#and if you burn him he will snatch that level of access away from you for Months. sometimes Years.

[talentforlying]

tbh i think the coldest and most shocking thing that can happen in an argument with this man is if you call him "john" and he corrects you to "constantine". biggest red flag you can find on the play. sounds pretentious when you're not experiencing it. means he's absolutely fucking furious with you.

[dbgdbw]

509.The Weapon Of Choice Has To Be

무기는 역시

In a large, empty room, two people appeared. Han Yoohyun and Song Taewon calmly proceeded to survey their surroundings. On one wall, there was a line of text–’Please stand by’–that pulsed with a faint light. It appeared to be a waiting room, of sorts. 

Briskly donning his Coat, Han Yoohyun began taking stock of his equipment. His demeanor was as though he were about to face off against a high-level Dungeon or monster, with painstaking attention being applied. 

“...Hunter Han Yoohyun.”

“It will not be an easy feat.”

Han Yoohyun replied, taking out an Item with poison-resistance properties. 

“Since there’s no way Hyung would have proposed such a disadvantageous bet, without a contingency.”

“I will concede that as well. However, considering the parameters at present, it will be close to impossible for Han Yoojin-ssi to pull off a victory.”

Song Taewon began looking over his own equipment as well. The most useful objects seemed to be a wire, and a pair of handcuffs–both of which had been very nearly forced on him by Han Yoojin. Would it be fine to take these two with him, for this. Wouldn’t he have to return them to him before he departed. 

“At present, Han Yoojin-ssi possesses F-rank Stats, while Hunter Sung Hyunjae has dropped to a B-rank. Even if he were to make use of the DPS Skill doubling ability, they would be hard-pressed to rebuff just myself in an altercation.”

On top of that, Han Yoojin presently lacked the Changeling that could buff him to the level of an S-rank. Eunhae, as well as other Items, and his poison-curse resistance would still be accessible, but it would be effectively impossible to snatch victory away from two S-ranks with only those in his repertoire. 

“Only, there is the possibility that the environment here will prove to be advantageous to Han Yoojin-ssi.”

Song Taewon gazed towards one of the room’s walls, as though searching for an entryway that didn’t exist. 

“If it should turn out that this area is one that has been overrun with poisons and curses at S-rank or higher, then simply waiting us out while remaining hidden would prove to be sufficient.”

“Poison can be incinerated.”

Had it been a venom that infiltrated the body proper through a wound, the outcome may have been uncertain; however, simple poisons would hardly be capable of harming Han Yoohyun. Wielding his fire, he could simply incinerate all of its traces. As poison tended to be weak to fire besides, with Han Yoohyun’s current power level, he would be capable of calling forth an SS-rank or higher flame to burn everything away.

Giving a small nod, Song Taewon took out a flame-resistance Item and equipped it. If Sung Hyunjae’s Skill level had also been dropped to B-rank, then it would be possible to withstand his attacks even without an Item with resistance properties equipped. Therefore, with Han Yoohyun–and not to mention, Han Yoojin’s bombs–taken into account, it would be advisable to favor the flame-resistance at this juncture. 

“When Hyung’s jacket and shoes combine with his camouflaging Skill, it becomes increasingly difficult to triangulate his position. If he were to utilize the Cookie as well, even an S-rank would struggle to notice his approach.”

As Han Yoohyun recounted how he had utilized the Cookie and the Doppelganger Doll prior to pull off a feint, Song Taewon watched him silently for a moment before opening his mouth.

“Would you, Hunter Han Yoohyun, not be better off simply providing support in this situation.”

When met with an incredulous look, Song Taewon elaborated.

“Though it may hardly be my place to be saying such, it is my desire that Han Yoojin-ssi experience the least amount of harm possible. Therefore, I would opine also that Hunter Han Yoohyun, as the one who will remain by his side, should be refraining from taking a proactive stance during this engagement.”

“First, Hyung is formidable. Please discard any notion that this will be a certain victory.”

Han Yoohyun replied bluntly. 

“At the same time, Hyung holds a tendency towards self-deprecation. Were I to limit my participation in this endeavor, there is a likelihood that it will, in fact, increase the difficulty involved.”

If he sensed that he wasn’t being taken seriously, if he lost in that kind of situation; the self-reproach he experienced would only worsen. As a result, Han Yoohyun had judged that the two S-ranks putting forth their full effort, would be the better alternative. 

“Even when up against an opponent vastly stronger than oneself, so long as the fight is a fair match, even a loss will conclude in one’s heart feeling less burdened–is what I had been told. Is that not the case?”

Eyes like glass, devoid of any emotion, regarded Song Taewon. A completely different set of eyes, than when he was beside Han Yoojin. In Han Yoojin’s presence, Han Yoohyun was capable of passing as a ‘normal’ person; but at the same time, it was that very juxtaposition which also made him feel far less human. 

“That… is feasible, certainly. Particularly so where Han Yoojin-ssi is concerned, perhaps.”

“And as Hyung has accepted me, this much should be permissible. Because even if I behave in a way contrary to human standards, he’ll still try to understand me. Of course, I’m putting in my fair share of work as well.”

Without having to perpetually repress himself as he had done in the past, fulfilling Han Yoojin’s wants as well simultaneously. Bak Yerim in particular was proving to be an ideal surveillance subject. 

As Bak Yerim had been picking up Han Yoohyun’s combat style and workplace conduct, Han Yoohyun had also been observing with keen eyes the robustly sentimental lifestyle Bak Yerim led, so unlike his own. More than anything, that she was another blood-tied Nurtured at the same level, who also lived with Han Yoojin, was proving helpful in a number of ways. 

Han Yoohyun’s lips pulled into a soft smile. The lifeless, doll-like visage bloomed with vitality. Contained within his gently curved eyes was Hyung, out of view from this place. 

“...Hunter Han Yoohyun, you.”

Song Taewon bit back words. In a different way than Sung Hyunjae, Han Yoohyun too felt alien, and difficult to comprehend. Without Han Yoojin, all he became was an emotionless S-rank Hunter. However, by virtue of Han Yoojin’s existence, he became suffused with a brilliant light. 

And then–with ‘Sung Hyunjae’ and ‘Han Yoojin’ brought to mind, Song Taewon’s teeth clenched unconsciously once more. Deliberately, he forced himself to turn away from the emotion curled in on itself, within the deep recess of his heart. 

“Like Han Yoojin-ssi very much, I see.”

Ultimately, he glossed it over with banal words. A smile still gracing his face, Han Yoohyun nodded.

“Yes. I’m in love with him.”(1)

Song Taewon turned his head away, as though burdened. The urge to flee from this situation came over him.

[ 10:00 ]

Just then, the letters indicating that they should prepare themselves shifted into numbers. As it had changed to include markers for seconds, it appeared that it was indicating the waiting period would be over in ten minutes’ time. 

“It will be advisable to attempt to conclude this quickly.”

Han Yoohyun said, sucking in a short breath.

“Hyung may have been the one to make the bet, but it is still an aberration that lies outside of our established plans. The longer this is drawn out, the more likely it is to prove to be disadvantageous further on.”

“...Yes.”

Resolutely attempting to cast off those thoughts, Song Taewon began winding the wire around his arm. It would all be over soon enough, at any rate. He would be departing, and Han Yoojin would live on. And after a brief memorial, those around Song Taewon would also move on as well.

The familiar faces they had encountered in the Christmas Nightmare Dungeon came to his mind. Now, there should be a solitary black sheep counted among them as well. And Han Yoojin would be the one to conscientiously care for the ones he'd left behind.

That would have to be enough. He couldn't afford to be any greedier than that.

“Songie, he–... No, it’s nothing.”

Was it because the weather had turned cold recently. Lately, he had been trying to climb up onto the bed to sleep. He liked to trot along the top of the back of the sofa, too. Maybe because his wool was black, it seemed like he felt more secure when snugly cloistered by other black-colored objects. He didn’t mind taking baths, but disliked getting his wool wet in the rain. He’d either make a big loop around a muddy puddle, or come begging to be picked up instead.

“Concerning the young lamb, please pass along to Han Yoojin-ssi that he should exercise caution if it attempts to nibble at his fingers. It is accustomed to my own.”

Because he couldn’t allow him to come to harm, or let him cause harm, he mustered the words. 5 minutes, then 3 minutes, then 1 minute. The two exchanged words in a low conversation. Barring the topic of the little lamb, it was solely focused on combat strategy, and their plan of action.

[ 00:00 ]

The blinking timer vanished. And then, a message window appeared in front of the two. 

[ All Awakened will hereby be turned into non-Awakened. ] 

Han Yoohyun and Song Taewon’s eyes grew wide.

* * *

“This wasn’t what I’d had in mind!”

The environment before us shifted, and a room enclosed by walls on all sides took shape. It was a waiting room. Letting out a deep sigh, I turned back to look at Sung Hyunjae. 

“Don’t laugh.”

“How cruel. And besides, a smiling face is more pleasing to look upon, no.”

Yeah, you’re good-looking, whatever.

“If your rank’s dropped, shouldn’t your visuals(2) have plummeted correspondingly as well, sir?”

“There was little that changed post-Awakening, you see. Aside from a slight growth spurt.”

…though Yoohyunie had been handsome to begin with too, so. Even if there were slight differences that could be attributed to the age difference. 

“180s?”

“Over 190 at least, naturally.”

“Good-for-fucking-you!”

Of course, other S-ranks didn’t tend to grow more than 10 centimeters or so either, so long as they’d Awakened past their mid-twenties, but the younger kids in their teens or early twenties tended to shoot up in stature still. Yoohyunie and Yerimie were both steadily growing, too. Would Noah-ssi grow a bit more as well, maybe?

“I would so dearly love to crack open that preeminent skull of yours, sir, to see what kind of mental calculations might be in there. Look at you, having a grand ol’ time! Even though you’re in that kind of shabby state!”

“Do calm yourself.”

“You really think I’m gonna calm down right now! My poor future. You’re straining my neck, so sit down, sir! The hell are you brainlessly standing around for!”

Sung Hyunjae docilely took a seat on the ground. Watching him sit while hugging his knees, I felt my frustration boiling over. The fuck did he need to sit like that for. 

“Are you attempting to appear pitiful right now, sir?”

“The floor is so very cold. With these B-rank Stats, the chill creeps steadily in.”

“So F-ranks should just freeze to death then, I guess! Hell, if your Stats are in that kind of shape, then you could’ve called Evelyn-ssi and asked her to protect you or something. Why on earth were you stupidly sitting there by yourself, sir? Even if you can’t be killed, do you have any idea what might’ve befallen on you still? When there are so many S-ranks on this island!”

“Hunter Miller’s bedside manners are frankly nonexistent, you see.”

“Then Soyoung-ssi at least, sir!”

“Soyoungie possesses less foresight than one might expect, and would likely opt to engage in combat.”

“What a series of gre~at life decisions you’ve made till now, huh, Sung Hyunjae!”

Don’t fucking laugh! Why were you laughing! How could you even laugh in this sort of situation! Yeah, alright, so proceeding himself had probably been the safest option available after all. Since unless they knew about Sung Hyunjae’s condition, they were unlikely to be able to muster the courage to approach him in the first place anyway. When working up the nerve to approach him in a cafeteria even resulted in bread crusts being dropped into your hands, how many people would be capable of going up to his office to knock on the door.

I let out a series of heartfelt sighs. How had things ended up in this state, honestly.

“Initially, I’d hoped to gain some advantage from the esteemed Seseung guild leader. Well, I suppose I did reap my fair share of perks, with that being said, sir, but. …maybe I should just throw you away here. You’re only a B-rank, right.”

“Yoojin-ah…….”

“Oh, don’t bother pretending to be pathetic. I can clearly see you grinning. This is fun for you, huh? Huh? When other people are going through a crisis!”

“That, I shall extend an apology for.”

“Fuck, even though you know I can’t just let go!”

I gave Sung Hyunjae’s leg a hard kick. Of course, it only ended up hurting my foot more, but he should at least feel some kind of sensation too, right. As I kicked him again, Sung Hyunjae took out a handkerchief. Taking the offered object, I roughly scrubbed my eyes. The area around my eyes stung, and my chest felt tight, too. 

“I can’t give up on this, sir. Even if I’m labeled as idiotic, and get subject to abuse. That we’ll all be doomed like this, and some things are just impossible, no matter how much I might regret it to death.”

“Of course.”

“Don’t ‘of course’ me! Is this the behavior of someone who’s self-aware? While Section Chief Song-nim might’ve gone too far too, you’re not any better than him, either!”

But Yoohyunie… When compared to pre-regression, he was doing loads better. In any case, when I was already flipping out because of my dongsaeng, these assholes just had to go and… Were they hoping to make me flip out again so I’d end up right-side-back-up, I wondered.

“If you’re going to push anything off to me, it should be an inheritance! I don’t need anything other than that! This damn bastard, when you already know very well……!”

Massaging my aching temples, I took deliberate, measured breaths. Let’s calm down. Since even a year’s worth of yelling still wouldn’t be enough, let’s calm down for now.

“I do have more to say to Section Chief Song-nim, too, but since he’s not here at the moment.”

“Then, my turn–”

“Isn’t over yet, sir. Throw out any thoughts you have of turning tail, as we’ll be going up against Yoohyunie and Section Chief Song-nim.”

As I was reminded of this myself, I felt overcome with bleak helplessness yet again. Why did it have to be those two, of all people. Rising from his seat, Sung Hyunjae looked towards me.

“It should hardly draw out any longer than a minute, I imagine.”

“If it’s a straight fight, probably under 30 seconds. No, 10 seconds. It’ll take 10 seconds to approach us.”

If there was a significant enough distance between us, we might be able to flee for 5 seconds more. I took a look at our surroundings, but the only things that came into view were the walls and the ceiling. I didn’t know how the outside of the room might look, either. Just.

“Go ahead and thoroughly empty  out your inventory, sir.”

That there was still a fighting chance. I began to take out everything in my inventory, for starters. Sung Hyunjae, too, began to take this and that out.

“You’re still holding onto that spatula, sir? Is that goddamn ball of yarn multiplying in your inventory, or what. The hell’s with this commemorative towel, when did you even grab this.”

“There’s a Peace doll that’s capable of entering inventories, as well.”

“Is this a rent-a-locker? Huh? A warehouse?”

“The bike I’d gifted, I see. And what might that basket be.”

“It’s a laundry basket, sir–very handy.”

I said, dropping down an armful of firearms. Aside from the Leopard Cat Gun, the assembled firearms were all low-rank equipment. 

“Do you have experience operating a firearm, sir? Have you served?”

“Though I might look like this, I was in the marine corps, mind.”

“...for real, sir?”

“I wonder.”

I couldn’t believe it. Considering that he was laughing, it seemed like it’d been in jest–so did you finish your military service, or not.(3) As assorted items came to be littered across the floor, a 10-minute countdown had appeared on the wall. Unconsciously, I swallowed, my throat dry. 

“Once 10 minutes have passed, sir, we’ll become non-Awakened.”

Sung Hyunjae showed a faintly startled expression.

“To be precise, we’ll be swapped into bodies that match the parameters. Reminiscent of the Dungeon in Japan, it’s a kind of artificial avatar-body system. That’s why it’s safe, too, sir. I wheedled Chatterbox into it by selling it as a no-Skill, no-Stat, pure combat-ability matchup. Initially, I’d planned on using it to suppress the S-ranks that had been invited here by Chatterbox.”

Without Skills or Stats, just simple man versus man. 

“Of course, S-ranks tend to have been in outstanding physical condition even prior to Awakening. However–having something you’d taken for granted suddenly taken away has a bigger impact than you’d expect, as it turns out, sir. And they all tend to be juiced up with buffing Skills, too. They should have a more difficult time adjusting to becoming non-Awakened than an unremarkable F-rank, for example.”

Stats were one thing, yes; but they’d no longer be able to use their Skills, either. It meant that the battle parameters they’d been acclimated to up till this point would undergo a complete transformation. 

“Just like how it’s difficult to restrain one’s strength immediately after Awakening, they should struggle to adjust to the change, sir. If things work out normally, I mean. On top of that, equipment will turn into ordinary items, and the inventory will be blocked off too. Compared to us, who were able to prepare beforehand, sir, they’ll be at a definite disadvantage.”

The issue was.

“But Yoohyunie and Section Chief Song-nim… are kind of outliers, huh, sir. Particularly Section Chief Song-nim.”

“As Song Taewon is hardly predisposed to rely on equipment or Skills from the onset, indeed.”

“He’ll probably acclimate quickly, too, sir. Yoohyunie as well, of course.”

In the end, it was difficult to say that we would hold an advantage still. And during that span, the time had trickled away even more. I tossed a gun towards Sung Hyunjae. 

“At any rate, when it comes to a fight between non-Awakened.”

“Guns are the answer, of course.”

Yoohyun-ah, hyung is sorry. Section Chief Song-nim–this time, I’m not sorry.

- - - - -

(1) “예. 사랑하고 있습니다.”

this particular phrasing (‘사랑하고 있습니다’) also gets used when you’re disclosing to someone that you’re pining after x/involved with x (depending on context)

(2) konglish ‘visuals’

(3) kr’s mandatory military service, another hot-button social issue that requires more extensive bg knowledge to understand its significance in the brief context it’s being mentioned in.. as a reductive explanation, military service for kr men basically acts as the ‘divide’ from boy/man, and draft dodgers/men who skip out on military service are viewed as scum of society/not treated as equals/people (in business, personal matters, etc) (also see: steve yoo). as an anecdote, someone i know who’s a kr-american moved to kr to take over his father’s business after getting hitched to a native korean, and one of the main roadblocks he’s been encountering is how other kr men won’t do dealings with him because he’s not a ‘real’ man to them, as he never enlisted after forfeiting his kr citizenship prior. that’s also why the checkbox of ‘served in military’ is directly linked to ‘upstanding adult male citizen’ in the shj military q&a below, and why it’s clarified that yj’s already done his service at the beginning of the novel too; shj wants to keep yj from finding out that he’s a non-군필 because it’ll make yj’s low view of his character plummet even further. (and before you ask: yoohyunie wouldn’t be under the same scrutiny, despite the exemptions s-class get as well for ‘serving the country’, because the standards would be different for him vs men who were past enlistment age prior to the appearance of the Dungeons (which is why sigma wanted to be be younger, ‘bc moon hyuna said it’s a bad look’). this attitude re:exemptions for persons who have ‘served the country’ via achievements is reflective of real life sentiments btw, as seen in this thread discussing Faker’s potential exemption, which skews largely positive) of course, times are changing, and following the brutal killing of Private Yoon, the 2014 shooting, and other such incidents making the news, it’s been said that conditions in the military have improved a significant bit–but the issue of mandatory conscription has also seen a recent flare-up in regards to gender/feminist issues in korea (which isn’t to say it wasn’t already relevant even back in, say, 2009), which is a whole ‘nother animal to tackle in footnotes for a different ch…

hyj&shj try-not-to-brag-abt-or-mention-yh&stw-even-while-separated challenge level: impossible

happy chuseok~ ( ˇ͈ᵕˇ͈ ) ¨̮♡⃛

relevant language notes for the ch (+ old doc):

+ (Q&A)

Q) has sung hyunjae completed his military service? i’d been curious about whether he was someone who’d finished his mandatory service, but since i didn’t have a place to ask, i’d only wondered about it on my own till now A) as the time period where sung hyunjae started to gain a foothold and become active was past his mid-twenties, he never went to the military. however, as crescent moon’s parameters were set up in such a way that he would be perceived as a ‘model male adult citizen’ of whichever nation he was dropped in, not only sung hyunjae himself, but also those around him, perceive him as someone who had already completed his military service in his early twenties. in the present timeline, sung hyunjae is aware that he never enlisted, though as he’d held tenure in various armies over the course of his long life, he considers himself to be an ex-serviceman regardless. in particular, he has no intention of letting han yoojin discover this fact. the place sigma had been installed was akin to a military environment, as well. additionally: sigma petitioned to the puppeteer that he be registered as a juvenile, as moon hyuna had mentioned that an adult non-serviceman gives a derogatory impression, but was rejected. as, if he were to be put on record as sung hyunjae’s relative, he would’ve needed to be under 20 y.o. by the time the Dungeons had appeared in korea, there’s a good chance that he was registered as being in his late twenties^^

steve yoo:

+ (Q&A)

Q) i’m curious about han yoojin’s ideal type. is it only ‘almost 2m height’ for han yoojin’s ideal type, and not particularly anything else besides? A) as han yoojin lacked that kind of support when he was young, he prefers a dependable older partner. his liking for ‘tall height + strapping size’ stems from that as well. he feels a desire to be protected, but because he has his dongsaeng and the kids, he thinks that he needs to be a protector, and so tends to repress and distance himself from that desire. if you get involved with the wrong older partner, the likelihood you might end up divested of everything from your liver to your gallbladder as you get swept up and used, is fairly high. because his expectations(criteria) for an older partner, a model adult, is excessively high, unless it’s an exceptionally outstanding person, he’s at least not likely to be easily swayed. at the conclusion of the novel, marissa is probably the most dangerous ^^ on the flip side, because he tries to become a protector as the model adult with a younger partner, it may run contrary to his ideal type, but being with a younger partner will probably be safer for him. of course, during the novel, the circumstances make it difficult to date.

+ (Q&A)

A) when han yoohyun returned to a human body from his state as a ‘flame,’ he became 198cm. it was han yoojin’s usual view that, while 2 meters was too tall, 198cm would be just right, that influenced the outcome. his body growing even bigger was because of to han yoojin’s influence, as expected ^^ the s-ranks who were there picked up on the difference, and was able to estimate that ‘ah, han yoojin made him like that’ and ‘ah, han yoohyun lined himself up with his hyung’s tastes’ was roughly what had happened. due to overexertion, han yoojin did not grow as much as from his level-up. if he takes good care of his body, he might still grow a bit more. bak yerim is speeding towards mid-170 or so. since her growth rate is more accelerated than han yoojin had initially predicted, if it keeps up, she might be able to hit 180cm before entering high school.

+ (Q&A)

Q) then, would it be possible now for han yoojin to surpass 180cm in height? with everyone around him being 180~190cm, he’s the only smol one… (dainty..) since the puppeteer was able to surpass 180 too, would yoojinie be able to do grow over 180 as well? is it impossible? how many years would it take for him to finish growing all the way..? A) if he takes good care of his health while honing his abilities, it would be possible to see physical growth once he leveled up in rank. if, for example, the young chaos sticks to his side to personally oversee his training, he would probably be able to clear 180 easily within a year. if han yoojin is left to his own devices, and nothing out of the ordinary happens, saying that he’s busy enough raising the kids, he'd probably remain at the same point even after 10 or 20 years. at the very least, han yoohyun or bak yerim will force him to take care of his body. irin, who wishes to increase han yoojin’s lifespan for han yoohyun’s sake, will likely come to stick close to him so as to chaperone his condition

+ (Q&A)

Q) i would like to know the ideal type(s) of the sclass cast A) han yoojin’s has been answered in a comment further up. because han yoohyun is completely disinterested in interpersonal relations with anyone other than han yoojin, his ideal type as well, in every sense, is han yoojin

[summercourtship]

stay to burn (only to drown instead): chapter six: karma [part I]

masterpost | ao3 link

jonathan crane x reader; bruce wayne x reader; edward nashton x reader | warnings: canon typical violence, sexual content (actual smut here)| word count: 5712 words

DISCLAIMER: these chapters are not meant to be read alone. not every chapter has content for one of the three pairings listed. this is an ongoing fanfiction that I am cross-posting here on tumblr, not a series of one-shots.

chapter one |

A stray drop of water hit the crown of your head, pulling you out of the dazed stupor you’d slowly put yourself. You’d been keeping yourself occupied by doodling absentmindedly without really looking at the paper, which was the only way to survive the longer shifts. You peered upwards, frowning at the small wet spot on the ceiling, another drop slowly getting ready to fall. Of course, there was a leak in the store’s ceiling. You grimaced, rubbing the water into your hair before you thought about the fact that the convenience store was on the bottom floor of a four story building. Meaning that the liquid on your head probably wasn’t rain water. Or if it was, it had been a long time since it had actually fallen from the sky.

You stepped to the side just in time for the second drop to fall and hit the floor.

“Ugh.”

You leaned against the counter, staring at the yellowed clock on the opposite wall of the store, the numbers barely visible behind its musty surface. It was probably your job to clean it but at this point it would be more efficient to just replace it and heaven knows that nobody at the store was going to spend the money to get a new one. So you were stuck with the gross clock, squinting at it to make out the time. You’d been in the store for barely three hours and yet it was like an entire day had already gone by.

Only a week had passed since Spring Break had ended, meaning only a week had passed since you’d visited Arkham. On its own, it would have been a fairly uneventful day if not for the surprised job offer from Jonathan, which you put in the back of your mind to think about later. And also coming face to face with Edward Nashton.

It wasn’t like you had forgotten that he currently lived in the asylum, it had just seemed unlikely that you would encounter him given the clearance level you'd been assigned that day and the sheer size of the asylum. But no, of course they had to be moving inmates down that hallway at the same time that you were traveling through it. And of course the Riddler, of all people, had been among them. It was nothing short of proof that there was, indeed, a divine blueprint for your life. The higher power of Gotham had singled you out and decided to make your life as dramatic as humanly possible.

But all things considered, you were proud of yourself for not reacting the way you would’ve expected, given your mental state for the past year. Sure, you’d been startled by his presence and there was a small twinge of genuine fear in your gut. But it quickly dissipated upon seeing him and his reality. Because while he had inspired some dangerous people with his own actions, he, himself, was no longer a threat. He was locked away with little to no access to the outside world, his days of streaming vitriol and murdering corrupt public officials behind him.

It was what he deserved. And yet, there was a small part of you that had recognized a horrible twinge of sympathy when you had made eye contact with him, when you thought about his soft features needing to survive in a place as rough as Arkham.

You looked down at the scrap of receipt paper you’d been drawing on, realizing with a groan that you’d accidentally drawn the Riddler’s symbol, the question mark and barbs mockingly staring up at you. Recoiling backwards like it actually had thorns, you tried not to think about why you’d drawn it. Snatching your pen from behind your ear, you scribbled over it, coloring an entire square inch of your paper black before ultimately deciding to just crumble it up and throw it into the trash can that sat underneath the counter.

And then somehow you missed, the paper ball landing pathetically on the stained linoleum floor.

Sighing, you crouched down, snatching the paper ball off the floor and crushing tightly within your fist. The ink from where you scribbled over the symbol was still wet, staining your skin with the stinky pigment. You stared at the splotch and realized that you apparently hadn’t done a great job covering up the question mark as it was clearly visible on your skin.

The bell above the door chimed out, bringing your attention up from the floor. With a sigh, you finally tossed the ball into the trash can. Keeping your eyes on it to make sure that it had actually made it into the trash can this time, you stood and looked up from where your attention had been focused on the trash can underneath the counter.

And right into the barrel of a pistol.

“I don’t want to shoot you.” The man had on a cloth mask covering the bottom half of his face, his dark eyes laser focused on you. His voice quivered slightly, though the hand holding his gun was steady. “Reach into the register and give me the money.”

You didn’t think twice before you reached over and, with your own shaking hands, unlocked the cash drawer. Grabbing the paper money was hard with the instability in your hands, but you managed. Throwing the wad of cash across the counter, you placed your hands on your head, praying that the amount would be enough for him.

It was then that you realized that you weren’t afraid that the man would shoot you- you were angry that this type of shit was happening again. Your hands were shaking from the adrenaline, not fear.

As you watched the man grab the money, you couldn’t help but think back to your conversation with Jonathan, about Gotham branding you as a victim. You fantasized for a moment launching yourself across the counter, taking the gun from the man’s hand and turning it on him. Taking out the frustration you felt at the lack of control you had in your life and making him pull the trigger- You stopped yourself from going any further in your imagined scenario.

Violent fantasies never helped anyone.

The man counted the cash, quickly flipping through the wrinkled paper.

“This is it?”

“Yes.” You didn’t have it in yourself to say it meekly, to play at being anything other than pissed. Perhaps having too many close calls with danger but being saved at the last minute took away your sense of self preservation. Like a wild animal who had been fed by humans too often, maybe you’d forgotten how to fend for yourself, how to survive in a dangerous city like Gotham.

For a moment, the man looked like he was going to ask you again, or worse, come around the counter himself. You didn’t know what you would do if he did that- it's not like you had anything protecting you back here- no secret weapons, no panic buttons- but you liked having the barrier of the counter between you and the robber, no matter how flimsy it actually was.

But then the man accepted your answer, or decided that the money he had gotten was enough, because he simply nodded once and, keeping his gun trained on you, left the store, walking backwards until he pushed open the door with his back. Then he turned and ran down the street, shoving his gun back into his pants.

You watched him leave, your breathing surprisingly even.

And as the intro to Shake It Off started from the store’s radio, sounding tiny and muffled as the opening drums echoed eerily in the empty space, you sighed and buried your face in your hands, threading your fingers through your hair and pulled.

Working at a corner store in Gotham was an inherently dangerous job.

You knew this the day you applied for the job. You knew it when you accepted the job after a bare-bones phone interview. You knew that’s why the job was so easy to get in the first place.

Even so, you hadn’t had anything actually dangerous happen while you were on the job. Walking home after work? Sure, there’d been a few tense moments and the unfortunate mugging last October. Encounters with Gotham nightlife. But during work hours? You’d been lucky enough to say that you’d been relatively safe. Until today, of course.

But it’s not like you could just quit, right? You needed the money, you had no other source of income. You were barely coasting by as it was.

Though, you did have that other job waiting for you… One that probably paid more than this shitty job that didn’t even cover the cost of living.

“No.” You told yourself out loud, you voice loud in the empty store. You’re thankful the security cameras had no sound, if they were even functional at all. “No, I’m not leaving one slightly dangerous job to go work at Arkham Asylum, not happening.”

Even as you said this, you knew you didn't really mean it. You were well aware that a well placed touch or one perfectly timed glance from Jonathan would immediately entice you to accept the job, or to do anything else for that matter. You were positive that if you told him what had happened during your shift, he would try to convince you to switch to Arkham right now. To forget about the stupid convenience store and work with him- under him.

You continued to debate with yourself as you watched your shift drift closer and closer to its end. Quit your job and work in a hospital for the criminally insane with your psychology professor who you were also sleeping with or stay at a shitty job that didn’t appreciate you? It was a hard decision.

Fifteen minutes before your shift’s end, the bell above the door rang and the last person you wanted to see at this moment entered the store. You groaned, burying your face in your hands again even though you knew what he would say when he saw you.

Sure enough, soon his gravelly voice overpowered the Fleetwood Mac song currently being piped into the room.

“What are you doing, slouching behind the counter like that? I don’t pay you to lean.”

Slowly, you looked back up at your manager. And despite your earlier apprehension at quitting, seeing his smarmy, greasy face with patches of unshaven beard and a dab of spaghetti sauce on the corner of his mouth brought forth all the unpleasant emotions you had been made to feel since you began working there. It was his fault that you were mugged that night, that you were just held at gunpoint. The constant dismissal of your very real concerns about your safety, the audacity of him calling you spoiled for not wanting to work late at night as a young woman in a city with the worst crime rate in the state, if not the entire country, had boiled over into a stew of resentment and anger.

Then he smiled at you, like he was your buddy, and that was it. You were very aware that you had been staring at him silently for longer than was socially acceptable, but you no longer felt any need to care about it.

“I quit.” The quiet words were out of your mouth before you realized you were saying them. It was like you had said them as you had thought them, as you realized how much you truly desired it, not thinking about the change they would enforce on your life. No, you didn’t care about the butterfly effect they would cause from this moment onwards when you said it. Because it was worth it to see how it instantly wiped the smile off of his face. Even though he was certainly used to people quitting on him, you had taken his abuse and turned a blind eye to his mismanagement for so long that he surely thought you would never stand up for yourself.

“What.”

You straightened your back, no longer afraid of angering him. Finally, you had said the two magic words that usurped any power he had over you.

“I. Quit.” You reached down to your name badge, ripping it off of your stained work shirt. The force of your movement created a small tear in the shirt, but you couldn’t care less. You’d rip the shirt off your body and leave wearing just your skirt if it meant you never had to step foot in this store again.

Snatching your purse from where you’d stashed it beneath the register (thank goodness the robber hadn’t seen it and demanded you hand it over, not that you had any money inside), you stormed around it to the other side, brushing past the manager. He was still, watching as you swept out of the store. But before you opened the door to leave, you turned to him.

“Oh, and we were robbed. There’s no fucking money in the register.”

Slamming the door behind you, you scanned the street for Jonathan’s car, knowing he was bound to be here already with how close it was to the end of your shift. You didn’t dare to look back at the shop behind you but you were sure your manager was staring through the window and sending daggers into your back with his eyes from behind the counter.

Finally, you spotted his familiar black sedan, picking up your pace until you were able to wrench the door open with your shaking hands.

You jumped into his car, squeezing your eyes shut and taking the deepest breaths possible as you tried not to break down into sobs. If he said anything in greeting, you missed it. You could feel him staring at you, his concern unspoken in the chilly stagnant air between you. It was that weird time of year where no one seemed to agree on whether to turn on the heat or air conditioning in their cars. Jonathan had decided on AC, making his car uncomfortably cold.

Though his car was running, and he was clearly poised to start driving, he didn’t pull out into the street.

Instead, he placed his hand on your thigh, his thumb rubbing a circle over your skin. He probably thought the action would soothe you but with each circle, his touch became more and more overwhelming, your already overstimulated nerves screaming to be left alone. It took every ounce of self control to not grab his wrist and yank his hand away from your body.

But he still didn’t ask you what was wrong, clearly waiting for you to break the silence.

So you did.

“Can you just-“ You stomped your foot, all of your unnamed complex emotions from the day boiling over into a stew of frustration and anger. “Drive?!”

Although, you planned to calmly ask him to start driving. But clearly it hadn’t come out that way, and now the air was heavier than before, anticipation weighing you down. You were stuck with him in this car, waiting to see how he would react to your outburst.

You hoped that he would see the sour mood you were in and just take you home.

But he didn’t. The car was horribly immobile, and you could feel the slowly increasing weight of his stare on you. You began to turn to face him when he moved, grabbing your chin with a vice-like grip, wrenching you further around to look at him. You were so shocked by his sudden movement that you were still, a deer stuck in the headlights of his attention.

The gesture itself was gentle, but there was a pressure behind his fingertips that betrayed the underlying tension in his body.

“Don’t talk to me like that.” He spoke softly. In a different scenario, this would all be wonderfully intimate. Romantic even, with his touch on your face. But instead it was terrifying, the weight of his attention crushing at such a close distance. His fingers pinched your skin, holding you still. You were a muzzled dog, eyes wide and staring into his.

(And somewhere, deep down in your body, was the familiar beginnings of arousal. But you would examine that later when you weren’t on the verge of tears in his car, when he wasn’t inches from your face and able to see every twitch and quiver of your muscles. Part of you thought that maybe he was able to see it in you anyway, even after you decided to push it down.)

“Now, do you want to be a big girl and tell me what’s wrong?”

Slowly, you nodded. To your relief, he let go of your face, though he still didn’t start driving. It took every ounce of will power in your body to not press yourself against the passenger side door, to give yourself some space from his suffocating presence.

“I quit my job.” Shakily, you began to describe the robbery, but also all of the awful things your manager had said to you, today and for the entire time that you worked there. Throughout it, Jonathan simply watched you speak, not reacting, not offering words of comfort.

Halfway through your explanation, Jonathan started driving, his eyes on the road but sliding over to you every few seconds. Like he was waiting for you to lash out, to lose your calm again. For your part, you kept your eyes on him, though you wanted to remind him to keep his eyes on the road.

“...And that’s why I’m in a bad mood.” You finished speaking, a bit lamely. Any of the frustration and unidentifiable emotions that had been stuck in your throat dissipated as you spoke, leaving you with nothing but a cold numbness and a sense of embarrassment at the rashness of your actions.

He was predictably silent.

You sighed, turning to look outside of the passenger window. At least you no longer felt like you needed to scream, or to cry. But you still had no solutions to the fact that you were now jobless. You knew that Jonathan would, probably, remind you of the job at Arkham and that you’d said you would take it once the semester ended. Surely, you could take it earlier, he would reason with you. But you still didn’t know if you had told him that because you’d actually meant it or just because you wanted to get him off of your back for the moment, to buy yourself time to figure out what you actually wanted to do.

Yours was the eternal curse of indecision, it seemed.

“I’m sorry.” You weren’t sure if he was apologizing for what happened to you or for how he just treated you. If it was the latter, you’d forgive him. You’d already forgiven him the moment he let go of you. His eyes were on you, long enough that you feared he didn’t know what was actually happening on the road. “Why don’t you come over and let me make it up to you?”

You finally tore your gaze away from him, instead choosing to stare down at the ink splotch on your skin. If you squinted, you could still make out the question mark from your absent-minded doodling. It was like the universe was trying to tell you something but you couldn’t figure it out.

“I… suppose that would be fine.” You heard your voice like you were listening through a paper tube, or a phone call with poor reception. You didn’t really want to go over but the idea of being alone was worse than sitting in his sterile apartment.

And you really didn’t want him in your apartment.

“Good.”

Jonathan looked back at the road, the yellow and white lights of the passing buildings and street lamps reflecting in his glasses. You watched him from the corner of your eye, feeling like once again you had lost some battle. And then you berated yourself for even thinking that. You and Jonathan hadn’t defined your relationship but you knew that no matter how you ended up defining it, you shouldn’t feel like you were in a constant war with him.

But your chin still smarted from the pressure of his fingers on your skin and your pride still stung from the humiliation of your own behavior. You had acted like a petulant child, something you never did around Jonathan. He was right to be upset, you reasoned, because you were acting like a brat when you were a fully capable adult who was able to communicate effectively.

Jonathan cleared his throat, something he rarely did.

“The job offer for Arkham still stands.”

There it is.

“I know.” You paused, uncertain how to express yourself. “But-” You stopped, shaking your head before taking a deep breath and starting again. “But I don’t know if I actually want that job. I mean, am I even qualified for this job?”

You missed what he said next from the overwhelming sense of deja vu, a flashback to half a year ago when you were in his office and asking him the same things about your TA position. Which, in reflection, seemed to become less important with the more time that you spent with him. It didn’t even seem like he needed you to do work for him as an assistant anymore. Since spring break, you haven't been given any assignments to grade, even though you knew that he was still collecting them (thank you, annotated syllabus). You couldn’t shake the feeling that he had exhausted his use for you there (and was searching for somewhere else to put you so that he could keep you close).

Then you berated yourself, again, for flattering yourself.

“What?”

He made an annoyed noise in the back of his throat, a low sigh that almost had you flinching backwards. But he didn’t move, simply repeating what he’d said. You’d overreacted, mentally chastising yourself.

“It’s a secretary position. Hardly anything that needs qualifications.” He smiled, in an attempt to be reassuring. But you still felt like a fish on a hook, right before the line reeled back in. Or perhaps like someone who was about to have the rug pulled from under them.

“But it’s still in a hospital-”

“I wouldn’t have offered you this job if it wasn’t above board.”

“Alright.” You sighed. “I’m not agreeing, but I’ll trust you.” Sorry for doubting you, you tacked on in your head. “Just let me think about it.” The six words that kept him at bay because you knew that, ultimately, he would get what he wanted.

His hand found its way back to your thigh again, though he refrained from resuming the circular motions with his thumb. Whether he knew it was because it was too much for your over stimulated nerves to take or because he didn’t want to risk you lashing out again.

He stopped the car, removing his hand from your thigh and parking with ease. You scrambled out of the car, your legs unsteady beneath you like a newborn deer. Taking a deep breath, you crossed around the car to Jonathan’s side, allowing him to place his hand on your lower back and guide you into his building.

Jonathan’s apartment had remained relatively unchanged in the few weeks since you’d begun sleeping together. You had no drawer of things, no personal effects scattered around his space, nothing to indicate that you spent a large amount of time here. It didn’t bother you. You really hadn’t spent that many nights together, with the exception of the four days you’d spent tangled together over spring break but it was certainly not enough to begin encroaching on his space. And besides, he rarely entered your own apartment, and you liked it that way.

You liked to keep the memory of him visiting you after your Scarecrow encounter sacred. You didn’t want to sully it with random sex scenes and mundane conversations. Domesticity would ruin it, would clear away the romantic haze that your memory had cast over it all and leave you with reality.

Even so, you were more than comfortable entering his space. You no longer felt the need to perch on the edges of seats or linger in his doorways. (Though that’s probably more due to the three and a half days you had spent in various states of undress around his apartment than any sort of newly gained confidence after your first visit).

You sat down on one of Jonathan’s arm chairs, watching as he crossed the room and took his own languid position on his couch, one leg crossed over the other, his posture relaxed against the couch’s back.

“I’m not saying I’m taking the job but I do want to know- what exactly would my duties be?”

“It’s secretarial work but it will be similar to what you do with me now. Just paperwork, running errands around the asylum, pretty mundane things.” He removed his glasses, placing them on the arm of the couch before leaning his head back, closing his eyes. His neck was exposed further with the change in his position, a long column of white against the dark fabric of his suit and the couch behind him.

“Errands?” Your throat was dry and you did your best to subtly clear it. Jonathan’s eyes stayed closed, the inner end of his eyebrows pinched.

“If I need to get a memo to a doctor in the medical wing, you’ll take it. The electronic system they have in place for things like that is flighty. It’s a lot easier to send a person with a paper than to try and send an email.”

“Right.” You nodded absent-mindedly, rising from his couch to look out of the windows. It was quickly becoming your favorite way to view the city, so high above it all but still in the middle of it. You weren’t looking at the skyline but rather observing your place in it.

A thick raindrop splattered against the window before being followed rapidly by others. Splat, splat, splat. The sound was loud in the silent room and you wondered if Jonathan had fallen asleep. It didn’t seem like the kind of thing he would do, but he was so quiet. You watched until you were no longer able to see out of the window easily, the colors of the city melting into each other through the coat of water.

Sighing, you turned back to the interior of the room, immediately meeting Jonathan’s open eyes, their arctic blue focused on you. He watched as you crossed through the room before settling beside him on the couch. You were restless, something he now seemed to be keenly aware of.

“Do you enjoy being my TA?”

“...Yes?” Not intending for it to sound like a question, you shook your head before restating your answer more firmly. “I enjoy the work… and I enjoy spending time with you.”

“That I know.”

You smiled at his gentle teasing. Of course, he knew.

“But I do think you’ll enjoy working with me over at the asylum.” He shrugged. “It’s very similar work.”

“You really want me to take this job, don’t you?”

He nodded, his eyes flickering to your lips. Your heart skipped a beat, your breath quickening instantly at the simple gesture.

Insatiable, you thought as you scooted closer to him, crossing the rest of the couch before closing your eyes as your lips met in a gentle kiss. You pressed yourself firmly against him, rising to your knees to kneel on the couch cushion, leaning over him slightly. His hands found your hips, bunching the fabric of your stupid work shirt.

Pulling away from him, you ripped the shirt off of your body, tossing it onto one of the arm chairs, needing to get the disgusting fabric away from you. As soon as it was off of your body, you rejoined your mouth with his, pushing his body against the back of the couch.

You were well aware that he was letting you take control right now, that it was not stolen dominance but temporarily borrowed. The moment he decided to take it back, you would gladly let him.

Your hand drifted downward over his body, lingering over the slowly growing tent in his pants. Smiling against his lips before parting from him, you looked into his eyes as his cool breath fanned over your face. Your fingertips teased at his button and he watched unblinking as you kept tracing vague shapes over his clothed length, obviously debating whether or not you should undo his pants and pull him out.

Like he could sense your indecision, he took your wrist and pressed it down firmly onto his cock, hissing through his teeth at the sudden pressure.

Surging forward and pressing your open mouth to his parted lips once again, you undid the button on his pants, fumbling until you were able to pull him out of his pants. Keeping the pressure that he had guided you into, you began to move your hand. When you pulled back from kissing him, his lips were wet with your combined saliva and flushed, parted as he panted with your ministrations.

Unable to decide which was better, you switched between watching his face and your own hand moving up and down on his cock. When you looked up to his face again, you met his half-lidded eyes as he watched you essentially ogle his member and your grip on it, his lips parted slightly.

You stuttered in your pace and he moved suddenly, gripping your wrist tightly and pulling you off of his cock.

“Get up.” He patted his lap once and you immediately understood. Breathing out shakily, you moved over his body and climbed onto his lap, grinding down onto him, sighing at the pressure against your core. He slipped his hands beneath your skirt, hooking his fingers underneath the hem of your underwear before pulling them down your legs. You rose again, helping him in slipping them off of your body.

With a final grind of your now exposed cunt to his hard length, you groaned when the head of his cock pressed against your clit. Now impatient, you reached down and guided his cock to your entrance, slowly sinking onto his hard length with a deep groan from your chest. His head was leaning against the back of the couch again as he looked at you down his nose, his lips barely parted as he watched you slowly impale yourself on him.

With each inch you sank further into your own abyss, no longer caring about the ugliness of the day. What was there to care about when you had Jonathan Crane beneath you, looking like he did as you filled yourself with him?

With a deep breath, you bottomed out. Keeping your breath even, you allowed yourself a moment to adjust before gently pushing yourself upwards, his cock sliding out of you until just the head remained inside of your cunt.

And then you set a slow but steady pace, fucking yourself on his cock.

But with each time your hips met, your pace grew faster, your legs working to pull you up and down until you were practically bouncing yourself on his cock.

“Good girl.” His voice was breathy and deep, muttered against your lips as he allowed you to take your fill of his body.

You knew that you were whimpering and nodding like a mad woman, eagerly grinding down onto his cock as you chased your orgasm. You snaked your hand down to your clit, rubbing tight circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves. You could feel yourself clench around his hard length and your bouncing slowly morphed into a frantic grinding, drawing pictures with your hips as you tried to find the spot within you that would send you into your climax.

“That’s it, come on my cock, that’s a good girl.” He whispered and you had no idea if he meant for you to hear it at all but it was enough to push you over the edge, your body caving towards him as you shook with the force of your orgasm. You pressed your forehead against his shoulder, pressing down on his cock until your hips stilled, your body tight with sensitivity.

But Jonathan wasn’t done yet, his cock still hard inside of you. As soon as you were finished coming, his hands found your hips. Quickly, he began to thrust upwards into your cunt, using your body like it was nothing more than a method for him to finish. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, biting back whimpers at the continued assault of sensations on your overstimulated senses.

He cursed sharply under his breath, his grip tightening as he began to lose his rhythm. With a last few sharp thrusts, he threw his head back, groaning deep in his chest as he filled you with his warm spend.

After a few moments of sitting with his slowly softening cock still inside of you, you started to move away before he grabbed your hips, stopping you from getting up off of his lap. Slowly, you sat back down, not unaware that he was becoming hard again.

“We aren’t done yet.”

Later, in the familiar haze of the afterglow, your nose buried in the crook of Jonathan’s lithe neck, you mumbled your decision. “I’ll take the Arkham job.”

He shifted underneath you- you’d moved to the bed a few rounds ago, but they all blended together into an abstract portrait of sweat and lust- pushing against your arms to pull your face away from him and to look into your face.

“Are you sure?”

Not at all.

“Of course.”

It all felt very familiar, though the last time you’d agreed to something like this with him you weren’t in his arms or his bed. But you felt the familiar twinge of pleasure at the soft, pleased smile on his face. And underneath that, the curl of anxiety at the notion that you had given in too easily.

next part

[rose-and-thorn-fanfics]

THE DARK KNIGHT FANFIC (Joker x OC): Part 4

Lottie awoke the next morning and opened the door to her room, peeking out to see if her parents were nearby. Not seeing them in the main room of the penthouse, she started searching for where they had hidden her cellphone. She noticed a bouquet of red roses on the counter, and saw her cellphone next to it. She snatched it up, checking her texts. The only message she'd gotten was a video. She inhaled, smelling a familiar scent coming from the roses, like the scent of fresh copper pennies. She ignored it for a bit, despite how overwhelming it was. Lottie pressed play on the video from the Joker.

"You know, you have to shuffle seven times to get a completely random card from a standard deck, Lottie." He sat in front of the camera, shuffling a deck repeatedly. "I was trying to think about what card you are.. ah..." He pulled a card from the deck. "Queen of Hearts, how fitting." He chuckled, winking at the camera. I remember when you pulled the heart out of Susan's corpse. Now tha-t was impressive." The Joker showed the card to the camera. "Look, doll," He licked his lips. "I know I already burned Lau tower for you, but a girl like you deserves a more personal touch. On my way to abduct your parents-"

"What?" Lottie muttered, pausing the video and looking around vigorously. 'So that's why my phone was laying out in plain sight.' She giggled, pressing play on the video.

"-I bought some white roses. Now you know what we do with white roses. For the Queen of Hearts, we paint them red." He burst into a fit of maniacal laughter, and the video ended with him grabbing the camera and flipping in around. In the last minute he zoomed in on Lottie's parents tied up and gagged, both lying completely still, either unconscious or dead. "TA-DA!" He said triumphantly. "You can thank me later, Lottie!"

Lottie turned off her phone, blushing. "What made me deserving of two birthday gifts? Maybe he realized my parents had taken my phone away..." She wondered out loud. She poured herself a glass of white whine and leaned against the counter, downing the glass with ease.

DING. Lottie turned around quickly, hearing the elevator doors opening. Three cops and someone she recognized as the Lieutenant Gordon stepped into the penthouse. She dropped her glass in surprise, causing it to shatter into many fine pieces. "W-what the heck are you doing here? How did you gain access to this level?!"

Lieutenant Gordon stepped forward. "Pardon our intrusion, we're here investigating the scene of Kent and Elizabeth Wayne's abduction, and the murder of Bente the maid. You must be Lottie Wayne, am I correct?"

Lottie frowned. "Yes. I'm the daughter of Kent and Elizabeth. I had no idea my parents are missing! And Bente..." She feigned distress, covering her face with her hands.

"Did you hear anything strange last night?" One of the taller and more muscular cops inquired, avoiding the glass on the floor and placing a sympathetic hand on Lottie's shoulder.

Lottie flinched. Letting her hands drop to her sides. "I d-didn't hear anything!" She sobbed. "I was grounded in my room."

Lieutenant Gordon sighed, holding up a printed photo of the Lau Industries skyscraper on fire in the shape of the name Lottie. "I'm so sorry for your situation, Miss Wayne, but does this photo mean anything to you? I feel like these two incidents may be connected."

Lottie shook her head. "What is that?"

"It's Lau Industries on fire. Didn't you see the news last night?" Gordon said, furrowing his brow.

"No. My tv privileges were taken away." Lottie lied, wiping away a tear.

Another cop walked up to her, standing next to Gordon. "If these two incidents were connected, why didn't the perpetrator abduct Lottie? It's apparent they have some nefarious interest in her."

Lottie felt her stomach drop. "Was there any evidence left from the burning of Lau Industries? Or was it all destroyed."

Gordon shook his head. "Well, nothing was found there, but we were hoping we could find-"

"Lieutenant? You're gonna want to take a look at this." The third cop said, holding up a freshly plucked petal from the bouquet.

Gordon took it from him, rubbing his fingers over it. A strange crumble dark red residue came off, revealing white petals underneath it. Gordon sniffed it cautiously. "Dried blood." He said, wrinkling his nose. "Seems like the person who killed Bente Weiss and abducted the Waynes carefully dipped a bouquet of white roses in fresh blood. Of course, the blood isn't fresh anymore, hence the scent."

Lottie covered her mouth, channeling the nausea she felt being around cops and making it seem like the gruesome bouquet offended her. "I had noticed a strange smell coming from the flowers..." She admitted.

"Miss Wayne, we contacted your cousin, Bruce Wayne, before coming here. He's sending you someone to pick you up and take you to his place where you'll be staying from now on. You're not safe here."

Lottie sniffed, letting her hair fall forward so it shadowed her face. "Ok. Whatever you say. I just don't want to end up like Bente. I'll go pack my things while you continue the investigation."

[jangofctts]

Mirrored Heart (captain rex x fem!reader)

rated: 18+ explicit 

word count: 5.6k

warnings: smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampies, fingering, blow jobs, clone space racism?  

a/n: ANYWAY HERE IT IS. ive had this draft saved since like a year ago and just now finished it. anyway kwjrkejh here YALL GO. also thank you @jango-fettish​ FOR LETTING ME BORROW SYRENA 

It's curious. 

Well, you, as a whole are curious—completely outside the realm of what Rex considers normal. As far as senators go, that is. 

You're grumpy for one—worse than Skywalker and far more snide than Kenobi—a near gargantuan task bordering impossible. Wit and cleverness come to you easier than breathing, but it's your unwavering kindness towards himself and his brothers that sticks out like a blaster burn against alabaster white walls.  

He passed it off as a joke—some sort of mockery. Rex’s existence has been full of them. The past year it’s been made glaringly clear as to what the clones are to the people of the republic—tools. Mindless war machines dressed with flesh and bone, heart and sinew instead of durasteel and a circuitboard. Humanity has been skimmed over with excuses and debates over the hollow argument that clones were created for the sole purpose of war—nothing more. Ignorance is bliss when you are not the one fighting tooth and nail for petty skirmishes and the survival of your family.        

Ithyea, your home monarchal planet, is a newer member of the Galatic Republic—one of the firsts to advocate for clone rights—cutting through each argument with the steel headed javelin of hope and determination. Controversial in the eyes of the galaxy but no less than true. Yet with controversy, comes chaos. 

Wedged between Takodana and the Cerean Reach hyperspace lane—it’s an essential key to accessing more neutral space sectors without stepping on any toes. While the planet does mirror the size of a larger than average moon, there’s nothing but grandeur with the cutting edge advances in space travel and military innovations. An arts district too, one that’s presented multiple times for the Senate apparently. Rex has yet to see it. It’s an easy guess as to why Ithyea has gone under pointed attacks from the Separatists—it’d be foolish not to try.     

And of course comes the intergalactic mess of politics. You are not Ithyea’s first senator. Or second…or third. Just in the last six months, three of your predecessors have been picked off—two disappearances and a suspicious poisoning sandwiched between them. Which sides these assassinations stem from is anybody’s guess—a mix of both perhaps—all to silence and stamp the voice of your people out.

Heavy are the shoulders that wear those abhorrent senatorial robes, and Maker did it take some convincing for another Ithyean to step to the chopping block. It’s just…no one thought  it’d be you. The infamous captain of King Arrian Felian’s elite guard—trained in combat levels high enough to contend some of those within the ranks of the Jedi Order. When your name comes up in conversation, it certainly doesn’t scream diplomacy.     

Rex is not surprised that you hold the current record of Ithyean senators for surviving the longest. Evading an astonishing two attempts on your life by the skin of your teeth. You were just downright lucky the third assassin missed their mark. Sure, the blade of Syrena Aster skimmed the right side of your cheek and left behind a nasty scar to remember her by, but kriff—even with your background and low levels of public presence, you’re a high priced target. Whoever placed an order with the Heretics, really wants to see you six feet under.     

Rex hasn’t been given the full report on exactly who the Heretics are—a rag tag bunch of untrained Force users and skilled assassins from what he’s gathered—but regardless, this attack is just the beginning. Until the Senate and the Jedi are able to retract the price on your head, you’re stuck under protective custody. Usually ushered away into the Jedi Temple or tagging along with General Kenobi and Skywalker. Despondently, no matter the circumstances of your protection, it can’t shield you from the dreadful invitations to senatorial luncheons.

 And yes, you tried to slip by for this one. 

You don't brush elbows with other senator’s like many of the members in the Jedi Order and your own cohort do. In fact, you actively avoid even speaking to them unless necessary, let alone stand in the same room with seven of them. Odd for an elected official of diplomacy such as yourself to be so cold shouldered—Rex would think senators wanted to mingle.    

It's curious because you're standing in plain sight and yet no one pays you any passing thought. General Kenobi and Skywalker hold the majority of their attentions, shoulders already taught with exasperation at keeping everyone from tearing out each other's throats for, kriffing five minutes. Yet you...you are completely at ease, leaning up against a stone pillar, observing the unfolding chaos from afar with a keen eye. 

Before Rex realizes he's stepping towards your position, you glance over and dip your chin in greeting. The ghost of a smirk pulls at your normally grim facade—his heart skips. "Captain."

"Senator," he mimics, posting himself to your right. There’s still a thin, healing scab from the assassin’s blade that extends from the swell of your cheek to your ear. Ouch. “Enjoying the evening?" 

You snort. "Hardly enjoying it, Rex."

Stars—you shouldn't be allowed to say his name. Your words are razor-sharp like a jagged vibroblade, meant to jab and pierce through armor—tear a person to pieces without having to lift a finger. Everything about you is rough, gritty, brutal, unbecoming of what a senator should be, but— 

You mouth his name, purring out the singular syllable with such tenderness that it's like a punch to the gut. 

It's hard to swallow and he needs to clear his throat—an embarrassing act on his part, but your attention has already returned back towards the meandering senators. "How d'you mean?"

"Well," you sigh, "let's just say smalltalk isn’t my strong suit." 

"Aren't you senators s'pposed to like diplomacy n' such?" 

Your thumb smoothes over your bottom lip in thought as you shrug. "Diplomacy? Sure. Politicians? Can’t say I like them. I just—"

You wave your hand around, gesturing vaguely to the crowd. "I just don't understand why they can't say what they mean. Telling someone to have a nice day shouldn't entail certain death, y'know?"

"Speaking from experience?" He teases, gently prying into that harder than beskar wall you've created for yourself. There's fissions in your foundation and he means to tear it down all for just a mere scrap of information. 

Your eyes flick over, your lips curling into a vulpine grin. “Perhaps...Though, it was partially my fault, I have to admit.” 

“You’ll have to tell me the story sometime, Senator.” 

You nod. “Yes, one day—when there aren’t so many political ears jumping at the chance of gossip.” 

A swell of laughter interrupts your chat, your attention gravitating to Obi-Wan—ever the charmer with the crowds. The end of your mouth pulls into a frown as you sigh and carefully scratch at your brow with the back of your thumb. Rex might be pulling at straws, but what he mistook as you being standoffish may just be your nerves. Socially awkward and flustered when speaking in such an intimate setting. 

Rex’s first instinct is to reach out and place a hand over your shoulder in comfort, but he’s not sure how you’ll respond to the touch. Flip him over your shoulder probably—

Instead he forces himself to jumpstart the conversation—something to distract from your anxieties. “I hope you don’t mind me asking—“ His heart beat kicks up into a flurry of wild beats as you turn you head. “What uh..wh—did you want to become a senator?”

He likes it when you smile—like you’re letting him on some sort of coy secret. You shift your weight and shrug. “The king asked me personally. I’m flattered he thinks I’m clever enough—insulted he sends me to these abysmal gatherings like some sort of show pony.”

Rex chuckles. “Yeah, can’t say I like ‘em either.” 

“Although…” Your thumb runs over your lip again, a sparkle of mischief igniting behind your eyes. “As a senator, I do get the occasional tidbit of gossip. Here, I’ll catch you up—“

The captain startles when you snatch his elbow and yank him closer. Maker he’s glad for his helmet because your lips brush against his earpiece as he leans down to reach your height. 

“Look." You whisper, nodding casually in the direction of a particularly young senator with a shock of white hair. She's swathed in a pool of royal blue silk, much too large for her tiny frame, and all but hanging off Skywalker's arm with glittered nails filed into points. "That is Senator Ceci Paare of Corellia. She looks innocent, no?"

She does. Wide, crystalline green eyes stare up at the Jedi Knight as a pretty giggle escapes past her ruby painted lips. Skywalker grimaces. 

"I quite like her," you continue with a sly grin. "Even if she does try to influence public opinion by an invitation to bed." 

There's no time to process as you focus in on an older man. His hazy blue skin, ash white lips and vermillion green eyes cut an almost nightmarish profile, accentuated by mountains of black robes. Rex can’t recall what planet the senator represents. The senator holds his head stiffer than rebar to keep the ornate golden circlet from slipping off, his white lips curling in distaste as Orn Free Taa of Ryloth places a meaty hand over his slender shoulder. 

"He is Lord Tal’en Sol Ra'ah. Cunning, but sympathetic to the pleasures of gambling."

It's a game to you—of perceptions and nuances only a trained eye can roll over. Rex expects nothing less. This sort of thing has been hammered into the very essence of your being since you were little—reading an enemy before they can strike. It works on politicians marvelously well. 

Truth be told Rex should be paying more attention—but the closeness of your face to his helmet is maddening. His heart twists and coils as your bare hand skims along his gloved one—kriff. He’s not gonna make it before he bursts into a thousand little pieces.  

Rex’s spell of lovesick yearning recedes as you swear under your breath. It was only a matter of time before someone approached your little corner.  

"Oh, Maker save me," you hiss under your breath as a young Mirialan saunters over, the swatches of rich red and brilliant gold accentuate his violet skin like a bloody bruise. "Pretend you're speaking with me." 

"I am speaking with you," Rex snorts. 

Your hand waves in dismissal as your brows stitch together, hands balling into fists. Your jaw clenches as the senator in question puts on a dazzling smile. You look downright panicked. Rex has witnessed you face down numerous senators older than dirt and close to blowing away in the wind with plucky fervor, assassination attempts, being held captive, and you're frightened…by this? 

This is too good. 

Rex has half a mind to help you, wheel you away from your little predicament, but his intrigue with seeing your oh-so-solid resolve crumble is much too valuable and entertaining to pass up. He's going to remember this for years.  

"Rex."

"Senator," he mimics, not at all frightened by your poisonous glare. "Some diplomacy might do you good."

You begin to snarl out a threat but are decidedly cut off by your object of horror planting himself before your hiding spot. You cower into the corner like a boxed in loth-cat. "Ah, my favorite Ithyean! I had begun to worry you would not make it, my dear friend."

"Senator Lin," you sigh. The smile you offer is tight and thin; a nervous one much in the same way one would be if presented with a box of toenails for a birthday gift. “How pleasant to see you."

Senator Lin’s deep violet lips part with an easy smile. He waves a hand in dismissal, his silver rings glinting in the warm lighting. "Please—call me Toluka. No need to bother with such formalities between companions." 

Rex suddenly understands your trepidation with the Mirialan—he’s slimy. And, not to mention, not at all ashamed with the lecherous looks as his eyes sweep down your body. Rex clenches his teeth and folds his arms behind his back. He’s regretting not heeding your warning now…  

Try as you might through brutal small talk and chilly answers, Senator Lin refuses to take the hint. A dark plume of venom green lashes through Rex’s chest as the Mirialan places a friendly hand over your shoulder. You grimace as Rex bristles and glares through the visor of his helmet.  

Senator Lin’s lips pull into a gaudy smile as he glances at Rex and then at you.“My dear, don’t you know? It’s not worth wasting your time with a clone. After all, they’re all the same person. How boorish—come join us at the table.”

Your teeth bite into your cheek as your temper, like the silver of blade through the darkness, cuts through your steely irises. With poised nonchalance, you lift your hand and pinch Senator’s Lin’s fingers between your own and pry them off your shoulder. “Is that so?”

“Your campaign, valuable as it may be,” Lin continues, “is a useless endeavor. They are not our equals and never will be--you must know that." 

Rex forces himself to remain calm—collected and certainly not imaging a thousand and one ways he’d like to see his fist breaking the fragile bones of the senator’s face.  

"Fine buttons stitched upon your shoulders do not compel your worth, Senator,” the harshness of your words is a blow straight to Lin’s ego. His well-groomed brows furrow drastically as his tongue struggles to play catch up and find words to repair his shattered pride. 

There’s no chance for Senator Lin to regain his footing as your snatch Rex’s wrist and sweep him out into the hall. Rex can feel your anger roll off of you in waves, frighting and holding the same caliber of roaring waves thundering against black, craggy rocks. It’s a miracle the night didn’t end with your hands wrapped around the senator’s throat or a blaster shot through the chest. 

When you reach the lower halls of the cruise ship is when you release Rex’s wrist. You pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers and release a long, dramatic sigh.   

"You are worth far more than that pompous ass," you say with enough edge to slice through a droideka's shields. "He has no right to say those things to you." 

“It’s alright,” Rex soothes, placing a hand over your bristling shoulder. “I’ve heard worse.” 

Your features scrunch up into a wince. “That...that doesn’t mean you have to suffer through more of it, Rex.”

Sighing, you run a hand through your hair and loosen the heavy outer robes strung around your shoulders. You shrug out of them and fold the thick swaths of fabric over you arm—revealing the under layers of your uniform. You toss the bundle of fabric to the floor with a disgusted grimace and sit on the cargo crate closest to your left. 

“Really—it’s ok.” Rex assures again. “I—“

You hold up a hand and shake your head. His mouth snaps shut. “I won’t hear it. To me you are nothing short of perfect and I refuse to argue about it. Maker knows I already do that for a kriffing living.”

There’s a fragile lull in the hollow space—the distant chatter of voices and strange music collecting in the corners. You stand once again, toe to toe with the Captain and there it is again, that elated pitter patter of his heart thrumming through his veins. The nerves of being so close to you—you sweet face and not being able to touch you.  

“Let me see your face.”

His hands come up to the edges of his helmet without hesitation, a hiss of hair escaping the seal once he pries it off. You smile and take a step closer until the only thing separating you and him is his helmet. 

Rex’s eyes flutter shut, leaning into your hand you gingerly place over his jaw. “I wish the entire galaxy could see you through my eyes,” you whisper, the warmth of your soft palm radiating out and warming his entire body.  

It’s a matchstick to kerosene—his helmet clatters to the ground and there’s only a second to spare as both hands move to cup his cheeks, dragging him into a mouthwatering kiss. 

He hasn’t kissed many people—save for those rare times at 79’s, head swimming under the haze of one too many shots of Corellian fire whiskeys where he could barely distinguish his ass from his hand. Those drunken make-outs were nothing like this. 

No—this…this is what a kiss should be like.   

He dreams about you all the time—so constantly ravenous that all he can feel some days is pure ache. Every and all words that spin around his head starts with you and finishes with his pounding heart close to bursting free from his ribcage. Not in the same way a flood rips through an unsuspecting village—more like the brilliance of a thousand doves, marble white plumage thrashing free from their gilded cage. Your lips taste like the core of a newborn star—scorching and yet still so sweet upon the tongue the same way caramelized sugar sticks to the roof your mouth. You are his first and last everything. 

There’s a certain kind of tragedy hidden beneath your tongue, fragile promises and the eggshell thin shards of hope stapled to the roof of your mouth. Rex will take it—seize any threadbare strand and run with it—spool it into the palm of his hand until you’re wound so tightly together it’ll be impossible to untangle.     

Just when the dizziness sets in from elation and not enough air, you part and leave a sticky trail of warm kisses up his jaw. Rex groans and hugs you closer, you humid breath blooming across his skin. “Let me take care of you.”

The words on his tongue crumble to ash once he nods in agreement. Your kisses dip lower, not even stopping when the reach the edge of his chest plate. Stars, you’re…he never entertained the idea that your lips could look so divine in contrast to the battered plastoid. When you fold onto your knees his heart leaps to his mouth, a flare of arousal flashing through his groin. 

You rest your chin over his codpiece and smile. “Do you like seeing me on my knees, sir?”

Rex huffs and studies at the opposing wall—

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Your fingers find the claps over his codpiece. “Can I take this off?”

Rex jerks his head in a yes but grabs your wrist. Not a rough hold—a tentative one as hesitation swirls in his eyes. “Don’t—don’t have t’ do this for me—“

You quirk a brow. “I want to because I like you, Rexy.”

A rosy blush blooms over his sharp cheekbones. The captain nods again.

The codpiece clatters to the ground and immediately you move your hand to palm him through his blacks. He grunts and squeezes his eyes shut. There we go.      

Biting your lip, you pull down his blacks as far as the plastoid plating allows, greeted with the hard length of his cock, beautiful and flushed a rosy brown. Fuck—he’s thicker than you thought. You wrap your fingers around the base, delighted by Rex’s airy gasp as he throbs in your palm. A bead of liquid shines at the tip and just the sight of it makes your mouth water. 

Moons—you should’ve done this sooner.

With a stuttering inhale, Rex trails his forefinger along your cheek and tucks a stray hair behind your ear. The pads of his fingertips skim lower and lightly pinch your chin between his forefinger and thumb. Your eyes lift to meet his. “You—you sure?”

You answer with a kiss over the dip of his navel, the skin searing hot under your lips. Rex curses and rolls his head back onto his shoulders when your palm slides up the length of his cock and then back down. Your grip is firm and tight as Rex slumps onto the crate, goosebumps rushing up his exposed flesh. Stars, when’s the last time he’s gotten release like this? 

You lean forward and lick a languid line from the velvety skin of his balls all the way up to the tip. Rex’s hips jolt. You purse your lips and suckle at the head, dipping your tongue over the slit then down to trace the ridge of his frenulum all the while your hand rolls up and down his shaft. Rex tangles his fingers into your hair with a hiss. You open your jaw a bit wider and take him down a few inches into the wet heat of your mouth, feeling your lips stretch around his cock. You you drag the flat of your tongue along the underside of his shaft to make the thickness easier to swallow down, but he's still only halfway into your mouth when he hits the back of your throat.

“Fuck—" Rex moans as his hips strain to remain still. “S’good—such a good girl.”

You glance up, eyes devouring the attractive length of his clean shaven throat and the underside of his chin. Rex swallows and let’s out another little sound. You whine softly in return and slip a hand into your pants, pressing your fingertips against your throbbing clit as you start to carefully bob your head up and down. Yeah—your jaw already aches just from holding his cock in in your mouth but fuck it—it’s worth it.   

Rex's chest heaves with exertion as he mindfully rocks his hips up, pushing and rolling his cock deeper into your mouth until his shaft is nearly seated all the way in. Ditching your own pleasure entirely, you swallow around him, forcing down the urge to gag and simply hold him here. Allowing him a moment to just enjoy the soft warmth of your mouth before launching into the main event.  

Rex murmurs your name and strokes his thumb over your cheek. “You’re beautiful—so pretty like—like this..ah—” 

You pointedly hollow your cheeks and suck, his flattery warming your chest with pride. You swallow around him another time, squeeze his shaft, your fist following your mouth as you lift up then back down to the base. You grunt at the abrupt jolt of his hips. There’s no distinctive rhythm you can follow as you pull halfway up and let Rex rock his hips into your mouth—seeking out his pleasure without a coherent thought in sight. Just a cacophony of gasping breaths and rough moans of your name. 

Soon enough he’s twitching in your mouth, his eyes fluttering shut as his head tips back onto his shoulders. The gloved hand sweetly cradling your cheek slips to the nape of your neck, tangling his fingers into you hair to anchor himself. He’s close—quiet gasps and broken curses tumbling out, hips unconsciously rocking into your mouth in search of release.

Rex whimpers your name, his leg jolting as you work your jaw wider and swallow him down, the dark curls tickling your nose once it brushes his groin. “Oh, fuck.” 

You hum around him, delighting in the mumbled praises. Almost there…That’s it. 

He’s dangling on the precipice—on tiny shove away from euphoria—

“Wait—“ Saliva dribbles down your chin when his cock pops out from your swollen lips, throbbing from the unintentional tease. “Maker—shit.” 

If not for the gloves covering his hands, you’re sure they’d be turning white from how tightly he grips the edge of the crate. His eyes are squeezed shut, slightly bent forward as he falls away from the edge of his release. Rex sucks in a steadying breath, amber eyes meeting your confused ones. 

“I don’t—can we—“ Rex’s eyes flit and focus on anything but you as he stutters and works up the courage to ask for what he wants. “Do we have time—“

You rolls your eyes and rest your cheek on his thigh. Silly man. “You wanna fuck me, Rexy?”

“Kriff, yes.”

You smile and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “I don’t think they’ll miss us."

Rex doesn’t complain when you take his hands and yank him onto the grubby floor and over your senatorial robes. He props his back against the crate as you shuck off everything below the waste and clamber into his lap. His hands, warm even through the leather, land over the swell of your hips and wrench you closer until your front presses up against his chest plate. 

The rough prickle of his stubble is, in all sense of the word, addictive. He tilts his head to kiss you, the slick touch of his tongue on your bottom lip adding jet fuel to the fire low in your belly. Rex groans and cups your jaw, holding your mouth open to dance his tongue along the length of yours. You whine and shudder as he purses his lips and lightly sucks on your tongue before you both part. 

Rex drags his teeth over your bottom lip as you both pant for precious air. His dark lashes sweep up his cheeks when he looks at you. This close you bare witness to the dazzling color of his eyes—crystalized pearls of amber over the crackled bark of pine tree in the midmorning sun. Muted gold threaded through the brown like fine lace and the slow shimmer of the sun dappled through water. To think such a man like him is dredged through the bloodied mud of war is despicable.

You blink away the swell of tears prickling at your eyes and kiss him once more. Sighing, you whisper down, mouthing soft nibbles and teasing kisses over his jaw and down his neck. Rex squirms and rock his hips up, your cunt clenching around nothing. You need him.   

“Rex,” you groan. You slide your hand between your bodies and grab at his thick length. Rex gasps into your mouth, long fingers clamping onto your waist in a death grip. “I want you.”

“I’m yours.” 

Your nibble at his earlobe as you grind your hips against his length, the folds of your cunt teasingly out of reach. “Touch me, Captain.” 

Rex tears off his vambraces and gloves, hand wedging between your thighs, touching the very tips of his fingers to your throbbing clit. You whine and clench your jaw—the pleasure is raw—sizzling electricity that crackles with the deadly promises of your pleasure. It’s as if you’ve had the breath knocked out of your lungs the second he bears down a bit more on your clit, drawing tentative circles, each completion sending a shockwave of tightly spooled ecstasy through each and every nerve. You nearly sob as his fingers slip away. 

“So wet already,” Rex moans as you tip your head back when two of his fingers begin circle your dripping cunt. They’re thick and long and perfect. Your hips stutter as your cunt easily accepts his fingers, the heel of his palm slotting perfectly against your pussy to stimulate your clit. 

Maker you’re seeing stars as Rex rocks his hand into you—the bend of his fingers the perfect angle to catch all the right places that make you tremble. He kisses your cheek and moans your name into your ear, all low and gravelly— 

Your body seizes up tight as you soar, plummeting off the edge only to tumble so fast and so hard that tears prick the corner of your eyes. Rex peppers kisses over your cheeks and runs his free hand through your hair, purring praise and adoration as you shudder—your mouth parted in a silent cry as you cum and dissolve into his hands. 

When you suck in a steadying breath and open your eyes, Rex is gazing upon you with starstruck eyes—pure adoration that makes your cheeks flare hotter than the surface of two mini suns. Your teeth catch your bottom lip. You’re not sure you deserve to be looked at like this…

However, you’re impatient and running on stolen seconds. As much as you’d like to just simply stare at him—there’s not enough time. Rex wraps his fingers around the base of his cock and slides the tip of himself through your soaking folds. Each stroke against your still throbbing clit makes you buckle into yourself, but the angle that your knees are propped over his hips means you're stuck here. 

Rex pauses and cups your cheek. His thumb scrapes over your cheekbone. “You want this?”

You place your hand over his and turn your head to mouth a kiss over the lines of his palm. Oh, fuck yeah. Kind of him to ask as if hadn’t just cum over his fingers but—no. “I need you to fuck me, Rex. That’s an order.”

Rex huffs out a low chuckle and bumps the crown of his forehead against yours. “As you wish, Senator.” 

Rex runs the blunt head of his cock through your folds again, slicking himself up with your arousal. You mewl and dig your nails into the hard plastoid as the wide tip of him pushes into your entrance—he shudders as you clench and wiggle. It doesn’t hurt, but he’s in no small. You’ll feel him for days, you’re sure of it as your cunt swallows inch after inch. 

You both groan as he finally bottoms out. His jaw his clenched tight as sweat beads at his blonde hairline—Stars above, he’s a sight, struggling not to loose control the second he’s buried inside of you. Desire tickles up your spine, tugging at the fabrics of your being until all you can focus on his how Rex isn’t moving. You shift your hips in tiny, almost imperceptible motions, and squeeze around him. 

“Damn—“ A ragged moans slices through his words as your gentle rocking morphs into needy jolts. It’s easy to fuck yourself onto his cock like this, but the measly thrusts are meant to tempt him. “Fuck, cyare, you’re tight.” 

You smirk and grab at his sculpted shoulders—it’s the push he needs. Rex snarls your name, cups his hands under the globes of your ass and pulls you off his cock nearly all the way out only to slam back in. There’s no time to adjust before Rex sets a pace, fevered and rabid All pent up energy collecting over the weeks you’ve known each other. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end after being denied for what feels like ages. 

You squeal in surprise as Rex pushes you onto your back and hoists your legs around his hips. Rex buries his nose into the crook of your neck and moans your name like a sweet prayer wrapped in honeycomb. Rex shifts his weight, widening his knees to sink deeper into your cunt—his stubble tickling your throat as his staggered exhales burn hot over your skin. 

You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Electric heat sears down each vertebrae in your spine, scorching through each and every veins with the catastrophic brilliance of an imploding star. Shit—

“So good t’me—so perfect,” he huffs into your ear. Rex turns his head and steals a kiss. “Feel fuckin’ good stretched around my cock."

You clench around him hard as Rex’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s barely any build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of devastating warmth that sweeps through your body, from your aching center down to your toes. It steals away all the air left in your lungs and leaves your clutching his arm and shuddering for a hold in your own reality—the steady warmth of his body that’s unburdened by armor a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you. 

His gentle, and pliant kisses morph into little pricks of his teeth over your neck and collar bone as his hips struggle to keep a definitive pattern. Rex’s curses string together and blur into nonsensical noises and loose tongue admittances that are comparable to moving inches from an imploding star.   

“Where can—can I?”

You grab at his head and whine his name. “Anywhere—in me—you can cum in me.”

With a loving caress over back of his neck and a sweet whisper of his name, he reaches release. Rex’s moan is airy as his eyes slam shut and captures your mouth in a sizzling kiss. He’s twitching in your arms as his hips erratically jerk, hot spurts of his release coating your insides and beginning to leak over your robes you lay over. Whatever. 

Rex nips at your skin as the last dregs of pleasure jolt up your spine. Neither of you say a word as Rex’s hips come to a slow. Time trickles through your fingers like sand through an hourglass half empty but instead of rushing to dress, you choose to lie on the ground—two halves of a mess someone’s been meaning to clean up for the better part of a long while. You feel at home here—content as your fingers run up and down the back of his head, a bit irked by the armor still covering his back. You’re terrified of the months to come—but at least you have each other. After all, gardens will bloom and flourish with fresh blooded love and wild mistakes sculpted from passion forever if you believe hard enough…wont they?

[angeli-marco-writes]

Harry Holland - Polaroids

A/N & WC - I do not know Harry or the other people mentioned in this fic, nor do I claim to; this is a work of fiction. 3.9k.

Warnings - Swearing, mention of food, smut: depictions of oral (m+f rec), penetrative sex, use of toys, bondage & bdsm, photos being taken in the act, mild exhibitionism and definite voyeurism (not Harry or reader) 18+.

Summary - You and Harry have an exciting intimate life to say the least, and he rather enjoys taking photos of the two of you in compromising positions. However, in his sex-addled mind, one vital fact is let slip when he allows Sam into his room unsupervised.

“BUD, WHERE ARE THOSE PHOTOS you took of my food the other day?” Sam asks.

The sizzling of pancakes overlaps the conversation, and you mussing up Harry’s hair distracts him, his attention drawn to more important matters than his brother. Harry barely swallows his giant mouthful of food before speaking.

“By my bed there’s a huge pile, they’ll be somewhere,” he answers flippantly.

Flippantly.

Usually so cautious and so organised Harry lets one thing slip his mind for five seconds, and his life is going to fall through the cracks. His reputation will be utterly destroyed. Just with his brother, but it still stands. Sam is… more innocent than Harry has ever been. And Sam will also tell the others, and likely their friends…

“Remembered something, baby?” you muse sardonically from beside him, your hand halting its movements as you cup his jaw, turning him to face you.

The second his green eyes meet yours, you watch the world crumble in his eyes. You’ve never seen him scramble up from his seat so quickly. His bare feet slap on the tiled floor violently, thudding sounds echoing through the house as he blunders around, swinging around the banister with the force and elegance of an elephant.

“Sam! FUCK— Wait!”

“Don’t look in that pile of photos,” you add in a feeble shout.

It’s not like what Sam’ll find there is any secret. You’ve been together a long time, you and Harry, and everyone knows full well that you’re shagging, but that doesn’t mean you necessarily want them to know exactly what happens in the bedroom, in your most intimate, secret moments together. That’s sacred, even if it seems like sacrilege to so many.

No matter how quickly you hear Harry legging it upstairs, his lean legs carrying him up the stairs perhaps three at a time, his curly hair even more unruly than before from the exertion, you know he won’t be fast enough, and that Sam is an insolent bastard when he wants to be. You’ve lived with them all long enough and have had more than your fair share of near misses: no chance will you not be found out, this time you’ll be caught. Better than the alternative and the other times, you suppose, as you cram one more syrup-drizzled and strawberry-covered pancake into your gob, reluctantly trudging your way upstairs to the hive of fun.

It’s chaos by the time you get there. Dozens of artfully-taken photos spilled out onto your duvet, Harry’s freckled face paler than you’ve ever seen it, his hands tugging at his pyjama shirt convulsively while Sam stands on the other side of the room, his dark eyes wide, his expression agog, his jaw unhinged, staring blankly and pointing at whatever the most incriminating thing is he sees next. You just hope he doesn’t go ferreting through your drawers, because then you’ll really be in trouble.

“What… the fuck.”

You come up to Harry’s side, and wrap an arm around his slim waist, lending a weak, “Surprise?”

It’s their fault if they haven’t guessed, frankly.

You can’t draw your eyes away from the pictures, so many of them, all displaying different aspects of your sex life at varying degrees of explicitness. You can even recount the minutes and hours of pleasure that led to the photos, each occasion etched into your mind. Sure, you and Harry go at it a lot, but you don’t always go the extra mile, hence why these commemorative photos of your special nights are so treasured. And private. Or, were.

The first one… oh boy, that takes you back to the most far-out, extreme experiment you tried—the most recent, as well: just this past weekend. You’re still covered in rope burn from it, though that could’ve been prevented if you hadn’t writhed or wriggled about so much while in those bonds. The amount of attempts it took, the sheer number of YouTube tutorials you had to watch, but it was definitely worth it. The intricate patterns the ropes formed all across your body, creating braids down your back, suspending you prone with little movement in your arms or legs. It was heaven to have Harry tugging on the ropes, contorting you into new and wonderful positions for his own delightful access to all of you. Perhaps it’s not something you’ll gravitate towards again, but it was fun while it lasted, and it’s another thing to tick off your list of fun, kinky bedroom experiments to try. To be fair, even though the swathes of soft, rose-coloured rope, intricately woven around you were a lot, you certainly wouldn’t be averse to trying something else with rope. Less shibari, perhaps just normal levels of bondage. You can feel the skin on your arms prickling with heat: Harry feels it too, winding his fingers into yours, holding on tight as he struggles to suppress a smirk.

The next set is interesting, and rather common. Harry’s freckled, ring-less hand is unmistakable in the dappled light as it grapples with the handle of a leather whip, or a paddle, even his belt, bringing them down harshly onto your ass cheeks, already reddened with hand prints, purple from bruises. In one of them, your skin is even glistening with his release, and another, your hands are suspended behind your back. Harry’s always been one for spanking, and the rest of them know it. Even before you were sleeping together he’d playfully smacked your bum, and he certainly hasn’t stopped even with the sexual connotations it now conveys between the two of you. As though he can read your mind, he snakes a hand down and pats you on the bum; his wink telling you it’s just for good measure. Cheeky shit.

One in the dead centre brings shivers throughout your body. Not because it wasn’t fun or pleasurable, but because of the way it made you feel afterwards. Yes, you’d talked through it in thorough details—as with everything the two of you do—how it made you feel going in, throughout, and you’d got a safe word sorted, but perhaps you hadn’t discussed all the long term risks of it. The pretty pink collar, the satin blindfold… The whole subservient thing is a big turn on for Harry, and you played into it, you always do and you naturally fall into a position of less power in your relationship because of the way you are, but being degraded in such a way isn’t for you. You can’t help but feel a sting of shame ricochet through your heart. Harry must feel it this considering how reactive he is: he leaps towards the bed and snatches it up, shredding it before your eyes, chucking it into the bin, and curling another protective arm around you.

“Look,” you whisper to Harry, turning his attention elsewhere as you point to the bottom few: your favourite photos of all.

Despite the disarray, they’re all together, and they remind you of an incredible night. Your anniversary, and what a special day it was. Butterflies swarm you at the sight of them again, but it feels strange for someone else to be looking at them. Not that you or Harry are exactly in a fit state to be proactive about preventative measures now Sam’s seen them all. His eyes bulge from his face, his mouth going dry as he swallows viciously, suddenly having to shift his already apparently tight shorts. Again.

“You’re so sexy in those, baby,” purrs Harry.

He’s damn right, you do look incredibly sexy. And though the first one in the chronological series is you mostly covered, you can remember how hard his dick was at the sight alone, salivating, clenching his fists to stop from ripping the lingerie from you piece by piece. You wanted to put on a show for him that day: who was he to deny you?

On top of your bra, panties and stockings was a nightgown, and above that, a dressing gown. Each image shows you in a further state of undress. It was a deep burgundy lace set of negligée with soft satin straps that pushed your boobs together, lifting them up, the lace hooked together with a single eyelet on your spine, whereas the panties, though half covering your cheeks with dustings of lace, hid nothing while they sat high on your hips, revealing your entire upper thigh where a matching satin garter sat with tiny lace bows. The entire thing cost a fortune. You forked out a damn arm and a leg for what you got, even with a discount included with a certain toy you bought.

First went the dressing gown, letting it fall from your shoulders, allowing it to pool around your feet as you showed off the skimpiness of the silk slip in a series of flourishing twirls, much to Harry’s delight. Next went the slip, and you honestly wish you’d taken a picture of his face utterly agog—as you stood there in stockings held up by garters, barely there panties and a push up bra. There’s one shot of his rough fingertips playing with the trim of the stockings delightedly, like a kid in a candy shop. Next went the feeble scrap of fabric that you dared to call a bra, barely covering your nipples, allowing your breasts free, spilling into Harry’s awaiting hand. You remember the next part vividly, because he was just about to peel the panties off when you laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“I’ve got a surprise for you, babe.” you cooed.

His twinkling eyes grew as wide as saucers, and you dared to card your fingers through his curls as you settled yourself over his lap, letting him keep his camera in one hand while leading the other down, down, a little further…

He’s never since made a sound quite like it, so visceral and animalistic, so ready to devour you, to come on sight. He’s never been as hard as he was in that instance.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he moaned, a deep groan released from him the second his fingers slipped through your folds to find dripping arousal all ready for him. “Just—wait a minute…”

You followed his every instruction for the next few moments, finding yourself standing up in a good lighting position, Harry strategically beneath you as he snapped a particularly incriminating (yet oh so sexy shot) of your bare pussy in crotchless panties. Harry’s never recovered. He’s already openly admitted that he uses those particular photos more than any others to get himself off whenever you’re away from him. However, the creases and folded corners of one particular photo can’t be blamed on him, since that’s the one you use when you're away, two of his fingers plunged knuckle-deep inside you in those exact panties, from that exact angle, desperately trying to replicate the irreplaceably pleasurable feeling of him within you. He took a good few more than had to be thrown away. Spillages are awfully unfortunate… He fucked you that night with the panties, stockings and garters still on. Twice. Then without the panties, then without the stockings, then nude at last at some ungodly hour of the morning when he took you at last as the sun rose. You didn’t sleep a wink.

There are more of you with lingerie on, nightgowns and matching sets, scraps of silk and strange one pieces that took you hours to get on, but they’re bound to make a sort of book, stowed away neatly (mercifully) beneath his bed.

Sam still hasn’t moved from his state of paralysed shock, and though you should probably clear the photos up from where they’re dumped, you feel a filthy swelling pride within your chest, a glean of risk as you watch Sam rove his eyes over some more, these all involving toys. If only he knew where you hid them. One his eyes focus on is you with a thick purple rubber dildo deep inside you, a rabbit vibrator stuck to your clit. Your body is but a blur, writhing around for Harry, your hands cuffed before you and not released no matter how much you moved. Harry wouldn’t let you stop coming for what felt like hours: it was the first time you squirted for him as a cry tore from your heaving chest, drenching the bed with your fifth orgasm of the night. Harry vowed he’d be the only one to make you squirt after that, no toys involved, and he’s stayed true to his word.

There’s a few more, and Sam seems to be furrowing his thick brows at the sight of the Polaroids. Glass wands, spreader bars, clit suctions (that admittedly look like they’d be used in a spa for a facial). Poor boy is being corrupted...

Good God, you need to get those toys out again.

With his twin's attention diverted, you snake your hand down the front of Baz’s shorts, wrapping your fingers around his already hard member through his boxers: he seems to be enjoying this as much as you are.

You point out one of your favourite pictures, a debauched mess that shouldn’t be viewed by anyone else, frankly. Harry was reluctant about hurting you or pushing you too far, but you begged to be gagged. You meant just by a tie, maybe his bandana—which features in many images in many different manners: as a bind for your hands, tying you to the bed, keeping your ankles together, even wrapped lightly around your neck, but never as a gag—but he went all out. When you got home, he was waiting in his room with a leather-bound ball gag.

“You begged, baby,” he said, and you couldn’t refute. You had begged, but this was above and beyond. You complied with his every wish that night, and though you’d do it again in a heartbeat, Harry wasn’t a fan of not being able to shove his fingers or cock down your throat at any given moment. He liked hearing your whines and moans and hushed curses, prayers of his name. He also liked hearing your bratty, belligerent rebuttals when he took on a dominant role. You enjoyed it more than a little, but only now can you see how much of a mess you were, messy hair and tears spouting from your eyes, drool down your chin...

Given the chance of the slightest spark of stimulation, you’ll be coming on the spot.

There’s a scattered pile of the two of you in just about every position under the sun, every shape in the karma sutra, fucking both inside and out, al fresco sex beneath the big oak in the garden, anyhow, anywhere and everywhere you could fuck safely and privately, you would, and you didn’t even realise Harry had snapped some of these shots after consenting to him taking them at any time. Your eyes squeezed shut as you peaked, Baz’s palm kneading your chest, your skirt hiked up around your stomach while your jaw was agape, your pussy exposed and glistening slick in the mirror, penetrated by Harry’s cock. That was a good day, mirror sex, and definitely something you’ll try again. This time with your own mirror... There are a few snapshots of oral, perfect Polaroids of Harry’s nose nuzzled into your pussy, his tongue deep in your core, his lips on your labia, all of them for your sake whenever he goes away.

“Gonna recreate that one tonight,” Harry husks, pointing towards one image in particular of you sucking him off.

His huge member down your throat, you’d trained yourself to breathe solely through your nose, but the neatly trimmed patch of hair there tickled your nostrils. Harry’s talent for photography reveals your doe eyes were red rimmed, saliva trickling from the corner of your mouth matching the mascara tracks down your cheeks. You’ve never looked so fucked out, and Harry couldn’t believe you remained in that innocent façade, rosy cheeks and a coy expression even with his dick rammed down your throat, making you gag.

However, the one you’d like to recreate is one he picks up on, surreptitiously moving a hand to your chest, his fingers hovering over your peaked nipple.

“Reckon we can go again the second Sam fucks off?”

“Yes,” he eagerly exhales.

You don’t blame him, especially not when both twins are staring at the same image of your tits, pushed together with Harry’s dick between them, fucking your chest despite the fact his come already painted your chest in hot white strips, a beautiful painting you’d always wish to frame. He certainly has an obsession with your boobs so there are a couple like that, his hands all over them, the tip of his member tapping them, but the debauched one is by far your favourite. Similarly, there’s one of you tied to the bed, completely spread eagle, his dick resting on your stomach while your belly is coated in his come once again.

It seems, however, that’s what snagged Sam’s attention and has his face a ghastly shade of grey because it's so pale, is the one photo Harry never wanted anyone to see. You leap and snatch it up in one fell swoop, and Harry draws you into a bear hug within his arms, kissing your temple affectionately in thanks as you stow it away for safekeeping. Though Harry naturally carries the more dominant title in your relationship, you always like to shake things up, hence why this photo (and a series of others he already has hidden) depict Harry as your submissive. You walked around as the picture perfect dominatrix in stilettos, carrying a whip while Harry lay there with his hands bound, a blindfold on in some photos (you took them so they’re not as great, but he still looks damn sexy) with a vibrating cock ring wrapped snugly around his girth. He’s never come so hard or so much after you finally removed it and cuffed his hands to the bedpost and began to ride him. You can still feel the warmth of him climaxing within you if you close your eyes and clench your thighs.

“I promise I’ll touch you later,” boy do you hope he sticks to that promise he whispers while nibbling on your earlobe, “but Sam’s coming out of his daze in 3... 2... 1...”

“OH MY GOD.”

“Okay, I didn’t see that coming,” he remarks breathily, hazel eyes wide as he pivots, met with two incredulous stares. Tom’s cry wakes Sam up right on cue.

“Harry! What the fuck?!” Sam demands, his voice a bellow, horror and disgust and... something unattainable just emanates from him. “Why do you have three porn mags worth of your girlfriend down here? That’s fucked, mate.”

“No it’s not. We just like to have photographic reminders of all our... sexcapades.”

Sam is, unsurprisingly, retching, now finally turning his head away from the pile without even bothering to pick up.

“This was cool until you called them sexcapades,” Tom chimes, smacking Harry upside the head as he swaggers over to the bed, fishing a few photos up before tossing them back down.

Sam's horrified attitude doesn’t seem to be spreading thankfully, but you and Harry are understandably rooted to the spot, stuck to the carpet, just biding your time until this is over. Then again, you can’t really tell, since no one is saying anything. You nor Harry want to be the ones to break the silence, though, and you can tell with the furtive and expressive stares you’re sharing that his anxiety is increasing the more people are seeing this.

Momentarily, you think someone may remark about your silent communication, your fixed glances and speechless conversation, but instead, Harrison comes up to you both, a sly smirk etched onto his pretty model face as he clasps a hand around one shoulder of yours and one of Harry’s.

“Harry Holland, you kinky fucker,” he praises.

You definitely feel a swell of pride at that. And the fact that Tom is trying desperately hard not to look at you while also trying to hide how flustered he is, somehow still abhorred by the sight. Harrison’s intrigue is palpable, gnawing on his lower lip as his lithe fingers trace you on the polaroid's, whereas Sam? He can’t decide whether to cry or scream. Harry huddles in closer and cuddles you, ensuring you feel every part of him, just how much he wants this lot to leave to finally have you at his mercy once more.

“So you two are shagging,” Tom observes.

You and Harry nod between kisses.

“Dangerously.”

You nod again, though this time a little reluctantly.

You expect Harry to nestle down with you again, but instead he detaches himself, unravelling his arms, and shoulders past Tom and Haz. He gives Sam a death glare as he piles up all the Polaroids and shoves them deep in a drawer for him to organise later, away from prying eyes and judgemental comments.

“Really, though?” Sam bursts out, flailing his arms before grasping Harry’s collar. “I thought you’d just handcuff her and give her a smack at most, very vanilla.”

As much as he tries to fight it, Harry’s face flushes bright red, leaving no visible distinction between his forehead and hairline. “I think those photos, erm, tell a different story.”

He rocks on the balls of his feet, tugging himself out of his brother's grasp, only to fall into another, saved by Harrison’s scowl at Tom.

“Can you lot bloody get out? Please? I’d like some alone time with my girlfriend after that sodding invasion.”

“If you’re having alone time, we’re leaving the house for a while,” Tom jokes, “how long?”

You smirk, striding over to meet Harry, eyes fixed on him as you press onto your tiptoes, wrapping your fingers around his shoulder before kissing his earlobe. He wilts into your touch.

“Two hours should be enough time. Scram.”

They do, gladly, and you slam the door shut as their scurrying footsteps down the stairs recede. Harry’s grip increases around your waist, a growl escaping him as he pushes you onto the bed. You gasp when your back hits the mattress, his lips instantly attacking your jaw.

“Which of those polaroid's do you wanna recreate first, baby?”

—

It’s hours later, and you're all around for your weekly dinner at the Holland house. You and Harry, having some ‘business’ to attend to before leaving the house, are the last to arrive, and Paddy, poor unfortunate Paddy, has the delightful job of letting you into the house.

“Sam asked me to give you this,” he says barely before you’ve entered the porch.

Harry’s face pales as he unravels the small piece of paper bundled into his hand by his younger brother, but you could swear all blood drains from him the second the words sink in.

‘You took them, you lost them, you collect them. What would mum and dad say, Harold?’

“Harry, what’s happening?”

“That utter wanker stole the polaroids as revenge for scarring him. He’s hidden them around the house. We have to find them before mum and dad go looking. You in for the ride?”

“Only if Haz can join us tonight,” you tease, and after calling a hello to Harry’s parents, you follow him around the house, detaching all the pinned photos.

Harry's learnt a solid lesson today: hide his damn Polaroids better from now on, away from the prying eyes of his bloody brothers. But, he thinks with a smirk, by no means will the two of you stop taking them.

[checkingoutforheroes]

B.A.B.Y PROTOCOL.

Part 1.

Avengers x fem!reader

Pt. 2

Genre: Minor angst, more fluff.

Warning: Language! (cursing here & there)

Words: 1746

Synopsis: This takes place in Avengers: Age of Ultron. When The Avengers were at the rock bottom, Nick Fury and advised by Maria Hill, to initiate the B.A.B.Y Protocol. 

Main MASTERLIST

The Avengers gather in the lab after one of an ugly half made robot command a few of the Legionaries to attack them. Currently they are finding out about what or who attacked them. Some of them cleaning their wounds and Thor going out to track the Legionaries. Bruce the only one who starts first. “All of our work is gone. Ultron cleared out every research that we do. He uses internet as an escape route.” Natasha turns and lean her body to a table to say what she’s found. “He’s been in everything. Fails, surveillances. Probably know about us more than we know about each other.”

Holding his right wounded arm, Rhody said “He’s in the internet, he’s in your files. What if he decides to access to something a little more exciting?” By that, Maria has thought something. “Nuclear code.” Natasha looking at them “Nukes? He said he wanted us dead.” Steve interrupt her “He didn’t say dead. He said extinct.” “He said he killed somebody.” Clint said but Maria ask back. “But no one else in the building.” Their conversations cut by Tony. “Yes there was.” He displays JARVIS damaged simulator form and all went silent except Bruce, he checks on JARVIS.

Thor come in angry and straight to choke Tony. Being choke, Tony try talk to Thor “Come one. Use your words buddy.” Thor lift him up a few inch above the floor. “I have more than enough words with you Stark.” Steve walks closer, breaking them. “Thor. The Legionaries?” Thor update them about the Legionaries have the scepter and they have to retrieve it again. For the first time after the attack, Dr. Chow speaks. “You build this program. Why he’s trying to kill us?” Tony just laugh at that question and Bruce disagree. “Tony, this might not be the time to-“ Tony cut his sentences. “Really?! Bruce. We didn’t create a murder bot. Remember New York?” Everyone move their head down facing the floor remembering that event and Tony continue. “A hostile army of aliens charging through a hole in space. We’re standing 300 feet below it. We’re The Avengers. We can bust arms dealer all day but that up there, that’s, that’s the endgame. How do you guys planning on beating that?” Steve looking at him “Together.” “We’ll lose.” Tony say and Steve still with his answer “And we’ll do that together too.” He looks at everyone and gives the order. “Thor’s right. Ultron trying to draw us out. We start tonight. Do whatever you can to find him. The world is a big place, make it smaller.” Maria stand from her chair. “I’ll escort Dr. Chow to airport. I’ll see you guys in the afternoon.” They all nods and both of them walks out of the lab.

 Next morning.

A young girl wearing her café’s uniform walking with a headphone on her head. While walking, she notices a guy snatches a bag from a lady. That lady screaming asking for help while her baby crying to see her mother in terror from across the street. You bring down your headphone and chase that guy. Thanks for your training, you almost keep up that guy until he stuck in an ally, nowhere to go.

“You wanna give me the bag or I’ll take it from you?” You said. Looks like he’s stuck.

“Fast legs.” He said.

“I had trained before.”

“I’m not a bad guy.”

             “Well, good guys don’t snatch a bag from people especially in front of their baby! You gave me the wrong impression though. Now, give me the bag and go.”

             “I’d like to see you take it.” “You asked for it dude.” You move forward and fight him hand to hand combat. Actually, you are a bit surprise by his technique. He’s not so bad but you have been train by a professional back in the academy.

You’ve been caught one day and some guy wear uniform took you somewhere. You thought it was a juvenile school because you are just 15 that time. Turns out it was S.H.I.E.L.D. They gave you test by test and found out that you good at combat and a little bit good at common sense. After you graduated, work job by job. Gang to gang. Mob to mob. You can’t do that kind of job anymore. You want to be good and yes, you did stop working with the dark. You washed your hands and works at Donut Do It. It’s not your vibe but it is fine for your fresh start. After you slap that guy, you hear a woman voice call your name that has been long unspoken by anyone including you.

 “Baby.” A woman called.

             “Normal people doesn’t know that name.” You said while choking that guy.

She said “Maybe because you’re not a normal girl.”

             “What do you want Maria?” You ask that woman.

You immediately know who he is. Fury. “Oh God, not you too. Okay, for the record, honestly, I haven’t commit any crime that violated the laws.”

“You.” A deep voice man said.

You can hear Maria smirk when she asks you “Are you sure about that?” “…today. You didn’t let me finish. I didn’t commit any crime, today.” You said. Fury tell you to let that guy go and you look at that guy “You’re with them?” He tries to answer even you’re still choking him. “Y.. YE.. Yes!” You release him and slap him real hard right across his face. “That’s for wasting my time. Fuck off.”

Fury look disbelievingly at you. “Was that necessary?” You look back at him “What? Caressing lightly on his soft cheek?” Maria interject “That’s the opposite of what you did.” You try again just to tease her. “Okay. I, tap his soft cheek?” Maria raise an eyebrow at you “Try again.” You surrender. “Fine. I just 180-degree angle slapped him. He’s a trained agent for God sake. He’ll be fine.” You turn around about to walk back to your work place and Fury stop you.

“And where do you think you’re going young lady?” He asks you.

             You turning back. “ Work. Turns out I have a job now papa bear. Thanks for the recommendation letter though. Now, will you excuse me, I have go to work. Hope to never see you two again. Babai.” Again, Fury stops you. “You are not going to that Donut Do It.” You tilt your head to him. “I told you I work there and I’m going. If you two want donut, you know where to find it. Mention my name and you’ll get 30% discounts.” Maria’s face changes when she talks this time. “This is serious and urgent, Baby.”

“We are gathering as many as best agents that we have, and you are one of the best, Baby. Come with us and we’ll brief you.” Fury said and you stop him from saying any further. “Look, I’m gonna stop you right here papa Bear. That is where you are wrong. Aren’t you guys seen my record? I know what good is but I’m far away from good. There is still red blood stain painted on my hands that I could never leave. Even if I wash it thousands time, it won’t come off. What makes you think I’ll do it?” You feel your left chest aching but you ignore it.

Maria answers you. “Because everyone deserves a chance to be and do good. To start over. Yes, you can’t wash that much blood on our hands but this is the chance for you to do something good in your life. A do-over. You actually do something good after the academy. Take out those mobsters down, those gangs. You went inside to get the intel and you burn them to the ground and made those cities safe. Then, you just proof us again just now by caught that robber.”

             You huff and look down on your feet. “You set that up.”

Maria look at you. “But you didn’t know that. Yes, Baby. We’ve seen your record. Detail. You are far away from where you are before the academy. Or after. I mean you did killed people.” You crunch your eyebrows at her “Hey!” Fury turn to talk. “Help us this time. After that, it’s all up to you. We are no longer bugging you. You are no longer in our record. I’m not wasting my time coming here if we don’t need you.” “I thought you miss me.” Fury huff and talk to Maria “I’ll wait in the car.”

             “He never begging. That kind of begging, what he did. Is it that bad?” I ask Maria and she nod with worry face. “Earth level threat. That’s all I can say right now. Come with us to tower and we tell you more.” You let out a long sigh. “Me? Out of all agents, me?” Maria walk closer to you. “Please Baby.” You’re now messing with her. “It Earth level threat and you want a baby to involve? What kind of adult are you? Put a cute baby in danger like that. Unbelievable.” She smiles more than earlier. “The kind of person that will make sure there will be chicken drumets and spaghetti carbonara every day for your meal.”  You silently look at her and playfully sigh and she knows you better. “Caramel pudding and fluffy pillow too.” The ache in your chest getting hard to ignore now. You ask Maria some time and turn back from her. You bending, breathing like your doctor teach you and massage your chest a little. Must be from running earlier.

“Hey, are you okay?” Maria ask, worry if you are sick, but yes you are sick.

             “Yeah. Just shock. Did you say fluffy pillow? You ask her, not wanting to let her know first. They need your help, that’s what you are going to do. Help as much as you can. She let out a giggles and wrap her arm around your neck. “Yeah, you are coming with us, like it or not.” You both walk toward their car where Fury is waiting. “How many pillow though?”

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Thank you for spending your time reading this. Feel free to reblog or ask me anything, thank you in advance!

Part 2 is coming!!

[oriigirii]

💞 MC is a Genshin Simp 💞

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{ AN: Omg! This is my first ask so thank you anon (๑ↀᆺↀ๑)/!! This is such a vibe too haha, I hope you like it! } Warnings: None [Maybe Refs and Chars you wont get if you dont play Genshin Impact] * Probably a bit OOC too *

Reader: Gender-Neutral [Default]

( ⓛ ω ⓛ *)

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< Genshin Impact was a game that took the human realm by storm, with its open-world gameplay, its competitive PvE and aesthatic settings, it was truly something that captured you the moment the beta was announced. Although, as with any Gacha games, you weren’t only attracted to the world and its setting.

No no.

The characters were truly the main eye candy of the game. You’d been worried that when you had been sucked into Devildom, you wouldn’t be able to access the game due to, yknow, realm differences, but luckily that wasn’t the case thanks to Levi, and hence why the moment it dropped, you had been spending your life savings simping for characters on every banner.

Yknow theres handsome bois in devildom too... Theyre just kinda waiting for you to put your game down for a moment and kinda notice em ～((Φ◇Φ)‡ >

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ฅ⁽͑ ˚̀ ˙̭ ˚́ ⁾̉�� Lucifer

He usually doesn’t mind you playing games

Although, He would’ve preferred if you didn’t cause you kinda need to focus on your studies yknow?

But hey he’s not stopping you

Usually you would stay with him as he works, but he can’t seem to focus with you constantly begging beside him

Small little ‘please’ would be heard every now and then, and a sudden look of disappointment would show on your face.

He tried to ignore it, even giving little cues for you to quiet down, like clearing his throat

You didnt seem to pick up the hint though

He was just about to ask you what you were doing in the first place that has you praying beside him (which is hella rude) but your scream of happiness has him a little more irked and kinda taken back

“LUCIFER! I GOT HIM! LOOK LOOK I GOT HIM!”

You show him the screen showing your pull results

The character held a giant claymore with bright red hair

Before he can get another word in, you snatch your phone back and just sigh as if youd just had a heavenly (ironic) experience and mumble

“I seriously love him, Im so happy...”

Bro same though, Diluc pls come home

You were truly one of a kind, because youve just managed to break the Avatar of Pride’s... well.... Pride.

Did he just get cucked by a man in a video game?

Truly outrageous.

He seems to scoff and holds back a bit of an eye roll as he tries to focus back on his work

But boy oh boy, his salt is high

“If you are going to be causing a ruckus MC, May i suggest you doing it with Levi instead, I have no time for such games. I dont see why youre so caught up in such a character anyways, he looks quite basic.”

His words were sharp, and that was enough to shake you out of your fangirl/boy mode.

You were literally ready to fight the first born, a literal fucking fallen angel, for dissing Diluc like that

like

how dare

But then you notice how he seems to avoid your gaze and a small little red tint was on the tip of his ears.

Lucifer wouldve wanted to see you that happy with him, but no, a game character steals that spotlight.

Angey.

Instead of being intimidated by the sudden coldness, you giggle and finally close your phone and set it aside

You can continue celebrating and bragging about it later, for now, you wrap your arms around his arm and give him a small smooch on the cheek, which definitely makes him blush a tad bit

“Awww Luci dont be like that, Yknow I love you more”

Potential apocalypse has been diverted

But Lucifer does smile the smallest of smiles as he sighs, finding it silly to really get jealous over such a small thing and says

“I love you too, my dear... but you do have to make up for distracting me from my work...”

Well you kinda deserve it, so it wasnt long before both his work and your phone had been ditched

( After a while you do kinda see him quite similar to Diluc and it just makes you smile everytime you think about it, seems you have a thing for the strict cold men huh?)

===

Σ(‘◉⌓◉’) Mammon

Why you simping for a fictional character when you already have him?!

He’s your first man!

Your homie!

“Yeah well hes my first 5* so can you blame me?”

S A D N E S S

But for real, this man is just so clingy

He has heard from Levi that you were playing a new game from the human world, and of course, he had wanted to see what it was about by watching you play.

But since it was quite grind-heavy gacha game, he grew a bit bored and asked you to come with him to hang out somewhere else, or even go to the casino and gamble his money away cause he just got goldie back

But no matter what he suggests, you were just so focused on your grinding.

He’d prefer a different kinda grinding right about now with how lonely he is, ya feel me?

But no, you still werent interested.

“Oi! Cmon MC, whats even so important about this?”

“I already told you Mammon, Im grinding for primogems from the event! Theyre gonna be gone soon and I just HAVE to get them! Ugh I swear to Diavolo, if I dont, Imma cry! I didnt get him on their first banner too... ugh!”

Wait no--

Cmon he doesnt want you to cry!

Mammon kinda stays silent for a bit as he watches you struggle to fight the monsters with your low level team, frustration growing on your face.

But as you finish, Mammon seems to snatch your phone

“Hey! whats the big deal Mammon?!”

“Shut up and show me where the store is geez”

Mammon’s demands kinda surprises you and you raise an eyebrow at him, but you do show where it was, and sit back for a while as Mammon just fiddles around with it. You werent sure what he was doing honestly, was he interested? Did you say anything that made him act this way? All you talked about the game was the gacha system so--

oh…

OH

“Mammon! Wait you dont have to---”

“There! I got you as much primo things, or whatever theyre called”

He already has tossed you your phone back and he crossed his arms, looking away as the red blush covers most of his cheeks.

You look at your phone and you honestly felt your heart speed up and stop at the same time at the amount of primos on your account, it was enough for a full 180 pull! If you dont get the limited character on the first 50-50, you have another shot!

You felt your own heart speed up and your face burn so hard, but you do mumble him a quick “But... But why though?”

“Cuz! If you start cryin’ Lucifer’s gonna beat my ass! Dont think I did it for you, you human! I just dont want him taking away Goldie again!”

“But I thought this was your gambling money, isnt it?”

“w-well!... I mean... Hmph.. Gachas kinda like gambling right?, I know Lucifers gonna hang me if he catches me in the casino again anyways, so I thought I might as well just do this... with you...or whatever...” Hes dying, help

But so are you!

Hes too fucking cute and you just glomp him and just hug him as tight as you can!!

Flusterred boi 100

But you do spend you afternoon on his lap, both of you rolling the full 180 in excitement, whether you get that boi/gal you simped for on the banner or not, you still were happy to spend some time with Mammon

He doesnt mind losing a bit of cash for you

but you do promise to pay him back (maybe with a few kissy)

But to be honest, Gacha probably will help him with his gambling addiction...

kinda...

He doesnt go to casinos anymore but he does whale with you now

Lucifer has such a mix feeling with these results.

But he still confiscates Goldie and your card on the end, yall need to chill.

====

ヽ(。_°)ノ Leviathan

He probably wasn’t even interested on the game at first

He already has enough games to play, and it just looks like another rip off of some other game he saw not too long ago with that elf looking guy

But when you came to him asking for his help to get the game, you bet your ass that he felt a switch click

Suddenly it was incredibly interesting!

You do share your interests to him almost immediately

By interests, of course i mean the peeps you simp for

The sexy ara ara in the library of mondstat, the pirate looking ass of the guards, the pirate looking ass’s brother thats a wine owner and still highkey reminds you of Lucifer, the demon slayer--- You were actually unsure if you should talk about Xiao but hey hes cool

You explain it all!

From their lore to their voice lines and whatever

But honestly what do you expect from the Avatar of Envy?

Of course hes gonna be a bit jealous! He cant compare to any of these characters! Hes not as witty as that eye patch man, hes not as sophisticated as that red head, hes not as flirty as that ara ara either!

As you go on, you notice that Levi was kinda... half listening....

It made you pout, but then, it made you worried

Uh-oh you know that look

its that, ‘im overthinking’ look

So to snap him out of it, you kinda grab his face as gently as you can

“Need Grimm for your thoughts?”

He flushes and he immediately looks away, but you usher him to look at you as you coo and ask him whats wrong

It takes a bit till he kinda explains to you how hes feeling

In your relationship, you both were practicing being more open with each other, hence why you were proud of Levi for saying it

but you did feel kinda sad and frowned as he finishes explaining

“You... feel jealous?”

“Ugh d-dont say it out loud normie....”

He covers his face with his arm and you just cant help but shake your head with a fond smile, but you do need to address this and comfort him.

“Levi... when you fanboy about Ruri chan, did you ever think she was better than me?”

Your question made him frown and look at you in absolute worry

Did you actually think that you were below Ruri chan?

Of course hes an absolute simp for Ruri but.. cmon

Now that he thinks about it, he does talk about her a lot doesnt he? oh no...

“MC O-Of course not! I love Ruri chan yes, but you... I... I Love... you more...” Levi exe do be dying

But you smile at his response and gently kisses his cheek

“I think thats sweet Levi... But thats how I am too... Youre still better than any of these characters, youre real and they arent, youre mine and I am yours~ Youre my personal 5 star!” You wink at him and Levi just dips

his heart couldnt handle the cuteness and he died, ladies and gentlemen

but for real he did pass out

Must be from all the blood on his head from the blush

But ah, he does get it, and after being showered with love from you, He kinda slowly got over his jealousy

its not immediate but with simple reassurances, you can manage to reel him in and have fun with you

He does end up enjoying the game cause he gets to spend time with you, and he gets to show off when events happen 

He also goes out of his way to memorize locations for materials for you, and when youre sick or busy, he pilots your account

true gamer

But ironically enough hed probably start simping for a character too and of course, you both start bonding over that, which just makes Levi absolutely happy

I wonder if hed simp for Barbara, she is an idol afterall like Ruri chan

Probably lowkey for now

Afterall she looks like a minor so-----

( I dunno i searched shes 16-18 lol )

But regardless, I can imagine you both just cosplaying each others fav characters too

Its a wack looking ship cosplay but yall just simp for each other cause of it, its pretty fun but the rest of the brothers just finds it hella weird

----

I only have energy for these 3 as always, Im sorry! But i promise Ill do the rest!! I hope you guys do enjoy, and Id love some feedback on the characters personalities cause I know they can be a bit Ooc, But feel free to send me an ask! Im pretty open lol 〜(￣△￣〜)

[cutesuki--bakugou]

Spawn

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rough Sex (Vaginal), biting, scratching, breeding, oviposition, dub/noncon, kidnapping, cursing, blood, use of aphrodisiac, interspecies sex (merman and human), mentions of drowning Words:   5579 Pairing: Mer!Bakugou Katsuki x Human Fem!Reader

a/n: I’ve been getting quite a few requests for mermaid breeding. This... is probably not what you were wanting or expecting, so I won’t include anyone���s request here lol. I may write something a little... gentler later on.

BTW, please blacklist the tag cutesuki-lemons if you do not want to see this content from my blog. I will no longer be tagging with specific keywords for this type of content.Thank you~

Due to the nature of this post, the characters are 18+

Tags: @lady-bakuhoe​​, @hoefortodo​​, @sunkissedneptune​​, @softkatsuki​​, @marilla-eldriana​​, @sanurrwrites​​, @hopeismyhope101

There was something different in that familiar crimson gaze today. You hadn’t thought much about it at first, but now, it stuck out to you as something that should have been a huge red flag. The instant you had seen him glaring at you over the water's surface, you should have run away. You should have called to him from the safety of land, to tell him you really weren’t feeling well and decided to go home. Or that you had some type of rash or injury and didn’t want to get too close to the water? Would he have believed you? Probably not. You weren’t sure of what type of fit he would have thrown if he would have tried to persuade you to come to him or just dragged himself up into the sand to chase you down. 

He was strong enough to do that. His upper body strength matched the incredible power of his tail, his arms, and core easily able to lift himself up or drag himself around. If you ran at full speed, he couldn’t get you. Maybe. You couldn’t really think about something like that though right now. The fact of the matter was you hadn’t taken his glare as something menacing. You had ignored the rolling sickness in your stomach, the little voice in your head that told you to flee. Now, it was too late for you to do anything. 

You were as happy to see him as you had always been, greeting the merman with a cheery wave and a smile as you stepped into the rolling ocean waters. You hadn’t even made it a few steps into the cool water before he was suddenly at your feet, snatching you by the ankles and dragging you deeper into the water. The impact of falling on your back onto the hard, wet sand knocked the air out of your lungs, and before you could even breathe again, you were struggling to keep your head above water. 

He hadn’t dragged you out too far, but right now, the distance wasn’t really what mattered. You were completely pinned down to the sand, his heavy red and orange freckled tail resting over your chest to keep you down. Your legs were in his tight grip, held under the knees, and spread open so his head had easy access between your legs. The rolling waves didn’t affect him at all, but as they came washing over your face, you felt as if you might just drown. It was difficult and painful to find the opportunity to inhale as much air as you could when the tide pulled out, gasping and coughing to try and purge the burning saltwater from your lungs before you were overwhelmed again. 

It wasn’t just the water that gave you the feeling of drowning. His tongue, slick and hot against the cold ocean water, was lapping at your cunt eagerly. When he had torn your swimsuit, you weren’t sure. But again, you weren’t sure of anything that was happening to you right now. Why was he eating you out like this? He had never shown any sexual interest in you for the months you had known him. In fact, he hadn’t shown any romantic interest at all. At least, not any that you had been able to notice. Bakugou Katsuki, this fierce and aggressive merman, had originally saved you from drowning while out on a tour boat during vacation. You had been so grateful to him, so you made it a point to come visit him as often as you possibly could. You liked him. But this? This isn’t how you wanted things to happen. 

You had fallen for him. You loved him. But, how could you? You were from two completely different worlds. There was no possible way that you could be together outside of close friends, and that was even a conversation you already had. 

“There’s no way I’d ever fall for a stupid human like you! You can’t even swim!” 

So why was he doing this? Why was he holding you down just for the chance to eat you out so vigorously? If he would have just hit on you a little sweeter, maybe you would have given in to him and you could both enjoy the experience to the fullest. But all of this was for his own gratification, for whatever he felt like or wanted to do with you. It was hard for you to think with the weight on your chest, the water crashing down on your face, and the burning heat between your legs. 

God, it was hot. His tongue and his mouth were like fire, sucking and lapping at your clit with such fierce intensity. You knew that you shouldn’t be feeling good, that you should be screaming for help and struggling against him. No one would hear you this far down the coastline, anyway, but the point still stands. You should have been trying. Instead, all you could do was lay there, your nails digging into the slippery scales of his tail, fighting between coughing, moaning, and yelling out in pain. 

The longer his tongue ravaged you, the hotter you began to feel. It was so odd, how every nerve in your body was so sensitive. You had sex before, but your arousal never peaked to this level so early on. Why? Why was it happening? Why was he doing this? You didn’t want this. Did you? Of course, you didn’t. You wanted him to stop. 

“B-Bak-ack!” You hacked and coughed as water rushed into your mouth the instant you tried to speak, using what little strength you could to push yourself up on your elbows. “Bakugou, please-- please, stop-!” A yelp ripped from your throat as his hot tongue left your burning pussy, his teeth and fangs sinking into the plush meat of your inner thigh. Piercing the skin, the saltwater immediately began to burn the wound, but you still found yourself unable to pull away because of his hold on you. Even the slightest twitch had his nails digging into your skin, and by the reaction he gave from your attempt at begging, he didn’t want you to make a single move. 

His tongue ran over the now bleeding bite mark, a low groan rumbling from deep within his chest. He had found something new to taste, and he did so eagerly. “Fuck, you’re so delicious. So sweet and healthy… You’re perfect. I’ve always known you’d be perfect.” His words were almost slurred as if he were a drunken man on a ramble. That was the only way you could describe his actions as if he were intoxicated. But by what?

“I… Bakugou, what-” With a swift change of positions, you were suddenly beneath him, his hand on your throat and entire body weight on you. Before you could even scream or attempt to struggle, his mouth crashed down on yours, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. The metallic taste of your blood would have immediately made you gag if not for the tight grip he had on your throat, which was only further making you light-headed. You tried to push up against his chest, scratch at his arms, and push his hips off you with your legs, but you couldn’t. There was no energy or strength behind your struggles. 

In an instant, everything stopped. Bakugou removed his tongue from your throat, snapping his head up to look towards the beach. Before you noticed what he may have been looking at, you could hear him beginning to growl, a deep and threatening sound that made your stomach twist nervously. What was he looking at? 

With his grip still on your neck, you didn’t have much movement, but you didn’t need it. You could hear the voices of a group of people. How far away or what they had seen so far, you couldn’t tell, as the sound was muffled by the water around your ears. The need to protect yourself suddenly burst forth and you screamed out as loudly as your burning lungs would let you, forcing your body to thrash and struggle even as your limbs burned with searing pain. Had you said anything comprehensible? Had they heard you? 

They wouldn’t have been able to save you, anyway. You already knew that your fate was in Bakugou’s hands. 

In a rush of crushing water, churning foam, and stinging sand, you felt Bakugou snatch you by the right ankle and drag you out further into the sea, not even giving you a moment to take a breath or prepare yourself. You couldn’t open your eyes or struggle, not even as your body was suddenly wrapped tightly in a strong grip. Was he holding you now? Where was he taking you? You could tell that he was moving swiftly, and the incredible pressure building in your ears and your chest told you that he must have been traveling deeper. 

I’m going to drown…! My breath… I can’t hold it!

As the burning and painful strain on your body grew more severe, you couldn’t control your involuntary thrashing, pushing against his presence and kicking where you could. It hurt so bad, worse than anything you had ever felt, and you wished that you would just drift off into unconsciousness. That’s what you had heard happened to people when they drown sometimes. Why couldn’t that happen to you? Why were you being put through this? 

You felt like you had been underwater for hours, but when you finally breached the surface, your body immediately inhaled a massive amount of air, so quick and urgent that you began to cough violently. You didn’t know where you were, and you didn’t care. All you wanted was to find that sweet relief of air in your lungs and something to secure you to reality. When a rocky surface scraped against your flailing and searching hands, you clutched onto it for dear life, somehow pulling yourself out of the strong embrace of your kidnapper to try and claw your way up the ledge. 

Before you could get far, Bakugou’s strong presence pressed up against your back, one hand holding your hip while the other took hold of your neck, constricting and preventing your body from pulling in the air it needed. 

Too weak to resist, you finally forced your eyes open, tears spilling down your cheeks and further blurring your vision. As his lips came to press against your cheek, you whimpered and tried to gasp in the air to your aching lungs. “Ba… Bakugou, please, stop! Take me back to shore!” 

“I found this cave for us last night,” Bakugou ignored your plea, inhaling your scent as if your fear was addicting. “It’s perfect. No one can interrupt us… You’re safe.” 

“I’m not!” You glanced around, trying to take in your surroundings the best you could in the dim light. From what you could tell, you were in a cave, the only source of light being a hole above you where you could clearly see the beautiful blue sky. It was out of your reach, and with no other visible exits, you knew that this was going to be your tomb. “I’m not safe with you!” 

“You’ve always been safe with me,” Growling in your ear, Bakugou dug his nails into the skin of your neck, piercing the delicate flesh and making you whine. “Now more than ever. I’ll protect you with my life. You and our spawn. Our children…” 

What? That’s… he can’t! All of this was because he wanted to mate with you, to impregnate you and force you to have his children. Was that even possible? 

“But… I’m human! You can’t!” 

“I want you, damn it! No other female is worthy of me.” Moving his hand to instead tangle into your hair, he pulled your head back roughly, leaning in to run his tongue over the new bleeding scratches along your neck. Instantly, that same heat that you could still feel throbbing in your pussy spread like fire from the wounds, making you tremble from the stark difference of cold water against your burning skin. 

What is that…? I… It’s so hot! It feels so good. Is it some type of venom? Or… I can’t think…

Your mind was beginning to grow hazy from the heat, his teeth lightly scraping across the skin of your neck and shoulder the only thing you could feel outside of the fire. 

Bite me… Oh god… Bite me! No, no- what am I thinking? I don’t want it! 

A trembling gasp escaped your lips as his teeth clamped down on your skin, easily sinking into your flesh. The fire returned with another stroke of his tongue along the wound, but this time, it was so intense that your body began to quiver, panting into the stale cave air. You felt like you were boiling, half expecting the water around you to begin bubbling and churning with your flame. Your sex was incredibly hot and aching, and you squeezed your thighs together just so you could feel something. 

You needed relief. Whatever he was doing to you with each bite and lick of his tongue against your skin was driving you completely mad. “What… What are you doing to me? Why am I so hot?” 

A low, satisfied purr left Bakugou’s lips as he smirked against your cheek, releasing your hair to run his hands down along your sides. His nails caught and ripped holes into your swimsuit, which had already been ripped apart at the crotch, so it grew looser against your searing skin. “My mate… you’re almost ready for me.” With a light nudge of his nose against your cheek, you weakly turned your head in response, immediately giving into him the instant his lips pressed against yours. You didn’t care about the blood on his lips nor the strange sweet taste that rolled down your throat, making your belly flutter and burn. 

This wasn’t right. This wasn’t safe. What would happen to you if things went wrong? What was he going to be putting inside of you? He had said children… What did that mean? 

You wanted to contemplate these things, to try and focus on the questions bouncing about in your mind, but they slipped from your fingers the instant you tried to hold onto them. Your mind was clouded by nothing but heat, pain, longing, throbbing, and aching. All the fear you had been feeling was only a vague prickle along your spine, but it was nothing compared to the new overwhelming desire. 

Both of his hands gripping on tightly to your hips, Bakugou pressed you up tighter against the rocky ledge, the roughness of the jagged surface against your breasts and hard nipples forcing a soft moan from your lips. With the sound, Bakugou released your lips, pressing his own against your ear as he growled deep and low. 

“You’re going to be my mate forever. You hear me? You’re mine. You’re my little horny bitch to breed.” As he spoke to you, so dominating and controlling in a way that made your heart flutter, you felt a new presence between your legs you hadn’t noticed before. It was slick with a slimy consistency, with a curved, ridged head and bumps along the long sides that led back to Bakugou’s hips. It was pulsing and twitching up against your sex, every soft nudge to your clit nearly enough to make you come undone that instant. 

That’s his cock… It’s so big… How will it fit inside me? It’ll rip me open…! 

“Don’t-” You choked out weakly, trying to shift your hips away from him to no avail. “You can’t! That’ll rip me apart-!” Another harsh bite to your neck made you squeal, unconsciously arching back against him and stroking your cunt along the dick still between your thighs. The pain had you squeezing them together around his girth, bringing a deep groan from his chest, teeth still planted in your skin. The longer he stayed there, the hotter the wound became, spreading through your body like the many times before. “Ow, a-ah, that’s hot! It burns, Bakugou, please!” 

Instead of responding with words, Bakugou gave a thrust of his hips, stroking his cock along your sex. The instant he ran across your clit, all your restraint snapped like a twig, waves of pleasure rolling over you as you came. Trembling and moaning, you dug your nails into the rocks you were holding on to, spouting whatever words first came to your mind in a jumbled mess. 

“F-fuck, fuck! I’m so hot; It’s so hot! I can’t take it! Please, please no more!” 

“There’s only one way to make it go away,” Bakugou lapped up the blood on your neck, shifting his hips so that the tip of his cock rested at your still twitching hole. “I have to fill you up, until you’re nice and full of my spawn. Or else you’ll burn until you die.” 

“I-I don’t want them-!” 

“You do. Don’t you want to feel better?” 

“Yes.”

“You’ll love having me inside you.” 

“It’ll… feel good…” 

“So fucking good…-” Without waiting for your response, Bakugou began to press himself into you, the head of his thick cock slipping in. The stretch as he vanished inch by inch into your clenching pussy was unlike anything you had ever felt, his girth making you breathless. But it was unlike what you had expected. There was no pain, only an intense pressure and feeling as if you were full all the way up to your throat. By the time he had bottomed out inside you, you had cum again, just the feeling of him pressing against every inch of you enough to push you over the edge. With a low groan, Bakugou dug his nails into your hips, pressing his forehead against your shoulder. “Yes, you’re nice and ready for me. My little mate… so obedient.” 

Your mind was blank to everything but the heat and his overwhelming presence inside you. The sensitivity of your body was heightened to the point that you could feel every ridge, every bump and groove of his cock. As he gave his first slow roll of his hips, pulling all the way out to the tip before plunging in again, you immediately lost all control, craving nothing but the pleasure. 

“Fuck, fuck, I can’t take it! Fuck me, please! Use me! I’m your mate, I want your spawn, please-” Your encouragement immediately set him off to fuck you at a faster pace, slamming into your cunt. Your voice was something that you couldn’t restrain, screaming, moaning, and begging for him to use you. 

“Yeah, that’s it! My filthy little breeding bitch. Tell me who you belong to!” 

“Y-you! I belong to you! I’ll be yours forever- you can use me whenever you want!” 

“You’ll never resist me again?” 

“No, no! Never!” 

As the pleasure began to build rapidly, you rested your forehead against your arm, your eyes rolling back  and unable to stop the drool that dripped down your chin, your mouth permanently open with the most lewd sounds you had ever made. He was using you like a sex toy, fucking you at his own pace and indulging completely in his own pleasures. You didn’t care what he did to you at this point, how many scratches marked your back or how much blood you had lost to his bites. All you could think about was him and his cock inside you. 

You were unsure how long he fucked you like this, but after your third time cumming, he gripped you by the neck and pulled your upper body back. His presence inside you had your hips arched up in perfect position for him, and he didn’t stop, not even as he growled into your ear. 

“Take them all into your hot and precious womb… With this, your body will never be the same for any other man or creature. You are mine. You will be mine forever.” With a few final thrusts, Bakugou came to a stop, buried so deep inside of you that you could feel your cervix stretching uncomfortably. At first, all you could feel was a growing heat, coating your walls and making your core tingle relentlessly. Your clenching and tense core began to pulse with your rapid heartbeat in a way that was new to you, allowing you to relax in his grip. Although your mind was still aching to rid yourself of the fire, whatever was happening to you now loosened your anxious, aching muscles. 

Then came the first egg. About the size of a tennis ball, it passed through Bakugou’s cock slowly, only taking a moment to squeeze into your cunt. Gasping fearfully as it continued to slowly move closer, you gripped onto Bakugou’s hand that was around your throat, finding that you were unable to feel your legs enough to try and kick him off. “N-no, no! It won’t fit- a-ah!” Leaning your head back with your mouth and eyes wide open in a silent scream, you were unable to stop him as he lightly bucked his hips into you, urging the egg further down his shaft. With each light thrust, it moved deeper and deeper, stretching you open. When it finally reached his tip, Bakugou gave a grunt as he snapped his hips roughly into yours, bringing forth a scream from your throat as you came hard from the pressure of the egg breaching your cervix into your womb. 

The waves of your orgasm helped to pass it through, your eyes rolled back as it passed. There was no pain, but you could feel the new presence in your lower belly, tucked safely inside of you. 

Releasing his arm, your hands slid down to caress your own belly, pressing into your lower abdomen lightly. You could feel the tip of Bakugou’s cock inside you, and your light pressure made him growl in your ear. 

“Watch it, my pet.” 

“I… I want to feel it.” 

The next egg coming through was just as blissful as the first, bringing you to orgasm as you kept your fingers pressed into your body. You could feel it this time against your fingertips, bringing a smile to your lips as you bit down eagerly onto your bottom lip. Never in your life had you imagined such pleasure would be yours, to be used and adored by a creature in such an intimate way. 

It was heaven. 

Eight more followed, bloating your belly. Whatever numbing he had done to you had spread to your stomach, so your muscles were relaxed enough to take on the new presence inside you. You felt full, as if you had eaten an incredibly large meal, but there was no pain. Still, that burning need of satisfaction was ravaging your body. It hadn’t gone away like he had promised it would. Was he not done with you? 

Removing his cock from your ravaged body, Bakugou flipped you over to face him, resting you back against the side of the ledge. With a weak grip, you kept yourself up with your legs around his waist, your arms resting limply by your sides. For a moment, you just stared at each other, giving you time to observe his brilliant and handsomely fine features. He was perfection, from the blonde fluff of spiked hair atop his head, to flawless skin, to muscular frame that had you swooning the first time you had met him. He was so gorgeous, and all the sudden so… gentle. 

With your new position, he found the opportunity to caress your swollen belly, running his hands along your skin as he gazed down at your form through the clear, rippling water. It was such an odd look to you. Was it longing? Love? Or was it just pride in the work that he had done here, filling you up with his eggs and making you submit to him. 

Did he even care about you at all? Or did he just care about keeping your body to use as he pleased? 

You were pulled from your stupor of staring at him as his hands traveled up to your breasts, taking hold of the remnants of your swimsuit and ripping it apart. The fabric discarded off to the side, Bakugou leaned in to kiss you again as he squeezed and massaged your breasts, pinching your sensitive nipples between his fingers. Your mouth opened for him with a moan, allowing him to kiss you as he pleased. 

That sweet taste filled your mouth again, making you writhe and wrap your arms around his neck in discomfort of the spreading fire. Your body began to ache again, digging your nails into his skin as you moaned and panted against his lips, which refused to let yours go. Then, without a word, you felt the familiar blunt presence of his cock at your twitching hole, slipping into place like he was simply putting on a glove. You trembled against him as you tried to moan, begging against the kiss for him to let you breathe with any little moment that came your way. He didn’t. He continued to kiss you, to bite and nibble at your lip and your tongue, his sharp fangs piercing the delicate flesh when he was a bit too rough. 

“You’re so delicious,” Bakugou groaned against your lips, glaring into your gaze as your fierce need for pleasure grew more severe. “I never want to stop tasting you.” 

“I-I want to be done… Bakugou, I want to stop-” A squeak escaped your lips as he dug his cock deeper into your cunt, a new presence making itself known as it slithered up along your clit and against your pelvis. It was just as slimy and wet as the cock inside you, but it was smooth, pointed, and not quite as thick. You wanted to look down between your bodies to see, but you were too distracted by his smirk, his tongue dancing across his blood-stained lips. 

“I’m not done with you yet.” 

In that same moment, the new appendage that you couldn’t identify began to press against your cunt, beginning to enter you along with his cock. As you were stretched open, you clutched onto his shoulders, gasping and choking on your attempts to breathe. “N-no, wait-!” Clenching your eyes shut, you pushed back on his chest, but your weak body was no match against his overwhelming presence. “Don’t- not both! I can’t!” 

Sighing in satisfaction as his hand slid up your body to grip the hair at the back of your head, Bakugou pressed his lips against your cheek, his smirk only growing wider. “You can! I would have only done one at a time, but you’ve just been so naughty fighting against me like this. I have to teach you a fucking lesson, that your body belongs to me.” 

“I-I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I won’t fight anymore! I won’t!” Tears began to stream down your face as he forced both of his dicks into your cunt. If not for the fire within you that begged for pleasure and the still relaxed muscles from the eggs, you knew that you would be in severe pain. There was none. No, the pleasure is what was driving you mad. You couldn’t take it. It was going to make you go crazy if he kept this up, and you couldn’t bear the thought of him moving. 

When he finally began to thrust into you, it rocked your body so hard with pleasure that you couldn’t even find the air to scream or moan. All you could do was lean back against the rocks, not even able to feel the scratching against your back as he pounded into you, hard and deep. Head leaning back, you were sure that you must have had an insane look on your face, with your eyes rolled back and a wide, pleasured smile on your lips. But you couldn’t help it. 

It was amazing. You wanted nothing more in that moment than to feel his cocks inside you forever, to be fucked and bred at every chance you possibly had. Nothing could ever compare to this bliss, not even achieving your wildest dreams. Your body was going to belong to him. Your soul was going to belong to him. 

This wasn’t right. 

How could you give in like this? How could he break you so easily? 

It didn’t matter. 

“You like my dicks inside you, huh, my pretty mate?” Bakugou hissed in your ear, pulling your consciousness to the front just for a moment. 

“I-I love… I love them. So good! Bakugou-” 

“-No. Katsuki.” He purred against your lips, watching as your face contorted with your oncoming orgasm. 

“Yes… Yes, Katsuki!” 

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” 

“I’m yours, Katsuki! Fuck, I’m going to cum, fuck, I can’t- I can’t hold it! I can’t!” Your entire body seized up with your release, clutching onto him tightly. With his final few erratic thrusts, Bakugou let out a heavy groan, digging his cocks as deep into you as he could. You could feel his hot release into you, the second dick pulsing and coating your walls. What was more, you could feel the very tip of it dug into your womb, filling you up directly with his cum to join the eggs. You couldn’t believe that you could feel it all so clearly, your body so sensitive and yet so in tune with his that it had seemed you were familiar with this. 

You weren’t, of course. As he removed himself from you, leaving you feeling incredibly empty, all your energy felt like it left with him and you collapsed forward, head against his chest. You couldn’t feel him caressing you. You couldn’t feel his fingers tenderly stroking your hair. All you could feel, as the fire within your core began to vanish, was an overwhelming sense of shame. What had you just done? What had you just been forced to do? None of this was right. You shouldn’t be here. 

Those things you had said to him… you didn’t mean it. Did you? Did you really want to belong to him? Were you really going to just lay down and accept that this was it? 

“[Name].” 

Jumping at the sound of his voice, you timidly sat up, looking up at him in fear as a new wave of tears rolled down your cheeks. Too scared to talk, you waited for him to continue, not even wanting to blink in fear that he would react badly. Though, his expression was quite soft, his crimson eyes glancing over your face with worry. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I… yes.”  You could barely find it in you to speak, the words coming out as a choked whisper. Why did you say that? Of course you weren’t okay. You were scratched up, bitten, bruised, and filled with eggs, for fucks sake! Why weren’t you yelling and screaming at him?

“Here.” Caressing you carefully, Bakugou moved you both over to a different ledge, carefully lifting you up to sit on it. “There’s a blanket and other things there for you.” 

Sitting there with your legs dangling in the water, you slowly wrapped your arms around your swollen belly, beginning to tremble from the cold. “O… okay.” 

With a frustrated grunt at the fact that you neglected to move, Bakugou hoisted himself up onto the ledge, sitting beside you and reaching back to snatch the blanket he had mentioned. “Damn stupid woman, you need to stay warm!” As he draped it around your shoulders, you couldn’t stop but flinch away from him a bit, tears still streaming down your face in fear. “Why are you scared of me?” 

“I don’t… want you to hurt me anymore.” 

Bakugou gave the back of your head a gentle stroke, letting his arm rest around your back. “You got it all wrong, moron. I don’t want to hurt you. Your wounds will heal quickly because of my venom… And being sore won’t last, you’ll be numb for a while.” 

“You act like you’ve done this before.” 

“... We don’t need to talk about that. It doesn’t fucking matter. You’re all I care about, now. I’m going to protect you.” Bakugou caressed your cheek, turning your head to look up at him. “I don’t just go for random women. I picked you for more than just your body. You should rest…” 

His final words were more of a command than a suggestion, and with that gruff growl in his voice, you listened. Scooting back towards the pad of blankets he had set up on the ground, you used the one around your shoulders to first dry off the best you could, before shuffling under the others. It was warm and oddly comfortable, but you expected that you’d find even a bed full of needles comfortable with how exhausted you were. As you settled down on your side, you watched Bakugou as he slipped back into the water, vanishing beneath the surface and leaving you alone in the cave. 

With the silence, more tears began to flow down your cheeks, running your hands up and down along your swollen belly as you craved the warmth of the sun and the cheeky grinning merman you had loved just yesterday. 

[whatifxwereyou]

The Oncoming Storm Part 2: Fire

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 2021

Liu Kang x Reader or Kung Lao x Reader

Summary: You wake up somewhere strange *again*. This time your underground and greeted by Liu Kang. For some reason you trust him, but why?

A/N: Have I mentioned I’m a huge fan of the slow burn? Whoops. I’ll let you guys know when the paths are branching between Lao/Liu. Thanks for reading and hope you keep enjoying! Also, thanks for coming to my TED talk.

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Warm flames flickered off brown-gray stone walls. Other than the burning flame to your right, the room was small and dark. There was no door and you could hear movement somewhere beyond its opening. I’m underground, you thought. The air smelled musty and it was so dry that your nose burned. Underground and maybe in the desert. You closed your eyes again quickly.

In your mind’s eye you pictured the small purple flower Kung Lao had given you in your youth. Frail and rare. Many flowers had grown in your hometown but purple had been a new and exotic color. You’d always been fond of it afterward. You’d never gotten the chance to tell Kung Lao that. For a time you had kept it pressed between the pages of your favorite book as a memorial to the boy who had been your best friend. You hadn’t thought about the flower in years. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about him.

The details of what happened were fuzzy. You remembered the fight in your shop and remembered waking up to the face of Kung Lao. It was still insane to think that the boy you’d thought dead was, in fact, alive and in good health. It was even crazier to think that he’d been the one to save you from the fire in your shop.

You shook away the memory lest it return you to the darkness of unconsciousness.

You were, again, in an unfamiliar bed but things were vastly different. You’d been cared for and changed into a modest dressing gown, judging by the soft but coarse material. This had likely been done by a health professional. You were certain that Kung Lao must have brought you somewhere to be helped. Then again, most hospitals you knew of weren’t underground and they certainly didn’t use these types of gowns. It wasn’t a hospital gown, more like the type of gown that would have been worn for bed in ages past. Long and thin, but warm. You pictured it off-white. The one you wore had no sleeves, most likely for ease of access since you’d been injured.

You had to decide if you should panic or not. If you looked around and saw a medical professional or Kung Lao then you would remain calm. If you didn’t then panic seemed the way to go. Opening your eyes again, you were relieved that the world didn’t spin and you weren’t nauseous. But there was no doctor and definitely no Kung Lao.

There was a different man in his place, unfamiliar, shorter in stature, his gaze focused on something other than you. He was dressed mostly in black, no sleeves (which seemed the fashion of this underground wherever), and a red sash tied around his middle. His demeanor was calm and quiet and in his left hand he clutched a string of prayer beads. His skin was dusted with soot or grease, you couldn’t tell. He looked as though he had been handling charcoal for hours. He was also surprisingly muscular.

And handsome. You wouldn’t deny that you’d admired him. His brow was knit with concern and as you shifted, he turned toward you. Brown eyes met yours with genuine concern and he held a hand up defensively. “Take it slow.” His voice was soothing but this was all too familiar.

A strange bed and a stranger next to it after having fallen unconscious. He was telling you how what to do and how to feel. Again. Not a chance! On the small table next to the head of the bed there was a bowl half-filled with water and some medical tools. The tool closest to you was a hook used for stitching up wounds. It wasn’t the best weapon but it was all you could reach. You sat upright quickly, snatched the hook, and moved far enough away from the stranger that you had room to breathe and could better gauge his intent and reactions.

But you had moved too quickly and suddenly there were ten of him as the room spun. You thought you might puke if he got any closer. That would get him away from you, probably better than the needle would. Much to your surprise, he laughed with the subtlest of smiles. The smile radiated more from his eyes amidst his worry than it did outwardly. “You’re surprisingly fast for someone who has been in and out of consciousness for over a week.”

“A… a week?” You stuttered and forced your vision to focus on the blurry version of him smiling in the middle. Thankfully, your brain obeyed and the room stopped spinning. He didn’t seem to pose you any threat. You could tell just by his smile. A smile that made him all the more handsome. The time that had passed was not important so you didn’t wait for an answer to your initial question. “Who are you? Where am I? And where is Kung Lao?” Those three things were at the top of your list now that you were thinking clearly. There were a hundred other questions you had about Mortal Kombat, the dragon mark on your back, and other realms but you figured those could come later. Dealing with the here and now; that was the right way to do it.

“I am Liu Kang.” He bowed his head, holding up his prayer beads as he did. “You are in Raiden’s Temple where the Order of Light gathers to protect Earthrealm. Kung Lao is off on an errand at Lord Raiden’s behest. I assure you that he did not wish to leave you but had little other choice.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, you leaned against the cool stone behind you. Answers, finally. “I’m Y/N. Thank you for answering my questions.”

“Kung Lao mentioned you would likely be defensive.” Liu Kang gestured to the bowl on the nightstand. “I have been caring for your wounds. I do not usually tend to the sick but I promised my cousin that I would see you were cared for.”

“Cousin?”

“Kung Lao. He is my brother. Not by blood but by bond.”

That was a relief. At least this complete stranger had a connection to the other near complete stranger that you’d met the last time you’d woken up in a strange place. Wait… hadn’t you gone blind? Setting the hook back down on the side table, you patted your face in search of a mark or wound that would have caused that. There was none. Liu Kang’s eyes were sparkling in amusement.

“The last thing I remember is losing my vision.” You explained.

“Yes, about that.” Liu Kang moved the hook back to its original place. “The men who attacked your shop were vicious and cruel warriors. They were gifted but squandered their gifts to satiate their greed, a thing that can never be sated. You did the world a favor by stopping them. However, the blades that wounded you were coated in a rare poison. It is lucky that Kung Lao found you and could bring you to us for treatment. The blindness was a temporary side effect of the poison.”

“Poison?” This was wild. That morning you’d been stocking your shop and had taught a class of ten-year-olds. Now you’d been attacked, killed a few men, and had been poisoned. Wild. You supposed, in reality, it had been over a week ago and not that morning. Whatever. You decided to take the blows as they came. Deal with the problems and insanity as it happened. It was the only way to keep a clear head.

“It took many days and much prayer but we bled the poison from your wounds. Now they should begin to heal.”

“I’m still stuck on the poison part of this story. Really? Who does that?”

“You must be very resilient, Miss Y/N. Even the mightiest of warriors poisoned so terribly would submit to death. You are a fighter.”

“Thanks… I think.”

Liu Kang bowed his head again respectfully. He was easy to talk to, you weren’t sure why. You’d been careful around Kung Lao but you found yourself immediately not careful around Liu Kang. There was an instant connection to him.

“I was ill as a child. It made me more resilient to sickness, perhaps.” You had been ill but it had been the kind of illness that parents sent their children away for, the kind where they couldn’t explain how their child saw or did things beyond their understanding. It had made you terribly sick and weak. Why were you telling him this? It’d slipped out of your mouth without permission from your lips.

“I have not met many who would credit childhood illness for their resilience.”

“Perhaps I’m more stubborn than most. I’ve been told I have thick skin. The kids would tease me for being different. I was told that I would never be strong. I would never catch up. Never be normal. I didn’t like that word, not even as a kid.”

“Which one?”

“Never.”

That subtle smile again. Damn, it was attractive.

“I’m sorry.” You laughed with an apologetic bow of your own. Your head spun and you mentally cursed your politeness. “I didn’t mean to say all that. It just slipped out.”

“It’s no problem. I would like you to continue your story if you would.”

“Only if you’re certain.”

“I assure you that I’m not merely being polite.” There was something genuine about his words, as if he considered them carefully before he spoke. Perhaps Kung Lao had warned him about you. Or perhaps he was just careful. Your first instinct had been to jump at them both. It was their every right to be defensive but you couldn’t be blamed either. “How did you overcome your illness?”

“I fought. I worked harder than most did just to be on the same level as everyone else. I grew out of my sickness with age and thanks to my hard work I became stronger than most. After that I dedicated my life to teaching others to become strong, to be more than the ‘never’ we’re told we’ll be.”

“Admirable.” Liu Kang seemed as relieved as you had been upon discovering he was not there to hurt you. Maybe he’d been worried about your intent too. “It is nice to have another worthy of their marking.”

“The dragon mark?”

“Yes.”

“About that…”

“Do you know why you are here?”

“Kung Lao said something about being chosen because of the mark but I’m guessing that the mark only came to me because I killed those men. Am I right? It had to belong to one of them. It’s less like I was chosen and more like… I stole it.”

“Yes. Did Kung Lao tell you? He said you wouldn’t understand.”

“I assume that he would have told me but then I went blind. As you can imagine, I no longer cared much about the mark after that.” You laughed and so did Liu Kang. His laugh was quiet and genuine. It made you smile far more than should have been allowed. His joy was as comforting as the flickering light of the candle on the side table. “I didn’t have the mark that morning. I can only assume that was when I got it. Weirder things have happened so it was as good a guess as any.”

“Your intuition is remarkable.”

“What happens next?”

“For now you heal.” Liu Kang gestured to your arms. The gauze wrapped around your forearms was stained with blood even though the dressings looked fresh. You didn’t feel any pain. Either you’d been given good drugs to deal or adrenaline was protecting you. “You are in no condition to begin training. Lord Raiden has been told about you. I am keeping him informed on your condition.”

“So, you’re my babysitter.”

“I prefer caretaker. But yes.”

“If it’s been a week and I’m still bleeding like this then I have a feeling it could take awhile to heal. Can I learn more in the meantime? About any of this? I don’t want to just sleep and sit around doing nothing. I don’t know anything about this place and I know very little about the Order of Light. And I definitely don’t know anything about this mark or Mortal Kombat.” Liu Kang seemed surprised, but pleasantly so, as if this were something he’d greatly desired to hear.

“You really want to learn more?” He smiled brightly. You nodded. “The masters have trained me for years in matters of Mortal Kombat and the protection of Earthrealm. I would be happy to teach you if you would allow me.”

“I would be delighted to have the company, Liu Kang.” You very much meant that.

“I have some work to do around the temple but we can start this evening.”

“Perfect.”

Next Chapter >>

[thran-duils]

Doll Me Up (P.5)

Title: Doll Me Up (Part Five) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Tony Stark. On good days, you and Tony were a power couple. You, a perfect trophy wife with your hands in local charities to promote a wholesome image. Tony, business man but sullied with organized crime. He indulged in his illegal gambling, extortion, and political corruption. And he indulged in his escort business. Hell, that is where he had found you. You were a brat, and he loved a challenge. Words: 3,059 Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, smut, daddy kink, dom/sub, manipulation, death, violence, possessive behavior Author’s Note: I’m not sure if this is the last part but I’m leaning towards it.

Part Four || Part Six || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Five and a half months ago…

Tony blinked against the sun as they left the news station. Y/N had facilitated a project, along with others, to bring seniors more fresh produce in their Meals on Wheels local program. She was excited about the project and Tony honestly could not give two shits about it but if it made her happy, he was happy to be there with her. He loved seeing the joyous smile on her face and her enthusiasm talking about it.

His hand was wrapped tightly around her waist as they walked out towards his car. And his smile only faltered when he spotted a familiar face in the crowd across the street. And a face he did not want to be seeing in public like this. And they were staring directly at him, like they had been waiting for him.

Tony turned to Y/N and whispered in her ear, “I need to go to the restroom.”

“We were just inside,” she jested. “Why didn’t you go then?”

“I didn’t have to go then. Here.” He opened the door for her, letting her get in. “I’ll be right back.”

To Happy, he whispered, “Fabian.”

“What do you want me to do?” Happy asked quietly, keeping his sights on Tony and not being obvious.

“Stay here with Y/N. I’ll be right back.”

“Boss—”

“He’s not going to lay a finger on me.” Tony said and Happy looked at him disbelieving. Tony was being overconfident about it and he knew it but he could not accept lowlifes trying to approach him in public like this. “Stay here with her. I’ll be back.”

Tony walked away from the car, moving back down the sidewalk. He spotted Fabian moving through it and he smirked to himself. He walked past the news station doors, and down the immediate alley.

He was waiting when Fabian entered the alley, standing dead center, hands in his pockets. If looks could smite, Fabian would have burned on the spot. “What makes you think you can come up to me in public?”

“You haven’t been returning my calls I’ve been leaving!”

“Yeah and for good reason. You’re unhinged!”

“That wasn’t my—"

Tony stepped closer, spitting, “You listen closely, Fabian, I am done with you and your bullshit! You are done. Do you get that? You had your chance and you fucked up. And I cannot be seen in public with you. You know that though. You squeal to anyone and you won’t just have me after you, you’ll have the whole city gunning for you with how many people are tied to it and you will. not. win. If you ever come up to me in public again – especially when I’m out with my wife – I will kill you on the spot.”

Tony straightened out his jacket before storming away from the man who was staring at him slack jacked. Tony did not give him a moment to respond before he was around him and striding back down the alley.

When he got into the car, Y/N was none the wiser.

She was immediately back into conversation, talking about what good this interview was going to do for the project and thanking him for coming along with her. Tony smiled sweetly, listening intently. His adoration for her wove deeply. He truly had recovered a true gem from the rabble.

<><><>

You stared at the door in bewilderment before touching it again. F.R.I.D.A.Y. repeated, “You are not authorized to open this door, Mrs. Stark.”

“Excuse me?” you word vomited.

“Do you need me to repeat the message, Mrs. Stark?”

You hated how calm F.R.I.D.A.Y. sounded.

“Override,” you tried.

“You do not have authorization to do that, Mrs. Stark.”

“Why can’t I go outside?”

“Mr. Stark blocked access at this door.”

You let out a frustrated noise before turning away from the door. You walked to the bedroom door, feeling the ache but you had to know. You walked down the stairs, taking them slowly. You went to the closest patio door, gripping the handle tightly.

“You are not authorized to open this door, Mrs. Stark.”

Breathing heavily through your nose, trying to keep yourself calm, you turned your head eyeing the next patio door.

Her voice was becoming quickly annoying. “You’re not authorized to open this door, Mrs. Stark.”

You took off around the mansion, trying all the doors leading to the outside but you got the same code when it read your fingerprint. You made your way to the front door, the door to the garage, out to the garden. It was all the same message. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly, it sinking in that you were locked inside.

The thought of the kitchen door out to the pool came to you and you moved as quickly as you could there. You stalled seeing Happy standing in there, cutting an apple. He stilled seeing you and you did not miss the sly look he gave you as you moved through the kitchen, past the island where he was standing.

The same goddamn message.

You whipped around and stared at Happy.

“Let me out!” you demanded.

“I can’t override what the boss has inputted into the security system. You know that,” Happy said in passive tone, looking completely indifferent to how worked up you were.

“Where is he?”

“He left earlier.”

“Well, did he happen to mention to you why he was locking me inside?” you exasperated, throwing your hands out at your sides.

Happy sucked at his teeth, leveling you with a serious look. “Y/N, do you really need to be asking me that? Truly?”

You bit your cheeks to avoid shouting at him and forced yourself to turn on your heel and storm out of the room away from him. You made your way back up the stairs, going for your bedroom where your cell was waiting on the bedside table. Snatching it off the table, you pressed Tony’s name.

“Yes, kitten?” he answered calmly.

“Your stupid AI won’t let me out!” you exclaimed.

“Yeah, I programmed that this morning.”

“You…,” you started to argue but then your voice went up a notch, trying to whine. “Daddy, you can’t keep me locked in here!”

“Can’t or shouldn’t? Because it looks like I’m already doing it, so I apparently can,” Tony replied coolly.

“You shouldn’t then!” You added for good measure quickly, “Please!”

Tony’s tone was firm when he told you, “I think I very well should. You crossed a lot of lines and I am not fucking around when I tell you that they were lines that shouldn’t be crossed. You brought this on yourself, Y/N. Maybe if you spent less time throwing tantrums and more time listening to me, you wouldn’t have found yourself here. And hopefully you won’t again. I certainly hope you won’t again. I know you can do better.”

You were quiet, biting back tears. You thought you would be cuddling this morning, everything slowly falling back to normal.

He heard you sniffle and the sound of it elicited a soft sigh from him. “Princess, you can earn my trust back. I’m a reasonable man.”

“I said I was sorry,” you said tearfully.

“Oh, I know you did. And it was heartfelt. And you did so very well last night. I was impressed by you. Truly, baby. But I need to be sure you understand how serious I am that I don’t want you to repeat that. Ever.”

You asked weakly, “When are you coming back?”

“Tonight. I won’t leave you for long. And I’m going to bring you something. But you need to just sit tight. Be good for Happy.”

You did not answer because you were staring out the window, grinding your teeth.

“Princess?”

His voice snapped you back to reality and you got out, “I’ll be good.”

“That’s what I like to hear. By the way, I set up an appointment for you today, last minute. It’s a virtual meeting. Happy knows about it, he’ll help you. OB/GYN. F.R.I.D.A.Y will scan you, the baby, send it to her and she’ll correspond.”

“She’ll correspond with… F.R.I.D.A.Y?” you asked slowly.

“Just this one time. I promise we have a real appointment next week. I’ll be at every one after this and we will do it in person. Cross my heart.”

Your voice was small, “Okay.”

“I’ll see you later. Be good.”

“I will, daddy.”

He hung up and you pulled the phone away from your ear, staring down at it. He was acting weird. He acknowledged what had happened but moved so seamlessly into baby talk and appointments.

How were you going to relax knowing you were stuck in here?

<><><>

Five months ago…

The art show was boring and even more so for the afterpart of it. You had no desire to speak to anyone about it and they were all gathered in the large center room drinking wine and having finger foods. You had excused yourself to go to the bathroom and you removed your underwear, tossing them into the trash bin before leaving to find Tony,

Tony was speaking to someone, sitting on a set of small chairs. The sight of you caught his attention and you put your finger to your lips. He only spared you a second’s confused look before looking back at the man. But his gaze found you again quickly, curiosity getting the better of him. Over the man’s shoulder, hidden from the rest of the room by the large plant, you opened the slit in your dress, showing Tony you were not wearing any underwear. He began to smile and hid it by his hand came to his mouth, it balling into a fist as he stared daggers at you. You gave him a wide, tantalizing grin, beginning to walk backwards towards the doorway to the adjacent hallway.

You left him sitting on the couch, dropping your dress. The hallway was empty, and you walked slowly down it, taking in the art.

It did not take long for you to hear footsteps behind you, and you looked over your shoulder finding a very hot and bothered Tony coming down towards you. He wasted no time pushing you into the corner at the turn in the hall, his hands snaking up your dress. You turned your head, giving a throaty laugh.

“Listen here… if you wanna come, you better look at me,” Tony husked.

“There’s people—”

“You started it.”

You nipped at his nose and he buried his face into your neck in return. He resumed pressing you into the wall, his fingers slipping in to work you up.

<><><>

Three months ago…

People were outside in the pool, drunk in the summer sun. You though, you were inside, sitting against the wall, pouting. Some of your old escort friends had shown up per request for the guests attending and told you they were planning a trip to Vancouver to do some shopping and ‘go out on the town’ in a few weekends. You had been excited about the prospect, you had not been out like that for a long time. When you had left the group though and leaned over Tony’s shoulder at the poker game to tell him about it, he had waved you off.

“You’re not going,” had been his exact words.

Instead of going back to the girls, you had gone inside, not wanting to tell them the bad news. At the inside bar, you had taken a couple of shots and made sure Tony saw you walk by the window. You tossed him a glare as you passed. Him and his stupid open shirt over his dumb swim trunks – that you had specifically picked out earlier this week when you were shopping – could get fucked right now for all you cared.

It was not too long before Tony appeared in front of you, peering down at you, looking ever piqued. He was not happy you were sulking.

“You know, you’re really bringing down my mood, princess. Glaring at me like that because I had the audacity to deny you one thing out of millions.”

“Then stop looking at me,” you retorted, avoiding his eyes, still staring off out towards the pool party.

You heard him scoff and he said, “Don’t even try to throw a tantrum right now.”

“I’m not. I’m just sitting here.”

“Looking like I killed your fucking dog.”

You merely shrugged aggressively in response.

He gestured out towards the patio doors. “You know they’re only going to get in trouble up there. And I don’t want you to get wrapped up in it.”

“So, you don’t trust me to be faithful,” you said finally making eye contact with him.

Tony held up a finger to you and corrected firmly, “That’s not what I said.”

“That’s exactly what you’re saying!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands down beside you on the bench. “You don’t trust me!”

“Don’t try to make this into something that it’s not. I don’t trust them to keep you out of trouble,” Tony retorted. “You know how they are! You were – are – friends with them for fucks sake!” You opened your mouth to argue and he cut you off. “No, I’m done with this conversation. You know what I meant. I’m sorry that you are upset but there’s a reason I’m saying no to it. Now, either shape up and come back outside or go upstairs if you’re going to just glower at me.”

Clenching your jaw, you stood up angrily and stormed off away from him towards the upstairs.

You decided on a whim to leave, grabbing a swim suit cover and throwing some sandals on. Downstairs you ran into one of Tony’s guys and you stopped because of the way he was staring at you. You had wanted to leave without anyone noticing but seemed like that was not going to be the case.

His eyes ran over you, taking you in. “You alright?” he asked curiously, his eyes narrowing.

“Yeah, peachy. Have fun with your dumb poker game,” you spat at him before turning and walking to the front door.

You got into the car, turning it on angrily. You knew you should not be driving but you just did not want to be at home anymore. And Cassandra’s was not too far away, only twenty five minutes or so. You took off down the driveway, actually smirking of the look on his face when F.R.I.D.A.Y informed Tony you had left whenever he decided to check in on you. That should be awhile because he had been on a winning roll.

<><><>

He did not announce himself and you only realized he was home because F.R.I.D.A.Y came over the speaker in the living room informing you, “Dinner is ready in the kitchen.”

When you walked into the kitchen, he was a complete 180 from the night before. He walked up, giving you a kiss on the forehead, asking then sincerely, “How was your day?”

“Fine…” you said, trailing off, giving him a curious look at his nonchalant demeanor.

He brushed it off, grasping your hand and began to lead you to your plate he had set up on the island next to one for him. “That’s good, kitten. Here. I hope you’re hungry.” He immediately paused and said under his breath, “Fuck. Hold on.”

Tony walked off to the pantry and your eyes wandered to the counter. You looked down at the plate and saw it was the dish from your favorite date night restaurant. He did that on purpose, you thought immediately. To remind you he remembered things you liked. To get you something that you did like. It was like an apology, extending an olive branch. This is how he knew how to apologize, with gifts.

You waited patiently until he came back with a long lighter. He smiled at you, lighting the small candle on the counter in between your plates. “Just like at the restaurant.”

A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth at the small touch.

“Sorry, it’s just sparkling cider,” he told you, gesturing at the glass in front of your plate. He held up his bourbon and took a swift drink.

“It’s fine, thanks,” you said, picking up your fork and taking a bite. You savored the taste, chewing slowly.

Silence fell over the table and the two of you ate, both staring down at your plates as you ate. There was something hanging in the air between you and you just wanted to know what.

You got your answer soon enough. Tony’s sigh was heavy as he dropped his fork to his plate. “You know… I do have to apologize.”

That caught your attention.

“I hate doing it. You know I do,” he said, giving a little nervous laugh. “Admitting I’m wrong. Goes against everything in my genes. But… I could—should have done better with aftercare. The bath was bare minimum. I know you need more. We talked about it. And I… I lost my temper. And that’s not fair of me when I’m in the position I am in.”

He had your rapt attention, you tracking his every word. What he said was not untrue – you two had had a conversation about aftercare, especially when it came to punishments. He seemed genuine in his apology.

Tony made eye contact with you, grasping your hand. “In the future, especially during your pregnancy—” He cut off. “And I looked at the report. Everything seems to be okay?” You nodded and he nodded in return, “Good. Good… I need to be more careful. I need to do better. So… I’m sorry.”

You chewed your lip, taking what he said in. He was waiting for you to respond, to say anything, his eyes desperately searching yours.

“I accept your apology,” you told him.

Tony was pleased, his frame relaxing immediately at your forgiveness. Your hand was brought to his lips for a quick kiss. “You’re good. So good.” He stepped closer, and his free hand came to the side of your face, looking into your eyes deeply. “So, after dinner… maybe I can lotion you down?”

“The raspberry shea?”

“Yes, of course. Whatever you want.”

Three words he always said but did not seem to follow through on.

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21

Fic tags: @kvzctam, @farihafangirls, @teenageregression, @mrsnegan25

[egotheplanet]

Betrothed (Gladiator!Eren Jaeger x Princess!Reader)

{Part 1 of my Mystical Realm AU Masterlist}

Summary: Eren Jaeger is a gladiator with the stage name ‘Titan’ who wins your hand and defends your honor in a match against the rival kingdom of your land.

Word Count: 3k

TW: Blood, Violence, Arranged Marriage, Fainting, Creepy Step-Father, Lots of Commas

 The screams of the crowd are deafening as you approach the Royal-Access-Only entrance of the arena. Your step-father, ruler of the Kingdom of Chandovich, sent a request through his most trusted advisor. All he explained to Sir Rivaille, was to escort you to the match. No amount of questions you proposed to the knight would reveal any new information, since he only knew as much as you did.

 He’s never once done this before. The king and queen are both well aware how much you hate the brutality of it all. You squint at the bright light of the end of the hallway and you ponder why he wants you there now. The only thing you know for certain is that his favorite gladiator is fighting on the kingdoms behalf today.

 Eren Jaeger.

 An undefeated beast of a man going for his 60th consecutive win. The match today is against the rivaling kingdoms champion, the Beast as he is aptly called. Your father always places a delicious incentive for the winner and is known for keeping his word.

 Your mind swirls with wonder and your stomach sinks with anxiety while you think about what he promised today and what it has to do with you being there. As you enter the royal box seat, the view of adoring fans and your fathers back enters your view. The clanging of metal swords against shields assaults your ear drums. The seats are on the floor level and this close to the stage, you can see the sweat rolling off the fighters’ bodies.

 The Titan, Erens well earned stage name, beats his iron against the mans shield repeatedly without wavering. His opponent, who is many times his size, is kneeling and clearly struggling albeit refusing to give up. Your kings of opposing lands stand at the same time since the match is about to end. The already roaring crowd is lively, people in the stands holding signs and throwing food and flowers into the ring in support of their respective fighter. Children can be seen on their parents shoulders in efforts for better views.

 You finally walk to his side and the crowd goes wild at the sight of you. Your crown digs into your finely plaited hair, adding to your growing headache which spawned from the loud atmosphere, as you bow ever so slightly to show respect for the king. The Titan throws one final blow, slicing the challenger from his neck to his rib cage. Effectively chopping off his arm. The man falls to his knees before the rest of his body hits the ground; bleeding out though you refuse to look and see. The crowd goes berserk and Eren drops his blood soaked sword to the ground with a clatter. His chest heaves as he attempts to catch his breath. Sweat drips from his forehead down his neck and finally onto his chest. His hair, wildly unkempt and freely falling, sticks to his face. Blood covers most parts of his body.

 He takes no time reveling his victory before he kneels on one knee. His forearm rests atop of it, his long brown hair covering his face as he bows his head to your father as a sign of acknowledgment.

 Your father looks down at you proudly with an almost undetectable hint of an apologetic gaze. Your brow quirks in question and you part your lips to inquire as to why he looked this way, but his voice booms over the theater to make an announcement— cutting you off before you began.

 “Never in my years as King of Chandovich have I seen a greater gladiator in this theater. And never once have I seen such an important match end so quickly.” The crowd is dim to hear the speech and you can hear your heart hammer against your rib cage. “Our appropriately named Titan fought well against his opponent from Vestotua. Perhaps the promise of such a grand prize gave him more of a reason to win, hm?” The crowd cheers and you frown, perplexed as to why your father brought you out here to see the end of a match.

 And the allusion of your presence being such a prize.

 “Well I’m proud our homeland remains victorious in this prestigious arena. And beyond pleased to announce that Mr. Jaeger has not only won his freedom.. But a title! Congratulations, Titan, your fighting years are over and your years being a member of the royal court begin today!” He claps and nods down at the man.

 The onlookers cheer for the story of a commoner becoming something better. Stories of this caliber always benefit commoner-castle relations for years.

 Jaegers jaw visibly clenches in disdain and he stands, the crowd audibly hushes as he grabs his sword, pointing it toward the king. They erupt in gasps and some throw a few boo’s.

 Knights Rivaille and Kirschtein grip the hilts of their swords in preparation to defend the crown.

 “That’s not all I was promised. Make good on your word, King.” The Titans voice is venomous and your father smirks slightly at the audacity.

 “Dear boy, where do you think the title comes from? How low of me do you think that I would not keep my solemn word? The princess is all yours! Do forgive the lack of a bow atop your gift.” The crowd laughs loudly and the knights beside you tense with unease.

 Your jaw slacks and your chest heaves as you look at your father in shock. The jewels and fine fabrics covering you feel heavier than cement blocks.

 “What? I—“ Your voice is panicked and soft as disbelief coats your throat.

 He pats you on the back, pushing you forward to the edge of the viewing box. The fighter steps ahead and bends ever so slightly so he’s eye to eye with you.

 His chest continues to heave and his nostrils flare, sending hot air onto your face. He smells of blood, booze, sweat and of the barn animals he sleeps beside at night. Teal irises glare deeply into your e/c ones until you look away, too frightened to speak or move. His rough, blood covered hands reach over the edge to grasp yours.. tenderly? Hard calluses gently bore into the soft flesh of your freshly manicured hands. You wouldn’t expect such a light touch from such a brutish man with a reputation as his.

 “...Good. I’ll collect my things and be back for her later.” He breathes out, the hot air again hitting your cheek from the proximity. He turns and strides away, warm hands finally leaving yours. You find yourself growing instantly cold without him before you. You clasp your hands together in front of you to savor the warmth.

 The king chuckles deeply and slaps your backside hard causing you to flinch and whimper slightly. Just a small portion of the ‘affection’ your step-father gives you.

 “Your things? Not to worry, boy! We have plenty of hay and pigs at the castle.” At the word ‘pigs’, he snatches your arm and flails it in the air.

 The crowd roars in laughter and the gladiator halts his steps, visibly trembling in anger before continuing to walk to the fighters exit. He doesn’t look back or respond to the taunt.

 You frown deeply and tears burn the bottom of your eye-line. Your heart and stomach ache because you’re being given away to a monster. Because your father views you as nothing more than a cheap gift for heathens. Because the man you’re going to marry is a murderer.

 Because... he’s being as poorly treated by your king as you are. That thought sneaks it’s way in and you shake it away with a tremble.

 Because he is probably going to treat you worse than you could ever imagine.

 The scent of blood evaporating in the midday sun hits your nose harshly. Your head swirls and the sunlight dims impossibly dark. An unexpected eclipse? No..

 Your hands and feet grow freezing cold and the breath expels quickly from your chest in one large wheeze. In all but an instant, you feel yourself falling backwards uncontrollably. But that’s all you feel before you completely lose consciousness.

 The crowd gasps and the knight protecting your father leaps forward, catching you in his arms. Your only friend in the castle, Sir Kirschtein, furrows his brow in worry as he lifts you up bridal style. Preventing any serious injury to your body, he hugs you close to his armored chest.

 The king rolls his eyes and sighs, hands in the air while he shrugs before slapping them down at his sides.

 “Women are such frail creatures, aren’t they?” The crowd murmurs worriedly about their beloved princess. The kings eyes narrow as he yells; “I said, women are such frail creatures, aren’t they!!” the crowd pauses for a beat before erupting into forced laughter.

 Jean clenches his teeth and begins walking out, his grip on you tight and protective.

 The king taps his shoulder and he turns ever so slightly.

 “Majesty?” Jean looks down into his eyes, almost begging him to try something. The knight stands a good few inches taller than the monarch.

 “Ahem.. Yes, well. Take her to bed and ensure the handmaidens have gathered all her necessary things for her new home in the countryside. Ensure her meeting with the beast goes well or I’m sure I will get an earful from the lady Queen.” He rubs his temples in annoyance at the thought.

 The knight nods instead of speaking, worried his tongue will be shaper than he intends. As much as he wants to defend your sacred honor, his head is on the line and he cannot protect you from beyond the grave.

 When you awaken, you’re in your room. The sheer canopy of your bed filters the light from the windows smoothly. Your head rushes with blood and your eyes feel as if they could roll out of your skull. Jean is sitting in an elegant chair to your left, holding your hand very gently.

 “How are you feeling, highness?” His voice is very soft so as not to hurt your head further but the worry trickles through his words feverishly.

 Your face flushes in embarrassment as you attempt to sit up. You make it without too many problems, sitting back against the headboard and goose down pillows. Your hand rubs the back of your head where the source of the throbbing is coming from.

 “Out of it.. Please tell me I dreamt all of that or I may begin to weep.” Your voice softly trembles as you recall the earlier events.

 Jean looks sorrowful as he lowers his gaze.

 “I-I’m sorry, Y/N. There was nothing I could do.”

 You bite your lip, closing your eyes in defeat and nod once.

 You’ve been trained your entire life to become a good and fair maiden. Good enough to be handed off in some sort of deal later on in life as a shining and glorious gift. You’ve grown up knowing you’d become a political tool sooner or later.

 You’d just hoped it would’ve been later. Much, much later. To a prince or someone stately at least!

 “I never thought I’d be handed off to some.. some monster. I thought the least the king could offer me after a life of subjection was a choice in when I get offered up. But now I’m being forced into the life of a common street dog.” You put your face in your hands as the tears finally spill over.

 A deep voice calls to you from the shadowy end of your room.

 “So which is it, princess? Am I a monster or a street dog?” Eren leans against your dresser; his arms crossed against his chest, eyes glaring into your silhouette.

 You gasp and look up, seeing the outline of him grow larger and hearing his heavy footsteps as he walks to the end of your bed.

 Jean growls, clenching the hilt of the sword on his hip. “That’s close enough, Titan.”

 Eren stops immediately and sighs.

 “I’m sorry, princess.”

 Both you and the knight look at each other before resetting your eyes to the commonly unruly man.

 As the light encompasses him through your sheer curtains, you see he’s been cleaned and redressed. The deep chocolate colored hair is tied back with a small braid running into the messy bun. His shirt is a fluffy cuffed cotton with buttons trailing down the front. His pants are black, long and high waisted, accentuating his body’s firm frame. However, the teal eyes from arena remain the same.

 “What was that you said?” You whisper, not trusting your ears fully.

 “I’m sorry you’re being given away like this. Forced into a marriage with me, I mean. I honestly didn’t want to fight for you at all.” Jean scoffs at this.

 “Bastard.” He murmurs.

 “I only wanted freedom.”

 Your eyes widen as you recognize the feeling.

 You listen religiously as he begins to explain the predicament he was placed in.

 “The king promised me before the match that if I won against our rival land, I’d be free. He never mentioned anything about winning your hand. Until..” He trails off and looks to Jean.

 “Until the opposing King of Vestotua said that wasn’t a good enough prize for a fight of this magnitude...” The good knight finishes for him.

 You look beside you to your most trusted ally, hand gently gripping his forearm as it rests atop your red and gold stitched duvet.

 “King Gnowles said the only prize worthy enough would be your hand, princess.” He looks up apologetically. “If they won, you had to marry their fighter to prove how submissive our kingdom is when it comes to Vestotua making commands. But if we won, you belong to our gladiator to make things even.” Jean says through clenched teeth. His hand digs into your comforter in a death grip, probably envisioning the kings throat.

 Eren walks around your square shaped bed to sit beside you. Your body leans toward him as the bed dips in his favor. A hand reaches out slowly to take place on your shoulder but hesitates when you flinch away. He places the warm appendage on your shoulder after giving you a moment to prepare.

 “This isn’t what I wanted. I tried to opt out, please believe me. But the king said you’d automatically go to them if I forfeit. I definitely mulled over forfeiting anyway, but their challenger started..” he shakes his head and puts his lips together in disgust. “Saying things... What he would do to you once you were his. Once you ‘belonged to him’.” He quickly stands again and the contact is lost between you both.

 Your heart flips.

 Whether from his recount or the feeling of his hands on you, you’re unsure.

 He walks to your window which overlooks the seaside and slams his palms on the windowsill.

 He growls as he stares out at the free rolling waves.

 “I decided then that I would fight for you. We’re all born free. From the day we are born, we are free. It doesn’t matter how strong those who deny us that freedom are. A clerk, a knight, hell, even a king. A human being cannot belong to anyone! I’m willing to protect your freedom no matter what. You think I’d let some disgusting rat own and defile you? Not on your life!” He whips around to face you at the last line, his right hand clenched into a fist to prove his virtue. His voice is raised and posture straight as he proudly exclaims what he believes in.

 For some reason.. you feel... content.

 He genuinely wants you to be safe. And free. That’s more than ever could’ve be said about your step father. Even your own mother agreed to this, so you’re told. The only person in the entire castle who thinks of you as an autonomous-breathing person is Sir Kirschtein.

 Up until now that is.. the man you’re betrothed to is willing to offer you your independence with his life. Your heart flips again as his eyes lock with yours.

 “I-I...” you stutter and stare up at him in awe.

 He feels his cheeks flush when he notices the stars in your eyes. He averts his gaze, turning around in an attempt to remain valiant.

 “Look.. We do have to get married and you do have to come live with me in a house provided by the kingdom. It’s on private land over the hills. B-But that’s the only thing you have no choice in! I vow to never make you do anything you don’t want to do. I’ll take care of the land and the livestock so you can have your own life. I’ll stay out of your way as much as possible. I’ll build whatever you want and obtain whatever you like. Just..” he makes a noise sounding like a hesitant scratch in the back of his esophagus. “Just promise you won’t call me a monster or a street dog again.” He looks back up at you with pain in his eyes.

 You can tell from his previous speech about freedom that he’s had a rough life. After all he’s willing to do for you, after all he’s already done, the least you can do is honor this wish.

 “As you desire.” You speak softly and angelically as your body tries to stand.

 “H-Hey you should be resting!” Jean tries to grab you before you get up but you move too quickly.

 Your feet are wobbly, sure, but you confidently walk and stand in front of your future husband. You turn him around to face you by placing your hands on his shoulders. You smile warmly up at him.

 “We can make this work, Eren Jaeger. I truly believe we can.” You reach forward and grab his hands in the same gentle manner he did at the theater.

 This time it’s his turn to flush all shades of pink as he looks down into your eyes. “I’m going to do my best to make you as happy as you’re making me by freeing me from this castle.” You squeeze his hands comfortingly and your eyes begin to water from joy, the smile never faltering from your cheeks.

 Perhaps you’re better suited to a life on the seaside with The Titan than you are to a life as a confined princess.

 With a wedding planned for the morning, the two of you cannot wait to find out.

[thenovelartist]

Burned Beginnings, Chapter 5

<<Previous  Next>>  

13. Family

“Yes, Maman, Adrien and I arrived safely. Now please go to bed.”

“I just wanted to check up on you,” her maman said from the other side of the phone. “It’s your first time out of the country, so you’ll have to excuse me if I worry about you.”

“We’ll be fine,” Marinette assured, glancing over at Adrien as he snatched one of their luggage bags off the carousel. “And tell that to Papa, too. I know he’s more worried than you are.”

“Why do you think I’m the one making the call and not him.”

Marinette laughed. “I’ll keep you updated.”

“All right. Thank you, sweetie. Enjoy your trip.”

“Thank you, Maman. Love you. Tell Papa I love him.”

“Will do. Love you, too.”

With that, Marinette ended the call.

“Got our bags,” Adrien said, pulling the two suitcases behind him. “How’d the call go?”

“Fine,” Marinette said, putting her phone in her purse. “My parents are just worried about me, so it was me doing what I could to settle them.”

“You have a close family, so I understand that.”

Marinette took her suitcase from him. “So where to, now?”

“Taxi to the hotel, drop of our suitcases, find a place for dinner, maybe walk around the city a bit if we’re up for it, and then crash out for the night.”

“Doesn’t sound like too bad a plan.”

“Then let’s go, milady.”

Once they’d secured a taxi, Marinette looked out the window to take in the sights.

“Have you been here before, Adrien?” she eventually asked.

“Couple times for modeling jobs and once for fashion week,” he confirmed.

“Do you like New York City?”

Adrien shrugged. “It’s novel. It’s kinda like Paris, being a bustling city, but it’s just so modern and feels like people just don’t appreciate the history behind their city, you know? And the natives here are like a whole different breed of human. But they feel the same about us, so feeling’s mutual.”

Marinette nodded, turning back to the window to marvel at the sights.

When they got to the hotel, Adrien checked them in. Marinette only knew basic, school-grade level English, but Adrien seemed comfortable with the language. He did promise to be her translator for everything.

“Here’s your room key,” he said, handing her a room key once he’d finished at the front desk. “I got two rooms right next to each other.”

“I still can’t believe you paid for all this,” she said, taking the keycard. “This is so much, Adrien.”

Adrien shrugged. “I wanted to,” he brushed off. “And it’s not like I’m going to go broke from this trip or anything. It’s fine.”

Marinette still wasn’t fully comfortable with all of it, and she still knew that one day, she’d have to pay him back somehow. But for now, she’d smile and thank him for the millionth time.

Once they dumped their suitcases, they started to wander around town until they happened across a food shop that smelled amazing. They wondered inside the bustling shop and found the line was conveniently long enough for Adrien to read off most of the menu for her. Once Marinette told him what she wanted, he was kind enough to order for her. But before Adrien could pay, Marinette quickly held out her own card.

“I can get it, really,” she said with a grin.

“You don’t have to.”

“Please,” she said with a pout.

The cashier laughed and made some comment about her that got Adrien to smile and put away his card.

“He said that you sure know how to guilt trip a guy,” Adrien translated as they walked back to their hotel, bag of take-out food in hand. “And I couldn’t help but agree.”

Marinette grinned at that. “I’ve had good practice manipulating you. It’s almost like you just let me do it at this point.”

Adrien snorted a laugh. “Yeah, you’d think I’d have learned by now that you’re a little minx.”

“But you love me,” she said, batting her eyelashes at him.

She meant it as an offhand comment. One that could easily be brushed off, but that wasn’t its intent. She was probing, like the ‘little minx’ she was.

And she liked the hesitant response she got, his pause followed by a soft smile and gentle shake of the head. “Yeah, I do.”

 14. New York

He forgot just how much he hated New York Fashion Week.

I’m doing this for Marinette.

That was what kept him going. That, and her smiles. She was happy and enjoying herself, which made this whole trip worthwhile.

The last thing that made this easier to bear was the fact he was strictly a spectator. While he’d debated using what contacts he had to see if they could have special access, he ultimately decided not to. When his father kicked him out, it wasn’t something that was just kept quiet. Back when he still was in contact with Chloe, she told him he was the buzz of the fashion world. Even recently back in Paris, he had been spotted by cameras and had come across an article written about him. Whatever contacts Adrien had would likely be unwilling to work with him, and he wasn’t willing to take those chances to find out for certain. Not even for Marinette. If she decided no after this, Adrien would still feel confident that he did everything her could to help her make her decision.

“You look tired. No, more like completely drained.”

Adrien looked down at the lovely lady standing beside him and forced a smile. “I’m fine. Are you enjoying yourself?”

Marinette paused. “I am,” she answered.

“That’s all that matters, then.”

“Adrien?!”

Both he and Marinette turned their attention towards the voice.

And Adrien’s heart dropped. “Chloe.”

The woman rushed over to him, heels clacking on the pavement. The fiery look in her eye was one he was all too familiar with: she was on a mission. “Adrien, I have so many questions for you, but let’s start with what the hell you’re doing here with her.”

Adrien gave Chloe a flat look. “I thought I told you I no longer want to be in contact.”

“Yeah! What’s that about?” Chloe screeched. “You text me out of the blue and tell me we’re done?”

Adrien nodded. “Yup. Because if all our interactions after my dad kicked me out weren’t enough to convince me, Marinette here told me everything. I was already fed up with your lies and how cruelly you treated people, but telling people we slept together when we never did takes the cake.”

Chloe froze, her eyes wide with horror, and Adrien knew why. Was he being an ass on purpose? Absolutely. He knew full well what he was doing talking in his best English loudly enough for anyone and everyone around to hear.

In the blink of an eye, camera flashes started up, and Adrien knew that meant paparazzi were here, ready to cash in on this drama. He pulled Marinette close, knowing it was likely too late but still trying to hide her face against his shoulder.

“Adrien,” Chloe began, voice dripping with fake honey. “What are you talking about?”

“Our friendship is over, Chloe. Don’t try to lie your way out by saying I just used you for sexual favors, either. Because that never happened. We never happened. Just leave me alone, and don’t bother contacting me ever again.” He hoped he didn’t butcher the English in that, but even if he did, he didn’t particularly care. His point got across, Chloe was redder than a tomato, and security was doing their best to shoo the paparazzi away.

Now, it was time for him to leave, if for no other reason than getting Marinette out of here. “Head down, cover your face,” he whispered to her.

She already had her hand over her face, but she still nodded in understanding.

“You think this is over, Adrien? Just like that?” Chloe yelled in French.

“Completely,” Adrien asserted.

How Chloe’s face turned redder, he didn’t know, but it did. “And you never answered my question of what you were doing with her!”

Adrien was going to leave it, but Marinette turned around and snapped. “I’m treating him with more respect than you ever did, entitled bitch!”

His heart went thud in his chest, and he quickly slapped his hand over the grin that couldn’t be suppressed. As he ushered Marinette away as quickly as he could, he snuck a glance behind him at an absolutely enraged Chloe, her security coming to her aid and trying to get her in the car. He hated to say it, but served her right.

 15. Dreams

“I’m not doing this.”

“Hmm?”

Marinette looked over at Adrien. Currently, they were resting in Adrien’s room while eating pizza from a little place close to the hotel. “I’m not going into this industry. At least, not this section of it.”

Adrien’s expression fell. “Was it because of Chloe?”

Half of Marinette’s lips pulled up in a twisted, bitter way. “Yes and no,” she said. “Chloe wasn’t the only reason I came to this decision, but she’s a good reminder that people like that will always be a part of it. People who would gladly manipulate you to advance themselves exist here, and you will always have to be careful about who you can and can’t trust in this industry. Who can you trust to give your designs to, who do you have to hide from, when do you let go of your designs even though they won’t be under your name, and when do you cling to them in the hopes that one day you’ll be able to use it? I just…”

She shrugged, giving Adrien a pitiful smile. “I don’t have the energy to gamble on this trust game,” she finally managed. “And I don’t trust easily in the first place. Which, in a profession that requires you to be social and stretch yourself out into, that would take so much out of me. And in the end, I just don’t want to. Maybe things would have been different had I not been walked over by Chloe. Had things not gone in such a way where teachers and students automatically began to assume the worst out of me just because of my reputation that I didn’t even get to shape myself. I don’t want to go in an industry that demands those parts of me that I’ve learned not to give out. I can’t.”

The pain on Adrien’s face physically hurt her. He’d given so much to encourage her, and here she was, practically throwing it back in his face.

Yet, despite that, he smiled sympathetically. “If that’s your decision and your reason, I won’t challenge you on it anymore.”

At the sight of his forced smile, her heart hurt, and the guilt soon became so much to bear. She wouldn’t cry, though, not even as she felt the pinprick of tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

His brow furrowed. “What for?”

“I feel bad for making this decision, because you brought me here to New York Fashion week. You spent time and money planning this trip just to encourage me, and here I am throwing it back in your face. I’m really appreciative of what you’ve done for me. Really, I mean it. So, I’m so sorry that I can’t… I can’t move forward and prove your efforts weren’t in vain.”

She hadn’t been expecting the shock on his face at her words, like they’d caught him off guard. But soon, that faded away into a soft, sympathetic smile. A real one that she liked so much, that could ease her worries and calm her down.

He stood from the bed and started walking over to her, his arms open. At this point, she gladly took the invitation, standing from the chair she’d been curled up in and meeting him half-way. When he wrapped her up tightly, she clung back, relishing in the warm comfort that being cocooned in his arms, protected from the world, provided.

“I’m not disappointed,” he spoke softly. “Not at all. It’s clear you thought long and hard about your decision, and so, if you decided you didn’t want to go into this field, then that’s perfectly fine. I just didn’t want you to give up on your dreams just because you saw only the negative. And I know I was part of that, telling you my own horror stories. That’s why we came, as one last encouragement to feed your dreams before you decided on your future.”

By now, Marinette could feel the tears well up in her eyes. She sniffed, hoping to bite them back.

At that sound, Adrien squeezed her tighter with one arm and rubbed her back with the other. “Oh, Marinette,” he whispered soothingly.

That was all it took to break her. The tears spilled over down her cheeks, and there was no stopping them. She buried her face against his chest, clenching his shirt tighter as she hiccupped out choked sobs. “Thank you,” she managed to squeak out in the midst of her tears. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re so welcome, Marinette,” he whispered.

Still, he never let go, continuing to hold her as he gently swayed back and forth. And Marinette gladly stayed in that warm embrace, unwilling to leave the comfort he so willingly provided, even after her tears had stopped falling.

[cinebration]

Written in DNA (Booker x Reader) [Part 12]

Booker deals with the aftermath of losing you.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Epilogue

Tagged: @lucy-sky​, @city-of-weird​, @all-the-right-regrets, @alannister-always-pays-her-debts​, @fleetwoodsmacabitch​

Warnings: none

Gif Source: captaindelafere

The immortals brought Booker to a different safe house. While they restrained Quynh and sedated her, he paced the front room, agonizing. He could still hear the crack of the gunshot, your body collapsing to the asphalt.

He should’ve gone back to you.

Andy and the others emerged from the back room to see Booker rummaging through cupboards for liquor. He found a half-empty vodka bottle. Scrambling to unscrew the lid, he lifted it to his mouth.

Hesitated.

Drinking wouldn’t solve this problem. He knew that he would need all his wits.

He slammed the bottle down on the table, the alcohol untasted, and raked both hands through his hair, roaring with frustration. Only then did he notice the others were watching him.

“Quynh alright?” he asked.

Andy nodded slowly.

“Then I’ll leave.” He snatched up his jacket.

“Where will you go?”

Booker didn’t meet Nile’s curious gaze. “I’m going after her.”

“Why?” Joe asked.

Booker tried to answer, found he didn’t have words. Why? He couldn’t put it into words, not when he didn’t really know himself. But he managed, “When I found her, she was all alone in a room. For ten years.”

A hushed silence fell over the room.

“She isn’t an immortal, but she did this for me. To…” To let me be with you all. He slipped on the jacket. “I’m not letting someone else down.”

He scurried away before anyone could say anything, averting his eyes.

~~

It took him a week to gather enough intel to even consider making a move. Booker sat in a cheap motel room surrounded by it, mounds of printed schematics and schedules, a paper trail guaranteeing nothing but destruction. Despair crept in, anxiety taunting him. The bottle called to him. It took all his energy to not succumb to it.

His research had found you had been returned back to the same location, only there was no guarantee you were in the same room he had broken you out from. Security had been tightened, and his face was in their system now, picked up by one of the cameras inside that he had missed on the way out.

Booker nearly pulled his hair out. No matter how he examined the problem, he couldn’t crack it. Not without getting captured in the process or getting you killed.

Assuming you weren’t dead already.

He hadn’t yet been able to determine whether you were alive or were being dissected. Every bad movie he had seen about brainwashing and mad scientists played on repeat in his head as he imagined the horrors you were being subjected to.

Nine days after you had taken the fall on the tarmac, he decided it was worth the suicide mission. He didn’t have a full plan, and as much as that frighten him, he was going to go ahead anyway.

Dressing in black once more, he armed himself with a tactical knife, a FN SCAR, and a Beretta. He brought only two clips for the handgun and three for the assault rifle. He would have preferred a crowd-control method, but everyone else would be armed to the teeth. He couldn’t risk it.

Steeling himself, he left the motel under cover of darkness, headlights doused until he reached the road. He ran the plan through his head again and again, ignoring the flaws, telling himself all he had to do was get to you. From there, escape would be inevitable. It had to be.

His cellphone buzzed in his pocket. He fumbled it out, saw the number was unknown. He hesitated, then answered.

“Booker?” Andy’s voice rang clearly through the phone.

“Andy?”

“We’re on your tail.”

He glanced up in the rearview mirror. Headlights flashed twice.

“We’re here to help,” she said.

Tears pushed at Booker’s eyes. “Thank you.”

“What’s the plan?”

“I need a distraction. A massive one.”

~~

Booker waited for it. The night breeze tickled his cheeks, toying with him. Crickets had gone silent around him, as though in anticipation.

BOOM!

The sky exploded into flame, huge gouts licking the darkness. Alarms blared, soldiers scrambling to the scene.

Booker sprinted in the opposite direction, into the compound. He pushed past the security checkpoints, capitalizing on the chaos to go by unnoticed. Following the same path as before, he made his way to the basement levels.

He had to shimmy down the elevator shaft. Without the key card to call it up, it was the only way down. Climbing through the access panel in the elevator’s roof, he muscled open the sliding doors and slipped out into the long hallway. He hurried to the far end and shot off the doorknob, allowing him to enter.

Empty.

His heart plummeted into his stomach. He swept the room, double-checking. All your personal effects—the books, primarily—were gone.

Booker fought the urge to scream. He stepped out of the room, kicking himself. The gunshot rang in his ears again, the image of you collapsing flashing before him. He leaned against the wall, raked his hand over his face.

“FUCK!”

He punched the wall, broke his hand. The pain reminded him of the first time he had been here. Tears burned in his eyes.

A faint tapping reached through the pulsing in his ears as he struggled with his grief. Through his addled mind, he recognized the beats and pauses of Morse code.

He straightened.

Here, the code tapped.

Booker faced the wall behind him, heard the code repeat. Scrutinizing the wall, he found a near-invisible seam ran from ceiling to floor. Booker ran his fingers along it, trying to find purchase. Pulling out his knife, he slid the tip along the edge, flaking away concrete. The knife snagged on something. Through the crack, he saw metal glinting.

The tapping resumed. Lock.

Mind racing, Booker retreated into your cell and came back with one of the chairs. He started ramming it at a fort-five degree angle against the wall, tearing at the concrete.

Cement dust filled the air, choking him. It covered his skin as he tore chunks out of the wall, revealing the locking mechanism. Rather than attacking where the lock engaged, he found where it had been anchored into the wall and tore it loose. Grunting and heaving, he yanked the lock out of the jamb.

Fingers reached through the hole, pulling on the door. Booker shoved his shoulder against it, pushing it slowly open.

Light fell through the darkness beyond the door, illuminating your dust-covered face. Booker nearly choked with relief. You stared up at him in disbelief.

“I’m here to get you out,” he said. “Again.”

You grinned, your lips trembling. Squeezing through the gap, you stumbled out into the bright light, blinking furiously.

“Let’s go.”

“Wait.”

“Wait?”

Your face hardened. “There’s something I have to do first.”

Booker nodded. “Tell me how to help.”

[bamfdaddio]

X-Men Unabridged: Proteus

The X-Men, those beautiful mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. We’ve been untangling that history for a while, but sometimes, you really want a more in-depth look. Interested? Then read the (un)Abridged X-Men!

(X-Men 125 - 128) - by Chris Claremont and John Byrne

Fun* fact: this particular issue is the oldest comic I physically own.

* for a given value of fun

Something sinister lurks on Muir Isle…

This arc is very much set up like a horror movie. It starts out as a regular X-Men narrative, where Claremont is weaving along several plot threads. We check in with the X-Men in Westchester, we check in with Magneto who has retreated to Asteroid M and we even check in with Xavier in space, who finally learns more about the true scope of the Phoenix and its nature. Finally, we’ve got Jean stationed at Muir Isle, where Moira is investigating the sheer scope of her powers. (She has realized how strong Jean truly is; akin to a god. Her theory is that Jean’s recent power dampening is the result of her human mind trying to cope with her massive power level.) It’s about as everyday as it gets for the X-Men, but, well…

I always thought Jean molecularly restructured her own outfit into the Phoenix-costume whenever she needed to change, but here, she just… wills it away? Also, why did you need an outfit change for this, anyway? Does the costume simply appear whenever she exerts too much of her powers, like an angry forehead vein? So many questions. (X-Men 126)

Other residents at Muir are Polaris, Havok and the Multiple Man, all of them blissfully unaware that something skulks about in the shadows: the remains of an unfortunate captain, whose body has been taken over by something… other.

But someone else is skulking around in the shadows, too. Jean isn’t aware of it, but a familiar stranger is manipulating her from the sidelines.

I’ve been gaslighting a cosmic force, ask me how! (X-Men 126)

1979 marks the first appearance of the Hellfire Club, though we only meet one member for now: Jason Wyngarde. (Maybe all of this could have been avoided if he’d had a Barbie doll to dress up in black lace as a child, but alas.) ‘Jason’ is a pseudonym and though most people these days know that he’s a familiar villain from the X-Men’s past, the reveal of his true identity will follow later.

Meanwhile, Beast finally gets off his ass to check on the Xavier mansion, even though the X-Men must have been tripping intruder alarms for months now. Still, we do get this sweet moment out of it:

Of course she’s going to be surprised at the sheer amount of plot contrivances that were thrown up to keep all y’all apart for a full year. (X-Men 126)

Beast knows that Jean went to Muir, so Scott immediately goes for the phone. Lorna picks up, but during the call she starts screaming, leaning heavily into the horror genre. She fends off the withering remains of the captain, so instead, ‘Mutant X’ jumps into a duplicate of Jamie Madrox and promptly flees to the mainland on a boat.

Guuurl, that body is snatched. (X-Men 126)

The X-Men (sans Beast) hit Muir Isle, where Moira debriefs them. Moira reveals who Mutant X is: his name is Kevin MacTaggart, her son, who has the terrifying power to warp reality. Because his power is so vast, he burns through bodies at an alarming rate. He can only be contained - or killed - by inorganic metal. In an effort to contain him (and, presumably, help him at some point), Moira locked him in a metal cell. He was kept there, alone, for god knows how long, until Magneto accidentally freed him. They know he escaped the island and, because of his parasitic need for fresh host bodies, Moira posits that he’ll be heading for a big city.

Kevin - who dubs himself Proteus - racks up an impressive body count in the country side, killing 7 people in total. (6 people and 1 dupe? Eh.) He’s a terrific villain, because he’s powerful, has a well-defined weakness and, even though it’s not impossible to emphasize with him -- isolation tends to drive people mad -- the way he discards his victims is truly chilling.

The X-Men chase after him, Wolverine picking up the scent. When Proteus tries to claim him, Logan’s adamantium skeleton repels him. In response, he unspools reality.

I’ve had this trip. I think they call this strain Dragon’s Dynamite. (X-Men 126)

Storm intervenes, but Proteus leaves Nightcrawler and especially Wolverine rattled. Logan’s heightened senses root him in reality more than most, and when Proteus uses his powers, everything is just screaming wrong at him. But nobody is safe: little Kevin MacTaggart turns gravity against Ororo, taking her out as well.

He tries to claim Storm, but Moira repels him, sniping at him from afar. Proteus fears (metal) bullets, knowing they can kill him. When Cyclops realizes Moira’s shooting to kill, he intervenes - X-Men don’t kill, after all. Moira knocks him out with her gun, but Kevin escapes in the confusion. Moira finally realizes where her son is headed, while the X-Men regroup.

In Edinburgh, Moira pays Joe MacTaggart a visit - her husband, Kevin’s father.

The MacTaggarts are definitely in the running for the Xavier/Marko-award for Fucked Up Family Dynamics. (X-Men 127)

There’s a calculating coldness to Moira’s character that I’ve never responded well to, but I like how Claremont fills in the blanks here. It’s part unhappiness, part a deep frustration with her inability to help her own son. I wonder how Kevin was a child, before his mutant gene activated: was he a sweet boy, or one with a cruel streak? Did she fear what he might become?

There’s a few gaps in Claremont’s narrative, but Hickman has drawn on this very well, I think: the Moira X in HoXPoX is equally calculating, equally cold. But how can she not be? How often has she raised Kevin? How often has she had to kill him? How many times has she watched these people, these X-Men, die?

Anyway, Moira’s warning is as effective as anger management therapy for Sabretooth, because Kevin comes by Joe’s office a little while later and snuffs out his dad. Phoenix hears Joe screaming telepathically across the moors, allowing the X-Men to pinpoint him. Claremont also makes sure to show that Jean’s power is steadily growing:

Polaris be like: “No, no, I’m carrying my own emotionally stunted Summers boy, thank you.” (X-Men 127)

Proteus takes Moira hostage as the X-Men confront him. They fight.

Ordinarily, I don’t pay a lot of attention to the fight scenes, because recapping those usually boils down to “Cyclops conks Magneto in the helmet” or “Wolverine snikts Pyro in the gas tank”, but this one is truly great. John Byrne delivers some excellent work, showcasing the scope of Proteus’ powers through his art, his panelling. Don’t just take my word for it:

I love how trippy all of this is. Pivoting gravity, changing an optic beam into flowers… Sure, Proteus might be a callous and cruel SoB, but he’s also one imaginative motherfucker. (X-Men 127)

One by one, Proteus manages to distract or take out the X-Men, either by endangering passers-by, encasing them in amber (Storm) or burying them alive (Banshee). One of my favorite details is how afraid they all are: especially Wolverine and Nightcrawler hesitate before jumping into the fray. For them, this villain is truly beyond their scope.

In the end, it’s Phoenix who manages to drive him back, outside of the center of Edinburg and up an old castle, where there are fewer civilians to threaten. There, on the ramparts, it’s Colossus who makes the final stand: he destroys Proteus’ physical body and realizes that right now, there’s only one thing they can do to stop him. All it will cost is Piotr’s innocence.

Showcasing an ancient Japanese truth: Psychic Pokémon are weak to Steel attacks. (X-Men 128)

Proteus scatters to the winds and the X-Men emerge victorious, though Moira has lost both her son and her husband after this ordeal. Moreover, I think this is the first villain that the X-Men explicitly kill, simply because they have no other options left. This marks the first time that their ideal of mutant rehabilitation fails. What’s worse is that Kevin MacTaggart was essentially nothing more than a supremely screwed up boy who got access to way too much power way too quickly.

I wonder if it would have turned out differently had Xavier been there. (I also wonder if it’s a coincidence that this takes place right before the Dark Phoenix saga.)

I think this might be Claremont’s best arc yet, heightened by John Byrne’s excellent art. Chris deftly mixes horror, action and his usual soap opera elements, serving one cohesive narrative that (for once) doesn’t leave much hanging. Proteus is an excellent villain whose powers work visually (pay attention, MCU) and whose entire being touches on one of the same aspects as Krakoa: can and should every mutant fit into any sort of normal society?

If you have someone who’s interested in vintage X-Men and you want to recommend something that doesn’t require a confusing explanation of all the necessary backstory (and perhaps a crude sketch of the Summers and/or Lensherr family tree), I would recommend this arc.

And the rest, as they say, is Hellfire. 1980 is gonna be a doozy.

[misterewrites]

A Part of Something Bigger (Welcome to the Underground!)

Hello everyone! E here, hoping you are safe and sound and doing good! The new chapter of the Underground is here and I'm excited for this and the next chapter. I am so happy I finally get to reveal something I’ve had in my head since I first started creating the Underground! Man am I cheek E. oh puns, I’m terrible. 

:D

I hope you are all have a great week! Stay safe, wash your hands, take care of each other, get the vaccine if you can, push for companies to give it world wide all that jazz. Feel free to comment (I love feedback) tell your friends, reblog I appreciate it all!

If you’re new and curious what the heck I’m talking about, feel free to check out the whole story and have access to my other work right in the link below (cuz I’m 95% Tumblr has shadowbanned me) 

https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrE42/pseuds/MrE42

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814297/chapters/68094967 (first chapter)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814297/chapters/78927370 (latest chapter) 

Have a great week, E is out!

Summary:  Turns out Oliver is a part of the Choir, a secret organization that operates within the Underground. Something big is happening tonight and It's up to Oliver and his allies to ensure it does not. However, the bard has to figure out what's going on before anything else.

-----

Oliver had been many things in the 18 years of his begrudging existence: An orphan, a thief, a con-kid, hopelessly in love, a scout, fry cook that one week and an aspiring minstrel. Many masks and different roles to survive each new day.

The one he took a quiet pride in was being a member of the Choir, a secret organization whose goal was to keep the Underground free from malicious and devious intent.

Every society had their dark, treacherous shadows where evil did its business (Oliver assumed. He only really ever lived in the Underground but you know universal constants and such.) The Choir’s purpose was to ensure those plans never came to fruition.

Rather than being an openly known identity, the Choir was more a loose collection of independent agents operating under secrecy. The organization employed any and everyone who was willing to fight for the cause, each in their own way: Merchants passed coded information, tavernkeepers offered safe havens, those with some level of magical proficiency gathered to study abnormal phenomenon. Fighters fought, clerics healed with lords and ladies used their influence for the greater good.

Sometimes, as is the case now, one individual was too limited for what was required of the organization’s purpose. In these rare moments, agents were granted permission to request help, often leaving hidden messages and imagery for other wandering members to respond to.

That’s what brought Oliver here to this dark alley in the middle of the night: When he first arrived to the capital, he caught sight of the coded symbol asking for any Choir member to lend their skill set to a mission tonight. No details added but that was par for the course.

Terri was the first to recover, her slivers eyes wide with wonder “A soprano? No joke?!Flora, he’s like you!”

Terri was tall, taller than anyone else here. She wore a red vest with torn off sleeves, probably because her muscles were too thick to actually allow them to exist in the first place. Her long jet black hair was elegantly tied into braids with her dark blue leggings tucked into thick hiking boots.

Flora pursed her lips thoughtfully, irises of lavender giving Oliver a curious look “A fellow magic user? Interesting. Wizard?”

“Bard” Oliver corrected “You?”

“Druid.” Flora spoke before drifting into an uncomfortable silence. Oliver suspected she wasn’t impressed by his response.

Flora seemed unassuming but Oliver knew better than to be lured in by appearances: Long silvery hair with petals of green and yellow flowers scattered within. She wore a white blouse with splotches of brown dirt and a long green skirt. Her feet were bare and free to be soiled by the floor.

Terri rushed over to the petrified Tyrell, dragging him into a bone crunching hug “Tyrell here is a baritone like me!”

Tyrell, the youngest beside Oliver, shifted his brown eyes away from anyone’s gaze. He wore rather well kept clothes: A tunic of purple tucked under a leather vest, his leggings were dark gray that blended fairly well in the darkness. His footwear seemed a little too fancy to be workman’s shoes.

“Fighters” Oliver nodded in understanding “Always useful. And you mysterious stranger in the darkness?”

The cloaked figure had pulled back deeper into the shadows, red eyes gleaming in the shades of night. They were trying to hard to hide their appearance but Oliver caught sight of a smooth featureless bronze face. Metallic armor of a matching color and sheen covered the rest of their body, an automaton it seems.

“You may call me Sel. I’m a tenor.” the figure responded, their voice tinged with scratchy static.

“You are going very useful. Lockpicking?”

Sel shrugged casually “Among other less savory techniques. As per usual for tenors.”

Oliver nodded “Okay, fill me in.”

Flora took a step forward, pulling a letter out of her pocket as she did so “Are you aware of one Reiner Brambleoak?”

“Oh fucking hell” Oliver rubbed his eyes tiredly “Him again? What’s he planning this time: Gonna burn an orphanage? Or maybe sell moldy food to the poor? Wait, I know!” Oliver snapped his finger “He’s going to be a terrible piece of shit.”

“Right on the money!” Terri growled.

Sel let out a mechanical click “He is planning to tear down several homes in West Haven.”

Oliver narrowed his eyes “I thought it was illegal to tear down homes in that area?”

“Not if the owners signed them over.” Flora explained “Then he would have the authority to do whatever he wished with them.”

“Let me guess, he tricked them?”

Terri flexed her muscles angrily “His representatives would change languages and double talk when they spoke to the poor folks. Most hadn’t the slightest idea what was going on and the orc thugs his people brought didn’t exactly make them feel warm and safe.”

“So.” Oliver stretched his arms “He’s strong armed his way into property, going to evict helpless folks onto the street and probably fill them with his own thugs to get the rest of the neighborhood to fall in line.”

“Unless we stop him.” Sel spoke with righteous fury.

“Tonight.” Oliver chimed in “Throwing another party?”

“You are good.” Tyrell whistled.

Oliver gave a playful wink “Naturally. What’s the plan?”

Flora reached into her pack and handed Oliver a letter: it was written in such a fancy hand he swore he was getting a headache just looking at it.

“One for each of us.” Flora explained, distributing the rest to the others “A fellow Choir member secured these tonight’s mission.”

“Helpful. Alright here’s the plan….”

“Wait” Flora interrupted “Who said you are in charge bard?”

“Me” Oliver countered with a grin “Because I’ve been to these types of festivities. Have any of you?”

Flora opened her mouth then promptly closed it, irritation in her glance. Tyrell gave a sheepish but unhelpful smile, Sel remained silent while Terri gave a thoughtful scratch of her chin.

“Thought so.” Oliver tried to keep the smugness out of his voice “Look we just need to work together for tonight.”

“Agreed.” Flora spoke with a softness that did not match her glare.

Sel inched closer to the group “What is the plan Oliver?”

“Where’s the party? Merchant Ward? I assume he’s using his office to host it.”

“Correct” Sel confirmed “His office has been chosen as the venue. He claims to be throwing the party as some sort of fundraiser for a charity that is no doubt a front for his illegal operations.”

Terri huffed, crossing her arms furiously “Probably making some more deals to trick people out of their hard earn money.”

“Without a doubt” Oliver agreed “But without any hard proof, we’re not taking him down tonight. Our mission is to ensure those contracts he forced people to sign mysteriously disappear.”

“Will that actually stop him?” Tyrell frowned unhappily “What’s stop him from forging new ones? Or just bullying people again?”

“He can’t forge new ones” Oliver explained carefully “They’re a special type of document only found here in Haven’s Nest. You can only get them from city hall and they’re magically enchanted to be untamperable with. He’ll need to get the ones he has to city hall on open court day which I assume is soon.”

“Indeed. Tomorrow in fact.”

Oliver continued on “So since open court day is the only day any major changes are allowed to be introduced to the city, if we grab them he’ll have to wait a month for another chance of snatching up that land. He’ll no doubt try to bully the folks again but now that they know what he’s up to, hopefully they’ll won’t be as easily pressured and if a few rough looking folks who can take punches and give them back start hanging around the neighborhood when his goons come knocking again…”

“They’re gonna be less eager” Terri cracked her knuckles cheerfully, already savoring the feel of bruised skin and broken bones that would bless her hands.

Oliver caught Tyrell’s eyes “One problem at a time. If you look at the mountain, you’re going to get scared.”

Tyrell nodded timidly in agreement.

“So.” Sel’s voice crackled with curiosity “What is the plan bard?”

Oliver closed his eyes, mentally mapping out the Brambleoak bank: three stories of corrupted, immoral finance who preyed on the helpless and lost. He could still see the faded green hue and cracked paint of the building in his mind’s eye. The ground floor would no doubt be where the bulk of the party would be taking place: a large space with an elevated stage normally reserved for long winded speeches could easily repurposed for a band or some sort of entertainment. His guests would range from any and everyone with any amount of influence or wealth. The second floor were the offices of his lecherous employees while his office took up the entirety of the third floor.

“Alright” Oliver spoke after a moment “I have a good idea what to expect. We’re going to break up into two teams.”

Everyone stared him expectedly.

Oliver gestured to Terri and Tyrell “You two are going to hang out at the bar across the street: The Stinkeye. Charming place, ran by a former pirate captain. Sunday is sea shanty night I think."

“Whoa, wait a minute” Terri grumbled unhappily “I am not letting Flora go into that place without me! It’s enemy turf and I don’t feel comfortable with the idea."

Flora took Terri’s hand within her own “Agreed sweetie.”

“Look this isn’t exactly a fist loaded, knives out situation. Any sort of brawling inside will be dealt with swiftly and painfully. Brambleoak doesn’t like anything scaring away the prey and causing a scene inside won’t accomplish anything. Outside, however.”

Terri’s eyes knowingly sparkled, Tyrell just looked dumbfounded.

Oliver gestured with his hand, muttering a phrase under his breath as magic formed around his hand in a golden light. A small image appeared in his palm: A heavily scarred elf with ashy blonde hair, one eye a brilliant forest green the other dull and cloudy. He wore an elegant officer’s uniform, dark green with various medals pinned to his chest with a long flowing red cape that trailed behind.

Oliver opened mouth to speak but Terri’s low snarl beat him to the punch.

“Lea Foot.”

“Acquaintance I guess?””

Flora nodded, gently squeezing Terri’s hand to get her to calm down “Lea has been a constant thorn in our sides. I believe he suspects we are a part of some greater organization. He has never seen us but he sends his underlings to bully us.”

“So I don’t need to explain his whole mercenaries for hire deal. Been exclusive to Brambleoak for a while now.”

“Can I punch him?” Terri murmured darkly.

“Yes, can she?” Flora chimed in, unable to keep the plead out of her voice.

Oliver shook his head “Maybe but we’ll see. He’s gotta show up at some point but I doubt he’ll be there right at the start. Likes to push old people around, probably eat a child or two before ‘working.’ Your job is to keep him distracted at all costs. He’s a sick man that likes to watch a good fight and the longer he’s out there, the better chance we’ll have.”

Sel tilted their head quizzically “Why is it important to keep him outside?”

“Basically” Oliver cracked his fingers “He’s very perceptive and the person most likely to catch our plan in action. His crew is made up of a nobodies with a perchance for cruelty and a thirst for violence but Lea is an old hand. Keeping himself outside is the best chance for success and if you guys accidentally get too close and managed to stray a hit his way…”

Terri chuckled manically the idea. Tyrell just looked sick.

“Meanwhile Flora, Sel and I will be inside. We’ll be looking for a chance to get Sel into the stairway so he can break into Brambleoak’s office. Without any sort of information, there’s no point to flesh out a full plan but we’ll make it up as we go. It’s a giant party of people who think they’re special. Shouldn’t be too hard to cause some drama and distractions.”

Flora said silent for a moment before speaking up “It’s not a lot to work with but admittedly better than anything I would’ve come up with.”

“Agreed.” Sel added “Without proper intel, it would be pointless to attempt to formulate any sort of long term plan. This works best to our strengths. Wait and create an opportunity,”

“That’s on us.” Oliver cut in “Your job is to get in and out. Preferably without being seen but who knows what will happen.”

The group, previously lost and anxious, glowed with renew sense of purpose and determination: 10 minutes ago they had no plan and now they were ready to do what they signed up for.

“Get ready team” Oliver gestured about “We leave in five.”

Everyone broke away to prepare for the mission: Terri cracked every bone in her body, ready for any brawl she would start. Sel slunk back into the shadows and remained still among the darkness. Tyrell held leaned unevenly against the brick building nearby, trying to steady his breathing.

Flora, on the other hand, approached Oliver, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“Oliver.”

“Flora.”

“I have a question for you.”

Oliver was confused “I’m not sure what about but go ahead.”

Flora pursed her lips “You were coming from West End, delivering a package to a Choir member out there correct?”

“Yeeeeees.” Oliver unsure where this was going “The old man. Lady Rozalin said it was the upmost importance.”

Flora bit her cheek nervously “Before you left, did you see him?”

His stomach turned cold as he remembered how uneasy he felt the day he left with Archie and Abigail, the chill that ran down his spine “No, why?”

“We haven’t been able to contact him. He is not responding to our wizards long range message spells. We’re…..worried.”

Oliver could feel his skin crawl with anxiety, his pulse raced as a horrible realization dawned on him.

“He’s missing.” Oliver spoke what Flora did not.

She nodded in response “As a high ranking member, he is important to our cause and since you were the last person to see him, the higher ups were wondering if anything suspicious happened the last day you spoke with him.”

Oliver remembered it clearly: The free money, rushing them out the door, his ‘tiredness.’ There was no such thing as free money in his mentor’s eyes and Roland was never known for pushing a guest out of his house or being tired in the middle of the day. He was attempting to get them to leave to prevent something from happening.

“He was acting weird.” Oliver admitted “At the time I found it strange but he gave me little room to argue. Now I’m wishing I had.”

Flora’s face was indifferent but Oliver could hear the sincerity in her voice “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this. If you need a moment…”

“No” Oliver cut her off quickly “I’m good. We have a mission to do and we need to focus on that now. Afterwards we can talk about finding out what happened to the old man.”

Flora gave a simple nod before wandering over to Terri’s side, lightly kissing her cheek with affection.

Oliver took a deep calming breath: There was no point to let his mind wander, to worry about things out of his control. Even if he wanted to do something, he was needed here and now. Besides the Choir would investigate Roland’s disappearance and there were agents far more experienced than he about.

He would leave it up to them. For the moment he needed to balance out the universe and root out the evil that laid in the shadows.