

Silence. Then the fading of his footsteps down the hall. Eddie wills himself to look at you again, and is rewarded with your shit eating grin. “You are such a brat.” He scoffs, no actual effort behind the insult.

You have the gall to pout at him, like you’re an innocent bystander.

“Does this mean you don’t want to fuck me anymore?”

He gapes at your question, blinking rapidly as he digests it.

—

Your POV

You’d meant it to lighten the mood, but you’ve caught him off guard. Instead of his answer, you’re greeted with another interruption beyond the door. “Hey, love birds! Steve sent me over here because it is far too awkward for him to talk to you in this position, but I, frankly, am happy to relay the information.” While Robin is talking at you, Eddie is making his way closer, lowering to the floor while you bite back laughter at the mess you've gotten yourself into.

”We check out in two hours. If you plan to live out your honeymoon a little longer, it will be on your own dime!” Eddie kisses up your leg, grazing your skin with his nose, sending chills up your spine. Robin is seemingly unaware of your state, or she genuinely does not care. “We’re all going out for dinner tonight before everyone goes home, and both of you better not skip it to cuddle up in bed, you can do that for as long as you want, starting tomorrow. Also,” Eddie’s yanking at your waistband, his body shaking with giggles that you echo despite the knot in your stomach tightening with his touch. “Why are you laughing? What are you guys even doing in there? I know you’re not still asleep.”

”Robin!” Eddie calls, voice strained against his laughter. “I’m trying to eat!”

You drop your jaw, sending a backhanded slap to his shoulder.

”Did you guys get room service? Got any extra-,”

You cut her off with an involuntary moan, caused by Eddie slipping a finger past the damp cotton barricade of your underwear to slide teasingly between your folds. You smack a hand over your mouth, but it’s too late. There’s no way she didn’t hear that.

“Are you okay in th-“ It clicks. Finally. “Oh my god. Oh my god! Are you guys fucking?!” No regard for her fellow guests, or her best friend, Robin is cackling on the other side of the door. You’re in crisis, and she’s laughing!

”We’re trying!” You shriek back, feeling the frustration build as Eddie’s finger circles around your clit, causing you to grind against his hand.

“Oh my god. Wait. Is this first time?! Am I interrupting? Holy shit, I am so sorry-“

”Robin!” Eddie shouts again, this time sternly, losing his patience.

“Yeah?”

”Leave.”

”Yup, yup. See ya!” And finally, the fading of her footsteps, scurrying down the hall.

Eddie turns his face back to your center, littering kisses on your thigh as he wiggles your underwear away from your body.

You can’t help but get in one last dig. “You think she’s going to tell Gareth?”

His smile drops from his face completely, jaw tightly clenched. “I have no problem ignoring him yelling at me on the other side of that door. I think at this point he knows I don’t listen to him. And, he’d probably be relieved to find out I grew a pair.”

You scoff, ready with a wise ass remark when he shuts you up with a slow, wet lick between your folds. He glides your panties the rest of the way down your legs, and you don’t miss him pocketing them before moving his hands back to your thighs.

“Fuck,” you whine, desperately clawing at the sheets as Eddie’s tongue latches to your clit, tracing eager patterns across the bud. You drop your head back to the mattress, willing your brain to turn off. Eddie groans into your pussy, rutting against the mattress as he slips a single ringed digit into your hole. You buck your hips, aching for more and blinded by how good it all feels, how familiar. You’d had your fair share of one night stands since leaving Eddie, enough to get used to the normalcy of bad sex. Now, you’re blinded by how Eddie reads your body, like you’re written in a language only he can understand.

His tongue moves in circles over your clit, fingers curling steadily inside of you. The sounds he causes you to make are wet and absolutely filthy, but you can’t bring yourself to feel any shame. It’s Eddie, after all. You can feel your desire ripple through you, the coil in your stomach tightening with each swipe of his tongue, every stroke of his finger. He doesn’t relent, keeping an agonizing pace while you grind your pussy against his face, desperate for release. In response to your begging, Eddie groans into your core, the vibrations sending a shock of pleasure up your spine, and your vision goes white.

“Eddie, I’m gonna, fuck I’m gonna come!” It doesn’t take you long to feel your resolve snap, sending your legs shaking on either side of Eddie’s head. He holds you in place, still lapping at your juices as he claws at your hips, a response to the desperate praise you sing for him, an unintelligible string of curses and his name through breathy sighs as you attempt to slow your heart down. Eddie only pulls away when you tap the top of his head lightly, signaling your overstimulation. He releases his mouth from your core with a wet pop, and you can see his lips and chin are shiny with your arousal.

“Good as you remember?” He hovers over you, teasing smirk on his swollen lips as you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“Even better, somehow.” You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling his body flush against yours. Your breathing is still ragged, heart still skipping around in your chest as he closes the gap between you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You take his distracted state as an opportunity, tightening your grip around him, flipping him onto the mattress, landing on top of him a little less gracefully than you’d have liked, causing Eddie to burst into laughter. You’re quick to shut him up, grinding your sensitive cunt over his clothed cock, feeling it kick up at the contact. “You wanna help me get these off?” You ask sweetly, toying with the button of his jeans.

—

Eddie’s POV

“Jesus Christ, sweetheart.” His head falls against the mass of pillows, head foggy with the heat between his legs. “Keep doin’ that and I won’t even get the tip in.” Eddie grips your hips harshly, willing you to be still. Touching you doesn’t help in centering himself, though.

“What a shame that would be,” You tease, unclasping his belt as you speak. “Guess I’ll have to move quickly.” Eddie gets the hint, tucking his thumbs into the waistband to assist in getting his stupidly tight jeans off. He’ll curse himself about it another time, though. Right now, he’s solely focused on you, yanking his pants and underwear from his body, and tossing them to the floor carelessly before straddling him again.

You’ve always been a tease, and even all of this time apart hasn’t changed that, Eddie notices. You move slowly, sliding the length of his cock between your wet folds, head lolled to the side as you close your eyes, as if focusing into the feeling between your body and his. Eddie bites back a groan as he watches your performance, awestruck by the closeness. You infiltrate his senses, and he wills himself not to close his eyes from the pleasure.

Finally, after what feels like eternity, his swollen tip catches on your entrance, jolting him into action. He takes his cock in his hand, preparing to line up to your center the way he must have hundreds of times before. Even after these years apart, the distance both emotionally and physically between you, it is a second nature to him. You’re about an inch away when he has a moment of clarity.

“Wait,”

You huff in complaint. “Seriously?”

“I don’t have a condom.”

–

Your POV

That has never stopped him before, and you can feel the panic in your throat as you ask the question. “Have you ben fucking other people?”

He stutters, “Well, I-”

“Wait. Don’t answer that. Did you wear one when you were fucking other people?”

“Of course.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. I’m on the pill, you’re being safe.” You shrug. Nonchalant. Not desperate at all.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“When you fuck other people, do they… ?”

“I just said I’m on the pill.”

“Yeah, okay, but you don’t know who these guys are, what diseases-”

“Okay, Eddie, stop. First of all, how do you know what genetalia the people I’m fucking have?”

That shuts him up. “Yeah. Also, if you must know, I have made all the people with penises wear a rubber. Feel better?”

Eddie is silent, and you let your brain run with your panic again. The mood is dead, Eddie is over the spontaneous, passionate confession and he’s never going to speak to you again.

“Okay.” He shrugs, and before you can respond he grips your hips, guiding you down onto his cock as you roll your hips forward, taking him deeper. Without much effort, you take his entire length, reveling in the familiar stretch of your walls. He lets you set the pace at first, a vice grip on your hips as you gain your strength, bouncing on his cock as he bucks his hips into you. You feel him growing impatient though, his thrusts growing eager, hands migrating up to grab your tits. Though you would love to draw this out, make him beg you for it, you find you’re just as desperate, watching him beneath you, mouth slack and eyes glossy, a picture you’ve missed for so long.

He finally sits up, and you let him wrap an arm around your waist, flipping you onto the mattress. Effortlessly, Eddie gains control, lifting one of your legs to wrap around his waist, allowing him even deeper inside of you. The new sensation draws a guttural moan from you, unabashed and absolutely filthy.

“Fuck, I missed that sound,” Eddie speaks between grunts, seemingly hypnotized by the way his movements cause your boobs to bounce. He continues snapping his hips, prodding that spot deep inside, that only he’s ever been able to reach. “Thought about ‘em all the time. Couldn’t let myself forget those pretty noises.” All the while, you can’t form a single coherent thought, brain foggy from the heat, coil in your stomach tightening again. He looks so beautiful above you, curly bangs stuck to his face with perspiration, eyes blown out with desire.

Eddie babbles on, ever the talker. “Missed these beauties,” He holds himself up with one hand, the other squeezing your tit again teasingly, and you giggle. “And this pussy too, so much.” the same hand travels down, ghosting over your skin until he reaches between your bodies, rubbing sweet circles on your clit. “Best I ever had, only one I ever wanted. Takin’ me so well, sweetheart. You feel so fucking good.”

“I missed you too, Eddie. You make me feel so good.” It’s a whisper, all you really have the strength for. He’s panting, resting his sweaty forehead against your own as you breathe into each other’s mouths, and his smile widens with your admission. His rhythm stutters slightly, but he doesn’t relent. “Need you to say it again, baby. Wanna hear you tell me again.”

You don’t have to ask what he means. Through your haze, you can barely get the words out, but you muster enough from the way he’s looking at you. “I love you, Eddie.”

Eddie groans at your words, throwing his head into the crook of your neck, like he’s embarrassed by his sensitivity “Fuck, I love you too. I love you so much, y/n. So. Fucking. Much.” He punctuates each word with a thrust, bringing you to peak.

And he’s right behind you. “Where should I-” He lifts his head up, and he looks at you with wide, frightened eyes.

“Inside, Eddie, please come inside me.” Your breathing is ragged, legs twitching rapidly as you cry out, white knuckles gripping the mattress.

“Shit, baby, fuck!” Eddie keeps his pace until you can’t hold on, the tether finally snapping as your walls tighten around him. You throw your arms around Eddie’s shoulders, nails digging into his skin as his cock twitches. He comes with you, spilling inside of you as a shiver runs through his body. You bring your mouth to his, swallowing his whines as you both ride out your orgasms, skin sticking to skin with sweat and spit.

Reluctantly, Eddie slips himself out of you, causing you to whine at the loss. Before you can say anything, he’s rolling out of bed and into the bathroom.

—

Eddie’s POV

He needs a minute. Maybe an hour. Realistically he’s gonna need a month. Shit. Regret isn’t the right word. Ashamed, maybe, of his lack of resolve when the subject comes to you. He’s vulnerable, exposed. He tries to shake the intrusive voice from his brain yelling in his ear that he doesn’t deserve to be loved, especially not by you.

“Eds?” Your voice pulls him from his thoughts, and he takes a deep, heavy breath before returning to you with a wet cloth.

“Sorry, got a little lost.” He chuckles, suddenly unsure how to approach this. Post sex for Eddie lately had consisted of a brief wave and a paid cab at most. Something tells him that isn’t the correct approach this time.

“Where’d you go?” You tilt your head, lending your ear like nothing’s changed since yesterday.

Eddie shakes his head. He won’t let himself ruin this again. “Nowhere more important than here.” He slips the cloth between your legs, gently wiping your inner thighs as he speaks. “Just had to pinch myself a few times.”

When you smile at him, he forgets everything he’s supposed to be worried about. He can only smile back, briefly before he kisses you again. He makes a point to be gentle, to show you he means it. Nothing is more important than here, now, with you. When your hands lace into his hair again he can’t help but sigh, as if relieved to be in your arms again.

He can’t fully shake the tension, though, and you seem to sense that. “We’ll figure this out, okay? We can talk after dinner. Just float here with me a little longer.” Your soft hand caresses his stubbled cheek, tickling him slightly as he reads your features. There is so much love in your eyes, it causes his heart to race.

Eddie nods, leaning his cheek further into your palm. You lean in again, kissing him gently as if sealing your word. He pulls you into his lap, holding you as closely as he physically can. You stay like that for awhile, before migrating to the balcony, lazily draped in t shirts as you smoke your cigarettes, enjoying each other’s presence. For now, Eddie can relax. Even for a few minutes, he is grateful for the silence.

—

tag list: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @wiildflower-xxx @beebeerockknot @champagne-glamour @xxgothwhorexx @therensistance @chonkzombie @brxkenartt @sidthedollface2 @bibieddiesgf @gaysludge @eddiesguitarskills @potatobeanpies @poisonedluv @kellsck @m-chmcl-rmnc @veemoon | send a message to be added🫶

#eddie munson x reader #rockstar!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #smut #angst #fluff #fd #afab!reader #gnc!reader #90s au #slow burn #mutual pining #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #strangerthingscentral #st4

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gabriellerudessa · 4 months ago

Text

Compass (Norm Maclean x OC) - Part XXXIV

“You’re a menace, Beautiful.” He whispered against her, the other hand grabbing at her waist, fingers clawing, all he could do to keep himself under control.

“Only with you, my dearest.” She answered and he swallowed a groan, her words of some nights ago echoing in his brain – her dearest, hers to love protect keep alive, hers hers hers. “Bedroom?”

“Absolutely.”

PLAYLIST ON YOUTUBE

Word Count: 8.671

Warnings: Shooting things as foreplay (lol); Face-sitting; Sex with feelings; Vulnerability; Cowgirl position; Marking (bites, hickeys); hint of breeding kink

Recommended from the playlist (in this order lol): Shawn James - I Want More; Austin Giorgio - Dangerous Hands and Chokehold; Maneskin - Feel; Sleeping at Last - Turning Page; Starset - Earthrise

XXXIV

Marigold approached the group around the target; with the exception of the ghoul, most looked to be in their fifties, weary travelers behaving like old friends. They watched as a blond woman with a nasty headshot scar shot a bolt with the crossbow, a table beside her holding more ammo. A man with his head shaved and shades over his eyes held the BB-Gun, watching it all seriously but relaxed.

“Hey, mind if I take some shots?”

The man looked at her and leaned his head.

“How many?”

“Just twenty, then I’m out for the night.”

He thought for a moment then nodded and handed her the BB-Gun.

“This lady here will take my turn this round!” He called to his probably friends as the woman shot the last bolt.

“Finally letting other people have fun!” The blond woman laughed while a black man in a long denim duster took off the bolts from the target. “Here, have the spot.”

She shook Marigold’s hand as she vacated the space beside the table.

Marigold took the spot, box of ammo on the wood. She took some seconds to familiarize herself with the gun – single shot, well cared but trigger and loading mechanism slightly catching. She raised an eyebrow at the bald man while testing the trigger and he shrugged; he had noticed and suffered it too.

Oh well.

She loaded the BB-Gun and threw a look at Norm; his eyes were fixated on her, shifting in his bench and the coat purposefully closed by the belt and some buttons – something he hadn’t done once –, eyes heavy on her. She hadn’t even started, and she wondered how hard he was that he needed to do that, arousal pooling down her stomach, panties even more uncomfortable. She couldn’t wait to drag him to their room.

Marigold winked and blew him a kiss and Norm visibly froze, color blooming on his cheeks.

“You’re going to give your man a heart attack, señorita.” The ghoul she had seen talking with Norm laughed and Marigold grinned, raising an eyebrow at him.

Her man. Fuck, that sounded good. Maybe one day they would make that official.

She would like it. A lot.

“No need to worry, unlike you he’s still pretty young.” The ghoul laughed along her, even as the blond woman snickered.

And then the target was clean of the bolts, only the faded white-and-red paint in concentric circles remaining, full of marks.

She raised the BB-Gun into shooting position, feeling Norm’s eyes on her as she made sure it was firm against her shoulder.

First shot, bullseye, her hand loading the gun without taking her eyes from the target, again and again and again, a deliberate line of small holes crossing the target.

---------

How much ammo Marigold had bought again?

Norm couldn’t remember, but his mouth dried as he watched, the muscles in her arms visibly moving as she held the gun, shoot, loaded it and shoot again, so fast her movements were hard to track. Marigold’s feet spread on the ground, stable, head leaning over the gun to look down the iron sights, eyes not dropping from the target, her focus in it mesmerizing.

He was painfully hard inside his clothes and half his brain could only chant “his woman his woman his woman” like a broken holotape and he didn’t regret agreeing with her idea. The other half wondered about Marigold straddling him as she shoot, her thighs naked and straddling him.

Marigold straightened, grinning at the target and landing the BB-Gun on the table.

Norm breathed, belatedly noticing he had held his breath the whole time. He noticed part of the group around her hollering and clapping, but he only had eyes for her, watching as Marigold swerved around the table, mismatched eyes and extra trouble grin fixating on him.

She walked towards him, and it was damn clear the extra sway to her hips. He dry-swallowed, cock throbbing inside his suit, and his fingers flexed and itched, wanting to grab her, pull her close and down on him. Sink his fingers under her skirt and discover how much her demonstration with him watching had affected her. Only how public they were tempered that wish.

Norm got up as she approached, ignoring the uncomfortable pull of fabric against his cock, grabbing at her braid and pulling, a hard kiss against her still grinning lips. He was pretty sure he heard Nicholas laughing, but he was too far gone in her to care.

“You’re a menace, Beautiful.” He whispered against her, the other hand grabbing at her waist, fingers clawing, all he could do to keep himself under control.

“Absolutely.”

---------

They climbed up the stairs, the sounds of the music and people in the ground floor following them. Marigold stroked softly the top of his back while Norm kept an arm around her waist, hand gripping tightly her hip, warming her, arousal speeding in her blood.

The memory of his eyes as she finished shooting – sheer want, as if already seeing her without any clothes, something she hadn’t thought possible with him – still teased her brain. They walked down the corridor, and his thumb moved, pressing the fabric against her skin, and Marigold let out a trembling breath.

The moment she unlocked the door Norm was pushing her inside, pulling her braid sharply and nipping her lips as she squeaked-giggled.

“I gather you liked the show.” Marigold giggled against his lips, pushing him against the door, closing it with a bang, the key locking it with a metallic grinding sound.

He groaned against her, hands squeezing down her hips and thighs, bunching up the skirt.

“It’s almost ridiculous how much it turned me on.” She sucked on his lower lip and Norm gasped; her hands found his hair and the sound became a small moan.

His hands touched her naked skin, squeezing up and pulling her in. A full bodied shiver went through her.

“Can’t say I’m disappointed with the results.” Marigold managed to sing-sang, and then one of his hands was between her legs, fingers pushing her panties to the side and sliding against her folds, dipping slightly between them. She gasped against his lips, the other hand squeezing hard at her ass.

“You’re one to tell, you’re soaking. Just from me watching?” He groaned against her, the sound close to tortured, and she trailed kisses towards his ear. Distracting him enough that the hand between her legs wasn’t doing much beyond lightly petting her.

“I’m like this pretty much since I climbed down and you looked at me like that.” Marigold bit his earlobe with a grin, letting go of his hair to open the coat, movements torturously slow.

“How I…” A brief sucking-kiss under his ear, body arching towards her, his next words breathless. “How I looked at you?”

She grinned and hummed, unbuckling the belt and grazing the bulge in his suit. It was enough to hear his breath hitch.

“As if you half expected me to drag you up here and have my wicked way with you right that moment.”

Norm chuckled, breathless, fingers grazing her clit with firmness enough that she moaned.

“I wouldn’t be opposed, Beautiful. It would’ve been easier than being tempted of doing this-” a finger dipping slightly deeper inside her “-just after you shoot, in a room full of people.”

A hard kiss, groaning against his lips.

“Naughty, my dearest, very naughty.” And then she pushed the coat and holster down his shoulders.

Norm let go of her with a whimper, desperately unbuckling his Pip-Boy when the leather got stuck on it. Marigold had some mercy on him, getting it and moving across the room to put it above the drawer together with her hunting rifle.

Marigold had barely put it safely there when he pulled at her hips. She turned with a squeak, her lower back pressing into the drawer as Norm surged against her, unbuttoning her shirt, movements feverish, leaving open mouthed kisses on her skin as he exposed it.

“Impatient?” She teased around a small gasp, one hand supporting her against the drawer and the other twisting lightly around his hair, watching Norm going down her body.

“You have no idea.” He groaned into her, a light bite close to her navel as he finished opening the shirt. She moved to take it off, but he kept his hold on the fabric, looking up at her, all kiss swollen lips and blown-out eyes. “Keep it on.”

She grinned, more arousal down her body, eyebrows up, and let go of the fabric to instead twist her fingers in his hair, pulling slightly.

---------

“Your wish is my command, my dearest.” She said sweetly, her grin so much trouble, and he swallowed, diving to capture one of her nipples – thank God she had forgo the bra –, licking and sucking lightly.

Marigold hummed, fingers flexing in his hair, and Norm hastily unbuttoned her skirt. He needed more access to her, the sooner the better, the arousal burning down his body an unquenchable fever.

Norm kissed along her chest to reach the other breast, sucking the nipple lightly and pulling the fabric down her hips with a harsh pull. Before it had finished falling and pooling around her feet, he pulled down her panties to the middle of her thighs.

“Shirt on but skirt-Fuck!”

One hand gripping her ass, the other reached for her pussy, her warmth and wetness attracting him like a moth to a flame. Slowly, he sunk one finger inside her, the slick sound making him swallow, ears burning. He retreated from her breast and pumped the finger inside her, pressing lightly against her walls and watching as her eyebrows furrowed, kiss swollen lips slightly open, mismatched eyes fixated on him.

“Not going to stop me, Beautiful?” He grinned at her, carefully adding a second finger, thumb pressing and circling lightly around her clit, his movements slow, trying to repeat the rhythm of his cock inside her last time. Marigold moaned around a grin, biting her lip.

“Stop? Why should I?” She leaned down, lips grazing his.

A fast unzipping sound and a hand diving under his suit and underwear, fingertips grazing along the sensitive skin of his cock. His mouth opened in a moan and Marigold kissed him, tongue meeting his in a desperate rhythm. The grip in his hair tightened and she pulled him closer, angling his head.

Open-mouthed kisses down his cheek, a nip on his earlobe.

“You have too many clothes on.” Her thumb circled the tip of cock and he whimpered and swallowed, arching towards her.

“What are you waiting for to correct that?” Norm managed in a breathless voice, circling and pressing against her clit, fingers inside her in a lazy scissoring motion, his own hips slowly thrusting against her hand.

“Fuck-” She moaned against him and bit into his neck. He moaned, head leaning back as much as her hand allowed. “That’s what I’m going to do.” Her hand disappeared and twisted his away, so fast he had no time to try and avoid, pushing him back and he was falling on the bed – double, side against the wall, he noticed.

Marigold’s eyes were swallowed by her pupils, in such a way that both looked black, her movements as she pulled his boots and the knife away hasty and desperate. He helped her along, pulling the sleeves of the suit down his arms, throwing the tank top away as she pulled the suit and his underwear off the rest of the way, the relief in his cock immediate.

A hard bite on one hip, and he jumped, gasping; she pushed him down into the bed, licking and biting the other side.

“Fuck, Marigold.” Norm moaned, head pressing into the lumpy bed.

“That’s the intention.” She chuckled and straddled his hips and above his cock, her panties totally missing, intention clear.

A line of slick glimmered along her inner thigh. Norm whimpered in the back of his throat, the memory of her taste taking over, fingers clawing the back of her thighs and pulling her.

“Up, now.”

“Bossy.” Marigold giggled but went, and he absentmindedly noticed she still had her boots, the leather pressing against him, soft and smooth by age.

And there, soaked pussy and folds and engorged clit perfectly above him, not a scrap of fabric blocking his sight. The smell of sex, sharp and cloying, clung to the back of his throat. He moaned at the sight.

His arms twisted around her thighs and pulled her body down, tongue sinking into her and nose pressing hard against her clit.

---------

“Oh fuck.” She panted, a hand twisting around the covers, the other in his hair, body curving and hips pressing against him.

Norm hadn’t been joking about “sitting on his face”, the way he had pulled her down and moaned against her not leaving any doubt he wanted that.

Still, Marigold worried for one moment, thought about rising, and something must’ve clued him in, because his hands grabbed her hips, eyes meeting her from between her thighs, desperate, and forced her to move against him.

She whimpered, his nose pressing tight against her clit, pleasure a sudden crescendo in her bloodstream.

“Norm… Norm, you’re sure?” She gasped and he nodded and moaned between her thighs. The vibrations went deeper, shivers down her spine and thighs.

Swallowing, eyes on his, she started moving. Cautiously grinding on his face at first, the pressure on her clit moving and sliding; his tongue kept licking and sinking inside and around her, pressing against the points that brought the brightest sparks of pleasure. His hands remained on her hips, helping her along and making sure she wasn’t trying to raise, the grip so tight Marigold could feel the sharp points of pain-pleasure of his nails on her skin.

Norm kept going, eating her cunt, licking and sucking on her clit, moaning into her, the bristles of moustache and beard scratching sharply against the sensitive skin. The pleasure started to sharpen, agonizing in a way that she could hardly breathe.

The movements of her hips became harder, faster, grinding and riding into his face, his moans battering against her more frequently. Norm’s fingers clawed into her thighs, and his lips wrapped around her clit and sucked. A deep throaty moan of his name, her hips chasing him without clear input from her, the grip in his hair tightening, pulling him against her.

He whimpered and licked again at her slit, hard and all encompassing, nose sliding sharply against her clit. A full bodied shiver went through her, and she could feel more wetness dripping down her cunt.

“Fuck, Norm, you’re so good at this.”

His glassy eyes went to her face, slowly blinking. He moved, a hard bite at the sensitive skin of her internal thigh, enough to make her jump and gasp, his hands pulling her down sharply, glassy eyes daring her to look away.

He licked the spot gently, and she swallowed at the contrast. He went back to her cunt, tongue sinking deep inside, blown-out pupils still on her. Her breath hitched, fingers twitching in his hair, hips pressing into him.

---------

He moaned: at her taste. At the new wave of wetness dripping down his tongue and mouth. At how her hips were finally really grinding into him. At the breathless moans of his name amidst brainless praise she didn’t seem all that conscious of saying. At the tight pain-pleasure grip in his hair.

Pleasure slid down thick and hot like lava down his body, hips thrusting up in the air shallowly. If she kept that hold while riding his tongue and nose exactly like he wanted, he wouldn’t last. It had happened enough in the past for him to know that it worked like a charm to make him come, but fuck, he was exactly where he wanted to. If he did came during it all… Well, just more time to focus on her, unmake her.

Norm looked up, Marigold’s mismatched eyes glassy, mouth slightly open around small moans and whimpers and gasps of his name and the occasional blabber of how good he was making her feel. Her body was framed by the red shirt, the muscles in her arms tantalizingly flexed under the sheer sleeves, sweat dripping down between her breasts and along the clenching muscles in her stomach.

He wanted her screaming.

He pressed harder against her pussy, tongue deep inside her, nose insistently stroking against her clit.

Marigold’s hips rode harder against him, purposefully and mindlessly grinding her clit, spreading more her thighs, his name a little higher on her voice. A hand touched his, intertwining, her fingers tight around his, the point of connection warming him up, the wave of love and affection along his chest unexpected, keen, anchoring them together. Weird, welcome.

Norm redoubled his efforts, licking and nipping and sucking and pressing and moaning against her, mindless of the way her fingers tightened and pulled his hair and her hips grinded and rode against him, his own hips thrusting into the air. Her gasps and moans became higher, shivers across her thighs, and she started chanting his name – finally.

He closed his eyes, drowning into her, gripping her hips again just to feel better her rhythm, her hand not letting go of his, and Norm moved to suck hard on her clit. A deep, throaty moan of his name, high enough that it echoed in the room. The movements of her hips became sharper and harder against his face, pushing him against the mattress. The pull in his hair tightened, the fire of pleasure all the way to his cock, punching a long moan out of him.

---------

Her orgasm caught her by surprise, her body sharply bowing forward as her hips kept moving for what seemed like an eternity. Norm’s hands helped them even as he whimpered and moaned under her, tongue still licking at her. Marigold panted, a gasp as he lightly bit one of her folds and his tongue circled her clit.

It all veered in “too much” and she raised her hips, even as she felt her thighs trembling. Norm followed with a whimper, head raising and licking all the way from her slit to her clit, hands trying to pull her down, and her gasp veered into painful pleasure.

Marigold used the grip on his hair to push him back into the mattress, shivering at how his fingers clawed on her hips, still not letting go of their intertwined fingers. She looked at him and he opened his eyes, the look glassy and desperate and all on her cunt, pupils blown wide, tongue trying to clean and lick as much of her slick from his lips as he could.

He looked like a mess. Even more than the other time.

She threw a look over her shoulder, a thick line of pre-cum down his cock, and as she watched it twitched slightly. Marigold swallowed and bit her lip.

“Fuck, my dearest, this really does for you.” She looked back down at him, his eyes a little more present and focusing on her face, one hand stroking her thigh instead of trying to pull her down, the other stroking her knuckles. Marigold raised an eyebrow, grinning. “I bet if I had pulled your hair right you would’ve come without touching your cock.”

The color in his cheeks intensified and he let out a sigh.

“… That’s a problem, Marigold?”

Marigold chuckled and shook her head, carefully moving down his body to straddle his thighs, letting go of his hand to stroke up his arm and to his neck. She didn’t let go of his hair, pulling him sitting with her carefully. Norm’s eyes glazed over again, not leaving her face, clawing at her hips, neck arching. She leaned down, biting his lower lip, and he whimpered.

“Absolutely not.” A suck on his upper lip, still a faint taste of her on it, a finger gliding up his cock; it throbbed against her. “That’s hot as fuck and I hope I get to see, but another day.” Open mouthed kisses across his cheek, cleaning more of her slickness from his face, reaching his ear. “Now what do you think about me riding you until we can’t remember our names?”

“Amazing idea.” A groan and a nip against her jaw, and she hummed. “I suggest against the headboard.”

“Then go on while I take off my boots.” She let go of his hair, giggling as he pouted and let go of her hips.

Marigold took the boots, the knife and her socks off in record time, eyes following Norm crawl backwards, pulling the sagging pillows to cushion his back against the wooden headboard. The bruises and bites she had left were almost totally faded, only some of the hickeys she had snuck on his neck the last days and the red on his cheeks and upper chest contrasting with his tanned beige skin, chin and facial hair still glimmering with her slick and hair all messed up from her hands. God, that was a handsome sight.

He watched her, licking his lips, and her cunt contracted around nothing, wanting and pleasure speeding in her bloodstream in a choir, almost as if he hadn’t just eaten her out until she came and to the edges of overstimulation.

Feet free, she prowled towards him and straddled his hips, leaning down to give him a slow open mouthed kiss, hand cupping his nape and playing with his hair. His hands found her waist, gripping tight, clawing, and she reached between them, hand wrapping around his cock, a groan echoing from him, and aligning her cunt with it.

She lowered a little, enough to feel the tip against her, and his breath hitched. Grinning into the kiss, she kept going down, a shiver along her back and thighs as he slowly filled her, the sensitivity still high, the sensations and pleasure sharper. She hummed when her hips met his, grinding against him.

Norm tore his mouth away from hers with a moan.

Marigold bit his earlobe with a grin, one hand grabbing the headboard, gripping his hair a little better with the other.

“You feel amazing inside me.” She whispered, his fingers tightening against her.

She started with a lazy, slow rhythm, leaning back just enough to look in his eyes as she raised and lowered on his cock, mostly enjoying his warmth and pressure inside her, in tandem with her sensitivity. There was a small smile on his lips, thumbs stroking against her stomach.

“What?” Her voice sounded breathless.

“You look happy. And happiness makes you all the more beautiful.”

Marigold swallowed, her already fast heartbeat all the more sharp in her ribcage. She could feel the warmth rising across her neck and face, her cunt fluttering around his cock, rhythm faltering for one moment.

Norm leaned in with a moan, open mouthed kisses up her sternum, across one clavicle and up her neck, a small gentle bite-kiss under her ear.

“God, I love how calling you beautiful makes you all flustered.”

“Well, you’re the only one that ever did, hard not to get flustered.” She laughed, awkwardly, an attempt at shaking off the weird confession.

---------

He leaned back, looking at Marigold, and his shock should be so obvious that she stopped moving, fingers drumming in the back of his head. Norm tightened his hands on her hips. She chewed on her lips, but still looked at his eyes, something in them awkward and vulnerable.

Looking up at her, the warm light bringing forth the golden in her skin, making auburn and brown glimmer in her hair, kiss swollen lips with lipstick fading and messy… It was the only word he could think for her. The red shirt framing her body, the sheer fabric exposing the muscles in her arms, all the scars, they were all just a bonus.

Norm swallowed, leaning up, tugging lightly at her braid, kissing tenderly her lips. Marigold sighed against him..

“You’re the only one that ever described me as handsome, smart and respectful.” He whispered against her lips, watching her.

Marigold blinked, sighed and chuckled, leaning her forehead against his, fingers caressing his hair.

“Damn, the women in your Vault are so dumb, my beloved.” His heart warmed at the pet name.

“Damn, the men up here are so dumb, love.” He retorted with a grin and she laughed, the sound beautiful, washing away the awkwardness and leaving happiness in the place.

There was still vulnerability, but not the same type, not as cutting, something shown accidentally, but just… Something she actually trusted to show him.

Every time he noticed her trust in him, Norm felt a little more humbled, a little more in love, a little more desperate to have as much time with her as possible. It was easier to understand the advice received.

Still grinning, Marigold leaned down and kissed his lips, sweetly, hips starting again against his, slow and lazy, shivers and fire dripping down his spine. Norm leaned his head back, the grip in his hair a fraction tighter. It ripped a deep moan from him.

“I just noticed one thing.” She hummed, nipping his chin.

“What?” He swallowed.

“Most of the bruises, bites and hickeys are starting to fade.” There was teasing in her voice, hips grinding against his.

“Go right ahead.” He sighed-groaned, eyes fluttering shut, arching his neck.

Marigold immediately started slowly down his neck, a trail of sucking bites. He groaned in the back of his throat, neck and body arching into hers. A harder bite at the curve of his neck and he gasped, hips thrusting up into hers.

It didn’t affect her lazy, slow rhythm. It only made her start grinding against him every time she came down, keeping him flush with the mattress. Her lips moved down his shoulder and chest, still biting and sucking, in a slow, deliberate way that both made him shiver and moan. Her only mercy was not pulling his hair in the way he knew she could, instead just light pulls that made him gasp, air almost not enough in his lungs.

“Fuck, Marigold, you really want to make me go insane.” He panted, bending his legs and fixing his feet against the mattress.

“Where’s the fun if we can’t make each other blubbering messes?” She grinned against his skin, a new hard bite, a sharp spike of pleasure.

“Oh yeah, you’re a sigh all lost in pleasure.” He gasped, a full bodied shiver across him.

Her lips grazed up his neck, open mouthed kisses along his jaw, the pleasure lazy and keen.

“You too.” Marigold whispered against his lips, mismatched eyes full of mischief, grin extra trouble as she pulled him into an open mouthed kiss. Their tongues touched, the kiss lazy and simmering and intense, and he groaned into it.

Swallowing, he thrusted up, meeting her hips and she moaned into the kiss, deep and throaty, the pang of pleasure down his stomach sharp pain-pleasure.

“Taking matters in your hands, my dearest?” Marigold pulled his hair tightly, her voice breathless as she looked down at him, and he managed a smug grin despite his own moan, despite his own scorching pleasure.

“Just a little bit, Beautiful.”

His hands slid up her torso and under the open shirt, the red a stark contrast against her skin – fuck, she looked amazing like that –, cupping and squeezing her breasts in that deep, rolling motion. Her pussy contracted around him as she gasped.

Marigold kissed him, hard and bruising, her next movement sharp.

---------

Fuck. He squeezed-rolled her breasts again, matching the energy of her kiss, shivers going up her neck with how his palms slid against her nipples. The pleasure warmed her thighs and lower stomach, painful, desperate, and she was so out of fucking patience. She needed to come and she needed to see him come, as soon as fucking possible.

She let go of his hair.

“What-” Her hard kiss interrupted his question and rewarded her with a groan, both of her hands gripping the headboard.

She started moving again, faster, harder, retreating to take in his face. Norm’s eyebrows furrowed, mouth slightly open, it all just adding to the thrumming pleasure in her blood.

“Fuck, Marigold.” He moaned, long, the sound beautiful and sinful, head pressing into the pillows, eyes wide open and watching her.

His hands found her hips again, so tight she knew she would later find the indents of his nails, the idea spurring on the choir of pleasure, and he started thrusting up in earnest, pulling her hips down and meeting them in a sharp, snapping motion. Concentrated shivers spread down her thighs, her breathing harder.

“Told you, that’s the intention.” She gave a pleasured gasp.

Hands tighter around the headboard, she changed a little the angle of her hips, and in the next thrust she felt his tip press and slide in the perfect point, the pleasure down her spine so intense it was almost painful, her cunt contracting hard. A full bodied shiver, and she kissed him, moaning.

“Oh, fuck, Norm, right there.”

“I got you.” He moaned right back, still meeting her hips, each thrust up while she went down making him press and slide just right.

“Just like that, Norm.” She gasped, moaning and gasping, eyes tightly closed, the war drums of pleasure spreading through her limbs sharp, her hands clawing into the wood.

“You look amazing, Marigold.” He moaned, hips snapping a little faster up into hers, and she gasped.

Marigold forced her eyes open again. Norm looked at her, his glassy blown out eyes nothing short of mesmerized.

“You look bitable.” She panted, hips going down on him harder. “Makes me want to sink my teeth and mark you all over.” She felt him throb inside her, the moan out of his mouth sinful, enough to make more pleasure tighten and sing inside her. “Fuck, Norm, I’m close.”

He licked his thumb then she felt it press against her clit, swiping fast and firmly, her moan of his name high, and fuck, she let go of the headboard, fingers of both hands twisting and pulling his hair. Norm whimpered, his neck arching, thrusts faltering for one moment. The thrusts came back harder, sharper, pressing against her, the war drums and choir a crescendo, crescendo…

“Fuck fuckfuckfuck-NormNorm-” She chanted-screamed as she came, toes curling, hips grinding down hard into his hips and finger, cunt squeezing around his cock. Marigold kissed him, pushing him against the pillow, body undulating, spasms and shivers down her legs and spine.

---------

Norm kept trusting up, clawing at her hips, thumb still against her clit, harder, moaning and groaning against her lips, her pussy tight around him, her chant-scream of his name still causing shivers down his spine. He was so fucking close-

Her fingers pulled tighter on his hair and she bit-sucked on his neck, sharp pain-pleasure a scorching forest fire down his body and he was coming, a shout-moan of her name, spilling inside her and grinding up into her, shallow movements that Marigold met sharply, whimpering around his skin.

Marigold stopped moving first, letting go of his neck a moment later. She carefully pulled his hand away from her clit with a groan, and he could feel her shivers in the hip he still held as he grinded and thrusted against her hips and pulled her down. Tender and soft kisses up his neck until Marigold met his lips, and he pressed back, as much as possible, gently.

Norm stopped moving with a wince, his cock oversensitive, and he groaned, body relaxing and head falling against the pillow.

Marigold looked down at him and giggled, pecking his lips multiple times. He smiled into it and she settled better against him, his cock still inside her. Norm stroked up her thighs and hips, hugging her close and leaning his head against her breast with a sigh, the mix of skin and fabric a soft, gentle pleasure. Her heartbeat still strong and fast, and her fingers slowly slid against his hair and his back, the pleasure of it soft, warm, affectionate.

“I love you, Marigold.”

Her heart speed under him and he smiled.

“I love you too, Norm.” She hummed, and there was a kiss against his hair.

---------

The shirt became stifling, and Norm helped her take it off, pecking her breasts, shoulders, up her neck and jaw after she was totally naked. Marigold smiled with it all, arms around his shoulders and hands playing with his hair and stroking his spine, his body heat against her one of the softest pleasures she had ever had.

“Why keep the shirt?” Marigold whispered after some moments of silence. It was filled with Norm’s hands stroking up and down her thighs and hips and ass with a heartbreaking tenderness and occasional soft squeezes.

Norm groaned against her, tightly hugging her waist.

“You didn’t notice?”

“What?”

She felt him sigh against her breasts.

“Your arms… Well, your strength. I… Really like it.” He retreated a little, cheeks flushed, looking and blinking at her naked arms, and despite the fact he was soft inside her, his cock throbbed faintly. Oh. “I mean… You’re strong, you have muscles, right? The sheer red fabric really makes them shine. I thought you had noticed.”

Marigold pulled him for a kiss, grinning into it.

“I hadn’t, but thanks for telling me.” Oh, she would use that knowledge in the future.

He sighed and rolled his eyes with a faint, amused smile.

“And you?” Norm asked, staring up at her, the flush in his cheeks intensifying as his hands once again stroked up and down her body.

“Me what?”

“… Something specific you really like? Physical, I mean.” Norm managed to mumble after a moment, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

Her grin increased, hands framing his face, eyes going up and down his face, her hum almost a chuckle.

“Well…” She kissed softly his cheek. “There’s this thing that I really like, you know?” A kiss on the other cheek, and Norm sighed. “Beyond your hair all mussed from sleep and my hands, that is…”

“Marigold…” A hint of impatience in his voice, a sharper squeezing in the flesh of her thighs, and she giggled, pecking his lips.

“The beard and the moustache.” She finally admitted, sliding her nose against his softly, eyes on his.

Norm blinked, a hand absentmindedly touching his own chin.

“… Really?”

“Yep. I like it so much it’s almost criminal.” Another peck, and he grinned into it. “I don’t know why you’ve kept it, but I’m very happy you did.”

He chuckled and hugged her close again.

“… I forgot to bring the things to shave.”

“Vault 4?” Marigold managed to keep her laugh inside, but just barely. Norm sighed against her breasts.

“… The shaving cream was the one whose smell I can’t stand.” At that she laughed, kissing his hair. “It really doesn’t bother you? Like… Seeing or feeling?”

“I love seeing it and even more feeling it.” She pulled his head to look him in the eyes, a little more serious. “But does it bother you?”

Norm blinked for one moment, smiling slightly.

“It doesn’t, but I can tell it’s looking very unkempt at the moment.”

Marigold bit her lip. She liked the unkempt look, sure, but if he didn’t and wanted it to look more proper… As long as he kept it.

“I can help you, you know…”

“Know how to take care of beards?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I skin animals for a living, Norm-boy.” She grinned. “And Mika almost slits his own throat every damn time he tries to shave himself alone, we have to take turns to help him.”

Norm laughed and pulled gently at her braid, kissing her lips.

“All right. I accept the help.” She grinned against him.

“I’ll do it after we get clean.”

Marigold shifted slightly, knees starting to complain about the lumpy mattress.

“You have what you need? Really?”

“Well, yeah. Wasteland way. Soap and a sharp knife and scissors, that’s all that I need.” Marigold winked as she started to get up. Norm chuckled and carefully helped her, hands not letting go of her hips until she was sitting down.

Despite everything, her face burned as she felt the mix of his seed and her wetness slid down her thigh before she finally plopped sitting in the bed, back against the headboard.

“I’ll get a rag to get us clean.” He kissed her hand before moving.

“Thanks so much, Norm-boy. There’s a bucket with water close to the door for cleaning.”

“No ‘you’re spoiling me’ or ‘bossy’?” He grinned and she turned her head to follow him, grinning herself at the slight tremble in his legs.

“Still waiting to feel my legs.” She teased, a new slight spring in his step that was, sincerely, fucking cute.

Marigold watched Norm dampen a rag with the water and clean himself, licking her own lips almost unconsciously – she promised herself to chance a blowjob one of these days. He returned to the bed, holding the damp rag, and she spread her legs as he kneeled on the mattress.

There was a subtle pause in Norm’s movements, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, a shift in his eyes, and she grinned as he started cleaning her; a shiver went across her body as he reached her sensitive cunt, movements careful and slow.

“That look almost makes me think you wish you were fucking a baby into me, Norm-boy.” She chuckled at her own teasing as his hand retreated, hoping his own come back.

Instead he froze, eyes snapping to her face, his cheeks flushing so dark she got worried. Norm tried to spring from the bed and away, but her hand caught his arm and stopped him, heartbeat hammering inside her chest.

“Hey, hey, Norm-boy, I’m sorry, I-” she wasn’t sure what she was about to say, so she just tried to gently pull him back, heartbeat painful, terrified her joke had broken something in their relationship that had barely fucking started.

Norm accepted her pull, staring at her, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. His mouth opened and closed once, and Marigold shut up, watching, waiting, anxiety tearing down at her.

“I don’t know, I just-” Norm started, blinking. “In the Vault we either pull out or we use condoms, since we still produce them.” He sighed, finally looking at her. “Trying for kids is for married couples. I’ve never… Like…” A hand gesticulated wildly beside his face, something completely out of character for him. Marigold gently caught it, intertwining their fingers, and he let her, gripping back tightly. His lips pressed in a line, cheeks still red.

“You’ve never actually seen your cum dripping out of someone and you weren’t expecting any reaction.”

“Pretty much.” He mumbled. “And to boot I’ve always avoided thinking about it all, you know? It was a chore, work, that’s all.”

She nodded slowly, biting her lip and trying to find her words, stroking his hand with her thumb.

“First: I’m sorry with however my joke made you feel, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” She settled for apologizing first.

He smiled at her and kissed her hand, eyes not dropping from hers, his shoulders relaxing a bit.

“You mostly caught me by surprise, love. I didn’t think you noticed anything.” The pet name was a relief, but she still kept going.

“Still. I’m sorry. And second: either you’re discovering a kink, and won’t ever want kids, or you’ll discover you actually want kids.” She grinned and pecked his lips. “Whatever the answer, just let me know.”

His thumb stroked her hand and the smile softened, sickly sweet.

“Having kids is something you want, then?”

“Never actually stopped to think about it, Norm-boy.” She hummed, smiling. “I think I wouldn’t be opposed, especially with you.” Marigold felt her heart accelerate at the admission, warmth across her cheeks, but with her decision at loving him and everything else, not admitting seemed wrong.

Besides… She could remember how good he had been with Lily. Maybe one day, if they both agreed… The kid he would be teaching about terminals and so on would be theirs.

She pecked his lips, fast, warmth and affection spreading across her chest.

---------

Norm dry-swallowed, staring, heartbeat fast, already experienced enough to notice she was flustered. “I think I wouldn’t be opposed, especially with you”. And the peck.

Damn it.

With the way his body went into overdrive, a tired and painful pang of arousal making his cock twitch, Norm was pretty sure that her answer had also answered his doubt.

Maybe yes, a hint of kink, but it seemed more that he wasn’t opposed at having a kid, forming a family, with her. Not a chore, not work. Just because he loved her and wanted to… Have it all. In a way he hadn’t really thought about before.

God, he never had considered himself as a romantic, but that’s what he was showing himself to be.

Well, damn it, he had already decided he wanted to make whatever they had official, because yes, he was pretty sure he wanted to spend his life with her. He had promised to go to the ranch before all the love confessions, after all, hadn’t he? If down the line the talk about actually having kids appeared… He wouldn’t be opposed too. Especially with her.

He kissed her, hard and desperate, and Marigold hummed against him.

“Marry me.” He said against her lips.

It didn’t sound like a question. It sounded both like a plea and an order, and Marigold blinked, mouth opening and closing repeatedly like a fish out of water.

He swallowed, staring at her, heartbeat so fast and hard he felt it in his throat, terror at what she was about to say weighting his veins.

“Are you… Are you sure, Norm-boy? I know that I love you, and that you love me, but that’s big and… Well, we’re still recent.” Her voice was quiet and sounded equally terrified.

Norm breathed in, holding their intertwined hands to his chest.

“I am.” He cupped her face, stroking her cheek. “I… In the Vault, I know that eventually they would have pushed me to marry and have kids with some complete stranger from another Vault. Maybe I would’ve loved her in the long run, maybe not, but I wouldn’t have a choice in it.” He breathed in, pressing her hand tighter against him. “You know me, probably a lot better than a lot of people with whom I spent my whole life.” Her eyes started to get watery. “And I think that I know you a lot more than a lot of people that never even tried. And I want to keep getting to know you, and for you to keep getting to know me, for as long as we can.” He pressed a gentle kiss against her lips and leaned his forehead against hers. “Being with you, loving you… It’s not a chore, it’s not pushed on me. It’s something I can want and choose. And I really, really want to try, Marigold.”

Marigold smiled, pretty, soft, holding his hand against her face.

“I’m happy you don’t see all this like a chore.” She kissed the palm of his hand and breathed deeply, eyes still on his, still watery, a tear escaping, but she was still smiling. “That all… I really like the sound of it. Getting to know you and you getting to know me for as long as we can.” Marigold pecked his lips. “So yes, my beloved.”

Her whisper caused a full bodied shiver across him and he kissed her back, harder, and Marigold grinned into it, hand twisting away from his to pull him close by his nape.

“Say it again. Please.” He whispered against her lips and she chuckled.

“Yes, my beloved.”

He grinned, love all across his chest. She had said yes. Yes. Damn it, he had been terrified of a denial, but he had never thought he would feel as the luckiest and happiest man in the world at hearing a “yes”.

“So now I get to call you ‘my wife’?” Marigold froze against him, and his grin increased.

“’My’?” She breathed against him.

“As you said… Mine to love, to protect, to keep safe.” He pecked her lips at each word, and her smile increased against him, pulling him tight.

“Well, you do. And I get to call you husband.”

“Just husband?” He fake-pouted.

“Brat. My husband.” She chuckled, kissing him firmly before retreating, and he swallowed at the warmth and affection filling him.

She looked at him, still smiling, then jumped up and strode across the room. Marigold limped slightly, and a pinch of smugness spread down his chest.

“What is it?” He watched her, and Marigold started fumbling with her bag-belt.

“Well, I know the tradition is usually the other way around, but I do have a ring to put on your finger and make everyone knows you’re taken.” She straightened with a grin, waggling her eyebrows, the golden piece with a turquoise proudly in her hands.

Norm swallowed, his own eyes burning with tears. He didn’t have a ring, and he opened his mouth to apologize, promise he would find her one…

And then he remembered the necklace. Not his mom’s but similar. It was something pre-war, right? Engagement and wedding rings that were passed down along the family.

He hoped his mom would’ve liked Marigold. He didn’t remember her enough to know, but God, he hoped so.

Norm jumped towards his coat, ignoring the jelly feel in his legs, desperately fumbling with the pockets. Norm sighed with relief at finding the necklace.

Her eyes became big as he approached and it became visible.

“Norm-boy-”

“Don’t. I want to.” Norm opened the clasp with a smile. “Now sit down so I can put it on you, Beautiful.”

He noticed her swallowing, and then Marigold sat down at the bed’s edge, soft pretty smile as he reached around her neck and closed it. The pendant lied just between her clavicles, and he kissed her, his smile so big his cheeks hurt.

“My turn.” She sing-sang, holding his left-hand up. The ring ended up on his middle finger, fitting snugly, and she pulled him down into dozens of small kisses, giggling, and he cupped her cheek.

Happiness on her looked good, sounded good, everything.

---------

Norm had almost forgot Marigold saying she was helping him with his beard, too overwhelmed by her acceptance, just wanting to lie down and cuddle with her until they feel asleep.

She hadn’t, pulling on some clean panties and grinning as she said to him to sit while she got what she needed.

He chuckled, pulling his own underwear up, sitting at the bed’s edge, watching her pick up a short, one edged knife, one of the soaps he had bought her, still wrapped up in a waxy paper, scissors, a clean rag and a small glass flask.

Marigold pulled the bucket closer and Norm opened his legs to allow her closer as she kneeled in the floor, their faces lined up. He just smiled as she wetted the soap and made foam in her hands.

“How do you want it?”

Norm sighed and frowned for one moment.

“I think just lined up to the corners of my mouth and only on the chin?” He touched above his lips. “The moustache is okay. Maybe just trim a bit?” She nodded.

“Anything on the neck and under the jaw going away, a moustache trim. Got it, sir.” She grinned and winked.

Then she started humming and tipped his head back, spreading the soapy foam on his skin carefully, the smell of lavender wafting around him. Norm didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he just put them against the bed.

Marigold was fast, efficient, and careful, and even as he felt the knife’s edge sliding up against the skin of his neck, he felt safe.

She had pushed his chin down a bit, foam on the sides of his chin, when sounds started on the room beside theirs. Marigold’s movements stopped and he froze, head turning slightly, as the sounds became louder and louder, and then a loud moan and what he was pretty sure was a bed banging against the wall…

The two of them started giggling immediately, her hands dropping to holding his as their foreheads touched. The people there were very animated, words starting to get mixed up in the sounds, and it was impossible for them to just go back to his beard.

Then he understood a name and it dawned on him: if he and Marigold could hear them so well…

“Oh my God.” He whispered, frozen, eyes tightly closed.

“What?”

“If we can hear them… Then people could hear us earlier.” Oh God. Oh God. How he hadn’t thought about it before?

“Thick walls in the Vault?” He nodded against her and Marigold pressed a kiss against his cheek. “Think on the good side.”

“Is there one?”

“People know we did it fucking well.”

Norm let out a small groan, accepting as she made him straighten, the sounds on the other room still going.

“How is that good?” Her hands touched his face, retouching the soapy foam.

“Oh, my beloved, I’m pretty sure I screamed your name.” A knife’s edge sliding carefully against his skin on one side and he swallowed at the memory; yes she had. “All that people that looked at me down there, knowing that they have no chance…” The edge on the other side of his chin, and he dry-swallowed, Marigold’s soft words spreading the slow fire of arousal down his spine. “Because you’re the only one I want between my thighs and warming up my bed.” The rag, gently cleaning his face, then a peck against his lips.

Norm finally opened his eyes, unsure if he was glad or disappointed that he didn’t feel able to get up again for the night. Something in her words scratched at that uncomfortable, nasty feeling he felt every time someone else looked at her with want, with lust. Specifically the implication that those had heard her calling his name and the reassurance that it was him she wanted. It just… It soothed the nasty feeling. Made it less.

Marigold smiled at him and started trimming his moustache. He touched the necklace, fidgeting with it as she worked. The sounds on the other room reached a clear peak then diminished and eventually they couldn’t hear anything else.

“… You’re a menace.” He finally said when the scissors retreated and she laughed, opening the glass flask he had noticed. A strong flowery smell wafted from it.

“Your menace.” She grinned and waggled her eyebrows.

“Yes, mine.” Norm could feel the soft look in his eyes as he stared at her. “What’s that?” He asked as she wetted her fingers with whatever was on the flask and spread on his facial hair.

“Oil of marigold flowers.” She pecked his lips and capped the flask again.

The one she used on her hair.

Affection burned and spread on his chest, and he sighed, watching and smiling as she got up to put everything away. He remembered washing her hair, and his fingers itched to be able to do it and more – brushing, braiding, all of it. He would, Norm promised himself. He had their whole life to do it.

#norm maclean #norm maclean x oc #fallout #fallout series #fallout prime

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tavolgisvist · 12 days ago

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The Scouser was, according to legend, the one with all the back-chat, the inclination for a sing-song, and probably wanted to be the shop steward too. <...> The pretty nurse in Paul McCartney’s ‘Penny Lane’, selling poppies from a tray, ‘feels as if she’s in a play’. It’s a common sensation in Liverpool. You can be in a pub, or on a bus, or behind the shelter in the middle of the roundabout, and somehow get the impression that everybody is reacting to everybody else and speaking from a very well-written script. The Bakerloo Line is not like that. Life on Merseyside has a peculiar vividness. It’s lived as though on a stage. There are no spectators because everyone is obliged to take a part. The favourite variety of dockers’ humour was giving names to other people: making them more than real by casting them as characters. So there would be the Weightlifter (he’ll wait while you lift), the Lazy Solicitor (who falls asleep on a case), the Mangy Kitten (gets on a bus and says ‘I’ve got no fur). <…> The locals apparently knew him as the Sheep (‘because he baas people out’). Today, though, there were glamorous actresses, lights, cameras and action, and he couldn’t get anyone to drink up and go home.

(Liverpool - Wondrous Place by Paul Du Noyer, 2002)

Part (I), (II), (III), (IV), (V), (VI), (VII), (VIII), (IX), (X), (XI), (XII), (XIII), (XIV), (XV), (XVI), (XVII), (XVIII), (XIX), (XX), (XXI), (XXII)

#paul du noyer #liverpool #scouse

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auroraescritora · 1 month ago

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THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME - PERCY/NICO AU HIGH SCHOOL - CHAPTER XXVIII, CHAPTER XXIX, CHAPTER XXX

Hi, how are you? Chapter finished early? That's right! The good news is that I've moved things forward a lot, the bad news is that I'm going to have to take a break from translating this one in order to write the last few chapters of the story. As a gift, I've decided to post the last three chapters I have ready. I also have a few chapters of “Sitter's love” ready. It will be out later today.

Previous chapters: CHAPTER I / CHAPTER II / CHAPTER III / CHAPTER IV / CHAPTER V / CHAPTER VI / CHAPTER VII / CHAPTER VIII / CHAPTER IX / CHAPTER X / CHAPTER XI / CHAPTER XII / CHAPTER XIII / CHAPTER XIV / CHAPTER XV / CHAPTER XVI / CHAPTER XVII / CHAPTER XVIII / CHAPTER XIX / CHAPTER XX / CHAPTER XXI / CHAPTER XXII / CHAPTER XXIII / CHAPTER XXIV / CHAPTER XXV /CHAPTER XXVI / CHAPTER XXVII

Chapter XXVIII

"Please!" Nico screamed at the top of his lungs. Luckily, the rest of the family was helping out at the restaurant, so there was no one to witness this scene.

"I don't know. Have you learned your lesson?”

Nico whimpered once more and wiggled in his lap.

You know, Percy was very patient, almost a saint, so charitable and kind. And do you know why? Percy had taken Nico to the car, put their things in the backseat and driven calmly for the next fifteen minutes to his mother's house. He had put away the bags, offered Nico water and made him eat something before taking him upstairs, where their room was. Then, only then, after locking the bedroom door and putting the key in his pocket, he turned to Nico, letting the little boy see his true intentions.

“Take off your clothes,” Percy said without hesitation. However, it was Nico who hesitated. The boy looked at the door, then at the window, and finally looked at him, uncertain.

"Are you sure?" Nico asked. "You didn't reacted very well, before.”

Hmm... it was true. But that moment was in the past.

"Take off your clothes." Percy repeated.

This would be the part where he would usually be moving and he would be taking Nico's clothes off himself. The point here was not about taking off the clothes or even about the spanking that would come, but rather to make Nico feel this really was a punishment, and for that to happen the first step was to make Nico feel humiliated and then reprimanded. The pain would just be a way to release all these emotions.

"What are you waiting for? Do you need encouragement?”

"I... no!" Nico's eyes widened in surprise and he began to take off his clothes. Or rather, he tore them off and threw them to one side of the room, standing in front of Percy with his head slightly lowered and his hands behind his back.

Percy always forgot that Nico understood how the relationship between dominance and submission worked.

Even so, he watched Nico for a few moments. His face was beginning to blush, his spine was curved as if to protect himself and his posture was tense like he knew what was coming. Percy let the moment drag on for a few minutes, without speaking, and only when Nico started to fidget with anxiety, he decided to show some mercy.

"Do you know why we are here?”

"Did I... embarrass you?”

Silly. Percy would never be ashamed of Nico. No matter the reason.

"Do you think I'm ashamed of you?" He grabbed Nico by the chin and made him look at him. And when Nico did nothing but stare back at him, completely docile, Percy was finally satisfied. This was the way a good boy should behave, he should be obedient and well-behaved and the reddish tone on his olive skin made everything even better.

Well, even though he was a good boy, Nico was one of the most stubborn people he knew. And sometimes, trying to talk about the problem didn't work with Nico. So, the solution was to show him. Percy held Nico by the hands, sat on the edge of the bed and placed Nico on his lap, face down.

Percy could do this in many ways. Nico on all fours on the bed, lying on a pillow, kneeling on the floor, standing facing the wall... but no, Percy wanted it to be something more intimate and personal this time, because he wouldn't use any tools, like a paddle or even a hairbrush. He wanted Nico to feel every spank and every touch on his skin, he wanted Nico to regret and apologize. However, Percy stopped for a moment and admired the beauty of his baby, the soft skin, the firm and round ass checks, the slender waist and hips, the body that trembled as Percy caressed the brown skin. He knew he was torturing Nico more than necessary, but in the end, he would be sure that Nico would never doubt him again.

"Are you ready?”

Of course that wasn't a question, it was more of a warning. Percy didn't wait for Nico to answer and brought his hand against the right side of Nico's buttocks, and the first moan came. Or had it been a grunt?

"I... oh! I've been... it's been so long! "A louder moan came with the next slap, without warning, allowing Percy to see the first tear break free.

"I'll ask you one more time. Do you know why we're here?" And then, another slap. Nico bent over and grabbed the sheets, trying to close his legs. "Answer me.”

"I was a bad boy.”

"And what else?”

"I don't know!" Nico shouted, feeling the next slap coming.

Percy was disappointed. Although the spankings weren't exactly weak, it shouldn't have been too difficult to understand why Nico was being punished. He gave three more spanks, one after the other and in the same place, and let Nico rest for a few moments, watching the little boy in his ecstatic misery; his little member was fully erect, about to expel, but his crying was so intense that Nico sobbed, anxious and anguished. A well-applied punishment in his point of view.

"It's okay, baby. I'll help you.”

“Are you?” Nico said in the smallest, sweetest, most vulnerable voice he had ever heard.

"I would never be ashamed of you. So what could it be, hm?”

"I... "Still crying and sniffling, Nico frowned and his eyes furrowed in concentration. "I was jealous?”

"No, it's not that. You can be jealous whenever you want.”

“Then...?”

"It's about trust.”

"Oh.”

Ah, now, yes! The expression he wanted to see, guilt and regret.

"I trust you." Nico muttered, embarrassed.

"Do you think I'm going to cheat on you? Trade you for someone else? If I haven't done this for two years, why would I do it now?”

"I don't know." Nico said even more quietly, tears rolling down his dark skin again. "I just... I can't believe that someone like you would want to spend the rest of their life with me.”

Gods, now Percy was the one who wanted to cry. He picked Nico up and made him sit on one of his legs, keeping Nico's small member pressed against his jeans. Nico gasped at the same time, his member and his aching ass being rubbed at the same time.

"Well, that's not right. My baby should never doubt me.”

"I don't doubt it! Ah!”

"Until that sinks in, we'll keep doing it. Over and over, until there's no doubt left.”

"Please!" Nico screamed again, feeling the burning sensation spread across his skin once more.

Percy admitted, he was at his most sadistic moment, there were so many things he had to do and plan that, he confessed, Percy was letting the stress out through his pores as he watched Nico scream and beg for mercy.

"Then I want to see you beg for forgiveness.”

“I’m sorry!”

There it was, exactly what he wanted to hear. The look of anguish on Nico's face was so beautiful that he could have come just watching it. Percy continued to spank Nico's skin, and with each new spank that was accompanied by a shouted "Sorry!", something inside him expanded and was satisfied, as if Percy were at a banquet with all of his favorite dishes.

That is, Percy would have been content to watch that scene for the rest of his life, if he hadn't caught the exact moment where something in Nico seemed to have changed, one moment Nico was all tense and distressed, and the next, well... Nico went limp in his arms, the lines on his face softened and his dark eyes rolled back, then closed in complete climax. And if Percy hadn't been so close, he would have barely noticed, the only clue was the small pool of liquid against his hip where Nico was leaning.

What could Percy do? He never said Nico couldn't cum or that he couldn't enjoy the moment.

***

Nico sighed and allowed himself to be hugged, while Percy comforted him. He thought he was still crying, tremors making the sobs more intense than expected, his empty and numb head spinning slowly. Nico knew that one day Percy would kill him, but he would die happy and content. Nothing could affect him at that moment.

Which was fine. In fact, Nico couldn't be better, traveling on the endorphins that only a good session of pain could bring. If disobeying Percy more times was what it took to be "punished" more often, Nico would become the worst of the good boys. He wanted to laugh at these silly thoughts, but Percy still held him in his arms, still caressed his back and still massaged the sensitive skin of his buttocks. It was difficult to have a coherent thought in those moments, moments when he focused only on obeying. Nico knew that once the endorphins left his body, being a good boy or not would make no difference, but in those long minutes, feeling Percy's hands on him and lips against his, nothing was more important.

"Shhhh... it's okay." Percy murmured against his lips, making him open his eyes. Nico took a deep breath and moaned, feeling Percy's wet fingers brush against his entrance, the position they were in perfect for penetration; he sat on Percy's lap with his legs wrapped around Percy's waist.

It wasn't long after that, one finger turned into two and then the head of Percy’s cock was touching his entrance, applying a little pressure until it entered, sliding into the tight passage and making him arch his spine, moaning as he felt Percy penetrate him completely. This was something Nico didn't understand, he used to hate that feeling of his muscles stretching, the slight burning that made him hot without hurting him. Now? He loved feeling his body open up and allow Percy to enter him, a pleasure that Nico didn't understand if it was completely physical or if it was also emotional.

Nico let out another moan, feeling the pain come back with a vengeance, when Percy grabbed his buttocks, making him contract all over.

"Hmm. So good. You like it that way, don't you?”

He... Nico loved it. He liked every gesture and every touch, every word, every movement. But Nico had a problem, he was afraid to say how much he liked everything Percy made him feel, whether they were positive or negative emotions. Because, sometimes, Percy was a bit... cruel, dominating him beyond what Nico was comfortable with. Percy used what Nico said against him, even if it was in the best possible way. Even if Nico didn't want to admit it. What if one day, a day that was very far from coming, Percy dominated him in such a way that Nico would never be able to get out of this submissive state of mind and became only what Percy wanted him to be, nothing more than a patchwork doll?

In fact, Nico felt like it could happen at any moment, with the slightest touch and words spoken sweetly in his ear. He felt like his mind would float away from him and only the part inside him that lived to satisfy its owner's desires would remain.

"Baby?" He heard Percy's voice calling him back in the distance, as if pulling him with a rope back to the earth. "Here you are. So beautiful.”

"Ah, I'm going to... cum..." Nico moaned, shuddering, Percy holding him by his back and neck, affectionately, moving his waist towards another orgasm, his bones feeling like they were made of jelly and his muscles completely relaxed.

"That's it. Like that?”

Nico couldn't take it anymore. Percy reached that little spot inside him, the sensation coming suddenly. One moment he felt like melted butter and the next, Nico was twitching, coming, wrapping his legs around Percy's waist and throwing his head back in a silent scream. And without being touched, he expelled, for long moments feeling himself go empty, only stopping when exhaustion made him relax once more.

"Per.” He whimpered, his nerves hypersensitive. The sensation coming as suddenly as his orgasm.

"It's okay. I'm here.”

A kiss was placed on his neck, another on his face and finally on his lips. And then, everything seemed to get better. Nicos’s breathing calmed down and his heart slowed down.

"Good boy. So obedient.”

If he had a tail, Nico would be wagging it happily right now. Because that's how Nico felt, like a pet who had been praised for learning a new trick and being a good boy.

"I'm not a... a..." Nico couldn't find the words even if he wanted to, his head was too empty to form complex thoughts.

"Oh, aren't you my good boy? My baby? Papa will be sad.”

This was too much for his dopamine-fueled brain. Nico chose to close his eyes and hide his face in Percy's shoulder, feeling safe and protected, agreeing with Percy even though he couldn't admit it.

"Oh, my baby don't to worry. I have a gift for you.”

Nico heard the sound of plastic being opened and something being placed in his hand.

"Eat.”

Nico obeyed, entranced. He took a bite and pleasure spread across his tongue. It was chocolate. Well, it was a candy made of chocolate that they used to eat as children. It used to be his favorite, something he made with his own hands to remember his mother.

"Thank you." Nico found himself saying between bites, content to stay exactly where they were; in bed, sitting on Percy's lap with his head resting on his shoulder and eating his favorite candy.

"My baby deserves the best.”

Nico wasn't sure about that. He would let Percy decide that for him, like he always did.

Chapter XXIX

"Baby, are you okay? "Percy had to ask.

Usually Percy wouldn't worry if Nico stayed in his happy and submissive little world for long periods of time. The truth is that he liked to see Nico completely under his control, obeying his every order and trying so hard to fulfill his wishes that if it were up to him, these moments between four walls would never end. However, the sky was already starting to darken and he could hear the sound of his brothers' laughter and his mother's voice scolding them.

It was at times like these that Percy wished he was an adult and didn't have to share the time he had with Nico, much less let them see Nico at his most vulnerable. Honestly? Percy didn't care how other people would react, but rather how Nico would feel when he finally emerged from his light and content state.

Percy did his best to make Nico feel safe enough to snap out of his trance. They took a long bath, he washed Nico's hair, fed Nico his favorite food, and then made him take a nap. That was usually enough to get Nico back to normal. Today? Nico seemed especially determined to keep his distance.

"Baby?" Percy called again.

Nico merely lifted his head from his chest and settled himself more comfortably under the covers, blinking slowly, seemingly waiting for the next order.

"I need you to come back to me.”

"Come back?" Nico frowned and sat down, trying to reason.

"It's been five hours. Do you want dinner?”

"Oh." The crease disappeared from Nico’s face, but he remained as he was, slow and meek, not questioning anything. "Okay.”

Nico then stood up. He dragged himself out of bed and calmly put on his shoes, walked to the bedroom door and waited for him, patient, obedient, almost bowing, holding his own hands behind his back.

Percy sighed, at least Nico wasn't completely spaced out. This was all his fault, he knew that well. Wasn't that what he wanted? Nico completely obedient and submissive one hundred percent of the time?

In the end, Nico was right. What Percy really wanted was to have fun and fulfill his darkest fantasies.

Moments later, Percy realized that he had no reason to worry. They went downstairs, ate without anything strange happening and Nico even interacted with Tyson and Grover, helping Sally put the dishes on the table. There was a moment when Nico and Sally disappeared into the kitchen and only returned ten minutes later, at which point Percy thought he was in trouble, but all he saw was Nico sitting on his lap and resting his head on his shoulder, and Sally, who smiled at him proudly.

***

Sometimes Percy wished he could go back to the time when his parents were still married and his family had a lot less money. It would mean less responsibilities, more free time, and less stress in his life. First, his mother had the brilliant idea of making him wake up at five in the morning that weekend to help with the monthly billing and inventory, something an accountant could easily do. But no, Sally had suffered a setback in the past and was not willing to take another one. So everyone in the family was forced to help. Nico was a special case, of course. He already helped Sally more than his share in the kitchen, so Nico was exempt from that hard work. And if that weren't enough, they had a meeting with the restaurant's suppliers.

Apparently, the quality of the vegetables wasn't pleasing Sally, and apparently Percy intimidated anyone who looked at him for too long. Go figure. So, that was one of his duties; whenever they had to deal with an insufferable customer or service provider, he would be there. And this time, it was the vegetable supply; his new mission was to stand behind his mother and face the men until they agreed to the new contract. It would be funny if he didn't have to leave Nico alone at home.

But before going to the meeting, Percy made sure to wake Nico up. He knew it was still eight o'clock in the morning on a Saturday, but he still remembered how Nico had reacted when he hadn't found him in bed that time he had visited Apollo’s club. So, without making a sound, Percy took the stairs and went towards his room, seeing that the door was ajar, and he could see inside the room through the crack in the door.

Percy pushed open the door and what he saw took his breath away.

Nico stood in the middle of the room, naked, wet hair and barefoot, with his back to the door, sitting on the edge of the bed. In it was the black box with the collar, the same collar that they had both decided to ignore, like a taboo that should never be mentioned. But there was Nico, holding the collar against his lap, seeming to admire its weight in his long, thin fingers, completely calm and composed, and with the same quiet and docile attitude that he had adopted for the last few days.

For the first time, he decided that taking no action was the best course of action. Because no matter what he said or even ordered, this was something Nico would have to decide for himself. And if in the end Nico decided he didn't want any of this, Percy would have to accept it.

It didn't take long for Percy to get his answer. Slowly, Nico brought the collar up to his own neck and wrapped it around his skin, still without fastening the clasp, seeming to measure the weight of the leather on his skin. When nothing happened, Percy watched as Nico buckled the collar and continued to hold the leather against his skin, as thought the collar were too heavy for his neck to bear.

Nico stood up, and still with his back to the door, he walked over to the mirror that stood on the other side of the room, near the wardrobe. Nico was admiring himself, that's what it was; he touched the leather of the collar, as if stroking the fur of a pet, and even from this distance, Percy could see the olive skin darkening with a blush, although Nico wasn't panicking like he had before. After all, why would he? It was just fantasies, wasn't it?

Percy couldn't take it anymore. He marched with determined steps into the room and stopped behind Nico, almost glued to his back, now observing both of their reflections in front of the mirror. It was something automatic, his hands went to Nico's neck, his fingers circling the long neck, right at the part of the collar that now hid the choker, massaging the skin he found there.

“So you liked it.” It hadn’t been a question, because the answer was obvious. The look on Nico’s face told Percy everything he needed to know, and the surprised, shy gasp even more so.

"I didn't... I was curious!" There it was, anxiety coming like a bullet train. So the problem must be his presence. Or maybe the expectation that Nico himself placed on himself.

Nico took a step forward, trying to free himself from his hands, and this time, Percy allowed Nico to escape; this was not something he should joke about if he wanted the sight of Nico wearing a collar to be an everyday occurrence in the future.

"It's okay. I didn't mean to scare you.”

"You didn't scare me. It's just... you know... I don't know if I can do what you expect of me. The diary, it's just fantasies and... I never thought I would... I would like it so much that I would have sex with someone. I just... I don't know.”

“I understand,” Percy said in his most affable voice.

"Do you?" Nico opened his eyes wide, looking surprised and so innocent that Percy came closer again, touching his black hair, trying to comfort him.

"It's okay if you want to play. It's okay if you don't. We don't have to try something new just because I want to.”

"I thought the role of a submissive was to do the dominant's wishes?”

"This is a fantasy, isn't it? You said it yourself. I don't want to force you.”

"Oh." Nico murmured, relaxing in Percy's arms, resting his head on his shoulder and wrapping his arms around his waist. "Sometimes, I feel like I should do certain things... I mean! You never asked me to do this...

"It's okay." Percy said once more, smiling at Nico, deciding to put him out of his misery. "From now on, whenever I want to do something, I'll ask for permission. It doesn't matter what it is, even if it's a kiss.”

"Always?”

"And you are under no obligation to accept or reciprocate, or to feel pressured.”

"I don't feel like you're forcing me, I just..." Then Nico looked down, all shy, and turned his face to the side trying to hide. "It's this uncontrollable urge to... to do these things.”

"Like what?”

"To obey. Not to disappoint you." That's when Percy saw Nico close his eyes, squeezing them tightly, still with his face against his shoulder. "I want to be your baby and your good boy for the rest of my life. Only yours.”

Percy hadn't expected that! They had definitely come a long way to get here. Percy found himself straightening his back and taking a deep breath, a somewhat manic smile forming on his face, a reaction faster than he could control. And just as quickly as it had come, that sense of satisfaction and sick possession was also gone, leaving Percy to pull Nico against his chest and hug him tightly.

"Thank you for telling me. You are so brave. My perfect baby, hm?”

Nico didn't say anything, but he groaned, hugging him tighter around the waist, curling up against his chest, almost melting into him. Percy wouldn't trade this moment for anything in this life.

***

"Thank you for telling me. You are so brave. My perfect baby, hm?

Yes, he was! Gods! Hearing Percy say these things, even though Nico already knew this fact, made something inside him explode with joy.

Well, what could he say? He had decided to let himself go.

I mean, what could be so bad besides Percy taking him deeper and deeper into this sea of pleasure that he didn't even know was possible? What was the point in running away and fighting against these feelings when without even realizing it he found himself in the same place? This light feeling reminded him of a game he and Percy used to play as children; each time they won a challenge, the game took them to the next level, climbing step by step until they reached the final level.

The problem was that this innocent and silly game seemed to have no end, the steps stretching endlessly until they were lost from sight. That was how Nico felt, the further Percy took him, the harder it was to find the same Nico who had started on the first level. Sometimes, Nico barely recognized himself. He didn't feel as small as before, as shy or as defenseless. It was as if during the game he had gained special powers and they were still with him, as if Nico had sucked them into his being, forever absorbed into his skin. But sometimes, even if he didn't want to, the old Nico would make his appearances, he wasn't proud of it, forcing Percy to take a step back in this waltz where no one knew what the next step would be. However, what could he do but to get into the rhythm of the dance?

This was a good example, the best of them. Feeling Percy stroking his hair and sliding his hands down his back, always trying to comfort him no matter the reason. Even when there was no reason or when the culprit was Nico himself. At that moment, Nico realized that this time he didn't need to be comforted, but that he liked the kind gesture anyway.

“I know I can be… strict,” Percy murmured in his ear, brushing the stubble growing against his neck, making him shiver. “You have to tell me if I’m being demanding.”

"You never demand what I don't want to give.”

That was the truth. No matter how much he hesitated or said he didn't want to, it was hard to lie to himself when the object of his only obsession in life was right in front of him, offering everything he thought he would never have, yet was so intense that it felt like he was about to pass out at any moment. Not because it was bad, but because Nico lost his breath every time Percy looked at him for more than two seconds.

Then, Nico felt lips touching his in a sweet, slow caress, and he closed his eyes, relaxing as the kiss continued; a nip and a lick later, a gasp, tongues meeting in a perfect fit, like it always had been, like that first time when he had run away and only returned two years later. It seemed like that was all Nico had done up until that moment, run and dodge until he had no other choice, until his only thought was to make up for all the lost time.

“Good boy,” Percy said against his lips, pressing their mouths together one last time before pulling away, smiling at him.

Nico wanted to follow Percy, ask Percy to throw him on the bed and continue up the stairs. Percy had other ideas, like walking away from Nico and opening the closet, taking out a blazer and a pair of khaki dress pants.

"Didn't you have to go out with your friends? "Percy said, still with his head inside the wardrobe.

That was true. That was why Nico had woken up so early on a Saturday, distracting himself with the thought of putting on that collar and kneeling at Percy's feet, swearing eternal fidelity and obedience was not in the cards. Maybe after the wedding, if it actually happened.

When Percy emerged, he was fully dressed. Italian shoes, black shirt, full suit, and slicked-back hair. Nico was so lucky! How he had managed to get engaged to someone so handsome and charming was beyond him.

Nico didn't even try to contain himself, he walked over to Percy, stood on his tiptoes and kissed him again, something quick and soft, and said: "You never dress like that for me.”

Percy smiled at him, one of those sideways, dimpled smiles that made him look like a shark, and grabbed him by the hair, making him groan.

"What's the point of me getting dressed like this if my clothes are going to be taken off in less than five minutes?”

Percy kissed him hard on the lips, eliciting another moan from him and let him go, looking at himself one last time in the mirror.

"Why don't you get some rest, hm? They can wait for you.”

Well, rest wasn't the right word.

Nico followed Percy's eyes and looked down at his lap. Nico had a certain amount of bulge to him, and Percy looked like he would kneel down on the floor at any moment and help him with it. Then Percy looked back into his eyes and smiled again.

"Later. I promise." Percy, his cruel dom, said, walking away slowly towards the door. But before he went, he said: "Don't have too much fun without me.”

Chapter XXX

"Later. I promise." Percy said, walking away slowly towards the door. "Don't have too much fun without me.”

Nico didn't intend to. Ever since he had returned from Italy, he rarely had fun if Percy wasn't around. The friends he still had around kept telling him how Percy was the worst villain, and the ones who didn't say anything kept their distance, hesitant and afraid at the mere thought of what Percy could do to them.

Wasn't that ridiculous? Nico wasn't interested in them either. He admitted he missed his friends in Venice, his family, the scorching sun, the centuries-old buildings, and the clean air. But he would miss Percy even more, and if being away from his hometown was necessary, that's what he would do.

The door finally closed behind him, allowing him to look at his reflection in the mirror again. That was another thing he admitted, he liked seeing that collar around his neck; Nico could see himself wearing it without shame in the future.

He saw himself and Percy in a large house in the countryside, the sun beating down on his skin as he knelt, resting his head on Percy's lap, Percy’s thick and long fingers caressing him as if he were a little lap dog. Being a submissive was not what he had imagined, the pain was fleeting, barely registering in his brain, and the pleasure lasted for hours, days if he allowed himself to. It was strange, and sometimes, it seemed wrong to put himself in these situations, to let himself be used as Percy saw fit. The looks of pity were what really bothered him, as if at any moment his "friends" would offer to help him. Beautiful friends who, when he needed them most, offered little in the way of comfort or safety.

That was the only reason he had come back, besides the jealousy that had eaten away at him when he saw Annabeth and Percy so close together on social media. Nico didn't need to go through all that torture again, seeing Annabeth in the hallways or the same people who had tried to abuse him more than six years ago. All that was left for Nico to do was take a deep breath and overcome his trauma, or rather, ignore them until they didn't matter. Because this, the collar around his neck, was proof that in the end it would all be worth it. Somehow, the weight that had suffocated him a few days ago, now kept him trapped in reality; it was a promise, an oath that in the end everything would work out if he held on a little longer, just a little longer, and then he could free himself from everything that was dragging him down.

Well, in the end, Percy was right. It was best for him to get some rest, leaving in the state he was in would only lead to more worry and advices he hadn't asked for. Feeling exhausted, Nico ignored his phone that was beeping, indicating a new message had arrived, and collapsed onto the bed. He crawled onto his pillow, covered himself with the duvet, and closed his eyes. Ten minutes would be enough. Maybe thirty.

***

When Percy got home, he went straight to his room, where he knew Nico would be. He could encourage Nico to go out with his friends, have fun and be independent, but deep down, he liked things the way they were; Nico always at home, always waiting for him like a well-behaved boy should. And even though he knew Nico would be in bed, ignoring his friends once again, Percy took the stairs two at a time and slowly pushed the door open. Just as he imagined, there was his baby, covered with the duvet up to his waist, sleeping peacefully, like a little angel, his little angel, always very obedient.

Instead of going in and changing his clothes, Percy closed the door again, letting Nico sleep for a few more minutes. He went downstairs and entered the kitchen, finding his mother there, helping her put away the basket of vegetables they had received from the supplier.

"Where's Nico? I can't wait to try that stew.”

"He’s sleeping.”

This was the moment Percy expected the complaints to come, but they never did.

Sally turned to him, walked towards him, and held his shoulders, smiling sweetly.

"I'm so proud. Nico has been much less tired and happier." Then, Sally straightened her spine and put her hands on her waist. "I still don't like seeing you guys doing these things behind my back, but it's working.”

"Is that why you don't bother me anymore?”

"You're doing a good job. Keep doing that, hm? Then I won't need to do it.”

"Hey! Who's your son here?”

"Honey, I know you." Sally smiled once more and turned her back on him, finishing putting away the vegetables, picking up other things and starting the stew.

Percy just smiled, shrugging. The truth was, he wasn't doing anything special. It was Nico she should be praising. In fact, Percy felt that he wasn't even trying and that maybe they were good for each other. Well, Percy planned to keep doing it even if Nico never wanted to have sex with him again.

***

When Nico wakes up the sky is still bright, the sun shining brighter in the midday heat. However, the feeling of despair has disappeared and in its place, contentment has emerged. He does not open his eyes immediately, feeling the heat warm his face and gentle fingers run over his scalp, making him sigh.

It was Percy who woke him up. Nico would recognize that scent anywhere, the way Percy touched him, the velvety voice calling his name, making him feel like he was still asleep, dreaming of his grandmother's house, where he and Percy were in the strawberry fields, walking calmly through the long rows of berries, the sun beating down on his face.

"Are you feeling better?”

Nico could barely remember why he had been so sad. So he just nodded. He got out from under the covers and crawled until he reached Percy who was sitting on the bed. He sat on Percy's lap and wrapped his legs around him before hugging him by the neck, kissing him slowly, sealing their lips together softly.

"Hmm... does my baby want to play?”

“I don't know.”

"You're still wearing the collar.”

"Oh.

It was true, Nico hadn't noticed. After all, it wasn't that heavy. Although it didn't feel right to be wearing it right now.

"Take it off for me?”

There it was, the disappointment on Percy's face. He tried to hide it, of course, behind an innocent smile. As usual, ignoring certain things until the right moment came was always the best thing to do.

Without rushing, Percy grabbed his neck and unbuckled the clasp, running his fingers over his skin, seeming to say goodbye to the leather and welcoming the now exposed skin, placing a little kiss between the choker that was under the collar and the gap between his collarbone.

"So handsome. I can't wait to see you in a white suit. Will you wear the collar for me? Will you wear something pretty underneath, hm?”

Nico felt his face heat up immediately, knowing that Percy was staring at him so closely. He hadn't thought about it. Was this the moment where they truly became submissive and dominant? Where he would kneel at Percy's feet and remain that way for the rest of their lives? Nico knew that technically nothing would change, but then why did it feel like they were about to take a big step in their relationship?

He had to lift his head and look at Percy in a way he rarely did, seeing his green eyes shining with something Nico preferred not to examine too deeply, the smile still resting on his beautiful lips, showing perfect white teeth. Which made Nico wonder, did he know what he was getting himself into?

“Is this what will happen when we get married? I thought it was just a fantasy.”

"It can be whatever we want.”

But all Nico could hear was, “It’ll be whatever I want it to be.” And strangely, that thought didn’t scare him; it wasn’t like he was going to become a sex slave and be thrown into a dark dungeon where the sun could never reach him.

"What if I don't want to?" Nico finally asked, getting that off his chest.

Nico watched Percy continue to look at him, as if Percy had no doubts in the world, seeing a much more sincere smile appear.

"Then we don't do it.”

"Sure.”

“But... aren't you curious to know what it would be like?”

“I don’t know.”

Nico looked away, pretending to think about it. It was clear that he was curious. Just when he thought Percy couldn't surprise him anymore, a new avalanche of emotions caught him off guard. He felt like he would spend the rest of his life being surprised, drowning in a sea of pleasure next to Percy.

"Hm." Was all Percy said before standing up and taking the collar with him. Percy walks to the wardrobe, takes the black box with him and puts it inside, closing the closet with a final movement. "Looks like the game will have to wait for another time.”

Either way, it was better like this. That way, no one would be tempted to do anything beyond what they were both willing to face.

***

Percy felt strangely light and carefree that morning. As usual, they were all sitting at the table for breakfast. He and Nico walked into the kitchen hand in hand and sat silently, side by side, moving in sync, listening to Grover and Tyson argue about something unimportant, while Sally tried to make them behave. The good thing about living in the middle of chaos was that their plates were already on the table with a glass of juice and another of coffee for each of them.

He admitted that he hadn't been paying attention to what they were saying, because now he understood why Nico liked to be lost in his own little world so much. Don't get him wrong, Percy loved his family, he would do anything for them in a heartbeat, but sometimes, all he wanted was a moment of peace and quiet; he couldn't wait to marry Nico and have a place just for them.

"Per? Aren't you going to eat?”

"Not today." He answered without paying attention, holding Nico's hand again. This made him look at his baby who was looking at him curiously, a discreet smile on his lips, his eyes shining with amusement. "It's okay.”

Percy stretched, took a sip of his coffee, and picked up a croissant. "Satisfied?"

He didn't wait for Nico's answer. He helped Nico down from the chair, pulled him out of the kitchen, and went after his bags, finding them where Percy had left them; at the entrance to the front door, along with his mother's purse and the car keys. The car ride to school was even quieter and calmer, making him feel that today nothing could disturb him. What more could Percy want in this world than Nico's company? A good morning kiss? Nico's hand under his? The certainty of a future together? Percy already had all of that. So, no matter how many obstacles there were, there was no reason to worry.

That's how Percy got out of the car and opened the door for Nico, wrapping his arms around his waist. They walked into the school and ignored the stares, Percy focusing on Nico, watching his baby's face heat up the more he looked.

“What’s gotten into you today?” Nico finally said, allowing Percy to hear his voice for the first time that day. A low, husky voice still from sleep, caressing his senses.

Percy doesn't say anything, he just brings his hand to Nico's face and caresses it, watching Nico's eyes close in pleasure, watching Nico's smile come back with a vengeance, almost blinding him, content. Then, Nico tilts his head towards Percy and their lips meet, but it's just that, a peck, a gesture of affection. Nico's eyes open again and that's how they stay, standing in the middle of the hallway, hugging each other, as if only they existed.

Percy felt like they were talking through those looks and smiles. The best part was that he understood every word.

"You're an idiot." Nico says. Percy agrees.

But then they hear the bell ring. It was time to return to reality. Percy and Nico are forced to walk again, heading towards their lockers, in fact, towards Percy's locker because it was the biggest of them both; Nico had stopped using his, years ago, even before going to Italy. Most of their classes were the same, so they shared their books, the teachers had long since given up on separating them. In fact, their grades were so good that the teachers had no reason to separate them; and Percy was sure, he had never been so ready in his life. It was Nico's influence, making him study without even realizing it.

Unfortunately, when he got there, his bubble of contentment was broken.

"Well, well. Look who we have here? The golden couple.”

Percy snorted, about to turn around and show up to class without his books, when Nico grabbed his arm. With just one look from Nico, he understood everything. Okay. They would get their books and notebooks, and go to class, as expected. Percy took the lead. He walked the rest of the distance to the locker fourteen, grabbed what he had to get and closed it, slamming the door as hard as necessary.

"Hmm... looks like someone is tense. I know a way to relax you. Why don't we meet later?”

This was too much for Percy. He lifted his head and stared into those cold gray eyes, took a deep breath and opened his mouth when he felt gentle hands grip his arm. Nico was staring at him closely, his furious black eyes telling him more than his words could. Annabeth didn't deserve even his disgust and contempt. Great, Percy would do what Nico asked.

Percy didn't look at her again, deciding to kiss Nico's face, trying to calm him down, and hugged him by the shoulders, taking him away. Soon Annabeth would be just the memory of an envious and inconvenient girl.

They walked into their first class of the day, placed their notebooks and books under the table and sat down. Soon the tests would begin.

That's it for now. Now I'll try to wrap up all the loose ends and solve the problems. Wish me luck.

#percy jackson #percico #nico di angelo #pernico #my writing #percy/nico #there's no place like home

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moriartyluver · 1 year ago

Text

FALSE LOVERS CHAPTER XXI

'THE SECRET DOCUMENT stolen from the palace..if the world were to know of it..our vision of this country's future..this is almost the biggest threat since (name) (last name) set foot in England..' The Queen thought to herself, gazing up at a painting of the deceased George III. 'Liberty, equality, fraternity..our chances of attaining these ideals will forever be lost!! The sacrifices of our people must never amount to nothing..!'

"That's right. I gave Fred some work this morning," Albert told the couple sat opposite him as he placed his teacup down

"Fred?" William repeatedly curiously

"Yes, the director forced another problem onto me." Albert explained.

(Name) sighed and leaned back against the seat "that's so typical of him..glad I never accepted his offer to work at MI6."

Albert turned to his sister in law with a chuckle "I keep forgetting you're acquainted with Director Holmes. He's never explicitly told me of how you two first encountered but from the way he speaks of you, he sees you as a problem child of some sort."

William nodded in agreement "you haven't told me..us..either. It's very vague either side."

"We've not spoken much since the first few times I met him. I'm not very fond of him though.. I believe the dislike isn't unrequited. He still is keeping an eye on me to this day, just not so much since the first time he tried. I ended up attacking his spies," (name) smiled as she remembered the incident. "He hasn't much of a reason to still keep watch of me, but I suppose he thinks the moment he takes his eyes off of me, I'll set fire to Buckingham palace again."

"Again..?"

(Name) brushed William off and continued " Still..It appears you're enjoying yourself, Albert."

Albert smiled softly "Heh..is that how it looks?"

"What kind of problem was it?" William asked, referring back to Albert's original statement.

"The order itself it to merely look for a thief..I still haven't heard the whole story, but apparently the spoils are something that could shake the whole country..." Albert trailed off.

(Name) had instantly realised what her brother in law was talking about and unfortunately was drinking her tea. She was about to laugh, but instead choked on her warm beverage, causing her to cough as tears welled in her eyes. William instantly patted her back, holding her close as he helped her regain her composure while scolding her for not being careful.

When she was finally able to speak again, Albert spoke up with a subtle smirk "I take it you know what was taken?"

"Wow..Mycroft really screwed up again..I wonder who our thief is.." (name) spoke between laughs "I hope I do no seem impertinent ,but is the Prince of wales perhaps, involved?"

Albert nodded, a smile gracing his features.

"So predictable.." (name) hummed. "Please do continue, Albert."

"Right..It seems I will need your wisdom to aide me in this. I'm counting on you two." He told the couple. (Name) wasn't usually willing to help with anything to do with MI6, but the whole ordeal seemed much too intriguing to her. It had been a while since she actively participated in the blackmailing game, she couldn't wait to find out who was on the other end of this incident.

"Of course. After all, your first criminal request started everything." William smiled

The brunette turned to his youngest adopted brother. "Louis , I'm counting on you too."

"Yes, brother."

"For the same goal, we share our past, present and future, because we are.." Albert said, the nostalgia enveloping him like a warm blanket which he shared with his found family. "The Moriarty family."

"William?"

(Name) could see the man standing in the reflection of her vanity mirror, applying red lipstick onto her lips carefully. He smiled and waved, walking past the doorway and into (name)'s bedroom where she sat on a soft little chair by her vanity, covered in various perfumes and makeup products, along with the occasional necklace half falling off of the side of the wooden table.

She was to get ready for a ball at one of the Royal Palaces which she would go to with her brother in law, Albert to meet Irene Adler for the first time. (Name) was quite a fan of her work as an actress and had liked her even more upon hearing what she had stolen. Going to balls together would be a regular occurrence for the two. It was their form of family bonding, if you will. William would usually be too busy to escort (name), who was busy herself but her social status made attending parties a requirement whether she wished to or not. Albert would always go with her in his stead, and they had never had a dull moment.

The dress she was wearing, which she had tailored at one of the finest modistes in London, was a beautiful dark red, pearls and other gems covering the fabric. The black lace had been placed just right and quite frankly, she really enjoyed the dress and felt happy wearing it. Even the corset didn't feel that restricting. William looked at her reflection with a soft expression, placing his hand on her bare shoulders.

"You do remember what we've planned with Brother Albert, don't you, love?" He asked, leaning closer to whisper into her ear. (Name) laughed as she felt William's breath tickle against her ear, swatting him away with a smile.

"Of course I do. Poisoning a man is not difficult to me, I've done it multiple times." She said, putting her lipstick away and then reaching over to her necklace. A string of pearls with a ruby in an intricate metal casing at its centre. As she took it in her hands, her husband looked at it curiously, eyes softening in realisation.

"You kept it?" He asked, taking the necklace in his own hands and clasping it around (name)'s neck.

"Kept what..?" She paused for a moment and then realised what he was referring to.

When William was still trying to convince (name) to join the Moriarty team, he had sent her multiple gifts alongside his letters. This particular necklace was a gift he gave her coincidentally on her birthday. (Name) was quite fond of it and kept it, along with William's other gifts, but hadn't worn it until now.

"Oh...! No..I mean, I did keep it, of course I did, it's on my neck now..but I didn't keep it for any particular reason..I just liked the appearance of it. And besides, it wouldn't be very good of me to throw away such an expensive gift. That would be unfair and ungrateful." She said in defence. William smiled, arranging the necklace so it sat perfectly on her skin and looked in the mirror in front of them.

"It's beautiful.." (name) murmured softly, looking at her reflection and playing with the pearls.

William nodded in agreement, looking at (name) through the mirror. "Undeniably perfect.."

"We have been expecting you, my lord, my lady." The butler said as he greeted both Albert and (name), who Albert held out his hand for, as they stepped out of the Moriarty carriage. "Many barons and viscounts are participating tonight, as such we truly appreciate your presence."

"There's no need.." Albert spoke

(Name) nodded from behind her mask "It is a masquerade ball, after all. Social status shouldn't matter whatsoever."

"Louis!" Albert called out to his brother "Be sure to give William my regards."

Louis looked at Albert, understanding his implications "I will.."

As the two both entered the ballroom, (name) was stopped by her dear friend, Lady Sinclair, who she hadn't seen in a while.

"(Name)!" She whispered at the entrance to not attract too much attention from the others. (Name) took in her appearance, her blond curls tied in an undo with feathers to match her pink and gold masquerade mask "I must say you look absolutely gorgeous, as usual. How have you been?"

"Thank you, you look really beautiful too, Bella. The feathers you adorn really compliment your eyes." (Name) smiled "I've been well..still looking for a suitor, I assume?"

"Well..I have been keeping an eye on a few young noblemen. My parents have been nagging me to get married," Arabella put a hand to her cheek as they registered themselves "The truth is, I think I may be incredibly picky.."

"You honour us with your presence, my ladies." A man spoke to the pair "I would kindly ask you to not refer to anybody as their name tonight. Tonight, our entertainment is a mystery game suggested by the Prince of Wales."

"A mystery game? How exciting!" Lady arabella exclaimed as she clapped her hands together

"I believe the previous ball had the detective Sherlock Holmes as its subject. The Prince of wales is quite aware of the current societal talk." (Name) commented "Let me guess, this time, it shall be about the infamous lord of crime?"

"You are correct my lady, such wit!" He bowed to (name) then proceeded to explain the game to the two young ladies. "It is rumoured that the lord of crimes is involved in over half of London's criminal activity. The rule of this game is to find the lord of crimes. One of our guests has taken this role and shall perform crimes against other guests, through spilling wine on them. Those who fall victim are considered dead and must relocate after revealing their identity. The victims, of course, will not be allowed to rejoin the ball and they must relinquish one of their most prized possessions as a donation to the construction of a new university. The lord of crimes must be discovered and will die, revealing his identity and then the game shall be over."

Lady Sinclair frowned and whispered to (name) as they continued inside. "I brought my favourite hair pin with me today, I'd hate to give it up. Papa had it shipped from overseas!"

"In that case, I shall have this fake Lord of Crimes killed, for your sake, dear Bella." (Name) laughed. "I heard there was a guest from Bohemia here today..perhaps he will be of your taste. Oh, we must come up with code names for one another!"

(Name) already knew the guest from Bohemia was in fact Ms Irene Adler. She had come along with Albert to both approach this mysterious woman, and to also have a certain baron killed. But it never would hurt to socialise with a good friend. From what she knew, the lady was staying with the detective Sherlock Holmes and had made it public knowledge, meaning their side had to initiate negotiation

"Hm..you can be Juliette?"

"Juliette?" (Name) repeated, taking a wine glass

"Yes. Juliette Montague." Arabella said with a smile "You certainly look the part. Fortunately, it seems you've already found your Romeo."

"My cat...?" (Name) seemed a little confused for a moment.

"No, not Romeo junior. I mean Lord William, of course. How have the two of you been faring? I've heard some gossip in regards to the two of you but I will forever believe that you're a match made in heaven." The blonde woman explained, then scanned the room around them, almost maliciously.

"Ah..we've been doing well, despite all the rumours that say otherwise. This necklace I'm wearing was a gift from dear William." (Name) said as she gestured to the necklace. "Gossip is only natural when the nobility is bored."

Arabella nodded, she looked a bit upset on (name)'s behalf. "I understand you have heard some of these rumours then. I've tried to find who is responsible but it seems to be a collection of both noblewomen who object to a foreigner, please forgive me, marrying a man like William and then the noblemen of high status believing they would be a better fit for you." She sighed "honestly, there are more pressing matters. Have you noticed that Lord Albert, although charming, seems to have no interest in marriage?"

(Name) chuckled as her friend instantly switched from serious back to her gossiping personality. "He does have a lot to work on as of late, don't tell me he's one of the men you've been keeping an eye on?"

Arabella pouted jokingly. "Well he was..you wouldn't mind setting us up would you, Juliette? Perhaps I can become your sister in law!"

"I'm afraid I can't guarantee Albert would accept, but I will try my best." (Name) laughed nervously then had a thought for a name to call her friend. "How about cherry?"

"For my code name?"

"Yes. Your dress is a beautiful pink that prompts one to think of equally beautiful spring cherry blossoms. You could use blossom too, but cherry can be interchangeable with Cherie, a french term of endearment that I'm sure you're aware of"

"Oh but of course! (Name)— I mean, Juliette! You really are a genius! No wonder you're the first female professor this country has ever seen!" Arabella smiled excitedly as she hugged (name)

(Name) coughed as she returned the hug "Cherry, please quiet down, I wouldn't be surprised if you managed to unmask me before the crime lord.." she whispered with a gentle laugh.

The music had soon changed once most of the guests had gathered, the ball room was full of dancing pairs. Around the two, they could see several women being offered dances, and eventually, one gentleman had approached Arabella to take her hand and have her swoon over his romantic compliments whereas (name) heard a voice call out to her from behind without being alone for long.

"Excuse me, my lady," He spoke. (Name) spun around to see a man with black hair and a handsome face, covered partly by his intricate mask. "I couldn't help but be drawn to your elegance and sophistication even from the other side of the ballroom. Would you do me the honour of dancing with you?"

The man's voice sounded foreign, an American accent which he had attempted to cover with another less distinct one.

(Name) smiled, flattered by the compliment. "I would be delighted, my lord." She said, placing her gloved hand in his own which he took eagerly.

The gentleman guided (name) onto the dance floor, full of other aristocrats dancing together, uncaring of their partner's identities or statuses. It was somewhat wholesome , but there were always bigger issues than a daughter of a Earl marrying a baron or what not.

“How lovely it is to dance in the grandeur of this ballroom..” He was clearly attempting to start conversation, spinning her once as he trailed off.

(Name) nodded with a polite smile, ignoring the bothered feeling at the back of her mind. “Indeed it is. His highness has quite the eye..”

“Do you frequent events like this often?” The stranger asked, prompting (name) to speak.

The (hair colour)-ette shook her head as the stranger put a hand on her shoulder, there feet moving in rhythm “Unfortunately as of late, I haven’t had the time. I take it you’re only staying in London temporarily?” She deduced.

The man’s blue eyes widened for a moment “Ah..yes. How did you know?”

(Name) smirked slightly “Well your accent is quiet telling. Forgive me for breaking the unspoken rules of masquerade balls, but I couldn’t help but wonder. You’re coming from mainland Europe, are you not?”

“Ah, it appears my identity is on the line. Pray tell, my lady, what should I call you?” The stranger smiled. “I do hope once you figure out who I am, you’ll meet me again.”

Another spin “My good friend had earlier given me the name of Juliette, inspired by my attire of course.”

“I must admit, you wear it quiet elegantly. It suits you greatly, Juliette.” He said, looking up and down (name)’s figure. “Perhaps I will have the honour of calling myself your Romeo tonight?”

(Name) chuckled as the song slowly came to an end, and most dance pairs had already parted “Unfortunately I must deny you that request. I am already quiet taken by my darling husband..” she leaned forwards, her voice now but a whisper. “…thank you for the offer though, Lord Albrecht.” She pulled away with an innocent smile, a habit she had acquired since her youth, and said her goodbyes, as per the etiquette.

‘How did she..?’

“May I have your attention Ladies and Gentleman!” A voice spoke over the large crowd of noblemen and women. “As you all know, we will be holding a mystery game tonight…with the “Lord of Crimes” already hiding among us, who has just chosen his first victim!!”

The crowd of nobles gasped in amusement and curiosity as the man stood at the front continued. (Name) had already known who this fake lord of crime was. Having a frivolous uncle came in handy when it came to organisation for social events.

“The first victim has been marked with the ‘sign’ of a wine stain! The guest with a wine stain on their person will now be considered ‘dead’!”

‘Quite the enthusiastic tone for discussing death and murder..’ (name) thought ‘and that’s coming from someone with a list of crimes on their criminal record that could possibly fill short novel’

“Please confirm yourself and those next to you for the ‘sign’ !”

“A wine stain?”

“There’s nothing on me..”

(Name) was confident she hadn’t been splashed with wine, but still checked just to make sure. The whispers of nobles continued until finally, a familiar voice spoke up amongst the crowd to declare themselves dead.

“It would appear that I am the killers first victim!” Albert said, putting his mask away as he walked up front.

‘Of course Albert would have himself killed first..’

“What? Lord Moriarty!”

“Who would dare stain Lord Moriarty’s clothes with wine..?!”

“My name is Albert James Moriarty, and it appears, that I have been struck.” Albert spoke, taking a ring off his finger “Would this ring suffice for the donation..?”

He placed the ring down “thank you for your generosity, my lord.”

As Albert headed upstairs, following the previously established rules, the crowd stripped in applause, clapping for the Earl whilst some ladies mourned the loss of such a handsome man.

“Excuse me!” A hand raised itself up from near the front of the crowd “it appears I have also been ‘struck’ by the lord of crimes.”

(Name) squinted from afar, realising that was the man she had danced with earlier. He was even more handiness without the mask, causing him to draw the attention of a few noblewomen

“Two victims at once?! I say! Please come to the stairs my lord!”

He nodded and put away his mask, revealing his identity to the ton. “My name is Loewenich Albrecht. I have come from Bohemia as per invitation of the royal family.” He said “Would this pocket watch suffice as a donation?”

Squeals could be heard from the other noble ladies as he walked off. The crowd soon dispersed as Albert gave (name) a signal before speaking to Ms Adler.

Once the guests had returned to their previous actions, lady Sinclair approached (name) with a gushing expression

“Was that not the man you were dancing with? I caught a glimpse of you two earlier. I think he’s taken a fancy to you, too bad he has Lord William to compete with,” she explained as they helped themselves to the refreshments. “It seems you have this magnet for attractive men, oh how lucky you are!”

(Name) smiled softly “Have your efforts not been in vain? You did get asked to dance, didn’t you?”

Arabella frowned “That gentleman said he was already betrothed to another woman. I really am unlucky..”

“Come now, Cherry. The perfect man shall soon sweep you off your feet, just you wait!” (Name) encouraged wi tho a determined smile.

The conversation had continued until (name) had overheard a couple of voices besides them talking about her. A man sat on one of the sofas beside them speaking to another man who was stood up. They were quiet far away though, so their faces weren’t reconisable.

“Have you seen lady (last name)?” The one stood up asked

(Name) and Arabella both turned their attention to the pair, curious as to what they were saying.

The other shook his head “No..I don’t see why you’d be interested in her. You’ve heard the rumours surely? They’ve been more rampant than ever recently.”

If (name) didn’t know any better, she’d say the little sunken feeling in her stomach was insecurity of some sort. She shook the negative thoughts off.

‘Gossip is only natural..’

“Well, the fact that she may be infertile isn’t that reliable. She’s only been married two years. My guess is that that husband of hers just hasn’t bedded her.” His acquaintance said as he took a sip of wine “that’s probably why he let her work at that university, Durham, was it? Anyways, if I was married to that little siren, she’d be with child by now and being a mother at home”

‘Seriously…I’ve not been attending many social events for the past month and all of a sudden, I hear all these ridiculous rumours about me…where could they have come from..?’ (Name) was too busy trying to trace where these rumours were coming from that she hadn’t notice her friend’s usually cheerful visage shift into one of anger and outrage

“The nerve of them! They speak so freely only because they feel guarded by their stupid, and rather ugly may I add, masks! Well, if they are to speak without pretences, perhaps I should give them a piece of my mind—“ The blond was about to march over to the noblemen by was stopped by (name), who gently held her arm, pulling her back

‘Men are bigger gossips than women..’ (name) sighed

“Don’t waste your time on the likes of them, Cherry.” (Name) said sternly “Men like them run their mouths because they can’t thing of anything interesting about themselves to say. You’re right though, they only feel like they can say such things because they’re guarded by masks…let’s not allow them to cause our identities to be revealed..” she put a finger to her lips and smiled as lady Sinclair smiled back reluctantly, still giving foul looks to the men from earlier.

Arabella sighed and whispered “You mustn’t let people say such things. Although you’re able to defend yourself, you never really raise your voice at anyone who treats you badly…Switch those subtle remarks for outright insults that aren’t fuelled by anger on behalf of others, please?” She pleaded. It was now (name)’s turn to sigh

“I’ll take a closer look at them. You go handsome gentleman shopping, dear cherry.” She patted her friend’s shoulder and walked to where the annoying sounds of speaking were coming from.

Upon closer inspection, she had noticed that the gentleman sitting down was none other than her target for that night. She quickly slipped something into her glass of wine, a substance to aid her in her endeavours.

“Forgive me for my impertinence, my lords, but could you perhaps be referring to lady (name), would you?” She asked with a smile, masking her malicious intent, taking a sip from her wine, then placing it down next to the target’s.

(Name) was usually quite recognisable due to her appearance as a foreigner, but in this masquerade party, she would be able to guard her identity for a few minutes before she was found.

“Indeed we were, my lady,” the man stood up said “would you perhaps know where she may be located, I wish to use my natural charms and have her swoon for me. I hear she was on the guest list tonight but maybe that husband of hers is keeping her back again..”

“Gah..she’s really not even that worthy as a wife. I have no idea why all you young noblemen chase after her so much..she’s just a foreigner.”

(Name) observed with a frown as they conversed “Precisely why we all adore her so. They say women from (home country) are best when it comes to—“

“This is quite the inappropriate topic of conversation in the presence of an impressionable young lady,” (name) interrupted, her words dripping with disgust. She took her target’s wine glass from the small table, leaving her poisoned one behind for him to take. “Especially if this young lady just so happens to be from (home country).”

The men looked at her for a moment, then realised who they were facing before them. (Name) glared at them both and turned to leave, placing the targets old glass on a tray, then returning to Arabella as they continued their conversation until..

“Our Lord of Crimes had struck his third victim!”

Whispers had returned as everyone crowded near the stairs. (Name) turned to her friend, checking her for stains and then was checked herself for a wine stain. Arabella gave her the all clear for a moment then her eyes widened.

“Oh Juliette! I hand realised but you were struck..!” She whispered, clearly upset “Your gown has a wine stain..my apologies..the stain blended in with the fabric..”

(Name) smiled and assured her friend it was all fine. “Do not grieve on my behalf, cherry. You’ll have more time to hunt for gentlemen now.” She whispered back, then took off her mask, raising her voice. “It seems I am the third victim.” She spoke aloud as she walked towards the staircase, taking off her pearl earrings to be handed over for the donation.

“Oh poor lady (name)! That gown looks so expensive!”

“I heard she had it made for quite the hefty sum at that new modiste’s.”

She handed the earrings over then turned to the crowd. “My name is Lady (Name) (last name)-Moriarty, and I have unfortunately been stuck by the Lord of crimes.” She turned to the man beside her, who thanked her for her generosity, prompting her to walk off as the crowd of nobles clapped.

“Let’s give lady (last name) a round of applause!”

“It would be quite the scandal for the British empire..” (name) heard Albert say. She instantly knew what he was referring to as she inserted herself into the he conversation, a frown on her face.

“Is this about the stolen document, Albert?” She asked. The rumours seemed to still be bothering her slightly no matter how much she tried to ignore it or brush it off

“Ah, (name), how kind of you to join us, it seems you’ve already met Ms Irene Adler over here,” he said, gesturing to the gentleman she had previously danced with.

(Name) smiled to Irene “I must say, your disguise is quite convincing. If I had not known any better, I really would have mistaken you for that Bohemian.” She said, leaning against the railing.

“It seems you knew everything about me, my lady.”

She nodded then turned to Albert. “We should be showing Ms Adler a demonstration of our capabilities now, shouldn’t we, dear brother in law?”

Adler looked surprised, and confused as she muttered a ‘huh..?’ out. (Name) gestured to the lower floor, explaining their little plot.

“Look there, you see that man with the white mask?” She asked rhetorically as the others looked down at him. “That is Baron Ronald Lawrinson. He’s our little lord of crime chosen as tonight’s main character for our entertainment.”

“How did you find out..?” Adler whispers in confusion. This was all quite overwhelming.

“We both have involvement with the organisation of tonight’s ball,” Albert explained. “But that’s besides the point. That man behind the mask had sponsored many theatres in France and America, but he is also known for his cruel and selfish nature. Five years ago, he set fire to one of his opera houses for the insurance money. Many people died but he couldn’t care less. I’m assuming you know about this incident, don’t you, Ms Adler?”

Adler turned to the pair in surprise “Yes..! I know about that fire..some of my friends were hurt and killed! It was terrible! You’re saying he’s responsible?!”

“Yes.. I’m saying..if Baron Lawrinson we’re to disappear, the world would be a better place..” albert spoke ominously

“Wha—?”

‘Disappear..?!”

(Name) peaked over Albert’s shoulder as he looked at his pocket watch. “It’s time. Watch closely.”

Adler’s attention was drawn to the bottom floor where the baron was being held by the shoulders by a few noblemen, his face unmasked and a sickly pale.

“Ladies and gentlemen! The lord of crimes has been caught!” The host announced “Right in the act!”

“It worked right as planned..” (name) muttered as she peered over the banister. Adler gave her a concerned look then returned her attention back to the sickly baron.

“Baron Ronald Lawrinson was kind enough to take on the role of the lord of crime for today’s entertainment! A round of applause for his generosity please!” Both albert and (name) looked down at him sinisterly. “And with that, the lord of crimes had taken his final breath! England is safe once more! Victory is ours!”

Although (name) couldn’t hear what was happening down below, she could vaguely see that the poison was working as planned and the baron had begun to grow weary, ready to die any moment now.

He keeled over with a groan, clasping a hand to his chest and then fell and died while the nobles watched, calling for help, doctors, etcetera although none of that could save an already dead man. Besides, (name) had made sure the poison was an uncommon on with a rare antidote. There was no saving him.

“Lord Moriarty..? Lady (last name)..? Was this your doing?” Adler uttered in disbelief, a cold sweat breaking out.

“I had him poisoned earlier when I approached him. Swapping drinks seemed to do the trick…” (name) explained, not realising that Adler was more surprised at the death and not the method.

A bead of sweat rolled down her forehead “I could’ve sworn I saw you take a sip of your wine before you placed it down though..”

“Aw, how adorable..you were still watching me after our encounter, hm?” (Name) cooed jokingly. “I’m immune, please worry not”

“Did you like the performance Ms Alder? I must say, Baron Lawrinson has played a phenomenal role..Lord Enders and Lord Drebber played their lead roles in our plays quite well as well.” Albert took a sip of wine as Adler’s eyes widened further

“What the..?—“

“And so, another vile nobleman has received his punishment…” he said with a swish of his wine. “Indeed..everything you just witnessed was the work of us, the Lord of crimes..!”

A/N: act three is finally here!! I wonder what’s gonna happened next chapter 👀 anyways fl girlbossed a little too close to the sun this time around but whatever. Also fun fact, when I first wrote this before the rework, James Bond was gonna be a love interest but obviously that’s changed dw. Just added it here bc I thought it would be a good reference to the og.

#—false lovers 💋#moriarty the patriot #william james moriarty #william moriarty #william moriarty x reader #yuukoku no moriarty #mtp william #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader

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lizzyverydizzyyo · 1 year ago

Text

D.E.A.N | Chapter 28 - Labyrinth

Masterlist and overall summary of the whole novel is here. | Prompt on trope-appreciation-tuesdays that inspired this is here. | @whumptober-archive

Fandom : Original Work

(I) (II) (III) (IV) (V) (VI) (VII) (VIII) (IX) (X) (XI) (XII) (XIII) (XIV) (XV) (XVI) (XVII) (XVIII) (XIX) (XX) (XXI) (XXII) (XXIII) (XXIV) (XXV) (XXVI) (XXVII) (XXVIII) (XXIX) (XXX) (XXXI - END)

AO3

Wordcount: ± 7824 [Very action-heavy, so I can’t cut it into two chapters]

TW: Gore, Graphic Depiction of Violence, Graphic Depiction of Death, Guns, Weapon, Firearm, Explosion, Minor Character Death (antagonist), Blood, Injury

Everything is bathed in blood, danger, and flame. Whatever plan they all had before is now out of the window. They realize they’re not going to get out unscathed, but they have to try to keep the casualty down to a minimum like their lives depend on it (they truly do).

Whumptober 2023 Themes (last 4 and Alt. Bonus only):

Day Alt. bonus — Aftermath of Failure

Day 27 — Matches

Day 28 — Sacrifice

Day 29 — Troubled Past Resurfacing

Day 31 — Emptiness | Setbacks

Whumptober 2022 Themes (post-event, not completionist):

Day 11 Alt. — Ambushed

Day 26 — No One Left Behind | Separated

This story is set in the last half of 2016.

——

The resounding footsteps of running people accompany them while they crouch behind the covering desks and other barricades, even if those footsteps are going away from them in the opposite directions. They hear gunshots immediately as they get to another wall where they can finally stand and fully run.

Angie looks down on her watch, trying to see the closest path to the backyard again. Over her shoulder at Angie’s screen, Mark sees the previous 5 agents in their team becoming grey dots instead.

Another bait team.

Anna and Doctor Lowe mostly act as the protectors for the other three, while Mark stays behind all of them to give protection from the back, so Nick is caged between the four of them.

“This way,” Angie states suddenly.

They take a sharp turn to follow Angie’s direction.

Mark tries to look at his own watch, noticing worryingly numerous brown dots near them, but he tries to focus on the fact that they haven’t been noticed so far and that most of those dots are approaching the middle of the headquarter and the front courtyard.

“Wait!”

They all immediately stop at Angie’s cry. She turns to the people behind her, raising her wrist to show her screen with an amalgamation of brown dots right in front of them.

Oh, fuck.

“Do any of you hold a detonator?”

They all turn sharply to Doctor Lowe.

As an explanation, he raises his own watch with the screen dragged far away to the front side from where they are, showing 2 pulsating but static white dots. One is around 4 meters away from them, while the other is much further.

“We cannot detonate that one!” Angie says incredulously, referring to the dot closest to them, “We’re too close.”

“I’m asking whether any of you have a detonator, not whether we should blow that one up,” he expands with a deadpan look.

Anna slowly reaches into one of the pockets in her pants, and they all stare at her. Her hand emerges with a small and thin 2-by-3 inches square item, looking sleek despite being an object of destruction. The buttons on the front side are also so thin they might as well be touchscreen, although there is a screen there to show which explosive the detonator is locked onto.

“The other is supposed to be held by Luke,” Anna informs while waving her detonator.

Doctor Lowe tsks.

“I was hoping you or Angie hold the other one,” the old surgeon says as he looks at Mark and Angie respectively.

Mark doesn’t think he would ever be trusted with one, considering he is sometimes too rash and emotional, especially when it comes to Nick.

And right now, he is very emotional about Nick.

“Well, considering Luke is supposed to stay and guard the front courtyard, they probably think it’s better to give the detonator to him than me. Since I’m supposed to leave and can’t detonate it once I’m out.”

Doctor Lowe sighs, resigned at Angie’s explanation.

“Okay,” Anna takes charge this time, “we can walk a little here to go here,” she shows her own watch while they huddle together, her finger on the screen dragging in a half-crest moon motion instead of a straight line to somewhere between the two explosives, “and we would be around 6 or so meters from both explosives, so we can detonate either of them safely.”

Mark furrows his eyebrows and looks up.

“You want to make a detour again?!”

“Not as far as what you suggested before,” Anna replies with a blurry eye roll due to her visor.

Mark frowns at the obvious jab.

“Look,” Anna says again, appearing nonchalant about Mark’s offense, “once we get here,” she taps again the spot she is proposing, “we can detonate the first one to draw out most of them to the other side. Because the second explosive is closer to the backyard, and that’s where we’ll go once the first bomb is exploded.”

Mark doesn’t like to admit that her plan is more strategic than his plan before.

Maybe that’s why she is the deputy in their team.

“We have to go around a bit so that they don’t see us, but after that, it’s straightforward.”

“Will they go there, to the explosion? Or will that just spread them around?” Mark tries again to challenge her, although his concern is genuine too. “I don’t think it’s logical for them to go to the explosion site since it’s going to be unsafe.”

Anna stares at him and to the rest, gears turning in all of their heads.

“We need to draw them out to that spot first before detonating. Taking as many of them out as possible. Then with the explosion sound, we’ll run to the backyard so they can’t hear us,” Angie offers this time.

“We’ll bomb them all?!” Nick asks incredulously.

“Yes, it’s going to be effective in taking out a lot of enemies at the same time.”

“They’re people! You don’t explode people!”

“Nick, they’re Helga people. Is it really a great loss if they’re dead?” Anna asks exasperatedly.

Mark glares at Anna for forgetting the codename. Anna simply rolls her eyes again.

“But… you’re gonna explode them…”

“Yes, that’s what ‘detonating bomb’ means,” Anna responds to Nick again with a deadpan voice.

Marcus can tell Nick still looks flabbergasted beyond his tinted visor now that they’re huddled close.

To be fair, to non-trained civilians in normal situations, the thought of coldly exploding and destroying a human being’s body might be too gruesome to handle. But they’re not civilians right now. And it’s not a normal circumstance. They have to turn off their humanity for a bit if they want to survive.

“Okay, how do we do that?” Doctor Lowe takes charge this time.

“What Lena did before,” Angie suggests, pointing to the area around them. “There are stuff here we can throw.”

“Or we can shoot to that direction,” Anna counters while cocking her head to the direction where they plan to draw the Helga people to.

“They’re gonna come to this direction instead,” Mark argues, “since the shot is coming from here.”

“They’re gonna hear that wall getting shot,” Anna explains again with her thumb pointing at a wall on the site near the first explosive they’re planning to set off.

“No, better to throw stuff there,” Doctor Lowe replies, siding with him and Angie. “He is right. If we shoot that wall, they’re gonna go to the ammos source direction instead.”

Doctor Lowe then suddenly reaches out a hand to Nick’s medical bag, making him cluelessly stare at the surgeon. The old man rolls his eyes.

“Give me your bag. I’ll take some non-essential vials to throw.”

After few seconds of Nick just staring, Doctor Lowe takes matters into his own hands and yanks the bag from Nick’s hold. He doesn’t waste time rummaging through the inside and taking some glass vials, presumably to throw as bait. He then shoves the bag back to Nick.

“Okay, lead us,” Doctor Lowe says tersely to Anna. Anna obliges and starts walking carefully and soundlessly.

She alternates between looking to her front and her watch to guide them all to the spot she chose before, and maybe they should have been more focused on their surroundings instead because they see a Helga member in front of them that they can’t avoid. The Helga member is walking backwards while looking around, and his eyes eventually fall onto the five of them.

That man snarls and reaches a hand to his pants where his HT is located.

“Oh no, you fucking don’t, you piece of shit,” Anna hisses angrily and pounces on him.

She puts him in a headlock while her other arm is reaching into her utility belt to where her holster is. The man is fighting her off, clawing and hitting her as she struggles to slip her left arm between their bodies to reach for her handgun with silencer. Considering she is right-handed and was preparing to use the gun with her right hand, her hands’ positioning now is a disadvantage to her.

Mark kicks the man’s hand to get it away from his radio so that the bastard doesn’t reveal their location. The man opens his mouth to scream.

Anna quickly pulls back her left arm to focus on covering his mouth instead.

Even so, the man manages to let out a slight scream and muffled callings to his other comrades, so Mark decides to just shoot him point blank in the face. He tries not to follow his instinct to hug Nick when he hears Nick whimpers and sobs.

“You hear him? That’s Todd!”

“Where is he? I heard a shot!”

“Fuck,” Anna hisses as she casually pushes off the man’s body from her cradle, seemingly not affected at all by having a man shot to death in her arms.

“Run!” Angie whispers hurriedly to rush them.

They turn around to face the direction they were already going for, with Mark having to forcibly pull Nick’s wrist to get him to move.

Doctor Lowe swings his arm to throw one vial behind him to the spot they chose before, but it falls short, not reaching the wall. It’s too close to where they actually are right now.

“Oh, shit.”

They immediately hear running footsteps in their direction, though fortunately, not too close.

“Just fucking detonate it now!”

Anna keeps running with the rest of them, but she follows Doctor Lowe’s command and pulls out her detonator and clicks around a bit.

They immediately hear a deafening kaboom and a chorus of loud pained screaming. A gush of strong wind with debris flying suddenly hit them until they almost stumble to the ground. Mark hears ringing in his ears for a bit before it slowly fades.

A bit too close, but they had no choice.

They all look down on their watches again, seeing a bunch of brown dots now stagnant and unmoving. Eventually, some of them do not pulsate anymore on the screen, but they can still see some brown blips moving around.

They didn’t take out as many Helga members as they would have liked.

“We need to draw them out to the other bomb now,” Angie informs with racing breath.

“I’d rather we focus on getting the fuck out of here,” Marcus responds to her.

“They’re gonna follow us!”

“They’re going to, regardless! We need to get Bel out of here,” Anna hisses to Angie, taking his side for now.

Angie pauses, so they pause too with exasperated breath.

“Give me the detonator.”

“Angie—”

“We need to get them away from you all,” Angie insists at Anna’s interrupted complaint.

“Angie, we’re already down to 4 agents protecting Bel,” Mark argues back. “We’ve sent Eclipse and Robert as baits away from us. We can’t afford to waste another agent for bait.”

“You’re not gonna be alone once you’re in the backyard. There are guarding agents there.”

Anna stomps her feet and throws her hands to the side exasperatedly.

“Trust me,” Angie tries again in calmer voice.

Anna stares, and he can hear her deep but dragging breath. Eventually, she tsks and stalks to Angie and shoves the detonator into her palm.

“You’re on your own,” Anna curtly tells her.

“I know,” Angie replies gently, almost like a resignation.

They all stare at Angie a bit like they’re mourning and wordlessly saying goodbye. Mark personally feels something plunging in his chest with a sense of emptiness. It’s very unlikely they will see her again alive.

“Doc, give me some of those,” Angie says once the split-second moment of mourning is done. She points at the surgeon’s hand that’s holding some supposedly non-essential medical vials. “I need to break them somewhere so that they can hear me.”

Doctor Lowe drops some on her hand.

Maybe Mark is imagining it, but he can see the same slumping of the surgeon’s shoulders as before, like when he was just done doing Nick’s restitching in this headquarter’s med bay, making him appear much older and more exhausted.

The surgeon pivots quickly, almost like he refuses to look at Angie any longer, then tersely says, “Let’s go.”

Before they even start moving, they already hear Angie’s running steps to the opposite of where they’re going. Once they’re far enough to not hear Angie’s steps anymore, they start hearing machine gun shots and glass breaking that they know are from her. Presumably, to bait the remaining Helga members to her while thinking that she is battling some of their comrades.

They all signed up for this. Mark has to remind himself of that.

He doesn’t know what to feel as he lets his feet lead him, instead of his head. Once in a while, they pass by stray Helga members that they coldly shoot to death. There is a sense of uncomfortable detachment in him.

Sometimes, they have to battle those men in hand-to-hand combat because they’re too close or they can’t reach their firearms fast enough. Some only requires fists and smashing of their enemies’ heads into the ground, but sometimes they need their daggers plunged into their enemies’ bodies, in whatever body part three of them can stab those bastards.

Worryingly, some of those people seem to be closely acquainted enough to Nick to recognize him despite the helmet and non-descript clothing, so they have to keep battling and killing those enemies before those men can sound the alarm to the other Helga people.

As the latest Helga bastard they killed lays dead before them, they see Nick leaning heavily against the wall while breathing hard and choking with sobs. They know Nick is not trained for this kind of exertion or battle, especially so soon after surgery, but his apparent shock and trauma from witnessing all of these are not helping his physical frailty.

He drops down to his knees with a resounding thump next to his medical bag, pushing his palms against the ground so that he doesn’t fall to his face.

“I can’t…”

Nick then leans back so that he is sitting on his right thigh, one hand going to the visor of his helmet, although he doesn’t open it. Mark can hear the whimpering and the weeping, muffled by the helmet.

“I can’t do this…”

His head turns up to face Mark, Anna, and Doctor Lowe while his shoulders are shaking with his sobs.

“Bel, there are Helga people around, we need to go!”

Nick doesn’t heed him, only looking down again while continuing to cry. If anything, he drags his body to the side so that he can lean back against the wall with his sprawled legs bent to the side. He leans back his head too until he looks up slightly, although Mark isn’t sure if Nick’s eyes are open to stare at his ceiling behind that tinted visor.

“I’m tired. I can’t—I can’t go on… Please…”

Nick pulls his legs closer to bend them and hugs them, hiding his face between his body and knees. His shoulders continue to rise and fall in time with his weeping. It uncomfortably reminds Mark of when Nick was still handcuffed in their old headquarter’s holding cell.

“Oh my god,” Anna huffs out with irritation and desperation, “Bel, please, not now.”

Nick continues to quietly cry, his medical bag abandoned on his side.

Doctor Lowe growls and turns around with one hand on his hip and the other on his head like he is about to massage his temples. Anna slings away her machine gun from her shoulder to put the barrel on the ground, leaning forward with crossed palms over the stock and forehead laid on the back of her palms in frustration.

Mark bites his lip, pushing down his anger and impatience, then he exhales before walking towards Nick. He kneels down in front of Nick and slings his rifle to his back. He then puts his palms gently on the bottom of Nick’s helmet, pulling it up so that the half-Russian boy looks up at him. Nick is hiccupping as he cries.

“Bel, I know it’s all horrific, and you’re in pain, and you’re tired…”

He searches Nick’s eyes behind the tinted visor.

“I understand. This is all too much, even for me.”

Nick chokes again with another sob.

“But it will be over. Very soon. All we need to do is get to our van…”

He looks around to the general area of the backyard before facing Nick again.

“…drive you to Central’s backup, and then it’s done.”

He keeps his stare at Nick, trying to give gentle expression and hoping Nick can still see it somehow.

“It’s all gonna end soon. But you have to take these last steps.”

Nick is still hiccupping, but his crying seems to have tapered off.

“After that, you’re free. You will be safe.”

Nick doesn’t reply, but his breathing has grown quieter. More calm.

“I promise you, just these last few steps, and you’ll never have to see any of this ever again, okay?”

He doesn’t know how accurate it will be to the end of their fate on this day, but they all have to believe in something to keep going. This is as much for Nick as it is for him.

“Just few more steps, okay?”

Nick still breathes shakily, but when Mark reaches out his arms as an offer, Nick’s trembling arms finally reach out to him back. It takes a lot of effort, almost like Mark is hauling Nick’s entire body up by himself, but Nick eventually stands.

“Ba—bag?” he asks to Mark, so quiet he almost doesn’t hear it.

Mark is still holding Nick’s forearms to steady him when he looks down at the medical bag Nick dropped before.

“Okay,” he gently says, slinging Nick’s arm to his shoulder while he bends down to grab the bag.

He can sense that Nick still needs something to hold onto so that he can stay standing. Once he has the bag in one hand, he offers it to Nick so that he can hold it again. Mark needs his hands free to use his rifle again.

Nick shakily hugs it to his chest, his legs still shaking just as hard as before when he tries to walk forward.

He topples to the side again, thankfully with Mark ready to catch him. The other two run immediately to Nick when they see just how truly weak he is. Mark immediately hears a pained and exhausted groan from his side.

Nick is really not lying when he said he can’t do this.

Eventually, Nick drops down again to his knees, one hand grappling with the medical bag to keep it in his hold while the other is pushing against the floor to support his body.

Even if he is not crying and being emotional (not that Mark believes he even has any energy to cry again), it is obvious that he is truly at the end of his limit.

“Drop it.”

Nikolai turns his face up to Doctor Lowe with a confused body language, just as Mark and Anna do.

“Wha—what?”

“Drop the bag,” Doctor Lowe tells him tightly again, his eyes still wandering look around for danger.

“But… the—the uh… medical stuff—"

“Just fucking drop it!” Doctor Lowe now growls with a hazy-looking glare through his visor, “It’s weighing you down and a fucking neon light on your head that you’re who they’re looking for!”

Out of shock and intimidation, Nick immediately drops the bag from his hold with a fearful shuffle backwards on his knees.

Once the bag is on the ground, Doctor Lowe slings the strap of his machine gun so that it’s on his back instead. He then quickly darts his hands to open the clip that locks the medical bag and rummages through the inside frantically. His hands dart out again once in a while to bring out whatever he can grab to shove them into his many cargo pants pockets. Eventually, he starts shoving them into Mark’s hands and Nick’s hands too.

He furrows his eyebrows.

“Put them into your fucking pockets, you idiot,” the surgeon hisses at him now.

Mark’s face opens with understanding, so he slings back his gun too to grab as many medical tools and vials as possible, along with Nick and Anna.

Eventually, he can see them all pausing and struggling to shove things into their pockets, even the ones on their vests. There are only so much their uniforms can carry despite their design, and even with the utility belts.

“Can’t fit,” Anna murmurs in frustration.

Doctor Lowe’s hands are hovering in the air with many vials and tools in them, staring at the three of them one by one.

“Shit.”

Doctor Lowe looks down again towards the medical bag. There are still many things inside the bag, and the contents were as minimal as possible already, considering the surgeon was already pretty picky with his nurse before they started escaping.

“Okay,” the old surgeon says lowly, gears visible turning in his head before he inhales and exhales deeply.

He puts the things down on the ground while Mark and Anna look around to make sure they’re still safe.

“Here,” Doctor Lowe says, pointing to the ground where he put the medical things he just held, “let me see what we have.”

All three of them then put down the things in their hands that don’t fit their pockets.

Doctor Lowe furrows his eyebrows and stares at those items intensely. After a while, he starts darting his hands again towards the first mound of items, then the inside of the medical bag in turn. He grabs some items from the two sources to put them into a different spot.

“Put your things here too,” Doctor Lowe says while shortly looking at Mark, Nick, and Anna, then points at the previous group of items Mark assumes is for things the surgeon is still trying to decide whether to bring or not.

He quickly pulls out the things he put in his pockets before, followed by Anna and Nikolai, although he is not sure this is a good idea since it’s just taking valuable time for escaping. He doesn’t really voice it, intimidated by how serious Doctor Lowe looks. Thankfully, the surgeon seems to be able to work fast in deciding which ones to take and which ones to leave behind.

Most of the things he leaves in the left-behind mound are vials of meds and gauzes, while sharp things like surgical scissors and blades are shoved into his own pockets. Mark is suspecting those are brought both for medical needs and self-defense or weaponry use. The surgeon does take some vials of meds, some Mark recognizes as antibiotics and pain meds, then the old man quickly shoves the items towards three of them randomly.

At some point, Mark stops keeping track of what items are shoved into his hands or trying to speculate on why. Doctor Lowe is deciding and moving too fast to keep up with.

“Can’t fit anymore, Doc,” he says eventually.

Anna looks back at him and nods.

“I can’t fit more either.”

They all look towards Nick who is clearly hopelessly trying to fit more items in his pockets and failing.

Doctor Lowe sighs, darting a look at the mound of left-behind items and the medical bag.

“Let’s just go then. This is the best we can do.”

He listlessly agrees in his mind, although he still isn’t happy about it because he doesn’t know if they will be together all the time. If they get separated and Nick gets injured, the person with him might not have what he needs, and Nick himself probably might not have what he needs either.

But Doctor Lowe is right that the bag and the excess contents are more of a hinderance than helpful at this point. They have no choice but to abandon them.

“Okay, let’s go,” Doctor Lowe says while still half-crouching.

Mark and Anna automatically sling each of Nick’s arms to their shoulders and help him stand. The time spent deciding what items they should bring seems to have restored some of Nick’s energy, and the lack of medical bag weight certainly helps too, so now he can stand again on his own.

They immediately continue running with their backs bent forward, trying not to be seen so that they don’t have to attack any Helga person and waste more of their bullets. Once in a while, they pause abruptly when they notice some stray D.E.A.N agents battling with other Helga members. Mark can feel himself wincing instinctively at the repeated shots on the walls or random barricades they’re stopping behind, even if it’s not directed at them.

When the shots stop, they run again.

Sometimes they’re not so lucky as to not be seen, so they have no choice but to shoot back like previously until those men step away for cover from Mark’s group’s bullets. These moments are always used to run away, hoping those men don’t realize Nick is amongst the four of them. They can’t afford to wait for those people to pop out again to exchange more shots.

Rinse and repeat.

It might have happened a lot just in the last few hours alone, but when they have to sneak around while approaching enemies they can’t avoid, using their handguns with silencers to shoot those enemies dead right in front of his eyes hasn’t gotten any less shocking and disturbing.

Once, Doctor Lowe sneaks behind one lone enemy holding his surgical blade, then pounces to wrap his arm around the man’s neck and plunges the blade to the jugular. Other times, it’s Anna or him who has to shoot the enemies point blank right on the head or face, close enough to basically blow up their skulls.

Nick repeatedly whimpers and looks away, sobbing quietly while saying ‘Oh god’.

Mark mourns the fact that Nick has to see more of these disgusting, traumatizing things on top of everything he has gone through. Not to mention, Mark is among the ones doing the acts. He wonders if Nick will feel terrified or disgusted with him later.

Jesus, even Mark feels like he needs to throw up despite understanding that these killings are necessary.

He doesn’t know how Doctor Lowe and Anna do it without flinching, especially the surgeon. Never mind the shockingly proficient combat skill; that man unshakably does all of these things despite having undoubtedly taken Hippocratic oath to “First do no harm.” How could all of this be so easy for him?

Being much more senior than Mark helps, he supposes.

At some point, he realizes that they’ve traversed quite a lot of distance, but he feels like they’re all wildly turned around at this point. He doesn’t know whether they’re closer to the backdoor now than they were long ago when they just started escaping.

Suddenly, their watches vibrate urgently, so they all look down only to see the screen automatically snapping to the previous white dot. It’s pulsating faster and faster with one dark blue dot near it and an amalgamation of brown dots following.

And then another kaboom.

They instinctively bring up their arms as cover while bowing down, although they don’t feel any gush of strong wind almost knocking them over like before, or painful concrete bits and pieces hitting them roughly.

After a while, Mark looks down again on his watch.

The dark blue dot is still pulsating, but it’s stagnant. Just like the crowd of brown dots around it.

He closes his eyes and gulps with cold sensation washing over him.

If the dark blue dot stops pulsating, he is just going to tell himself it’s because Angie is locked onto a communication with another agent. Instead of any other possibility. He’ll let go of his delusion once they’re all out of here.

Right now, he needs it.

“Move it!”

At the angry cry of Doctor Lowe, he looks up from his watch and starts running again with the remaining and pitiful members of the chaperone team.

He notices now after traversing the zigzagging layout of 1034’s headquarter that, blessedly, there are very few Helga people they need to hide from or attack. In fact, they don’t see one at all for quite a while.

They feel safe to take a glance at their watches once in a while, dragging the map with their fingers here and there to see if there are obstructions, and taking turns directing each other.

Until Anna slips on something and launches herself forward violently into the ground.

She groans and turns her body around quickly.

It’s only then they all realize that it’s not just ‘something’ that made her fall, but a leg set out in front of her intentionally to tackle her. It’s followed by three armed men coming out of the intersection of walls they are trying to cross.

“You. Fucking. Bitch,” one of the men grits out in an angry growl, “You took out so many of us.” He stalks towards Anna sprawled on the ground who is now shuffling backwards to avoid them. “Took our fucking whore too and refusing to give him back to us.”

The men seem unaware that Nick is amongst them, visibly having a furious tunnel vision towards Anna and Anna only, but Nick whimpers behind Mark and Doctor Lowe, so all of those men snap their necks to turn behind them. Doctor Lowe gives a split-second look to Nick while hissing out, “Fuck, why did you do that?!”

It doesn’t matter. Those men already heard Nick and recognizes his voice.

“There you are, Russian doll,” the same man says with disgusting smug voice as they now stalk towards Nick, “We’ve missed you, you know?”

Mark automatically steps right in front of Nick to cover him from the Helga bastards while Nick shakily whispers, ‘no, please, no’ with his back planted on the wall behind them.

One of the men reaches into his pocket for his radio. They’re all facing Mark, Nick, and Doctor Lowe, so they don’t realize Anna already standing again and going for them.

Doctor Lowe and Mark ready their pistols, but refrain from shooting yet because of Anna in the background, but once Anna has the man reaching for his radio in a headlock, they both pull their triggers several times to the other two men who then scurry out of the way to where they were coming from. Anna is now struggling to keep her headlock on the floor, her other hand on the top of the man’s head.

As much as Anna is flexible and quick, helped by a small stature, it still proves to be a little bit of a problem as she is crushed by the much bigger man on top of her. Mark can’t afford to help Anna or even look at her because he and the surgeon are busy shooting the two men as they pop their heads out once in a while.

Mark and Doctor Lowe have nowhere to hide, while those two men can hide behind the wall of the intersection, so those two men choose to shoot him and the surgeon instead of Anna since both are the easy picking. He is guessing those Helga people also don’t want to accidentally shoot their own member in Anna’s arms.

Eventually, though, they hear a sickening crack.

He sees the man on top of Anna going slack and slumps to the side.

Anna doesn’t waste time kneeling and shooting too with her machine gun, and now those remaining two men also have nowhere to hide because they’re being shot from two directions.

Still, at some point Doctor Lowe hisses, and Mark notices red seeping out of the surgeon uncovered upper arm. He thinks about just leaving those two men to minimize further injury, but those men have heard Nick, so they must be eliminated to prevent them from snitching to the other members.

As they exchange bullets, he finally hears one of their enemies yelling “Gah!” in a pained voice. Right after, a thumping sound follows.

When they brave themselves to go see the intersection, he sees a dead man with eerily opened eyes and another one crouching while hugging his bleeding hand near his chest. The remaining man looks at three of them with Nick behind while whimpering like a fucking coward, no longer angry and smug.

“Please… please… you broke my radio and killed the other guys… just let me live… I won’t say anything…”

He keeps shaking and blubbering, but Anna simply slings her machine gun again to point it to her front, pressing on the trigger for several seconds without any hesitation.

“Let’s go,” she simply says without any change in her expression after killing a hopeless enemy, turning around to continue their journey.

Mark tries to steady himself by saying in his head over and over again that they’re the enemies. It’s either him and his team or them.

Four of them start running again, taking a slight turn from the intersection to go to their original intended direction. From his side, he can hear Nick’s labored breathing getting louder and louder and Nick’s pace getting slower. Doctor Lowe and Anna turn back once in a while to rush Nick, repeatedly saying the many iterations of ‘Come on, just a little bit more, Bel’ to the increasingly weakened boy.

At some point, they’re too focused on encouraging Nick that they don’t realize they’re facing another intersection. They’re not looking at their watches at the right moment to notice the brown dots on the right and left ways of the intersection.

Mark hears yelps and groans from his front, but when he looks ahead, Anna and Doctor Lowe are already gone.

Oh, shit.

Mark halts his steps suddenly and instinctively reaches out his left arm to keep Nick from continuing forward. Mark takes several steps back, his arm still out to push Nick back a little. He looks around, trying to see where the other two have gone and who took them.

It happened just a few seconds ago. Those Helga members must still be around.

He hears another scream, recognizably sounding very Anna. Then a few seconds later, he hears a grunt and hitting sounds, this time unmistakably from Doctor Lowe. But they’re both from different directions. Anna from the right and Doctor Lowe from the left.

There is crackling in his earpiece so he clicks square, hoping it’s either of the two.

“MT56? Do you copy?”

Mark sucks in a breath while closing his eyes in relief.

“MT56 copy. AJ56, do you copy? Over.”

“Oh, thank fuck you’re still alive.”

“Doctor Lowe is gone too. Where the fuck are you?”

“Mark, don’t wait for me. Just go. Do you copy? Over.”

Mark furrows his eyebrows.

“I copy. But you want us to leave you? How many are you fighting now?!”

“He needs to get to the backup soon,” Anna replies firmly.

“I told you we’re both alone! We need you!”

“Just tell the backyard barricading agents to go with you if I’m not there when you get to the van. Do you copy?”

“But—"

“Just get him the hell out of here!” Anna responds, more whispery. In the background, he hears some running steps.

He is about to reply with something when Anna suddenly says, “AJ56 over and out.”

He tries again to click his left and right arrow then square several times while looking at his watch, calling out “Anna? Anna? Do you copy?” when he gets to the dark blue dot that signifies Anna’s location before,but she is adamantly not taking the call. Or she can’t.

He looks around, quickly clicking his left and right buttons on his shoulder to go back and forth between the dark blue dots he can see on his screen, including the one he connected to before. Each one stops pulsating as he clicks the square button.

He calls for Anna, Doctor Lowe, or Angie desperately, and none of them replies. He doesn’t even know which dot is which person at this point. Eventually, he settles with connecting to random colored dots and calling out anyone he can think of until he ends up with the closest dark blue dot again.

“Anna, do you copy? Doc? Angie? Do you copy?!” he tries again, sounding more urgent but still with whispery voice.

All he hears is just crackling static. No difference.

“Fuck.”

He leans his head back and exhales deeply in frustration, trying to push down his panic.

Nicky needs him. He’s the only one the younger man has right now.

He turns around to look at Nick behind him, the skinny body shaking visibly. He quickly reaches out his left hand.

“Hold my hand and do NOT let go. Do you understand?”

Nick nods frantically and immediately grabs his offered palm.

In any other time, he has a feeling he would be pleased about it, but right now, he is in too much urgency and adrenaline to not have it heavily overshadowed by fear and worry. He immediately takes off running.

Nick yelps slightly when Mark starts pulling his hand, but he quickly adjusts to Mark’s movement and pace while still tightly holding Mark’s palm.

They keep running with sounds of shots and screaming alongside explosions around, their faces and eyes thankfully protected by their helmets from debris and pieces of broken wood or concretes flying around. The dust also visibly dances around even beyond their tinted visors, thankfully out of inhaling risk also because of their helmets.

Mark pauses slightly, and that’s only when he sees a giant conglomerate of brown dots on the watch near them with loud voices of the Helga people themselves that they can hear. He’s learned enough from all this time running around that they really should minimize looking away from their front so that they don’t get more nasty surprises for not paying attention.

He sees another pulsating white dot near him, but with no detonator, that’s not useful to him other than so that he knows to not linger around just in case another agent needs to detonate it.

He finally reaches the last wall turn reaching to the backyard that they saw before —when there were still 12 of them—and he feels tentatively hopeful.

Well, he should have never been hopeful at all.

He hears another loud yelp and rough yanking from his hand, and when he turns around, Nick is gone.

“Fuck,” he hisses out as he is starting to panic.

He immediately runs to the direction where he can still see glimpse of Nick’s legs kicking about, ready to fight for Nick back, but then someone pounces on him until he is harshly thrown to the floor with an angry man on top of him. He struggles to push off the man from him so that he can follow Nick, knowing that the longer Nick is out of his sight, the further he will be taken.

He kicks up his leg to knee the man’s groin, earning him a loud scream from on top of him. At the moment of weakness, Mark pushes him off to the side and quickly reaches for his handgun holster to take it out, shooting it twice right on the man’s left eye.

He exhales shakily and gulps down his nausea, then he rises to run to the direction where he sees Nick last. He really has no other option but to swallow his horror and run as fast as he can if he wants to get Nick back safe and sound.

Mark continues running, feeling himself increasingly loathing how 1034’s headquarter layout is complex and winding and really, really confusing. A headquarter for less than 20 people has no business being this complicated.

He looks around the many turns he can take in just one hallway, repeatedly checking his watch for the closest dark blue dot. He runs quickly following its direction around the hazy mapping, once in a while clicking on his shoulder to try to connect with any of the dark blue dots he can see.

“EL56, this is MT56,” he tries his guess that it might be Nick, “Do you copy? Over.”

He looks back down again at his watch for a split-second before looking up again, whipping his head left and right to see if he can find the heterochromatic-eyed boy. The person on the other side of his earpiece comm doesn’t respond, but the dot still pulsates.

He repeats it again, choosing still not to use Nick’s other codename just in case some Helga people already figured it out. He rotates again through all the dark blue dots he can see, and while none of them respond, all still blip in and out.

“Aghr! No!”

Mark halts his running, turning quickly to the direction he hears the scream from.

That’s Nick.

He doesn’t think before sprinting to that direction, especially when he hears muffled screaming and cries from Nick with harsh voices of unfamiliar men following. He even hears some thuds and groans that certainly come from Nick.

He turns around the corner and sees Nick pushed down on the ground with his helmet off, hands held behind his back and a bloody bruise on the corner of his lips. He can even see some bleeding on Nick’s hairline. The boy is wincing while the men around him menacingly stand over him. One of them even has one leg pressed onto Nick’s back until he groans in pain and pleadings.

“You motherfuckers…” he grits out with a sense of fury he has never felt in his life while rising his arms to aim his pistol.

He doesn’t hesitate to pull the trigger several times, steps firm as he stalks closer.

It’s clear that those men thought they’re alone and successful in getting Nick back that they don’t even realize they’re being attacked, not until one of them suddenly drops lifelessly to the ground.

Unfortunately, the son of a bitch’s body falls down right on top of Nick until he grunts and winces in pain again like the breath was knocked out of him.

“You piece of shit!” the remaining three men look up to stare at him. They look furious too.

Mark immediately puts back his pistol and pulls the sling of his machine gun to switch to it, aiming the barrel at those men. It’s a good thing that Nick is on the ground while those men are standing. Slow too, compared to Mark.

He starts indiscriminately pressing the trigger and aiming it left to right slightly to rain bullets on all of those men. They have no chance of fighting Mark since he immediately attacks them before they can get ready after trying to keep Nick down.

He clenches his jaw and snarls behind his visor, feeling the thrill of each recoil as he sees the men getting hit repeatedly by his gun.

One falls down while holding his abdomen. Not dead, but close with zero chance of running from Mark’s wrath once he gets to him. The other two grunt while being hit, leaning over in pain but still standing.

Unfortunately, one of them has the sickening idea of pulling Nick’s hair up roughly to use him as a human shield. Nick shrieks in pain, and Mark now just realizes that the side of the face he didn’t see before has a blooming bruise on it. Nick’s right eye is blackened by a hit to the face, Mark is sure, and with a small cut on his cheekbone.

Motherfucker.

He’s really going to fucking kill those bastards. Drag it out for as long as he can when he gets his hands on them. How fucking dare they touch Nick like that?

The two still-standing man pulls Nick up completely to stand while his knees buckle several times.

“Stand up, you fucking whore,” one of them hisses at Nick while pulling his hair up even more. Nick yelps but pushes his body up with his hair being yanked roughly.

“Get your fucking hands off him!”

They simply run sideways still using Nick as a human shield, leaving the remaining injured man behind. They can’t even be bothered to help one of their own, basically condemning him to die with Mark’s hands.

Mark breathes heavily. He feels like he’ll shatter his own jaw.

He is so, so very enraged right now he could explode.

Oh, he’s gonna raise hell on those bastards. He’s going to make them regret ever being born.

“Wait, guys! No, wait, come on!”

The man with bleeding abdomen and shot legs keeps dragging his body to the side while leaning on his right thigh, trying to go to the direction of the supposed comrades who left him behind. The more Mark stalks towards him with sure steps, the more frantic that man’s dragging becomes until Mark is only one foot away from him.

“No, no, come on, dude. I can’t do anything right now. He’s not with me anymore. Please just let me be,” the man shakily begs with tears starting to flow from his eyes.

Fucking pathetic.

Mark raises one leg until it’s bent perpendicular to his knee and kicks out at the man’s face as hard as he can. The man shrieks in pain while he is thrown to the side. The man doesn’t give up trying to shuffle further, now on his stomach and dragging himself with his hands. Mark can hear his shaky crying when he sees the other dead man next to him as he keeps dragging himself away on the floor.

Mark simply steps near the head and roughly stomps on the back of it until he hears several loud cracks. He doesn’t check whether the man has died or not before he points his machine gun towards the skull and presses the trigger for a few seconds. A guarantee that the man will rise no more.

Each flash and recoil of the ammo being shot bring some sort of demented joy in Mark. Maybe he is broken by all of this horror, but he really can’t give a shit.

After that, he bends down to take Nick’s helmet on the floor, sensing that the half-Vietnamese boy will still need to hide his identity once Mark gets him back. Mark clasps the chin strap onto his belt, desperately hoping he’ll manage to get to Nick again to return it.

He doesn’t waste time anymore to run towards the direction where he suspects the other two men are bringing Nick. He feels the ball of rage inside him rolling, not wanting to wait any longer to get his hands on those bastards.

***

(I) (II) (III) (IV) (V) (VI) (VII) (VIII) (IX) (X) (XI) (XII) (XIII) (XIV) (XV) (XVI) (XVII) (XVIII) (XIX) (XX) (XXI) (XXII) (XXIII) (XXIV) (XXV) (XXVI) (XXVII) (XXVIII) (XXIX) (XXX) (XXXI - END)

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twoidiotwriters1 · 2 years ago

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Copycat: Genesis —(Marvel Fem!Oc)

A/N: I love all these girls they're so amazing 😭❤️ -Danny

Words: 1,822

Phase Six Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘Bad habit’ -by Ben Platt

xxi: The Avenger

"You got your things?"

"I came here with nothing, so yeah," Cat grinned.

Shuri stared at her intently, Copycat was still wearing her suit, she had no other clothes to wear, and she wasn't planning to parade around town anyway, she would leave Riri in her dorm, and then go back to New York.

"You helped me a lot this week, I won't forget that," Shuri said.

Cat reached for the princess's hand. "You have no idea how important this suit was for my next move. And meeting Namor changed my mind about a few things."

"About what?"

"That mutants are superior beings," The princess hesitated, and the hero laughed and patted Shuri's back harshly. "You should've seen your face! Sorry, some habits are harder to drop than others."

The girl punched Cat's shoulder lightly. "You look happy... gives me hope."

"It does?"

"That one day I'll look on the bright side like you do."

Cat decided to be honest, maybe that would help Shuri. "Lying to Namor was like turning my back on every mutant on Earth, Shuri. He showed me that we have worth, and what I can achieve if I don't give up on myself. It may not mean much to you, but I'm thankful you didn't kill him."

Shuri looked away. "I think we have lost enough. Killing Namor would've turned the Black Panther into someone unworthy of the legacy."

"Hmm, I hate legacies," Cat patted her shoulder again. "Don't become a stranger, alright? You can call me even if it's just to complain about your day."

"Good luck with that hunter," the girl squeezed her arm encouragingly. "Don't let him win."

"Can't. I got a team to rebuild," she grinned.

"I'll be waiting for your call."

Riri stumbled onto her bed. "Oof! That ain't something I'm gonna get used to..."

Cat chuckled. "It was the fastest way to get you here," she dropped the girl's bag next to her. "Look after yourself, kiddo."

"Wait! That thing you said... about recruiting me..."

"You don't want me to?"

"You're gonna do it for real?"

"Yeah, if you're really interested," Cat assured her. "But there are a few things I gotta do first. Don't worry though, if you're meant to be an Avenger, you'll become one in due time."

Riri had an anxious look on her face. "I'm not sure I want to, though..."

Cat was unbothered by her response. She shrugged casually. "Well, the world is full of people like us, so no pressure. Whatever you end up choosing will be the right call, as long as it's not out of fear."

"A colonizer in chains... Now I have seen everything."

"Funny," the ex-agent got out of the car and noticed the young woman on his left. "So Copycat really is Agent Zero, huh?"

She frowned. "How did you figure it out?"

"We found your gorgon suit at the scene," Agent Ross explained. "But I heard you quit like a year ago..."

"I heard you committed treason," she replied.

The man looked at Okoye. "You're protecting her?"

"I protected them," Cat frowned.

"She took advantage of our situation," Okoye clarified.

"You know, Mother, sometimes you say real hurtful things—"

"Don't ever call me Mother."

"De Fontaine will hunt your ass when she finds out—"

"Valentina," Cat's eyes flashed dangerously. If the woman had been there when they'd found the Gorgon suit, then Russo knew she was back. "She's the reason I came to get you, actually."

Ross paused. "She... is?"

"I'm sure some people love to have her in the office," Cat walked back to Okoye's car, hidden on the side of the road. "Unfortunately, I can't allow that."

"What?" Agent Ross inquired. "What are you talking about?"

"Mouse, we have to give Agent Ross an update."

"On it."

"And while you're at it, look for Fury's number, he's been on vacation for far too long."

"You got it, boss."

"Wait, why me?" The man questioned.

"Because you got fired and it wasn't fair play," she said. "You'll help me and Captain America, Agent, if you want your job back."

Cat showed up in the middle of Matt's apartment... and startled Foggy Nelson in the process.

"HOLY SHIT!" The man fell over Matt's couch out of pure shock.

Matthew rushed out of the kitchen and walked up to Foggy, picking him up from the floor. "Why didn't you call!?"

"I wanted to surprise you with the news!" Cat winced.

"What news?" He scowled, helping his friend to get back on his feet.

"...that I'm alive?" She made a face. "Now it sounds stupid."

Foggy looked at her in disbelief. "Are you Copycat?"

"It's okay, Foggy—"

"Oh my god, are you in trouble?" The man looked at him with his mouth wide open. "You said you were taking a break—"

"—Foggy, calm down—"

"—Copycat is in your living room!"

Cat pressed the button on the side of her mask, turning off her visor. "He's not in trouble!"

Foggy stared at her squinting. "Do I know you?"

"You do," she took a deep breath. "Have you gotten any better at pool or am I going to keep stealing your paychecks?"

His eyes widened. "Cat?!"

The young woman smiled awkwardly. "Good to see you, bud."

"Foggy, you need to leave," Matt reached for the man's stuff and hung a bag over his friend's shoulder. "I'll explain everything later."

"But— wait! Cat?" Foggy looked at her and smiled. "That makes so much sense."

"I'm sure it does," Cat chuckled.

"You owe me an explanation too, though," he warned her before leaving. Matt kept pushing him forward. "A big one!"

"Yeah, sure!" She answered from her place. "Maybe one day you'll get it!"

Matt told Foggy not to mention he'd seen Cat, and his friend promised to keep his mouth shut, but he'd definitely demand all the answers sooner than later. Once he closed the front door, Matt spoke to her out loud. "Why didn't you call?"

"What time is it?"

"Seven thirty, boss."

"Thanks, Mouse," she looked at Matthew. "It's Monday, what are you doing in your house at this hour?"

He walked back into the living room, crossing his arms. "The power went out in the office so we came here instead."

"Where's Karen?"

"Took a short vacation, she'd been working nonstop for months," he hesitated for a second, in the end, he sighed and loosened the tie around his neck. "You should've told me you were coming."

"I didn't think it through," she apologized, then looked down at her suit. "Hey, you said Spidey brought some of my stuff. Where are they?"

"In my closet," he took a step forward. "You got a new suit?"

"Brand new design, changes colors depending on the light. I got a cloak too, but that one was given to me by another mutant, not Shuri."

"Another mutant?" He raised a brow. "Can I?" He raised his hand and Cat pulled her cloak forth, placing it on his open palm. "Paint me the picture," he requested.

"Two jaguars standing on their hind legs, they're facing away from each other," her eyes were focused on him. "The embroidery is silver and gold, and the fabric is teal, like jade."

"Does it have a purpose, or is it just for show?" He teased her.

"It's like Kingpin suits, but I'm sure it's made out of something else... the people that gave it to me called me a jaguar, he said they represent the power of darkness in the universe."

Matt frowned. "That doesn't sound flattering."

"Wasn't meant to be a compliment," Cat admitted. "It's who I am to them. It's like you, wearing a devil suit when you are a die-hard Catholic. Doesn't mean you're bad, only that you're one of the few who dares to do what it takes to keep your city safe."

He let go of the cloak but didn't move away. "You feel different. I would say happy, but..."

"I've made peace with parts of myself I thought weren't enough. I am enough... for what I'll do, anyway."

Matthew sighed. "There it is."

"What an ominous statement," she snorted. "I'm fine, Matthew. Don't overthink it."

He walked back to his kitchen. "You ate yet?"

"No, I was having a meeting with a former CIA agent."

"Can I ask?"

"I can tell you everything over dinner," she went to his room to get changed. "Even that part with the handsome and scary mutant, but I can't be specific, I promised not to tell others..."

"Sounds like a fun prospect," he replied with sarcasm. "Just your type, right? Secretive and inconvenient."

"More like charismatic and social," she tapped M.O.U.S.E. twice and her suit hid in a paw-shaped pin on her chest. "Did Spider-Man say anything about coming this week?"

"He said he'd try."

"I think I'll go see Harley. Fury and the CIA agent agreed to help, I'm sure Harley's dying to pass all of our research to them, he didn't want to be involved, to begin with..." She put on a shirt and her favorite shorts. "Have you heard anything about the other guy?"

"What other guy?"

"The one that brought me along with Webs."

"Ah, that guy," he said. "Spider-man didn't mention him."

"So he left," Cat said quietly. "I'm glad."

"You don't sound glad."

"Well, I couldn't help him, I feel guilty."

Matthew hummed. "I'm sure you did your best."

Cat walked into the living room. "You have a habit of cheering me up even when I don't deserve it. Maybe I didn't try at all, have you considered that? Maybe I was selfish."

"I said you did your best. Whether your best is enough or not, that's another story," Matthew handed her a plate.

"That's so mean," she grinned, sitting down happily to enjoy her warm dinner. "But... Most of the people that I've interacted with ended up in a bad situation. From now on, I'll mind my business."

"I disagree, my life got better after we met."

She laughed. "Are you okay? Before I left for this mission you hated me, now it sounds like we're back to being best friends."

Matt sat in front of her, he had a small smile on his face. "We're definitely not friends. I'm saying you were exactly what I needed back then... but maybe this guy needs something else. Some people need the real thing, and a copycat isn't that."

She'd missed his bits of advice, as blunt and straightforward as they were, he was the only person in this world who understood her anger, but now... she knew it was because he couldn't remember her reasons to be who she was, and she couldn't blame him, but it still hurt. Cat was as real as any other person, she just couldn't be herself most of the time, because that tended to scare people off.

"Matthew, not even you are able to be sincere every second of your life," she sighed. "We hide parts of ourselves when we want to be picked. For example, right now I'm hiding how much I'd like to take you to bed to ask you if you're willing to be friends again."

He smirked, he didn't even bother to ask if she was joking or not, with her there was no difference. "If you can remember how to be a decent one."

"Vaguely," she took a bite of her food. "I won't blackmail you or break any of your bones this time around, promise."

"That's sweet..." he stole a bit of food from her plate. "Let's be friends, then."

Next Chapter—>

Taglist.

@mikaelsonwhxrebae @ieatpanicattacksforlunch @jesuswasnotawhiteman @siriuslysirius1107 @greengarsstuff @itsyagirl01 @23victoria @espressopatronum454 @jkthinkstoomuch

#twoidiots writing #marvel #marvel fic #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel original character #copycat fic

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oraclekleo · 2 years ago

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Kim Jun Seo (WEi) Kinky Tarot Reading

Disclaimer:

All celebrity readings have purely entertainment nature

I don’t know any of the celebrities personally

Don’t base life decisions purely on tarot readings

I can never guarantee any of what’s said in the reading

This a digital content only, no physical item will be shipped to you

Due to this fact, there are no refunds for paid readings

Reading Info:

Rating: 18+

Reading Type: Single - Couple

Requested: Yes - No

Requester: /

Deck(s): Dark Wood Tarot

Spread: Kinky Reading

Questions:

Position

Libido

Turn On

Kink

Dirty Secret

Celebrity Info:

Full Name: Kim Jun Seo

Stage Name: Junseo

Group: WEi

DOB: 20.11.2001

Blood Type: O

MBTI: ESFJ

Sun Sign: Scorpio

Chinese Sign: Metal Snake

Life Path Number: 7

Masterpost: WEi

Kim Jun Seo

Junseo (WEi)

DOB: 20.11.2001 Blood Type: O MBTI: ESFJ Sun Sign: Scorpio Chinese Sign: Metal Snake Life Path Number: 7 Spread / Question: Kinky Reading Deck(s): Dark Wood Tarot

Position - 9 of Pentacles

Junseo is not the type to overshare with his partner in a relationship. Actually, he might have tendencies towards secrecy and keeping his thoughts and ideas for himself. He’s not likely to just open up to anybody, he’s more of a private person by nature, even in a romantic relationship. His lover might sometimes feel shut out from Junseo’s life because there are aspects he’s not willing to show to other people. There’s a lot going on behind his sweet mask of a face and it takes some patience and digging to reach to the core of his heart and soul.

Libido - XXI The World

While Junseo isn’t really the type to emotionally connect with other people, his sex drive and lust are at their peak now. He might tend to indulge himself in many exciting experiments. The world lies at his feet now and he’s willing to taste its fruits in all varieties. However, Junseo might not be willing to commit to one person at the moment. He’s at the top of his game now, he’s young, his endurance and energy are nearly bottomless, it simply makes no sense to him to limit his experience to one person.

Turn On - 10 of Cups

Junseo isn’t ready for a serious relationship but he might feel attracted to those who are caring, nurturing and family types. And yes, it’s likely to be problematic and end in tears eventually. Long sad cries of his used-to-be lovers will sound through the night and there’s no way to avoid it.

Kink - 7 of Wands

Junseo might find it especially hot when his lover is at his mercy to a certain degree. He might like to blindfold them or limit their senses or movement in some ways but he sort of expects they will try to break the chains, metaphorically (or literally) speaking. It’s not fun if his lover is lying down motionless and just waiting for him, he likes the thrill of chase or even a little combat with his lover. It can be something as innocent and harmless as tickling battle but it can also slip into much serious plays where safe word is a must.

Dirty Secret - XX Judgement

Junseo is not very likely to make it a public information but he’s actually pretty serious about his relationships. The fact they usually don’t take long isn’t contradictory. He plans them to be short-term. He’s not really into ‘they lived happily ever after’ type of a relationship, he’s more interested in genuine development and going through hardships with his lover and he hopes for those to strengthen the bond or to break it for good. Junseo isn’t a playboy but he simply believes that his true love will love him with all he comes with and will endure the pressure. He puts his lovers through tests often and very often they fail in those. He’s not losing hope for one person to actually make it through all the trials, though.

Thank you for reading!

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mcalhenwrites · 2 years ago

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Thinking about how I had to rewrite that sentence about rods and cams in the automaton geckos bc some people who read it thought cams = cameras. So I had to rephrase to make it (hopefully) clearer that I meant these:

What if I said cams are as important as cogs, would that cause steampunk drama? (I'm kidding.) (At least I hope that's a joke, if there's already a debate about that I'll just be over in a corner, crying...) Anyway, I really love steampunk, not sure if the title (Geckos, Automata) gave it away... Also, since I haven't uploaded it before, why not share the titles of the chapters!

The ones with question marks next to them might change, and tbh I might end up expanding this bc I want to describe the Upheaval (yes I know, but I named it that in Feb 2021 before TOTK came out) in greater detail somewhere. I'm hoping to just do that in the chapters. Unlike some of my other stories (Serrated Petals, Seasons), these chapters are extremely short. Instead of 3-6k words each, they're like 500-2k each. Transcription: I: Blink once for yes, twice for no II: The world is very bad, actually III: The sandwich thief strikes again IV: The gecko factory V: Ghosts live out east (?) VI: It's tokay to cry VII: Let sleeping babes lie through their teeth VIII: The dead (hopefully) don't pose much risk IX: The observer X: The automaton who loved train rides XI: The crack of the last lightning bolt XII: No personal space from ghosts, not even for the rich (?) XIII: Gay mad professors who were made for each other, a love story XIV: The post-apocalyptic scavenger XV: Friends in metal places XVI: Papa automaton XVII: A lightning storm without forest fires XVIII: Mother, stay a while (?) XIX: A bored game XX: We can't all talk to the dead XXI: The honorable papa XXII: The necropolis no-longer-public library XXIII: The bad mother XXIV: Growing paints XXV: The same as four years ago (?) XXVI: Home sweet automata XXVII: When idiots make plans XXVIII: A desert deserted city XXIX: The power of necromancers XXX: The second Upheaval XXXI: Kill that doll with fire XXXII: Wrath and resolution XXXIII: Don't cry, my automaton XXXIV: Don't be that person (?) XXXV: Goodbye Rosalia XXXVI: A hero's bed XXXVII: A heart, a soul, and a home I'm still kind of bummed that I haven't yet met anyone who gets "It's tokay to cry", but also... no one will ever get the inspiration for "don't cry, my automaton" :') I wish I could show off the book cover, but I'll wait until I'm posting a link to order it before the cover is revealed! :D

#I'm so excited to share this one but I've got more to fix than I realized before #esp since I hit a snag with one of Rosalia's chapters

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lulupen2023 · 2 years ago

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My very first BellDom Fic 22/23

After what happened at Atlanta, lol, I just needed to post something BellDom ^^

Summary:

Do you want to meet a Matthew who sees conspiracy everywhere (oh wait, this is not big news!) and is so fond of his trolley that he treats it like a sort of puppy? Do you want to meet a Dominic in love with… himself (and with Matt, too, of course!)? And do you want to meet a Chris who wants to prove to the world he's the most masculine guy ever… but is unavoidably attracted by every… female hobby? This is what you'll find in this story, among lots of BellDom and… craziness!

Summary of the chapter: Let's let the cat out of the bag! Chapter XXI: You don't know that...

"So don't' think, not even for a moment, that you can take flight again and elope who knows where, you, lovey-dovey couple. I promised that tonight you're gonna stay, so you gotta stay!" Chris summons his friends, as they are taking a more than deserved break from the sound-check of the afternoon.

"I promise, no more flings." Matt assures, with his best angelic attitude.

Chris is about to say something, but, almost as if the topic was too delicate to face it, he desists, but he's always wavering about it. The others two notice that.

"Wassup, Chris?" Matthew asks him.

"Err... could you let me see them?"

"See what?" Dominic narrows his eyes.

"Well, you know... your compromising tattoos." Chris clarifies, a little bit embarrassed. "It's just that I'm curious... " he adds, as if he wanted to justify himself.

Matt stares at him stunned, just like Dom does.

"No bloody way, buddy!" the first states.

"Chris, what's this sudden, worrying, but mostly insane desire to see our asses?" the second asks him.

"Ah! So, now it's me the one with sick desires! Do I have to remind you what you did last night, you, Mr. 1.000-ways-to-use-whipped-cream?" Chris addresses to the blonde.

Dominic turns pale instantly.

"But... but, how do you..."

"You should know better than me, Matt is such a chatterbox!" Chris comments as Matt is ready to clear off.

"Don't you dare to run!" Dom summons him, stepping in the way and closing the door of the rehearsal room. "Damn you and your damn mouth!" he curses, immediately after.

"Well, yesterday you didn't have to complain much about my mouth, especially when it took off the cream from your body and..." Matt justifies, with a silky voice in the last part.

"Please, guys, stop it! You're crossing the bounds of how much I'm disposed to hear about this kind of topics!" Chris warns them, cooling down their ardour and, for good measure, it's just Chris who incites his friends to resume playing.

Twenty minutes after they're done with the last song on their set-list, but although the others have already put their instruments into their cases, Dom is still bent on the drums, but not for playing.

"Dom, what the hell are you doing?" Chris asks him when he sees him all engrossed staring at a cymbal.

"It looks obvious to me. I'm looking at myself!" the blond replies with a shrug, as he keeps examining his face, very accurately.

"Even in a cymbal?" Chris asks him in disbelief.

"I don't think that there's a surface Dom wouldn't manage to look at himself in!" Matt replies for the drummer.

"Dammit! This black-eye doesn't seem to get any better. People will see it in the spotlight!" Dominic complains.

"So, what's the problem? You dress up like Spiderman every now and then, so you can dress up like a panda. It would draw lots of attention, plus that would justify the black-eye." Chris suggests.

"No way, a panda is too goofy, it doesn't suit me!" he grumbles, insulted, as he crosses his arms on his chest.

"So, you could use a bandage.... You could be a pirate, like Captain Hook!" Chris strikes back.

"Uhmm...nope, I don't picture myself as Captain Hook, but I would be just perfect as Peter Pan, I already have my acid green pants, a green t-shirt, a green beret and I would be ready!" the blond already plans everything, daydreaming, as he has totally forgotten that the dressing up is supposed to help him hide his beaten eye.

"Yeeesss! If you play Peter Pan, I could play... Tinker Bell!" Matt exclaims, overexcited.

"Tinker Bell?!" his friends question him, astonished and puzzled.

"Oh, please, don't stare at me like that! A pair of fake wings and a magic wand shaped microphone would suit me so impeccably. Plus, I'm * Bells*, so there could never be someone more perfect than me to play Tinker *Bell*!" he insists.

"Well, don't worry, Bells, it's not that Dom is contending with me for that role, you can keep it!" Chris warns him, as Dom jumps to an important conclusion.

"So, buddy, you'll just have to play Captain Hook!" the blond decides.

"Why just Captain Hook?" Chris narrows his eyes.

"No offence intended, dude, but I just can't picture you as a Lost Boy of NeverLand!" Matt makes fun of him.

"But... how am I supposed to play with a hook?" the bassist made them notice.

"We'll use a symbolic hook, maybe a sticker on one of your basses!" Matt explains.

"Firstly, I don't think that there are stickers like that. Secondly, no... I don't think that Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte and Samantha would like it if I put stickers on them..." the bassist grumbles.

"What? Did I hear it right? Did you really give your basses women's names?" Matt questions him.

"This is not correct: Chris, did you really name your basses like the four protagonists of 'Sex and the City'?" Dom points out.

As Matt and Dom burst out laughing madly, Chris wishes he had kept silent.

<Lucky for me I didn't tell them that I named my other basses like the main characters of 'Desperate Housewives' and 'The bold and the beautiful'!> he ponders.

Anyway, he knows very well how to make them shut up.

"You shouldn't even talk about that! You, Matt, named your trolley, for God's sake! And you, Dom, you're the worst, since you named even your own reflection!" he strikes back, pungent.

The way Matt is looking at Dominic doesn't need any questions to be asked.

"No, that's not true, I have never named Jamie... oh, shit!" Dom betrayals himself.

"Jamie?!" the frontman repeats, very amused.

"Hey! We were talking about my black-eye, weren't we?" the drummer tries to change topic.

"Right. By the way, forget about the concert in disguise, we'll never do such a silly thing!" Chris disenchants them.

"Dommy, I guess the only solution is to rely on a good concealer, a lot of it!" Matt suggests to his boyfriend, as he leans closer to reach his ear. "Can't wait to have another wild meeting in our bed with you... and Jamie!" he winks at him, before leaving the rehearsal room, as Chris follow him.

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

The concert was great, just like the short meeting with the fans, to take some pictures together, sign stuff and chat a little bit.

It seems that Matthew and Dominic kept their word.

Although they have nothing to do on the day after, except from the flight to take on early evening, Matt and Dom's rest is interrupted by a sudden phone call, at early morning.

Dominic is still trying to convince his body to get up from the bed, as Matthew has already made this effort, so it takes him only five rings, before he realizes which the source of that unbearable noise is and makes it end.

"'llo?" he slurs.

"Guys, come in my room. Tom called, he will be here in a few minutes!" Chris warns them, trying his best not to slur, due to the numbness that still overwhelms him.

This is enough to wake the two lovers up properly and they get ready as fast as they can, in order to face their manager.

Tom makes his entrance, carrying his trolley with him and showing such a tan that he could make a surfer envious.

"Hello guys, how are you?" he cheers, leaving his trolley on the floor and approaching to his friends.

"We are happy to see you and everything, but... what the hell are you doing here?" Dominic asks him, puzzled, as he sits on the bed, next to Matt.

"Well, a proper manager has to verify how his band is going with the shows and stuff like that."

"We tried our best in every single show we performed, the crowd seems to appreciate us a lot, so I guess we are being successful." Chris informs him as he stands in front of the window, taking a glimpse of the view outside, absently.

"What about the collaboration with My Chemical Romance? Did things improve between you and them?" Tom wonders.

"I haven't killed them yet, that's all you need to know about that!" Matt snorts, bored.

Tom is about to say something, but then he changes his mind, hearing a ring from the mobile inside the pocket of his trolley.

"Hey, Tom, look, your mobile is ringing." Chris warns him at the second ring.

"Uh? Are you sure? Uh! That's right, it's ringing." the manager replies with fake nonchalance, in a cold sweat, as he hopes that whoever is calling him will quit it, but at the fifth ring he begins to think he won't be that lucky.

"Wassup? Why don't you answer to the call?" Dom exhorts him, when the rings become seven.

"Well, it's not that important. Whoever it is, he/she will recall. Now I'm talking with you and..." he justifies, more and more agitated, realizing too late that Matthew has already opened the pocket of his trolley, taking possession of his mobile.

"No, Matt, what the hell are you doing?" Tom asks him, turning scarily pale, no matters how tanned he is.

"If you don't wanna answer, I'm gonna do it for you." the frontman decides, as he presses the key to answer, before the tenth ring.

"Hallo? It's... "

"I don't give a fuck to who the hell it is! All I know is that you have a mobile that doesn't belong to you, dammit, you, fucking, ugly, bastard, twat, asshole, stupid, moron, son of a ..." someone who Matthew already recognized roars from the other side, before Matthew moves the mobile away, as the speaker keeps cursing.

Matt looks at Tom in awe.

"Tom, just a little inquiry of mine, could you explain to me why *Brian Molko* is barking at me?" he asks him, as Chris did the wisest thing ever, i.e. he presses the key to end that call and, for good measures, he also turns the mobile off.

"Well, because I happen to have his manager's mobile." Tom explains, very innocently.

"And why the hell do you have her mob..." Dominic wonders, before Chris, Matt and he jump to the right conclusions.

"A girl with your same job..." Chris ponders loudly.

"The two bands who'd better never ever find the truth..." Matt recalls.

"That's who you were with: Placebo's manager!" Dom figures out.

"It's just outrageous! You're such an awful betrayer!" Matthew accuses him, with the most hurt expression he can show to him, but it's nothing compared to the hurt expression on Chris' face.

"I can't believe it... you didn't confess that to me! You always tell me everything." the bassist grumbles, deeply disappointed.

"You're right, Chris, but truth is that Gossip is your second name! You wouldn't be able to keep that secret, not even for one hour!" Tom strikes back.

"That's not true, when I try really hard there are secrets that I can keep very well." the other justifies, as he exchange an understanding look with Matt and Dom who confine themselves just to nod.

"Anyway, am I the only one to find that a very beautiful thing? I mean... this is soooo romantic! It reminds me to that little fairytale of 'Romeo and Juliet'. Who knows? Maybe with their forbidden love they will bring peace between the two factions, making them get along with each other." the blonde sighs with a daydreaming attitude, but it takes his soulmate less than half a second to disenchant him.

"Firstly, gee, Dommie, you're really obsessed over 'Romeo and Juliet' . Secondly, I'm sorry for disappointing you, but no-fucking-one will bring peace any-fucking-where, we'll keep merrily hating each other, cause things are perfect the way they are!" the singer swears. "And, thirdly, Dom, I don't think that Mr. Shakespeare would be happy to hear someone call one of his most famous and majestic tragedies ... fairytale!" he concludes, with a hint of reproach in his tone.

"Oh, c'mon! A boy and a girl flirt, hidden from everyone, in order to make a fool of their parents. A bunch of rhymes, some fights here and there and... ok, there's not a happy ending, but it's a nice fairytale, anyway!" Dom insists.

"Yeah, sure. So, let me see if I got it right: you probably think that Hamlet is only a guy who suffers from a big indecision and holds a skull in his hand, just because he thinks it's cool?" Chris asks him, sarcastically.

"Why, is it not so?" the blonde shrugs, looking kinda bored.

"Oh, God! Dom, you really need a good revision of Shakespearian literature." Matt rolls his eyes.

"Well, if you offer to be my private teacher, *very private*, I'll take the lessons more than willingly." Dominic replies mischievously, winking at Matthew.

Tom looks at them kind of dumbfounded, but lets it fly.

Matt takes a glimpse of Tom's look and that brings him back to the main reason why they start discussing.

"Don't think that I forgot it, you, shameful, abominable traitor!" he accuses him, once again.

"Actually, guys, we didn't even give him the time to explain. " Chris makes them notice and then he points at Tom. "Maybe it's not what we think, maybe it's just one of his shrewd plans to beguile their manager, getting precious information and then stealing her mobile, in order to prevent her from being in contact with her band." Chris presumes, knowing very well that 'conspiracy' is the keyword to be in tune with Matthew.

"Tom, did you really do such a thing?" the frontman asks him, as his eyes sparkle with hope.

"No, no, fucking no! We just decided to buy two identical mobiles, because we thought it would be something nice, but less binding than a ring. Anyway, I don't care, you just have to accept that, because I care about her, she cares about me and we are more than intentioned to turn this story into something serious." Tom warns them.

"So, you're not a simple traitor, you're a persistent traitor!" Matt snaps.

"Just quit it, Bells! It's not about you, it's not even about Placebo, it's just something between Alex and I" Tom states, intransigent. "Plus, you keep calling me a traitor, but you don't know what Chris did once..." he goes on, as the bassist glares at him with a 'Don't you dare!' look, dreading that he already knows what he's about to say.

"What do you mean?" Matt frowns.

"Do you remember your so beloved golden hat? Well, truth is that you didn't lost it, but it was Chris who stole it from you and got rid of it."

"You what?!" Matt exclaims, astonished, looking at Chris like he had stabbed him in the back.

"Damn you, Chris! Why did you do that? Do you have the slightest idea of how many stores I went to, before finding its perfect twin?" Dom intervenes.

"Oh, c'mon, Bells! Firstly, that hat was horrible. Secondly, just like Dom said, you have another one, now, so why should you complain?" Chris justifies.

"I just know that I' m gonna keep it in a strongbox, like a jewel, far away from you and your bloody clutches!" Matt perjures.

Chris looks at Tom with a hurt expression, once again.

"How could you blurt that to him? And to think that I even tried to help you, before..."

"Well, you gave me such a great help, after all!" Tom strikes back, sarcastically. "Anyway, Chris, nothing personal, really, but it's such a hard struggle for survival." he justifies.

"Okay, if it's so... well, Matt, you don't know that... Dom is a very big fan of My Chemical Romance!" Chris reveals.

"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAT?! Oh, God, I'm surrounded by traitors!" the frontman gets alarmed.

"Honey, please, try to understand, those guys are not so bad, after all, they have powerful guitars, a proper drummer and... damn, Matt, as catastrophic as you are, I just don't understand why you haven't fallen in love with the lyrics of their songs, yet!" Dom strikes back, as Tom can't help noticing that 'honey' the blond addressed to Matt with.

"Anyway, even if I don't agree, I'll let you free to sabotage them as much as you please!" the drummer adds, making his partner smile again.

Anyway, Dominic is too engrossed glaring at Chris, to notice that.

"Chris, I didn't mean to come to saying that, but you just deserve it, so ... Tom, Matt, maybe you don't know that... he likes crocheting!" Dom strikes, unmercifully.

His listeners immediately burst out laughing madly.

"But... no... Dom, what the hell are you blathering about?" Chris replies, panic-stricken.

"I saw you once, so don't you dare deny that!"

"But, no... it's just that I was using it as a weapon!" he tries to justify, unsuccessfully.

"Yeah, sure! And what did you exactly plan to do with it? To knit a sweater to your potential attacker?" Matt makes fun of him.

"Okay, guys, you just asked for that. Tom, you don't know that... Matt and Dom are together!" Chris reveals.

Everyone shuts up, but after some seconds it's Tom who breaks the silence.

"Together like the fact that you are one next to the other... right?" Tom asks them, wavering.

"Well, mostly one upon the other, or one behind the other... and vice versa!" the blond removes all doubt.

"Damn you, Dom!" Matt reproaches him.

"What? What did I do so wrong? After all, we'll have to tell him, sooner or later, so let's do it now! And we must thank Chris for that." Dominic explains.

"So, now I guess that you need explanations, right?" Matt wonders, turning to Tom.

"Explanation ... and a very alcoholic drink!" he replies.

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

"And that's how we came to this." Matthew concludes, as, taking turns, they all have informed Tom about the vicissitudes of the latest months.

"Oh." is all Tom manages to say, probably still too shocked to speak.

"So, you will keep being our manager, won't you?" Dominic asks him, with a hint of uncertainty.

"Of course, I will, you are and you'll always be my friends, independently of your... errr... sexual preferences!" Tom reassures them, a little bit embarrassed.

"Anyway, we're not going to spread the word about this. Chris and you, Tom, are the only ones who know... well, except from Gaia and Jessica, but I don't think they care about spreading this news." Matthew comments.

"But if somehow the truth came out, on the musical level it wouldn't change anything, we're still the Muse and if some of our fans won't accept that, well, they're not real fans, so we'd better lose them." Dominic goes on.

"Guys, don't cross your bridges before coming to them. If it doesn't happen it's better, but if it should happen, we'll know how to face everything." their manager heartens them. "So, now can we talk about something that it's not my sentimental situation, Chris' hobbies or your mutual love?" he exhorts them.

"Sure! We have such a big, epic event to face. I already have lots of ideas for it. You know, I was thinking about an advertising campaign with reverse psychology system." Matthew suggests, very excited.

"Such as?" Tom looks at him, in disbelief.

"You know, something like 'Hey, people, don't come to see our show at Wembley, it's nothing special, after all, it's not such a nice place, there won't be any cool bands, even our playlist will be kind of insignificant, and...'" he attempts to explain, before Chris and Dom promptly silence him up, wrapping their hand around his mouth.

"Damn you, Bells, didn't you cause enough damage with your fucking, bloody, sodding reverse psychology?" Dom snaps.

"Please, Tom, don't mind what Matt said." Chris advises him, as his listener rolls his eyes, exasperated.

"Don't worry, Chris, I've quit doing that a long time ago!"

TBC

So, are you ready for the (100% BellDom) epilogue?

Just a little note: in 'Try Something New' I started writing about Tom and Alex (the Placebo's manager) getting along, a lot... so I ended up falling in love with this pairing and I keep using it whenever I got the chance... hope you won't mind.

The most funny thing is that I've never seen Alex, but I like picturing her like a petite blonde, very pushy! ^^

Hope you'll still like it and have fun with this story, pleeeease let me know! ;P

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