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mrsmiseryxo · 3 months ago

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Behind Closed Doors

homelander x assistant! reader

🎧 Behind Closed Doors- Lana Del Rey

Disclaimer: This is finally done after two months, i first started this when the season came out. I don't know anything about the corporate world. I made up things as I went along :3 im sorry :( Also my first time writing fanfic and first time creative writing in a while, so I am a bit rusty be nice please :3 I wrote this as a challenge to myself , so i hope its not too bad. Constructive criticism welcome :)

around 3-4k words i lost count

this is so secretary ( 2002) coded

Tags: dom!Homelander Fem! Girly! Reader. praise kink, body worship, p in v, fingering, cmnf, homelander is soft for reader. creampie, breeding kink, daddy nickname used. homelander and reader are horny weirdos. I'm bad at tagging hopefully i'll be better :(

Set between seasons 3-4 but i didn't watch gen v oops

You transcribe the meetings for Vought, and you feel like you don’t get the recognition that you deserve. That is until Homelander calls for a private meeting.

You were quiet and meek, like a little mouse. He viewed you exactly like that. A rodent to be exterminated. Squashed. He’ll have a word with whoever was in charge of hiring you. Even more of a word if it was Ashley. In your eyes, he could never hide the utter disdain on his face whenever he got a waft of your sweet, vanilla rose scent as you . He thought you represented everything wrong with humans. Your head was always hung low, you always stared at your shoes as you brought Ashley the notes for this week’s meeting. How dare you not look in his eyes? How can someone as stupid as you ever be trusted with confidential information about the company?

He absolutely hated everything about you. Your prissy nature, the way you only drank matcha lattes with soy milk. He turned his nose at that poor excuse of a milk option. He smelled that bullshit from a mile away. He hated the gloss on your lips. He hated the sparkle in your eyes, like you still had a lot of life to look forward to. He hated that hopeful mentality you held, following the philosophy that life was going to get better. He simultaneously hated and loved the way you cowered in his presence, the way your hands get sweaty and clutch at your skirt. He loved and hated the fact that you couldn’t hold eye contact with him. On top of all that, Homelander hated the way you made his dick twitch.

Even as you stumble around with a slight hunchback, he couldn’t keep thoughts of peeling off your tights and bending you over the table where meetings were held. How breathless and cute your pathetic moans would be. How he would make you speak up and ask for what you truly want. He wondered what your lip gloss would taste like. How soft your plush ass would feel as he caresses it. Even considering your horrible posture, something as small as your scent is enough to turn him on.

When homelander would retire to his apartment, he would drink a pint of milk and jerk off. That was his nightly routine for the last couple of years. He would think about Madelyn Stillwell, Stormfront, and if he was feeling especially normal, he would think about Queen Maeve. After a week of you working at Vought, his jerk off material had changed. He began thinking about you. A lot. You had dominated his brain, and this irritated the hell out of Homelander. He had never given this much thought to another person before. Mundane and ordinary things had popped into his brain. What did you eat for breakfast? What side of the bed do you sleep on? As much as he tried thoughts of you out of his head, they always came back with a vengeance. Just your entire existence bugged Homelander, but he got used to seeing you in the conference room, even looked forward to the weekly meetings if it meant he got to see you. He’d notice that his presence would have an embarrassing effect on you. Of course, he would have a certain effect on just about everyone that he encountered, but he relished in the fact that you would get so flustered when in the same vicinity of each other. He would then think of ways to get you worked out, he wanted to tease you just enough to coax you. He’d knew the type of girl you were, you thrived under words of praise. Homelander also knew that you’d be obedient enough to never say anything. He’d make you fear him, more than you already do. He wanted to make the desire to please stronger.

After the first month of your newfound employment at Vought, you wondered why anyone would put up with Homelander and the Seven’s antics. You pride yourself on your obedience and dedication. Why could nobody acknowledge the sea of tears shed over copious hours of overtime, and the perfection you put into shooting out emails everyday, keeping people on track. You even schedule the time the emails are to be put out. You know deep down you will never say anything, or even hint at the maltreatment and neglect that you recieve. You want to remain hopeful that this is just a rough patch, and as you get more acclimated to the company you won’t feel this way, they won’t treat you this way.

You wake up at 5:30 to face the day. 30 minute shower, a five step skin routine, and light makeup routine. You were told to always look your best when first hired. Vought has an image to maintain, and their employees should reflect that ( which only really applies to female employees).

While in the shower, you contemplate your life. You’re proud of yourself and what you have accomplished so far, but sticking to the Vought job is insane. It’s insane because you have a crush on your boss. Arguably the most famous and powerful man in America, or even the entire world. You know he's not a good person, but you wouldn’t mind being at his beck and call. God, it was pathetic how you imagine him grunting in your ear for you to take it. You try to move past these thoughts for the betterment of your life.

You are the first to arrive to the meeting room. You set up your space, placing your laptop, a notebook with strawberry pattern on it, and your matcha latte with soymilk.

As the supes settle in, you get ready to write. This week’s meeting was about searching for another member of the seven, or to speak truthfully, find a new black noir. You are clueless to how The Seven found itself without a Black Noir, but you know it is in your best interest to never ask questions. Of course, like the queen of England, Homelander is the last to arrive. Homelander strides in greeting everyone.

“ Mmm can’t wait for the bullshit we talk about today,” He rolls his eyes. You notice his tone even more irritated today. Homelander walks over to the front of the table and sits. Everyone waits for him to speak, for him to start the meeting. As you write the date on the top of your paper, you hear him clear his throat.

As you look up, he says your name. How does he even know your name? He couldn’t give less of a shit at anyone at this table, especially you.

“Can I speak to you at the end of the meeting? Alone of course. We wouldn’t want any of these morons listening in”

“ Oh. Yeah, of course!” You stutter a bit. You give him a small smile. He gives you his signature fake smile back. You know that look all too well. You recognize that that look is basically the middle finger. That highly calculated smile hides the disgust he feels for everyone around him at any given time. All the while, you are caught off guard by his words. Being alone in a room with any man would make you anxious, but being the only woman in the room with Homelander makes you nauseous. To say you are absolutely mortified would be an understatement.

Everyone in the room gives you a side eye. Ashley looks like she might pull out a gun and shoot you. She knows she’ll never hear the end of it. After all, she did hire you.

The rest of the meeting goes as smoothly as it could. Some dumb remarks were made by The Deep, but it could have been worse. You didn’t pay much attention during this meeting, as you were in your head about what this private session with Homelander would entail. Homelander senses your heartrate going up. He can practically hear the blood rushing through your veins. His hand quietly goes to grab and rub his bulge. He thinks of you on your knees, him grabbing your hair as you rub your face against his crotch with your hands on his thighs, looking up at him with adoration in your eyes. He brings his hands up and bangs the table.

“ Ok, I think we’re all done here,’’ He gives instructions to the Deep and Ashley to scout for the new Black Noir while A-Train shoots his movie. You write the details of the meeting in your notebook.

Everyone gets out of their chair and leaves, Ashley gives you a death stare. You feel faint, and your legs try to gather courage to walk toward Homelander.

“ Shut the door behind you, will you buddy” Deep closes the door, and you two are left alone at last.

Homelander slowly strides toward you with his hands behind his back. Like a deer in headlights , you were paraylzed with fear, you could not move. He softly grabs your chin. He sees the fear in your eyes.

“ Hey, you’re not in trouble. I can see the hairs on your arm standing up. It’s fine. You’re not in trouble.” He reassures you, eliminating the worst case scenario your brain. You breath a breathe of relief. You look at Homelander’s boots, still afraid to look him in the eye.

He gives a slight chuckle. “ I’m not going to laser you, ya know. Um, actually I asked you to stay because I realized something.” He places his hands on your shoulders, you finally look up. He is towering over you. You can see the absence of his pores on his face. He truly is perfect, which makes his presence even more intoxicating. Your head feels dizzy from both the fear and his course fingertips on your shoulders.

“ You’ve been here for a good while. I know that you think that you’ve gone unnoticed. But trust that that could not be further from the case.” He sighed. “ To be quite honest with you sweetheart, you’ve been too much of a distraction around here. Your short little skirts are killing me.” Homelander laughs. He imagined his hands hiking up your skirt all of the time. He toys with your hair as you cannot believe that this is happening. His hands travel to your neck as you can smell the mintiness of his breath. He places soft sweet kisses on the tip of your ear as you let out a whimper.

“ I know you wanted me like this. Ya think I don’t know why you try so hard? You want to get my attention. Think of this as a reward, yeah?” Your knees buck. The pit of desire in your stomach is getting bigger, and you're aching for more of his touch.

“ I need you to look at me” He says in his stern voice. “ And I need you to respond when I’m talking to you, kay? Sit on the table for me.”

You nod your head. A light tap of his hand kisses your left cheek.

“ Use your words, doll.” Homelander whispers and looks at you tentatively.

“oh okay” you stutter and stammer.

He impatiently unbuttons your shirt, practically tearing it open, and quickly undoing the claps of your pretty pink bra ( which you wore everyday, holding onto hope he would one day see it) clumsily breaking a clasp in the process.

“ I’ll get you a new one, its fine” Your mouth opens in a slight gasp.

His tender, soft, touch full of need finds the softness of your breasts, as he bends down to delicately pinch your nipples, hard, from the building's chill and the unfamiliar feel of his leather gloves. He bites his lips, resisting the urge to come right then and there. He lightly sets you on your back, legs dangling off the table. He looms over your view. The blonde man begins to suckle on your breast, massaging the other. His lips leave soft marks all over your tits as he rotates his hands and his lips.

“ Oh god, you feel so fucking good, sweetheart, your tits feel amazing” You let out a mewl as your pussy clenches. Filthy sounds of Homelander lapping at your tits and soft cries escaping your mouth fill the room. He lightly nibbles your nipple. In a fleeting moment of bravery, you give Homelander a request.

"Mmm want you inside"

“Not yet honey. Needa prep you first, know you can’t handle it right now. ” He unzips your skirt and throws it across the room. Your tights were thigh high, so he didn’t have to take them off like he would have liked. He looks almost animalistic as he crouches down to level with your cunt. He rubs his gloved hands up and down your bare thighs, as he inhaled the scent of your clothed pussy. You run your hands through his soft, blonde hair, thinking about how how heaven feels.

He murmurs into your pussy, “ you’re fucking soaked and i barely touched you”

His nose brushes with your clit. Catching wind of your squirming and quiet mumbles, Homelander purposely moves his nose in a circle while he maintains eye contact with you. A strong hold of his hands is on your hips, trying to contain the buildup of your pleasure. His rhythmic movement works your way toward an orgasm, and as you get higher and higher, almost reaching your peak, he moves away, toward your mouth, embracing your tongue, biting your lip softly, as your lips sloppily crashed into each other. He sat you back up as his arms moved up and down your back. Anger quickly left your body as quickly it came, you couldn’t be mad at his denial when you inhaled his fresh linen and sandalwood scent.

He breaks away from your lips .“I want you to cum on my cock, so im just gonna make you nice and wet for now, sound good?” You look into his of course that sounded good, but something felt off.

“ mmkay homelander” you mumble, feeling a bit odd and disconnected suddenly. You don’t want to call him that, his nose was in your pussy, his tongue all over your chest, it felt wrong to call him homelander. Sensing this, he does the unthinkable.

“ call me john” he mutters under his breath, almost inaudible. you grin at him.

“ mmkay john!” God. your squeal and positive attitude made his cock even harder, which he didn’t think possible. You relax a bit more, as this was a sign of him opening up.

He slowly wiggles you out of your panties, as you giggle. Leaving you fully naked, Homelander basks in the sight of you, ready and pliant for him.

“ Yeah, what’s so funny” Homelander smiles at you.

“ hmm. Dunno. You’re just so…” you trail off at the end of your sentence.

As you’re responding to his question, Homelander slips a finger inside you. You let out a cry, slightly rolling your head back.

“ Im so what sweetheart, finish your sentence” He grabs you by your neck, demanding a deep sloppy kiss, whilst adding another finger in your pussy, plunging deep in and out of your slick folds. He curls two fingers up,

‘So..mmph..good, feels good, john”

“ Mmm yeah I know honey, I know ” He coos, mockingly in between kisses. He worked his fingers until your breaths became ragged, squirming and quivering under his touch.

“ You’re so fucking wet, baby” He grunts while you moan as John scissors his fingers in and out of your slick pussy. He moves his fingers, moving them into circles on your clit.

“Im gonna cum, please!” You plea for him to keep going, faster.

“ Ah ah ah, no i don’t think so. going do it on my dick remember?” He pulls his fingers out of your wet warmth, drags his tongue up and down his fingers.

He moans as he sucks on his own fingers, you look up at john with utter adoration.

“you taste so good mmph” Your tongues intertwine, lapping filthy at one another. He bits your earlobes while his hands lazily fidget with your nipples.

He then brings the bottom of his suit to his knees, cock swinging out. It’s egregiously thick. His length swollen and aching, leaking out precum from his pretty tip.

“ I’m going put my cock in now, ok sweetheart?” He seems to take it easy on you, as he doesn’t mention your mouth salivating at the sight of his dick.

“need it bad, been waiting for it”

“ Oh I know, i’ve seen the way you look at me” he laughs sinisterly.

He uses one of his arms to spread your thighs wider apart as his other hands supports you up, grasping the whole of your back. You smile up at him

He positions himself nearer to you, his cock at your entrance.

“ it’s gonna be a big stretch ok, need you to breath, if you need support, hold onto my shoulder.” he senses your lack of experience, or at least your naivety. you had never experienced anything like this, and you never would again, he would make sure of it.

you nod your head and look up. You’re already cock drunk, you trust him with your life. He reassures you with a kiss to your forehead.

Homelander bullies his length through your warm walls, gently and slowly. you let out a cry, both of pleasure and pain. you feel so good full, He groans into your mouth, as you moan into his.

“ ok honey, it’s going in”

“mmmphh John, so big..”

“does it hurt?” he stops in his tracks.

“a little, but not a lot” you say almost in a whisper.

“ok, ill keep going really slow, sweetheart”

He thrusts real slow, as he caresses your face. you lose feeling in your legs as he pounds softly into you. He finds him rhythm quickly as he maintains his pace. You hold onto his back as he moves his hands all over you.

“ God, your tight pussy clenching my cock feels so good sweet girl”

You smile and giggle.

“ My dick needs to be in your sweet cunt forever, sweet cunt, sweet girl” He growls into your ear.

“mm Keep going daddy!” you squeal, not knowing the damage you have done but uttering those words. Homelander feels like could come right then and there. A primal switch flipped in his brain.

Tears begin to swell in your eyes. “ I’m so so so sorry i didn’t mean to say that” Homelander sees your eyebrows furrow and your eyes widen.

His thrusts begin to pick up the pace, the perfect rhythm becomes sloppy, as your juices spill out of your thigh. His fat cock ever so slightly touches your cervix as you let out a soft sob.

“you don’t know what you do to me don’t you? Jesus, this pussy was molded for my cock” He grabs you by your knees and throws your legs over his shoulders. His dick twitches inside of you, signaling he’s about to cum, and you’re about to follow him.

“Say it again. Call me what you just called me” He annunciatesin a low voice.

“ Fuck, daddy feels good, want your cum” You feel free of all embarrassment and shame in that moment as you bask in euphoria.

“ That’s a good girl. Good girls get to cum. Good girls get filled up with daddy’s cum” Homelander never knew that this nickname did it for him. Hell, he was more of a mommy kind of guy, but he would do anything for you. Any word that came out of your mouth would make him hard, because it was you. But submitting yourself to him in this way, it did more than getting his dick up. He was disgusted by this feeling. What was it? Why did it feel so weird?

“ Oh god I’m gonna cum, gonna cum in you, give you babies oh god” He sloppily kisses your face, as fat blobs of sticky cum drip out of your cunt. He keeps his cock in your pussy, as he holds you with your face pressed to his chest.

“i need to come daddy” you stutter and shake under him.

He allows you to come and you swear you see stars. John smears his cum across your pussy, then he bends down to kiss in between your lips highs.

He helps you into your skirt and what’s left of the rest of your clothes. You smile at him, and he smiles back. A genuine smile.

that got a little more emotional then i thought it was? idk should i make more of homelander x reader in mind? if you want to give feedback feel free to :) i’m doing this to be a better writer !

divider creds: @cafekitsune @bunnysrph @anitalenia

#homelander x reader #the boys #homelander #homelander x you #homelander prompt #homelander smut #dilfism #x reader #the boys season 4

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endless-ineffabilities · 3 months ago

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Chemical Override (bonus chapter three) - In the Modern World

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: I knew I wanted to do a fun bonus chapter after part seven, but I wasn't sure what about. Then came this music video, with this feral slimey cat, and the rest is history. Not to mention this brilliant anon further fueled the idea for the plot!

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Seems so hard just to be If it matters You complete me 🦎

This is set between part two and part three of the story. Right after the rumours of the reader with Jacob surface and she clarifies to Ewan that it's all just PR, and before he gets boozy and sends the voicemail.

Ewan

Martin’s room is typical of any unemployed and aimless outcast in their late 20s. Particularly, one with a penchant for conspiracy theories, reptilian critters, diorama building, and surface-level anarchy.

“So he’s just like a regular guy,” Ewan jokes, making the director Luna laugh.

“Sure, I bet this is how your own room is like back in… Derby, was it?”

“Yeah,” Ewan nods. “I actually have a place here in London now, too. The room is the same. But I’ve got more than one lizard.”

“Good one, mate,” she claps him on the back, before walking further into the room. She stops in front of the craggly stands that Martin passes off a workstation. “Here is where he keeps his pets. As you know, he’s got spiders, iguanas, and the rogue chinchilla.”

“Look at that little guy,” Ewan stoops down to inspect the grey rodent. “You lost there, buddy?”

“That one is our cameraman Eddie’s,” she remarks. “The bugs - we borrowed from the local habitat. All under code, of course.”

“Mmm,” he looks around the room. Maroon sheets, used up art supplies like glue and various unclean brushes, pieces of silver wire, old cables, duct tape, painted figurines, a scattering of old tickets for an underground fighting ring. Propped up on the headboard of his bed is a stolen street sign. On the wall is an assortment of posters - some of bands, some of comic strips, but mainly just scraps of art Martin finds from the internet. A rabid dog with its teeth bared. Grotesque humanoid figures.

Standard, regular pictures.

“You like the posters?” Luna notices him perusing the wall. “You know, I had the idea of incorporating something you like here. Maybe a band or… you like Metallica, I heard?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah, I love them. So I get to choose a poster that would fit Martin?”

“Sure,” she shrugs. “Something that represents both yourself and Martin, why not? Make up a backstory for it. It can be anything you set your mind to, really. Let’s start with - what would you have on your wall?”

He considers just taking her up on her suggestion of Metallica, maybe a live image of the band in their 2009 Mexico show. But he didn’t want to settle on that idea just yet. What is he fixated on at the moment? What film, what song, what popular character…

Then it strikes him, causing the blood to rise to the surface of his pale cheeks. Of course. There is you.

But if he props up a full-blown image of you, just you, maybe from a photoshoot or a candid photograph, would that be too much? Would he be crossing the line?

Last he heard from you, he found out that the supposed relationship you have with Jacob Elordi is but a ruse for the sake of publicity. Thank the gods, as Aegon screamed before Aemond set him ablaze.

But in this instance, Ewan’s relief is not entirely unfounded. You aren’t with anyone. He knows he should make a move, a proper one, and not just drop hints of his admiration in interviews like the one he just did for Vanity Fair. But what can he do? You’re all the way across the Atlantic, far from his desperate reach.

As selfish as it sounds, he couldn’t bear the thought of hearing you’re with someone else and knowing it’s true. The confession is yet to stumble out of him, but he knew he was already yours.

He calls you whenever he can, whenever he misses you, which is quite often, as evidenced by the lengthy log of long-distance calls on his phone, from England to America.

“What about something House of the Dragon related?” he asks. “Could serve as a nice easter egg for the fans, if they see this.”

“I don’t see why not? If you can convince us of Martin’s motivation for it, of why he would put that poster on his wall, then we can add it right away.”

He smiles shyly, glancing down at his sneakers. He knows his own motivation for putting your image up on his wall, but what about Martin’s? He tests some ideas out, gauging Luna’s reaction, “What if he’s a sci-fi, fantasy fanatic? If he’s a devout follower of George RR Martin, and so… naturally, he had a look at House of the Dragon as well?”

She purses her lips, tilting her head in thought. “That’s something right there, yeah. But we kind of saw him as being against television, you know? Against popular media in general, and he's a guy with an affinity for obscure dark video games and comic books.”

“Hmm, yeah, yeah,” he does his best to form the proposition in his mind. How does he offer the suggestion without being too obvious? “So what if, you know, he happened to see this one character in the show, and he’s just enamoured with them for some reason? This makes it remarkable, because he does admire her, but as an act of rebellion, he still doesn’t watch the show and only bothers himself with her scenes and the art style to her character, and - ”

“Wait, her?” Luna smiles, her confusion dwindling. She’s heard the rumours. Or fan theories. Or whatever the kids call it nowadays. She hasn’t been living under a rock, and Ewan definitely hasn’t kept mum about his crush either.

“Yeah,” he scratches the back of his neck, unable to look her directly in the eye, “I was thinking of having a poster for a character from the show.”

“I thought you wanted a poster of a dragon or something,” she jokes. “So, which character? Apologies, I’m not too familiar with a lot of them.” Ewan would recognise the knowing glint in her gaze, if he wasn’t too busy pretending to inspect a scrap of faux moldy wallpaper sticking out of the wall. Set design really outdid themselves in the details, all to give the impression that Martin is a negligent slob.

“Uhhm,” he dithers, a crooked smile breaking out despite him chewing on his bottom lip, “she’s, uhhh, one of the new characters this season.”

“Oh?” she plays along, nodding, “Which one? From what I saw, there’s two camps, right? And your camp is green, is she in that?”

“No, actually,” he shakes his head, “she’s in the opposing team, you could say.”

“That’s interesting,” she nods, slowly, trying to encourage him to simply spit it out. “You know, Ewan, mate, if you don’t actually tell me which character you want to put up, then this poster idea isn’t going to work out.”

His gaze snaps back to her, and he awkwardly titters under his breath. “Right, right. Uhhm, she’s called Alyna… Alyna Rivers.”

Luna’s mouth forms an O, as if she’s enjoying this little gotcha moment. She realises that Ewan, while reserved, wears his heart on his sleeve. What a lucky girl you are.

“And… why would Martin want her specifically up on his wall?”

The emphasis on Martin came off as superficial, her tone humorous, leading Ewan to believe that she actually pertains to him and not the character.

“He might see her as some sort of muse, you know… she’s a fighter, she’s got a fire in her…”

“And he’s got a crush on her.”

“Oh… well…”

“He likes her.”

“Uhhh… yeah I guess…”

“You guess?” she raises her eyebrows, grinning, “come on Ewan, what does Martin feel about her?”

“She’s his… his ray of light,” he decides. “His world is a mess. He’s lost. His one release entails getting beat up bloody every other day. But the idea of her is his beacon of hope. Untainted, you know. She’s… she’s perfect. She wouldn’t hurt him like the rest of the world already has.”

Luna nods in understanding, satisfied. She casually slings an arm over his shoulder, then says, “You know something, mate? That sounds a lot more than a crush to me.”

“Mmm,” he smiles, agreeing, the welcome image of you flooding his mind like always, “it sure does.”

The entire cast and crew for In the Modern World have the subsequent three days to accomplish filming.

Ewan sits in the makeup trailer, awaiting his cue, his vision now impaired by the unkempt strands of his long black wig. Spiky grunge cuffs decorate his wrists. He wears an ill-fitting pair of jeans and a t-shirt, the costume for the first scene to be filmed.

He has already gone through the process of trying to get in Martin’s head, seeing what makes him tick, what drives his actions, priming himself to jump inside his skin. He’s ready. At this point during filming, he has the habit of eliminating any distraction to maintain focus, and his phone is tucked inside his backpack on airplane mode.

Defying his routine, he retrieves his phone, nervous fingers clicking away until they land on your contact. He hovers over the voice call option, opting at the last second to do a video call instead.

The front camera turns on, catching him off guard with how messy he appears. Maybe this was not the best idea, he falters, what am I doing? I’m gonna scare her off.

“Ewan?” It’s too late to change his mind when your cheerful voice answers, your expression curious and inviting. His ray of light. “Is that you?”

He timidly brushes his hair - his wig - away from his face. “Hello, darling. I thought I’d ring you for a second.”

You laugh openly, drawing your face closer to your phone to get a better look at him, “Are you shooting the music video right now? Oh my god, look at you!”

He smiles sheepishly, teeth clamping over his bottom lip. “What do you think?”

“Wow,” you shake your head, the sunlight reflecting on your face from wherever you are. Likely walking around outside the studio, as he spots the white buildings in the background. “You look so… cool. This is like Aemond in the modern world, rebelling against his mother with the help of cheap hair dye.”

He appreciates your clever assessment, feeling much better about himself. “Don’t I look shabby?”

“Ewan,” you click your tongue, “judging by what you told me about your character, I think you’re supposed to look shabby.”

You’re right. He shakes his head, mostly at himself, for being so concerned if you still find him attractive even in this get-up.

“I feel like Kirk Hammett. Very rock n’ roll.”

You smirk, “I’d say this is your hottest look yet.”

He blushes profusely. You think he looks hot. It may just be a passing quip, a casual thing to say, but it has him in a grip. His reaction would nearly rival that of Martin’s, who would probably jump right on to making a mini-figurine of Alyna. After just a single interaction with you, Martin would probably spend the next few weeks occupied with objectionable fantasies. You and him, rolling around in the car. Only, car jitsu wouldn’t be the physical activity at play.

Ewan shifts in his seat, adjusting his trousers. In the end, he’s no better than Martin after all.

“Ewan?”

“Oh sorry, darling, I was just - ”

“I said that I have to go back inside,” you say, “I do appreciate your call, though.”

His face falls, despite the fact that he has to be on set soon anyway. “Of course, darling, go ahead.”

“Kick some ass for me?”

For you? Anything. “You got it, baby.” The name jumps out of him before he can stop himself, and he justifies it as a ‘Martin’ reaction. He’s in character, isn’t he?

You roll your eyes. It is your turn to blush and fail at hiding it, and you do. “Okay, rockstar. Talk to you soon, okay?”

“Okay,” he says, then adds, “Wait!”

You raise your phone again. “Oh, what is it?”

“I, uhhh, I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” you smile, and he commits the image to memory. This moment is his, just his; Martin can bloody wait.

Martin

Martin throws himself down on his bed, limbs limp and flailing about. It must have been the hundredth time for that afternoon - getting up, rolling back on the mattress, prodding his pets, jumping around the room to incoherent punk music, cigarettes burning out between his chapped lips.

He has nothing to do today, not until it’s time. Just like every other day, every other week, in this drudgery of an existence. Everything means nothing, and the twisted truth of it is that he thinks himself free.

Free of the cycle. Free of meaningless friendships. Free of love. Free of her.

The ghost of his ex-lover still haunts him, golden haired and rosy-cheeked, bundled up in her puffy coat like some cheap caricature of an angel. But she was no angel. Angels would not abandon someone they claim to love, with a mere snap of their manicured fingers.

But she haunts him. What they had, and what they could have had. Was it even his? Would it have come out with a thin sprig of dark curls? He did not care to know now.

She was his everything once. But isn’t that overrated? Falling in love is so overrated.

His fingers clumsily mess with the controls for his toy helicopter as he lays down. The apparatus hovers above head, filling the room with a buzzing noise. His lit cigarette stumbles from his lips, and the noise is joined with his frantic, fuck, fuck, fuck, as he tries to shake it out of his hair. He succeeds, but the helicopter teeters in the air, until it slams against the poster of Alyna Rivers displayed over his headboard.

He lets it fall, becoming distracted with her image. It’s a promotional still of her in her complete hunting attire - a fitted leather jerkin over a dark red tunic, tight breeches tucked into knee-high boots, a dagger sheathed in her belt. But his favourite addition is the longbow she grips in her hand, her fierce expression making it known that she is prepared to draw it back at a moment’s notice.

Martin gets on his knees on the bed. He kisses two fingers, then gently touches them to her poster in a gesture of reverence.

If only…

“Good morrow, my lady,” he says in a sing-song voice, “always a pleasure to come upon your visage.”

He leans closer, tracing her figure with precision, “I bet you can fix me. I bet you can make me feel alive.”

He chases after euphoria that night, over and over, fucked up and depraved and empty. But it hits different this time. It’s better.

As white spots flicker and dance in his vision, and the fog in his mind threatens to swallow everything, it’s not the vision of his ex that flashes before him - it’s Alyna he sees.

Her face is sharp and real, cutting through the haze like a beacon. She holds him together as exhaustion takes over him and the oxygen is slowly cut off from his windpipe. She anchors him, even on the precipice of oblivion.

The opponent is alarmed by Martin’s eyes rolling back revealing the whites of his eyes. He loosens his hold, letting go even if Martin refuses to tap out.

“Fuck, you alright?” he rasps.

Martin doesn’t hear him. His bloodstained, cracked lips curl into a ghost of a smile as his hand trembles, reaching out to press against the fogged-up windshield.

With a fragile sense of peace, he murmurs, “You fixed me.”

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Some notes in the margins...

I know I said I would include the reader's reaction to the music video, but I decided to use the time to work on part eight... I still might get to writing this idea as a drabble though 🤷🏻‍♀️

Not Ewan having beef with his own character HAHAHA this lad I swear

Part eight out very, very soon! It'll be a wild ride. Oh, I'm not even kidding :)

#ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell imagine #ewan mitchell x reader #chemical override #in the modern world #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen x reader

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mistycreativelilacs · 3 months ago

Note

Can you please write a Bruce Wayne imagine where he catches her singing or something cute like that?

Welp… it only took me -checks watch- three years to respond to this, but uh… here’s a 5000 word drabble I guess.

Kitchen Off Limits

About a year into living at Wayne manor you enacted an (ever growing) list of rules. Originally the list only had three rules on it:

1. Sunday is family day. Baring any Gotham destroying/world ending catastrophes everyone is to be in the dinning room no later than 11am for brunch followed by a previously voted on family activity.

2. Family Activity planning occurs on the first Saturday of the month, activities for the whole month will be decided then.*

*Attendance is NOT mandatory, however those who do not participate do not get to complain when we spend 3 Sundays in a row at the zoo.**

**No liberating animals from the zoo.

3. Monday thru Saturday the kitchen belongs to Alfred. Sunday morning’s the kitchen belongs to Mom*.

*That means no one, not even Alfred can enter the kitchen until AFTER brunch**.

**Yes Tim that includes you. You can wait for your morning cup of coffee***.

***ABSOLUTELY NO coffee pots, mini fridges, microwaves, blenders, hot plates, or dry food storage in your bedrooms or you WILL be personally hunting down every rodent and bug that comes crawling into the manor****.

****You can NOT train an army of cats to hunt vermin as a trade off for a mini fridge.

Certain amendments had to be made to the list with each new addition to the household. The final amendment to rule three inspired the creation of its own rule.

243. If you bring a pet into the house, YOU must personally care for it at all times. This includes feeding, grooming, walking, training and cleaning up after them as well as insure they have a proper habitat to live in*.

*Your bedroom is only a proper habitat for regular domestic animals (ie. dogs, cats, fish, small reptiles, small birds, caged rodents such as rats, Guinea pigs or hamsters and snakes, within reason - no large pythons). Large animals whether native to our region or exotic must be housed in a properly built enclosure on the grounds.

Needles to say the Wayne children kept you on your toes. Which brings us to now.

You awoke at the crack of dawn this morning to prep for the day. In a not so shocking twist, Damien had lied, cheated and outright bribed several of his siblings in order to get a zoo trip in this month. The Waynes were such regulars at the zoo (and contributed so much in donations) that they’d named an entire section after the family. The Wayne Reptile House (filled to the brim with several of the reptiles you’d ‘rescued’ from Damien’s room upon Alfred’s discovery of Damien’s unsanctioned renovation of his closet). It was important to you that the children experienced even just a smidge of normalcy amongst all the vigilantism.

You’re staring into the pantry, debating whether to do pancakes or waffles, when an old favourite song comes on the speaker. This was your favourite part of Sunday’s. Once everyone realized how serious you were about the rules, Sunday morning had become your alone time. If the kids were fighting, they handled it amongst themselves. If someone had a question, they went to Bruce or Alfred for answers. Mom was not to be disturbed.

The word Mom still brings a small smile to your face. You’d never really pictured yourself as a mother but when you’d stumbled your way into a romance with THE Bruce Wayne, he’d already gained 2 of your ever growing hoard of children. You’d stumbled your way into motherhood much the way you stumbled into Bruce’s arms.

You begin to softly hum to the song as you decide to just make pancakes and waffles. With a family full of crime fighters more was always the safer option. No one wants a repeat of Tim and Richard’s destructive fight for the last cinnamon bun. You had to spend a fortune redoing the dinning room after, replacing antiques was not cheap, and your heart still hadn’t recovered from the sticker shock. Needless to say the boys were still working off their debt by assisting Alfred in the daily runnings of the manor. As you got lost in the gargantuan undertaking of cooking for the whole Wayne clan, your gentle hums morphed to soft whispers of lyrics.

Just as you were frying the last batch of pancakes the opening chords of your and Bruce’s song came through the speakers. It would be more accurate to state that you’d unilaterally declared it your and Bruce’s song. During your second year of dating you had slowly begun introducing him to the world of romcoms. One particularly chilly fall day that year saw Bruce catching a cold. You took advantage of that to force him into a binge of some of the best and cringiest of your favourites from the 2000’s. Two particular movies seemed to make the notoriously stoic Bruce Wayne emotional. The obvious one being ‘Two Weeks Notice’, but it was the Hugh Grant, Drew Barrymore semi-musical ‘Music & Lyrics’ that would produce the perfect song for your and Bruce’s life together.

As the sounds of Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore came through the speaker you began to sing in earnest.

‘I've been living with a shadow overhead

I've been sleeping with a cloud above my bed

I've been lonely for so long

Trapped in the past, I just can't seem to move on’

Your mind drifted to how you and Bruce met. Recently heartbroken and determined never to let another man hurt you, you’d sworn of men and decided to dedicate all your attention to advancing at work. Your first steps were taking the assignment no one else wanted to touch with a ten foot pole. Being Bruce Wayne’s personal assistant. Those who succeeded at such a gargantuan undertaken seemed to excel through the ranks at Wayne Enterprises, but those who fell short well, you’d heard his last personal assistant had moved back home to small town Kansas and given up the corporate ladder completely.

Your first week had been a cake walk, seeing as Bruce had been away on business meetings in Europe. It’d given you time to get settled in and a system in place. You were determined to be the best personal assistant he’d ever had.

Upon Bruce’s first day back in the office, you’d mustered up all the courage you had and waltz into his office. With barely a good morning you’d launched into a tirade of how things were going to be and that unlike his past assistants you were going to set boundaries. He’d blinked at you slowly, and you were convinced you were about to be fired. His mouth opened and the word okay seemed to unintentionally fall out. You both stood there a moment, seemingly shell shocked at the interaction, before you gathered your wits. With a pivot of your heels you rushed out your own okay before returning to your desk.

Unbeknownst to you Bruce himself had been going through a touch of heartbreak, having had a fall out with his former paramour Selina. His accounts of your first meeting paint you in a much fiercer, more beautiful light. But you’re sure he’s simply remembering the day with rose tinted glasses seeing as you had a poorly concealed coffee stain on your blouse and your hair had definitely begun its escape from the clip you’d rushed it into on the train that morning. Nevertheless he claims it was your fierce determination that stunned him into submission and not his utter exhaustion from sleep deprivation.

‘I’ve been hiding all my hopes and dreams away

Just in case I ever need ‘em again someday

I’ve been setting aside time

To clear a little space in the corners of my mind’

The weeks following your initial meeting were a full of meetings, calls and insuring your boss took proper care of himself. It took exactly three days for you to realize he’d forget to eat, four to realize he seemed to not be sleeping either.

You quietly placed a standing order with the sandwich place down a couple blocks from the building, and then methodically went through Bruce’s calendar and put a two hour meeting blackout everyday around 2pm. You’d also had the couch that sat on the wall just outside his office doors moved into his office proper. The next day you simply waltzed into his office at noon and dropped the sandwich on his desk before returning to your own desk. Two hours later you waltzed in dropping a pillow and blanket on the couch and closed the blinds without a word. As you turned to leave Bruce questioned what you were doing. You simply informed him that you’d place a permanent daily block on meetings between 2pm-4pm and that his office doors would be locked for that period of time as well.

When asked, Bruce will claim that as the day he fell in love with you.

You continued on that way for months, the world seeming to move in a blur around you. Your friends encouraged you to start dating again, but you just weren’t sure you could ever trust a man again. Besides, work was so exhausting most days that you were certain you’d simply pass out at the restaurant if you did go on a date. What a terrible first impression that would make.

It was a seemingly unremarkable Tuesday morning when the world came screaming into focus again.

‘All I wanna do is find a way back into love

I can’t make it through without a way back into love

Oh’

You’d been tutting about the office while Bruce attended a meeting with Lucius in the lower levels of Wayne Enterprises. You had just started printing off a report for Bruce’s next meeting when your printer ran out of paper. Normally this would be a none issue, except for reasons unknown to you, the night cleaner had developed a habit of putting the box of printer paper on top of the bookcase in the corner. A bookcase that stood nearly three heads taller than you. He’d been doing it for weeks despite your many conversations with him about it. You had tried bringing it up to Bruce, but he just blamed it on the language barrier and claimed it as a non-issue since he could just grab it for you.

It was just your luck that the printer would run out when Bruce was in the midst of a meeting and wouldn’t be back for at least another hour, probably two seeing as his meetings with Lucius always seemed to go over their allotted time slot. You’d been certain the office would have a step ladder hidden around somewhere, but after nearly twenty minutes of searching and being put on hold with maintenance, you’d given up. You could just wait till Bruce returned, but you had only printed half of the first of ten copies of a 40 page report that was required for his next meeting. You’d begun cursing everyone from the night cleaner for his obsession with moving the paper to the head of marketing and research’s assistants for not sending the reports yesterday when you’d requested them. Difficult problems required creative solutions, however the only thing you had that was light enough to drag over to the bookcase while giving you enough height to grab a ream of paper was your office chair. As the head of the companies employee safety committee you knew this was a terrible idea, as Bruce Wayne’s golden assistant the risk of letting your boss down for the first time ever outweighed the risk to your personal safety.

Even with the chair you needed to climb the bookshelf to actually reach the shelf the paper was on. Ream firmly in your grasp you moved to step back into the chair. As your foot touched the chair your hand slipped from the shelf and you felt yourself go backwards. You closed your eyes and braced for impact but it never came. Instead you felt arms wrap around your back and hip, securing you to a firm chest. You opened your eyes coming face to face with Bruce. Had his eyes always been that blue?

“What the hell were you doing.” He was angry, his blue eyes tightening with worry. A warmth flitted through you at the thought that he cared about your safety.

“Grabbing the printer paper.” You gasped out, bending to grab the ream that had fallen to the ground when you’d lost your grip.

“You could have injured yourself if I hadn’t shown up in time.” Bruce was still in your personal space and it was starting to overwhelm you. ‘Had he always been this… large?’ He seemed to tower over you.

“Yes, well I wouldn’t have needed to do all that if the cleaner would stop placing my printer paper up there.” You’d stepped back from Bruce, needing something to keep you from ogling your boss, you began fiddling with the printer.

“You could have waited for me.” He got in your space again, his voice softer now as he took the paper from your shaking hands.

“Do you understand how ridiculous it is to have to wait for the CEO of the company just to load a ream of paper into my printer?” You huffed out, turning back towards him now. The two stood there, chest to chest just staring at each other. You didn’t want to be the one to back down first, but you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep from blushing while staring into to his eyes.

‘What was with you today? You’d never had a problem going toe to toe with Bruce before. Now suddenly your acting like a horny school girl, daydreaming about climbing this man like-

“Fine.” Bruce stalked off to his office, an indiscernible glower on his face, leaving you to ponder what the hell had just happened. And why you seemingly out of nowhere had very inappropriate thoughts about your boss.

That night marked the first of many failed blind dates, agreed to only after having decided that it was your lack of a love life that had you daydreaming about your boss.

The next morning the box of paper was on the bottom shelf of the bookcase.

‘I’ve been watching but the stars refuse to shine

I’ve been searching but I just don’t see the signs

I know that it’s out there

There’s gotta be something for my soul somewhere’

Things between you and Bruce changed after that day. You’d never realized how comfortable you two had become with one another until you suddenly weren’t. You’d taken to communicating with him almost exclusively through emails and his calendar due to how awkward everything had become. He’d try to ask you about your life and you’d just clam up, not wanting to tell the object of your recurring lusty dreams about your string of failed dates. Failed because after less than two minutes you’d start comparing all of them to Bruce. The whole thing was getting so out of hand, you’d started seriously contemplating putting in for a transfer.

You’d been so lost in thought it took Bruce loudly clearing his throat for you to notice him standing in front of your desk.

“Yes, Mr. Wayne?” You’d resolved that complete professionalism was the only sure way to put everything back to normal. Or at least it will hopefully allow you to cling to some semblance of normal until you stop chickening out and put in for reassignment.

“I was wondering,” he seemed nervous, fidgeting with the snow globe I kept on the edge of my desk. “Do you have a date to the Christmas Gala?” Oh. He’s not? Is he? He couldn’t possibly-“I was just thinking if you didn’t have one, we could go together.” He was- “just as friends. We are friends aren’t we?” n’t.

“Yes, Mr. Wayne I suppose I’ve come to regard you as a” the word friend seemed to catch in your throat ��friend over these last few months. But, to be quite honest with you, I wasn’t planning on attending the Christmas Gala.”

“You have too. In fact, I’m making it a mandatory requirement of your job that you have to be there. I’ll pick you up at 7pm.” He didn’t even give you time to respond before waltzing back into his office. It took all of 30 seconds for you to follow after him.

“You cannot force me to go to the gala Mr.Wayne.” You’d stopped in front of his desk, arms crossed over your chest.

“Why not?” He leaned back in his chair, smug smile glued to his face.

“Because I’m a human being with free will and, according to the Wayne Enterprises Employee Handbook, attempting to force me to attend would constitute harassment.” The smile slowly dropped from his face as he rose from his chair.

“If you truly don’t want to attend, I won’t push the matter.” He took slow, deliberate steps towards you, halting just far enough to be considered proper, but still close enough for you to catch the scent of his cologne. “However, it’d mean a lot to me if you did attend.” You’d been so distracted by his eyes and the seemingly sincere look on his face that you hadn’t even noticed he’d reached for your hand. You stood there utterly unmoored by the events of the past few minutes. You mentally shook your self out and opened your mouth to once again decline his invitation.

“Okay.” You were stunned with utter disbelief at the disconnect between your brain and your mouth. Bruce smirked.

“Perfect, like I said early I’ll pick you up around 7pm. If we’re going together, I really should match my tie to your dress. What colour is it going to be?” He’d started heading back to his desk.

“Mint.” You mumbled out. If you were going to be photographed on Bruce Waynes arm, even as just a friend, there was only one dress in your wardrobe that was even close to passable. Turns out you would get a second wear out of the bridesmaids dress from your sister’s wedding.

‘I’ve been looking for someone to shed some light

Not somebody just to get me through the night

I could use some direction

And I’m open to your suggestions’

The Christmas Gala was a disaster. The gala itself was wonderful, decorated to the nines, wonderful little hors d’oeuvres being passed around on trays that looked suspiciously like real silver. You however were a disaster. After entering the gala on Bruces arm, to the flash of what seemed like a million cameras, you’d been immediately pulled away to solve a crisis for the marketing assistants. The crisis turned out to be nothing more than a minor tear in her dress. One strategically placed safety pin later and you found yourself in the midst of the gala uncertain where Bruce had wandered off too.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing standing alone?” Oliver Queen. You’d had several run ins with him whilst working for Bruce.

“Oliver, not that it’s any of your business but I’m looking for Bruce.” You didn’t even bother glancing at him, lest you encourage his flirtations. “You haven’t seen him recently, have you?”

“Does Brucie really have you working on Christmas? He truly has no shame. If you were working for me-“ You cut him off before he could descend into what was sure to be a thinly veiled innuendo.

“We’ve talked about this Oliver. I’m not interested in you, professionally or personally.” You levelled your iciest look at him.

“Sheesh, can’t even give a guy a shot in the spirit of Christmas?” You harden your glare. “Fine, fine. I can take a hint sometimes.” He raised his hands in surrender before placing them on your shoulders turning you in a full 180. “Your beloved Brucie is right there, and it seems he’s decided to use the spirit of the season to rekindle an old flame.” You were met with the sight of Bruce and Selina Kyle in an arch way locked in a kiss.

“Oh.” Logically you knew you had no right to be upset. Bruce had made it abundantly clear the two of you were just friends. But if that were true, why did this feel so much worse than any breakup you’d gone through in your near 25 years of life. “Excuse me, I need to- I should check- I…” You left Oliver standing there as you rushed from the ballroom.

‘All I wanna do is find a way back into love

I can’t make it through without a way back into love

And if I open my heart again

I guess I’m hoping you’ll be there for me in the end’

You wrote your two week notice on the train ride back to your apartment. You were sure you looked quite the sight, shivering in your evening dress, makeup running down your face from the tears you couldn’t hold back. It took an hour longer than normal to reach your corner of Gotham, it gave you time to compartmentalize. Due to the Holidays you’d only have to work out one week of your two weeks notice, but that was still one week of having to see the man who had unintentionally shattered your heart. The worst part is you couldn’t even be mad at him. He’d done nothing to lead you on or imply that you were anything more than friends. You’d simply allowed your imagination to get the better of you and now here you were crying because you’d broken your own heart. You were so lost in your own heartbreak you failed to notice the man standing outside your apartment building until you literally walked into him.

“I’m so sor-“ you began to tumble out an apology as you lifted your eyes to the face of the torso you’d just slammed into, only to be met with achingly familiar blue eyes. “Bruce?”

“You left.” He looked upset, almost as if he were the one heartbroken. “You didn’t even say goo- Have you been crying?” His hand lifts to your face, thumb trailing under your eye. You have to repress a shudder at the feeling of his warm hand on your cold cheek. “Was it Queen? Did he say something again? I’ll have him bared from the building.” You step out of Bruce’s embrace.

“No, it wasn’t Oliver Mr.Wayne.” Professionalism, detachment, that was the only way you were going to get through this final encounter with the man you’d come to love. “It was a personal matter and it’s been handled. But since you’re here I might as well do this face to face. I’m resigning from my position as your personal assistant effective immediately. I’ve already emailed HR and-“

“No.”

“No? This isn’t a yes or no, situation Mr. Wayne. I’m not asking your permission, I’m telling you. I quit.” You’re astonished at the level of strength in your own voice.

“No, you don’t. And while we’re at it you’ll stop with this Mr.Wayne nonsense and go back to calling me Bruce.” He’s agitated now, angry at you.

“Mr. Wayne once again it’s not up to you. I’ve already sent my notice to HR, and accepted a new position elsewhere.” A small lie, but a seemingly necessary one seeing how hard of a time Bruce seems to be having with grasping the concept of your departure from his life.

“Then I’ll buy this new company you work for.” He’s invaded your personal bubble once more.

“Mr. Wayne you can’t just buy a corporation to stop me from quitting.”

“Bruce, and yes I can. I’m a billionaire if you’ve forgotten.” You’re nearly chest to chest at this point. “If this personal matter is the reason you’re quitting, then let me help. I’m sure with your brains and my money we can figure out a solut-“

“I’m in love with you, you idiot.” You push at his chest, anger fuelling your every movement now. “I’m in love with you and I didn’t relish the thought of having to sit in that office day after day watching you moon over Seli-“ He’s kissing you. Bruce Wayne is kissing you. Your to stunned to do anything other than let him.

‘There are moments when I don’t know if it’s real

Or if anybody feels the way I feel

I need inspiration

Not just another negotiation’

When he’d finally pulled away, self satisfied look on his face, you began to berate him. It was his turn to be stunned into silence while you cursed him out in the middle of the street (unbeknownst to either of you, one of the teens from your apartment block filmed the whole thing. It went viral by morning and Wayne Enterprises PR team had to work overtime to spin it in the companies favour). It would take the better part of a week for him to convince you that what’d you seen was Selina’s last ditch attempt at winning him back. It’d taken him another two months of failed wooing attempts to finally get you to agree to be his girlfriend.

‘All I wanna do is find a way back into love

I can't make it through without a way back into love

And if I open my heart to you

I'm hoping you'll show me what to do

And if you help me to start again

You know that I'll be there for you in the end’

The song fades out and your left standing in the middle of your kitchen lost in thought when a gentle chuckle penetrates your subconscious. You whirl around to find Bruce leaned against the entryway, smile lighting up his face.

“How long have you been standing there?” You could feel a blush beginning to bloom across your cheeks.

“Does it matter?” He advances on you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Yes, I need to gauge how embarrassed I should be.” You sink into his embrace, wrapping your own arms around his neck. He bends down and plants a gentle kiss on your lips.

“What were you thinking so intently about?” He gently sweeps an errant strand of hair behind your ear. It was your turn to plant a distracting kiss on Bruce’s lips, the last thing you needed was to inflate his ego. “Ah, so you were thinking about me.” He smirks when you break for air.

“I was not.” Your blush deepens, as if thinking about your husband was the most scandalous thing in the world.

“Mom’s always thinking about you. It’s kinda gross actually.” Jason sat atop your counter eating a cinnamon bun. “What do you even see in the old man anyway? You’re young, attractive and funny. You could do a lot better than Bruce.”

“Off my counter.” You pulled out of Bruce’s embrace to admonish your son. “And put that down, those are for brunch.” You swat his hand away from the fruit tray. He hops off the counter planting a kiss to your check, as he grabs the fruit tray and starts carrying it to the table in the adjacent dinning room.

“It is brunch though mother.” You startle a bit at the sound of Damians voice coming from beside you, nearly 15 years in and you still got startled by the way they all seemed to move in utter silence popping up from seemingly nowhere. At 5’4” your youngest was nearly eye to eye with you, a few more years and he’d tower over you like his brothers.

“Did you all collectively wake up and decided today was the day to disregard all of mom’s rules?” You move to turn off the speaker, mourning your few hours of peace and beginning to mentally prep for the chaos of having all 7 of the Wayne children in one dinning room. “Tim you better be putting that coffee into a cup.” You had a sixth sense for Tim’s caffeine habit and, unbeknownst to him, had been taking steps to curb it. Your most recent ingenious plan was slowly mixing decaf into the regular coffee. Your current batch of grounds was 60% decaf and only 40% caffeinated.

“Of course mom. I wouldn’t dream of breaking your rules.”

“Bullshit.” You whisper under your breath. “Aren’t you all currently breaking rule number 3?” The boys had the decency to at least feigen sheepishness.

“But it is brunch.” Duke, Stephanie and Cas shuffle into the kitchen together.

“Technically the wording of the rule does state that we’re not supposed to enter the kitchen until after brunch, which is why I entered the dining room through the hallway.” Richard leaned his head through the entryway between the two rooms.

“We get it, your mom’s favourite little suck up.” Jason slaps the back of Richards head on his way back into the kitchen. He loads his arms with various platters from the counter before turning back to his siblings. “Well come on half-wits, if you’re gonna break mom’s rules might as well make ourselves useful.”

“Jason, don’t hit your brother.” Your admonishment is half hearted at best, knowing full well your second eldest was likely to simply pretend to listen, while waiting till you turned your back to strike his older brother once again. “And Richard don’t even think about retaliating while he’s holding those platters.” You lean against the back counter running a hand through your hair, releasing it from its haphazard bun. You watch the other kids with the eyes of a well seasoned mother, fear for your antique dish-ware seizing you. You really should just invest in plastic dish-ware at this point, or perhaps you can commission Lucius to develop a line of indestructible dish-ware. There has to be a market for that, right?

Bruce comes to stand beside you, placing a mug of tea in your hands. You lean your head against his shoulder, a content sigh leaving your lips.

“No regrets?” He asks, as the sound of a squabble erupt from the dinning room.

“Not a one.” You smile. No, you wouldn’t trade this for anything. CRASH Okay, maybe you’d trade out whichever child just broke- CRASH - TWO plates. “Boys what did I just say about fighting with my antiques in your hands!”

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne reader insert #bruce wayne x reader #batfam #fluff #angst #fanfiction #dc comics #dceu oc #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne

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woodenplank-gt · 2 months ago

Text

Definitely Not A Mouse

Thank you so much for all the love on the previous part!

Previous: A Not So Average Night

Next: Witness To A Crime

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Tucker bit back a yelp of terror as the world seemed to bottom out. He tumbled into the bottom of the bag alongside the chips, his small weight slightly crushing them. He found himself partially buried under the yellow salt-coated food, thankfully it was nowhere near heavy enough to crush the borrower.

Gravity forced him down as the bag shot high into the sky, the rapid motion causing bile to rise in Tucker's throat. He was jerked this way and that, slamming into the aluminum walls along with the chips as the human's thudding footsteps carried him away. A few moments later, a door slammed shut and the movement abruptly stopped.

The only thing Tucker could hear was his own hyperventilating breaths. The bag crinkled above him and a yellow light quickly filled the darkness. He threw up a hand at the sudden onslaught of light but it left as quickly as it came, covered by a giant green eye. Tucker balked further under the chips as the eye immediately zeroed in on him. The human gasped and Tucker was pitched forwards as the bag lurched away from the human's face.

"This....what...." A shocked voice rumbled outside the bag. There was an uncomfortably long moment of silence that filled Tucker with terror. He scrambled to get his feet under him but the tangle of chips effectively kept him stuck in place. Chips cracked underneath him as Tucker strained to get some control over his situation. His hand tightened on his weapon. If he could just reach a wall then he can easily cut his way out before Shawn got any ideas....

"Seriously Shawn?" Gus complained angrily, slamming another door shut. "How are we supposed to prove it wasn't the husband? You heard what Lassiter said!"

When Shawn failed to respond, Gus glanced over to his passenger. He gasped, "Shawn!" His friend has done ridiculous things in the past for the sake of solving a case, but this was on a whole new level. "Did you seriously take food from their house! Are you insane?"

Shawn finally pried his eyes away from the bag to look at Gus with wide eyes. His mouth opened and closed a few times like a fish out of water, something that rarely happened to the man.

Gus narrowed his eyes, "I'm not moving this car 'til you tell me what's going on with you." His voice was low and stern. It was clear he was not exaggerating.

"This is evidence for the case. At least I think it is...." He uneasily looked between Gus and the bag. Shawn could feel the slight shifts of whatever was stuck in there, solidifying the fact that this was real. Of course he knew something was in there when he snagged the bag, but he was expecting a rodent or a bug or anything that didn't resemble a tiny human. He ran a hand through his brown hair. "Let's just go back to the office and figure out what's going on." He finally decided.

His friend still didn't move the car, instead he was now criticality eyeing the chip bag as if he could see what's inside. Gus sighed, "Is there anything in there that's creepy, crawly, and has a bunch of legs?" He asked.

"No." Shawn answered aloud, inwardly hoping he got a good enough look.

"Alright then. But if we go to prison for tampering with evidence, I am testifying against you." Gus warned before turning the car on and beginning the short drive back to the office.

Inside the bag, Tucker flinched at the sound of the engine and toppled over as they began to drive. He landed in between a gap in the chips sinking even deeper into the bag. The conversation overhead confirmed his fears that things will only get worse from this point on once they arrived at the humans destination. Tucker had to escape before they had a chance to examine him.

He squirmed to free himself so he can cut a hole through the thin aluminum wall, but the chips proved more cumbersome than he initially thought. Each movement made it harder for him to free himself, and the car's sharp turns didn't help at all. It was like being stuck in a deep ball pit where any action to get out only made things more difficult.

It was all too soon when the engine went silent and the bag jerked again as the humans climbed out of the car. The bag shook violently each time Shawn took a step, ruining what little progress Tucker made towards freedom. Outside of his prison he heard some keys jingle and another door opening and closing. They arrived at their destination. Tucker's heartbeat roared in his ears and he renewed his struggles to get out.

Shawn walked over to his desk in the shared office space. Gus curiously watched as he pushed aside all the clutter on his desk while clutching the chip bag to his chest. He knew he must have noticed a small detail that no one else could hope to see. Shawn's keen eyes is what made him such an effective detective, no matter how annoying his process can get. But Gus failed to see how a bag of chips can be important to the case, especially in a way that made Shawn so uncharacteristically nervous.

Finally Shawn turned towards him. "Listen. I have no idea what's going on here, but promise not to freak out."

The seriousness in his friend's voice sent a jolt of worry through Gus. He warily eyed the innocent looking bag one more time before nodding in agreement, "You have my word," he swore quietly.

Tucker paid no mind to the rumbling conversation overhead. He had just freed his weapon when the bag suddenly flipped, tilting into a menacing slope. He cried out as he began sliding towards the bag's opening. Tucker's free hand desperately reached out for anything that could stop his descent, but only grasped air. His boots harmlessly dug into the sleek material underneath him as chips nearly as big as him pushed him towards the light. Tucker ungracefully tumbled onto the hard desk among the chips and crumbs, landing on his stomach.

"Wha- is this for real?" A voice boomed above him.

He whirled around in a panic. Frantic eyes landing on not one but two looming giants. His instincts screamed at him to run but Tucker's body was paralyzed as their gazes pierced right through him. All he could do was stare at the humans while his brain seemed to short circuit while coming up with a plan.

"Is this real!" Gus repeated as he stared at the impossibly tiny figure. He hesitatingly took a step towards the desk.

This kicked Tucker into action. He jumped to his feet and began sprinting across the desk to the other side. If he could get over there then there was still a chance for him to escape. The air shook from the humans surprised yells but he pressed on. Shadows covered the table in darkness as both Shawn and Gus stepped closer to the desk. Tucker held the nail tightly as he ran on, more than prepared to use it when the human grabbed for him.

He stumbled as their heavy footfalls shook the surface but his eyes stayed locked onto the far edge of the desk. He was so close! His lungs felt like they were on fire and his bag thumped against his side as he poured all his power into his legs. Tucker jumped over a pencil and unlatched his hook from his satchel. His hand stretched out, ready to lodge his hook into the desk and jump down. He still had a chance.

All too suddenly, Tucker collided with something hard. He fell onto his back from the momentum losing his hold on his hook, his mind spinning as he tried to figure out what just happened. The wall he hit curled around him and effortlessly lifted him off the ground. Tucker's brown eyes widened in panic as fingers longer than he was tall restrained him into a fist.

He struggled against the fingers. He pushed and shoved and kicked, but the fingers didn't budge one centimeter. Tucker was too weak to make any sort of impact. Vertigo all but slammed into him as the hand rose up into the sky. Tucker temporarily seized all struggles and squeezed his eyes shut to focus on keeping the dizziness away.

"You are real..." A low rumble shook him to the core. Hot breath washed over Tucker and his body started trembling uncontrollably. He forced himself to peek an eye open and immediately flinched back. The human held him mere inches away from his face. Green eyes bigger than Tucker's head scrutinized him closely.

Tucker resumed his struggles but his limbs remained effortlessly pinned down. His bag dug painfully against his side. His hand still gripped his weapon with a solid hold, If he could just free his arm then he could make this human regret ever touching him.

"Dude are you seeing this!" The human exclaimed as he held out the squirming figure to his friend. “It looks like a tiny action figure!”

Tucker's breath escaped him as the voice vibrated his entire body. It served as a clear reminder of how much danger he's in. He's up against beings so powerful even a voice can overwhelm him. His heart rammed against his ribs and no matter how hard he tried, Tucker couldn't catch his breath. He wasn't sure if it his sheer panic or the fingers squeezing him that caused it. He didn't know what to do. He was completely helpless. He was only ever taught how to avoid getting caught, not what to do if he got captured. If he could do anything at all.

Especially against a psychic. He didn't know what that even was, but it's clear the human had strange abilities. Tucker hung his head as he took in another shaky breath. Will the psychic read his mind and find out about borrowers? He will fail his kind whether he spoke or not.

"I think you're holding it too tight." Gus observed with eyes still full of shock.

The hand shifted again so Shawn could see Tucker's face. "Oh, oops," he murmured as he began loosening his fist. "There, that should be better."

Tucker immediately pulled an arm out of the fist and squirmed to try and free the hand holding the nail. But to his horror, two enormous fingers immediately came into view, dwarfing Tucker in their shadow. A finger and thumb lightly pinched his exposed arm, holding it out for inspection. Tucker froze, fearfully watching the fingers holding his arm.

The fingers shifted to reveal the tiny hand resting on a fingertip. Shawn's eyes widened, "Whoa," he whispered breathlessly. Even with the minuscule fingers stretched out, the tiny hand could barely cover the tip of his finger. It was unreal.

Tucker was shocked by the comparison as well, although it left him more frightened than fascinated. He was so small next to a finger. A freaking finger! It took everything in him not to try pulling his arm back as the fingers continued to hold it out at an uncomfortable angle. His bones were thin enough to snap from one tiny shift made by the human. He was at Shawn's complete mercy.

"Look at this! This is insane!" He exclaimed excitedly, unknowingly hurting Tucker's sensitive ears. Gus stepped closer to gawk at the insane size difference, putting Tucker in between two enormous humans. After a few excruciatingly long moments, Shawn seemed to lose interest in the tiny limb and let Tucker protectively pull it back towards himself.

"This is the craziest thing to ever happen. Ever." Gus stated as he unbashedly stared at Tucker. He leaned in closer, his brown eyes locking onto the leather strap on Tucker's shoulder. "I think it even has a little bag!" The giant face lit up with excitement.

"Wait really? You're kidding!" Shawn's fingers opened while his other hand came swooping in towards Tucker. Before he could even act, large fingers pinched the bag and began tugging it off him. He quickly clutched the strap with his left hand while keeping a firm grip on his nail with his right.

Tucker dug his boots into the thick skin of the human's palm as he played tug-of-war with fingers larger than him. It wasn't much of a match. The satchel was easily pulled off his shoulders and was lifted up into the air, but Tucker's unrelenting grip on the bag left him dangling from the strap. He didn't care. That bag was one of Tucker's most important possessions and he would be damned if he let a clumsy human get it without a fight.

"C'mon little guy, just let go." The human coaxed. A hand rose up underneath Tucker to serve as a safety net before Shawn shook the bag. He grunted and squeezed his eyes shut as he was swung this way and that, but thanks to all his years of climbing, Tucker still had an iron-grip on the strap. The hand underneath him lifted closer to his feet and he quickly tucked his legs up, doing everything he can to stay out of the human hand.

Eventually the hand was only a few inches underneath him, expectantly waiting for Tucker to drop down so it can squeeze him to death. Instead, he pulled himself up and looped a leg through the leather strap. His brown eyes were locked onto the fingers pinching his bag and his hand tightened around his nail.

Both Shawn and Gus exchanged uneasy glances as the little creature refused to let go of the bag. Shawn was not expecting it to be that attached to the object, and he was even more surprised when the little thing ended up dangling in the air. As much as Shawn wanted to pluck it off the strap, he didn't want to risk squeezing it too tightly again. Something that small could be killed with a simple flick of his fingers. So, he opted to be patient for once and wait for it to get tired and drop to his awaiting palm.

Of course it wasn't that easy as the little thing actually climbed up the bag. Shawn smiled as he watched it, reminding him of a tiny little ninja. It's kinda adorable.

Of course, the humans couldn't see when Tucker's gaze hardened and his body tense in preparation. In one smooth motion, he lifted his body just high enough from the strap and sliced deep into Shawn's finger above. The hand reflexively snapped opened and a loud, pained shout shook the air. Tucker gasped as he started to plummet to the floor far below him along with his bag. Surprisingly, he welcomed this free fall. He got out the human's grasp. That's all that mattered.

Of course, this brief moment of peace was ruined as he hit a surface that was far too close and leathery to be the floor. Tucker didn't even have a chance to catch his breath from the impact before a hand cupped over him, trapping him between two walls of flesh.

"Shawn! You okay?" Gus asked as Shawn plucked the nail out of his finger.

"No, that actually hurt." He complained, "I'll probably need a tetanus shot after this." Shawn grumbled. He watched as blood slowly pooled out of the cut before placing a tissue over it to stop the bleeding. He nodded towards Gus' cupped hands, "At least your catching skills are improving." He added gratefully.

Gus glanced down at his hands. He cringed as he felt the creature's slight weight moving around in there. He hated that feeling, especially knowing it was an unknown creature that resembled a human. At what felt like tiny pokes against his skin, Gus belatedly realized the danger he was now in.

He quickly thrust his hands back towards Shawn. "Take it back." He demanded.

He flinched away before Gus could deposit the creature back into his hands. "What? No! I don't wanna get stabbed again!" He argued.

"Well I don't wanna get stabbed either!" Gus shot back.

A smug smile briefly appeared on Tucker lips as he kicked and shoved at the borrower-sized fingers surrounding him. Even if his escape failed, he was glad he scared the giants a little bit. At this point he'll take any victory he could get. Hopefully they learned their lesson not to manhandle him so carelessly.

But the more he kicked and pushed to no avail, the more helpless he felt. A lump caught in his throat at the realization of how weak he is. Tucker never thought of himself that way before. He has gained muscles from his daily climbs around the house and has even killed giant rats in battle. Compared to a human, however, he’s weaker than a baby.

His prison continued to vibrate as the humans spoke loudly. "What do I do with it!" Gus asked sounding just as panicked as Tucker felt.

"Just-uh-put it on the desk!" The words barely left Shawn's mouth before Gus dumped Tucker back onto the desk. He grimaced as he landed painfully on his shoulder but that didn't stop his adrenaline filled body from shooting back onto his feet. His eyes frantically scanned his surroundings for an escape. The ground shook as both humans got down on their knees to be more level with the borrower, although they still loomed menacingly over him.

He warily eyed the giants as he waited for their next move. After the stunt he just pulled, Tucker was in for a cruel punishment. That's how humans work after all. If you fight back against their control and power, they will just crush your spirit until you're nothing but an obedient pet. Tucker will never let that happen, even if it kills him.

Gus leaned forward, "So.... What exactly are we gonna do with it?" He picked up a pencil and gently poked the little thing's side, watching as it reeled back. Gus still couldn't believe it was real.

Meanwhile, Shawn was busy gathering up the objects the creature was carrying: a fishhook and string left on the desk, the nail, and the tiny bag now lying on the floor. Personal belongings say a lot about a person and he figured the same would apply to the little guy.

His green eyes narrowed as he quickly examined each object. The string on the fishhook was long enough to reach most surfaces like tables and counters. Shawn vaguely remembered the creature carrying it on its bag when they first put it on the desk. It's definitely used as a means for the little guy to get around. The stinging cut on his finger made the nail's use pretty obvious, but the bag was another story. Shawn could hardly believe the craftsmanship of the satchel. He would assume it came from a doll house if it wasn't made out of real leather with noticeable wear and tear from years of use. The bag even had a little clip holding the flap down, something even the most steady human hand couldn't accomplish.

He left the objects on the far side of the desk and glanced up to examine the little guy's clothes. By all means they looked like clothes he would find in a store. It wore all black and dark grays, colors that let it blend seamlessly into the shadows. The stitching was far too intricate to be made by human hands. The brown boots looked to be made of the same leather material as the satchel.

Shawn's eyes narrowed even more as he noticed what looked to be specks of saw dust on the dark fabric. Interesting.

The more details he noticed, the more his stomach twisted with guilt. As much as he wanted to, Shawn knew he couldn't ignore the evidence that was quickly stacking up. The tiny man is an intelligent being. And they just took him from his home and possibly his loved ones.

Shawn blinked and looked at Gus, who was staring at him with a quirked brow. The tiny person was still standing on the desk with wide eyes burning holes into the humans.

"Let's talk about that somewhere else," He said, finally answering his friend's question. Shawn got up to his feet and walked over to the kitchen, searching through the cabinets until he found what he was looking for. Shawn hid it behind his back to avoid scaring the little guy into running away. He quickly made his way back to the desk before placing a glass cup over the man. He briefly watched as he held his hands against the glass, glancing nervously between the humans.

Shawn told himself he wouldn't be in there long, but that didn't stop the guilt from rising even higher.

Gus frowned at the method used to keep the little guy there, "This better be quick." He said quietly as he walked into the office lobby. Shawn followed closely behind and shut the door once they were alone.

"I think that little guy is intelligent." Shawn blurted immediately.

Gus crossed his arms over his chest, "How so?" He asked, tilting his head.

"The fishhook is used for transportation, the nail is obviously a weapon, and his satchel is way too advance for an animal or bug to create."

His friend nodded along the more he spoke. "The clothes too. They look like they could only be made by tiny hands." Gus added, looking more and more upset. "It -he- really is a person."

Shawn sighed and rubbed his temple, "And we just kidnapped him and manhandled him."

Gus pointed a finger at him, "There's no 'we,' that was all you."

"That's not helping me feel any better Gus!" Shawn groaned into his hands. "I thought it was a mouse and I was just gonna chase you around with it for a bit." He admitted blatantly.

"You would be doing this case by yourself if you pulled that off." Gus placed his hands on his hips.

"Relax, I would have only chased you for like three minutes." He paused for a moment, "Maybe four. Anyways that's not important," Shawn waved off Gus' annoyed glare, "We need to figure out what to do with the little guy."

Gus paced around the small lobby in thought. "Well if he's intelligent, then he must speak some sort of language." He reasoned. "If it's English, then we will simply ask him who murdered Kirstin and let him go on his way."

"Go where?" Shawn gestured wildly with his hands, "That house is a crime scene. It can't be safe for him. Especially with Carlton investigating the area.”

Gus stopped his pacing in front of the door to their workspace. "We do this one step at a time. Let's focus on communicating with him first."

Shawn nodded, “Alright, let’s get this guy talking.”

Gus held an arm out, blocking Shawn from walking through the door. “I’ll do the talking, you just focus on not scaring him further.”

He frowned, “Fine.” Shawn reluctantly agreed.

#g/t #g/t community #g/t writing #giant/tiny #psych show #psych #shawn spencer #burton guster #pocket detective #detective #oc tucker #borrower #borrowers

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sehtoast · 4 months ago

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Lazy Mornings (Homelander x OC)

morning snuggles, his chest hair looks sooo cozy, fluff, domestic fluff, established relationship, spidersona oc | Fic Directory

This was becoming a habit. Not that Homelander could complain, but whatever rodent was in charge of his itinerary certainly would. He's been marked late too many times to count now. It didn't really matter, though. What would Vought do, fire him? Dropping the face of the company was impossible.

Besides, it was worth it.

“Mm… five more minutes,” mumbles the face nuzzled against his chest.

It was such a stupid little thing, but it always left him feeling like he'd been stuffed full of fluff and love. Over time, it became his favorite way to start the day.

Ben's thumb rubs back and forth through the fuzz of his chest, occasionally stopping just for the bug to switch and softly rake his nails through it instead. He's not sure how this all began, but it probably had something to do with how much Benjamin liked fuzzy knitted blankets. Prior to this, the bug would wrap one around his pillow and do exactly as he does now. Nuzzle his face into it, stroke it, play with it– the stimulation, he'd always say, was what made it so nice. Like it scratched an itch in his brain and was purely soothing.

The first time Homelander fell behind on waxing his body hair ended up being the last time. Ben practically pounced him, and now he demands he remains nice and fluffy.

“You're gonna make me late,” Homelander whispers begrudgingly. He still has to get his hair and makeup done for the promotional shoot. At this rate…

“Mmm'fuck ‘em.” Ben rolls off anyway, eyes bleary from his extra few minutes of bliss. “Stealing my man so early oughta be a crime.”

“How'dyou think I feel when you hear a siren and bolt at two in the morning?” He teases as he stands to stretch. “I get cold by myself. You practically leave me to freeze.”

His suit is thrown haphazardly over Ben's desk chair, but there are thankfully no wrinkles that set in. It's a pleasant surprise when warm hands join in to help with every annoying clasp and zipper.

“Then I guess it's only fair,” Ben murmurs, pressing a kiss to Homelander's back before zipping him up, “if you run out on me. But only sometimes.”

He turns for a real kiss, pecking Ben's lips over and over again. Hell, if he had it his way, Homelander would strip out of that damn suit and get right back in bed. Instead, he has to part and make friends with the toothbrush and finally take the morning piss of champions that he's held for hours since Ben snuck back in bed. What? Can't blame him for being a sucker for quality cuddles.

“You're gonna be here when I get back, right?” He asks, leaning over Benjamin's not-quite-slumbering form.

“Mm, unless some bullshit happens, then, y'know…”

“Text me?”

“Always,” smiles his sleepy little spider. “Love you.”

Homelander grins big and bright, presses one last kiss to his sweet Benjamin's lips. “Love you more.” He moves for the door, turning to take one last look at the heart he calls home.

Goddamn scheduling…

#homelander #homelander x oc #homelander fanfiction #antony starr #the boys #homelander x reader #the benlander agenda

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late-to-the-party-81 · 1 month ago

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Blood Lust

N: For my last entry to @buckybarneseventsBuild a Bucky Bingo I’ve picked Vampire AU. I’ve adored this challenge and hope it runs again.

Unbeta’d so please excuse any typos, but big thanks to @christywrites for spitballing with me.

Mood board by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

If you would like to join my tag list, click here

Master list | BaBB Master list

Summary: Bucky was just trying to find another lost Hydra bunker to destroy it - he never expected to find a fucking Vampire inside it, or receive such a proposition from her.

You didn’t know who the stranger coming into your territory was, but you could tell from his scent he was powerful - maybe he could provide you with what you needed, in more ways than one.

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Vampire! Reader

Word Count: 5k

CW: Vampire AU, alternating POV, blood drinking (what did you expect?), rough sex, multiple orgasms, canon typical violence, destruction of furniture, guns, stranger sex, smidge angst, discussions of murder.

Even if you hadn’t been able to smell him as he drew closer - musky with fresh sweat along with notes of gunsmoke and metal - you’d have known he was there. His blood sang to you. You could feel it, drawing you in. Closer and closer. Full of strength and power. And, you hoped, the answer to your prayers.

You waited in the shadows and as he came into view, moving slowly and stealthily, you watched him with a growing hunger that wasn’t simply a need to feed.

The thing about HYDRA, Bucky thought, was that just when he was sure he’d found all of their old bases and razed them to the ground, he found mention of another one. Now, here he was, deep in the Appalachians, trying to distinguish a HYDRA bunker from those built by random prepper’s . The signs were there, though - marks carved in the rocks and trunks of trees that looked innocuous to most folks, but were clear as day to someone with the appropriate knowledge.

Dusk had started to fall an hour ago, and now it was almost fully dark. The moon had risen, round and heavy looking, but the sky was covered in those large fluffy clouds that constantly moved and only allowed the bright, reflected light to illuminate the path in front of him at random. Luckily, with his enhanced eyesight, Bucky didn’t need to rely on either the inconsistent glow or a flashlight. His steps were sure and steady, barely making a sound.

Eventually, after following a few false paths, he found what he was after. A broad cliff face, cut with vertical crannies, rose up in front of him. Somewhere at the bottom would be the entrance, cunningly hidden. He reached out with his left hand, running the tips of his vibranium fingers over the weather roughened surface for signs of a mechanism. As he did so, he became aware of two things at once. Firstly, he found the switch to release the door with relative ease. However, secondly, he got the distinct feeling he was being watched.

Whipping around, Bucky peered into the darkness, his ears straining for any unusual sounds, but all he could hear were the bugs, rodents and owls. If he were any other person he’d think he was imagining it, but years of training followed by a few years of paranoid hiding had taught him better.

When nothing appeared out of the gloom, Bucky forced himself to turn back to the hidden door and trigger its release. Hopefully he could leave his stalker outside and deal with them later, once he’d completed his mission.

Without further ado, he made his way inside, the door to the bunker closing decisively behind him.

You watched from your perch, your entire body tingling in anticipation, as the man made his way, unknowingly inside your lair. He was confident, you could tell, but it wouldn’t be enough to stop you. His blood would be yours to feast on and you were certain it would make you stronger.

How long had it been since you’d fed from an unwilling source? Others of your kind may prefer it that way, but in the centuries since you’d been turned, you’d barely ever had to resort to those means. Well, you thought ruefully, apart from in those first few months when you’d been unable to control your hunger. That was a long time ago, though, and now you had a good relationship with the folk who lived near-by - your protection in exchange for fresh blood.

However, the appearance of a rogue coven threatened that relationship. They were a group who followed the old ways, killing indiscriminately and revelling in the carnage. Yes, you could move on, establish yourself elsewhere, but you had bound yourself to this community of people over 100 years ago. Their blood literally ran in your veins. Therefore, you would protect them, and if it took the life essence of this one, apparently powerful stranger to do so, then so be it.

Bucky strode down the corridors, trying to shake off the innate feeling of revulsion that always seemed to cling to him whenever he came into one of these places. He knew it was half due to the dank, dark environment and half due to memory. Ghosts stalked these halls, and he was both one of them and not at the same time. It was a strange duality that he was still learning to accept.

The advantage of being one of those ghosts was knowing his way around without much difficulty. While HYDRA liked to make their bunkers as winding and complicated as possible, they always replicated the same design. This therefore made it complex for anyone new, but familiar for any long standing acolytes and he’d been the longest standing of them all.

Winding downwards into the lower levels, towards the central processing area with its banks of computers, Bucky allowed his mind to wander. There was no-one else in here but him. If there were he’d be able to hear their heartbeat or footsteps. He wondered if the person who’d been watching him outside was waiting for him to exit, but he’d cross that bridge when he got to it.

He absent mindedly patted the pocket that held the flash drive for downloading any uncorrupted data still available. He and Nat would sift through it all on his return and delete anything that shouldn’t be let out into the wider world, which was probably most of it to be honest.

He was feeling pretty confident about this whole mission when the attack came without warning. One moment he was walking down yet another dark corridor, his enhanced night vision serving him well, and the next, something - someone - barreled into him from behind. His instincts kicked in, and Bucky tucked his head and rolled, taking the impact with the floor on his right shoulder, before coming up and spinning around, his left arm raised in a block. A high-pitched shriek filled the air and his assailant slammed against his raised arm. It was with a mixture of shock and disbelief that he realised that it was a woman attacking him, but he didn’t have time to analyse what was going on as she punched and scratched at him.

He blocked her moves, but her strength was unexpected and he found himself giving ground underneath her onslaught. A punch to the gut had him reeling and it was with a sickening realisation Bucky decided that he could no longer just be on the defensive. His previous self had never discriminated on the grounds of sex - just ask Nat - and it appeared that was something his new, recovered self would also have to adopt, for this encounter at least.

Using the advantage afforded him by the distance that had opened up between them, Bucky pulled his pistol from its holster on his right hip and aimed at the woman, centre mass. The retort of the gun was loud within the confines of the concrete lined corridor, but not as loud as the woman’s scream. Bucky winced and turned his head to the side in response to the sound, but it was only as she came running at him again that he realised that it wasn’t a scream of pain, but one of rage. It was as though the bullet hole in her body - and he knew it had hit her from both the sound and the spray of blood up the wall behind her - wasn’t causing her a single issue.

“What the fuck?” He raised his arm again, aiming for her skull, but as he pulled the trigger she seemed to blur in front of him, moving a lot closer to him than humanly possible. The bullet struck the wall, embedding itself with a small shower of concrete chips.

Deciding that something was very wrong, Bucky turned. He needed to get away from her and give himself time to come up with a plan. However, he was jerked to a halt by the back of his tac-vest and then slammed face-first into the wall. It crumbled and cracked under the impact and Bucky had a moment of dizziness, before he was spun around and a clawed hand held his jaw in a firm grip. He spat out a mouthful of grit and blood and noticed the way the woman’s nostrils flared as he did so, her gaze becoming momentarily unfocused. It didn’t last long though, and his unease grew as he watched an animalistic grin spread over her face. A grin that displayed the fangs in her mouth.

“Oh,” the woman said in a low purr. “You’re going to be lots of fun…”

You held the man against the wall, your body alive with the thrill of the chase and the scent of his spilt blood. Your primal nature had been awakened for the first time in years and you were ready to let it have free reign. However, you weren’t sure whether you should just feed, or whether you should ‘play with your meal’ first.

Your moment of indecision gave the man an opening, and he grabbed your wrist with his left hand, the one you noticed was made of some kind of metal, and squeezed. You felt the bones break and you let go instinctively. The pain didn’t last though, and you held up your hand in front of you, feeling everything reset within seconds.

“That wasn’t nice,” you spat. He looked back at you in shock and now it was your turn to take advantage. No more Ms Nice Vampire. You took hold of both his hands, flesh and prosthetic, and slammed them both above his head, cracking the wall further. With interest you noticed his eyes dilate, and you hadn’t even attempted to use your glamour yet.That fact tipped the scales further in the direction of playing.

“You can make it up to me though, can’t you?” You crowded into his space, pleased to note that he wasn’t even struggling, although he was far from lax under your hold. Leaning forward you placed your nose close to his throat and inhaled deeply. You shivered at the delicious scent - it was almost completely intoxicating. “You can be good?” You heard his indrawn breath and smiled to yourself. Tilting your head, you carefully scraped your fangs down the skin of his neck, not hard enough to break his skin, but he’d still be able to feel it. Speaking of feeling…. His hips bucked as you teased him and you were nudged by something firm but still somewhat yielding.

A praise kink? A pain kink? Maybe both? This was going to be good.

Using your preternatural speed and strength you pulled him away from the wall and then threw him towards the floor. His head bounced off the hard surface, making his eyes cross, but you immediately settled over his waist, taking hold of his face in both your hands and roughly kissing him. Blood from his split lip trickled into your mouth and you ground down over his erection in pleasure.

You drew back and looked down at him, pleased to note he was so busy trying to work out what was going on, he wasn’t even trying to escape.

“You can’t be real,” he stated. “I shot you.”

“Oh, I promise I absolutely am. And that lead slug did tickle a bit. You’re a good shot, Soldier. However, you need either silver or wood if you want to slow me down.” You flicked out a long fingernail and drew it down his cheek, this time drawing blood. A small bead clung to the tip of your nail and you drew in between your lips. His cock twitched under you, but then he shook his head, as if trying to get out of the stupor he was in, and tried to push himself up.

“Uh-uh,” you chastised, placing your hand on his chest and pressing down. “You’re not going anywhere. You have something I need.”

“You’re not taking anything from me, bitch,” he snarled, and squirmed under your unnaturally strong hold. You ground down again.

“Who said anything about taking? You’re going to give it to me, and say thank you while you do. You know what I am. What I can offer. What’s a little blood in exchange for guaranteed pleasure. I’ll even let you rough me up a bit if you want?” You leaned back down. Closer. More intimate. “I know you want to…” You licked up the cut on his cheek, both of you shuddering as you did. Then, experimentally, you lessened your hold on him.

In an instant, he flipped you, pressing you to the floor with his left hand on your throat. He didn’t attempt to hurt you though, or escape. Just looked down at you, wide-eyed and panting. You had him just where you wanted him.

Bucky’s head was spinning. He’d seen a lot in his time - but this was something else. A fucking vampire. He looked down at her, noticing the way her dark eyes twinkled in amusement. In all of the tussle it hadn’t escaped his notice how attractive she was. If she wasn’t trying to drain him of his blood he might have been interested. At least that’s what he was trying to convince himself of. His dick obviously hadn’t received the memo, because it had perked up from the moment she’d shown that she was as dangerous as him.

Fuck! Was he mad for even contemplating it? She’d already shown it would be incredibly difficult for him to hurt her - at least in any way that would be long lasting - and that was a fact he found incredibly arousing. If he took her up on her offer he’d be able to really let go.

“You don’t want to kill me?”

She laughed and arched up into his hold. “Sweet boy. If I wanted that, I’d have done so already. But if I had, we wouldn’t be able to enjoy each other over and over, would we?”

“What about the people who live here? How many of them have you killed?”

“In the last one hundred and fifty years? None. We have an understanding. Regular, non-lethal tributes in exchange for my protection.”

Bucky furrowed his brow at her words.“Protection from what? What could possibly be worse than you?”

“Many things. You have no idea what evils lurk in the dark.”

Now it was his turn to scoff. “I think you’ll find I do. I used to be one of them. I may be mortal, but I’m not like everyone else.”

She lifted her arms and ran her hands, delicate but deadly, up and down his biceps. “And yet you obviously choose to be a better person. I bet you could take everything you wanted - use your Soldier skills - but you don’t. You compromise. You do what’s right. How does that make you any different from me?”

There was an undeniable truth to her words, as much as Bucky didn’t want there to be. He constantly downplayed his abilities, because he didn’t want his friends to realise what he would truly be capable of if he wanted.

“What are you waiting for?” she continued. “Just think what it would be like, not to have to hold back. To fuck. Hard. To feel the pain mingle with the pleasure.” She smiled up at him, wryly, and he could feel his resolve slipping. Her left hand tightened on his right bicep, sharp fingernails digging into his skin through his shirt - pinpricks of sensation that lit up his nervous system and made his traitorous dick twitch once again in his pants. Her smile morphed back into that tooth-filled grin and she pressed her nails in even harder. “Go on. Let go. Take what you want.”

Her voice was a hypnotic purr, and Bucky could hear his blood thrumming with need. It felt as though he was standing on the edge of a precipice, only needing one small nudge to send him over the edge. She rolled her hips and let out a pleasured sigh and Bucky fell.

It was difficult to suppress your feeling of triumph as his lips crashed against yours. For a few seconds you let him have the upper hand, before you rolled the pair of you back to your original positions. Then, with a laugh, you pulled away from him and rose to your feet. “Catch me if you can, Soldier.” You skipped away at half speed, which was still faster than most humans, and he chased after you, grinning. Every few minutes, you’d allow him to capture you - let him kiss you and touch you - for a few moments before pulling away and starting the dance again. He only hesitated once, when your escape from his grip ended up in your top being ripped. He froze, looking at you with worry, as if you were about to censure him for his roughness. Instead, you threw back your head and laughed with joy, before taking hold of the neckline of his shirt and tugging on it harshly. The ruined material hung from him in tatters, exposing his firm chest and you licked your lips salaciously before running away from him again.

By the time you’d lead him to the room you’d repurposed as your bed chamber, the pair of you were barely clothed. Your Soldier’s chest heaved and was covered in a thin film of sweat, and you couldn’t wait to taste him. All of him.

With a snarl he tackled you to your bed and you went with him gladly, ignoring the ominous creak of the wooden frame. His mouth roved hungrily over yours and his right hand groped at your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple. You mewled against his lips as the pain mixed with the pleasure and you grabbed at his pecs in turn, digging in your talon-like nails until they broke the skin and ten beads of blood appeared in two beautiful arcs across his torso.

He bit down on your clavicle, hard enough to hurt but not enough to break your toughened skin, and you rolled your hips against his hard length. His hand left your breast and snaked down to the remnants of your underwear. As his fingers slid through your sodden folds, you ran your fingers through his hair as he scraped his teeth down your throat, in an echo of your own earlier move. His left hand, as cold as your own skin, skimmed over your body as he made his way lower, biting your flesh without care. He swirled over your clit, before plunging two fingers inside you without preamble, forcing a cry from your throat.

“Yes! YES! Fuck!”

He answered with a growl, before sucking on the skin of your hip. This was what you’d unknowingly been craving and you suspected it was the same for him. Pure inhibition. Carnality.

Moving even lower, he fastened his lips around your aching bud, laving it without mercy and your eyes rolled back in your head as your orgasm crashed into you, like waves against a cliff. He gave no quarter, though, flipping you unceremoniously onto your front and pulling your hips up.

“Do it!” you hissed, and anticipation shuddered through you as he placed that heavy left hand on the back of your neck, pining you to the bed. When he thrust his cock inside you, you both moaned, but there was no time to process the sensation as he set up a vigorous pace, thrusting into your wet cunt so harshly there was no way you could ignore the protests from your bed. But fuck it - this was the best sex you’d had in decades - if it broke, it broke. You relaxed your body, turning pliant under his hands and enjoying the illusion of physical domination as he fucked into you with abandon. You had wondered if your body was still capable of feeling this level of pleasure, but as he continuously hit that spot inside you, you realised it was.

His right hand gripped your hip so hard you knew that if you were still mortal you knew you’d be bruised for days, and the way he had you pinned would have impeded your breathing if that were still an issue. He was using you for his pleasure, but at the same time making sure you got yours too. The only noise you could let out were little ‘uh-uh’s’ in time with his thrusts and the creak of the wood of your bed. When the spasms of ecstasy shook you once more you felt his cock tense inside you and then flood you with a warmth that was almost forgotten.

As you floated back down, there were a few seconds where a feeling of disappointment washed over you that it was over already, but then you realised that he was still hard inside you. He gave a few experimental thrusts, probably checking that you were alright to continue, and you pushed back onto him in a raptured response.

However, he quickly withdrew and when you looked over your shoulder in confusion he pulled you up and off the bed. With a speed that would have taken your breath away, he once again grabbed you by the neck and, with another hand on your ass, he lifted you and slammed you against the wall. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and as his mouth met with yours again, he resheathed himself inside you. You gripped his shoulders, drawing blood once again, and the snapping of his hips became harder as you did so.

“Take it!” he growled against your lips. “You wanted this, so you’ll take it all.”

You sucked his lower lip into your mouth and bit it, releasing a sweet, sticky dribble of his blood into your mouth, moaning at the taste. It was ambrosia, and you couldn’t wait to have more, and feel his essence buzzing through your veins.

“How long. Can you. Keep going?” you asked between rough thrusts.

“I got three or four in me,” he replied to your joy.

“Then fill me up again, Soldier. I want to be dripping you.”

His groan was deep and filthy, both of you now attuned to how wet your cunt currently was, your mingled spend already coating your inner thighs and the skin at the base of his cock.

“You have to come again first. Show me how much you want it. Come for me.”

You didn’t need telling twice and leaned your head back against the wall as the sensations washed over you. “Fuuuuuuuck!” He was as good as his word though, reaching his own peak as you clenched around him.

However, as nice as it had been to relinquish control to this man, it was time for you to regain it. You moved your hands so they were flat against the wall behind you and then pushed off. Your Soldier staggered back, with you still held in his arms and his rock solid cock still snug in your cunt, until his legs hit the mattress. He fell back onto it and you smiled from your position atop him, before starting to ride him.

Bucky’s head was spinning. This… There was nothing he could compare it to. This woman - this vampire - was not only taking everything he gave, she was serving it right back to him. He looked up, mesmerised, as she took control from him again, gliding up and down his cock. She looked like some kind of warrior of old. A goddess. Maybe she had been one of those in her previous life? But right here and now, she was the only woman to come close to matching him and it was intoxicating. The earlier cuts she’d made on his chest had healed over already, but she just reopened them with a curl of her hands. The pads of her fingers smeared the drops across his chest before she raised them to her mouth and sucked them clean, all ten, one by one. When she grinned down at him, her teeth were blood-stained and she looked primally beautiful.

“Sit up,” she commanded. “I need to feel you closer. I want to taste you properly.”

He couldn’t believe he was agreeing to this, but for some reason he trusted her when she said she didn’t want him dead. He also hoped that if her blood lust took over he’d be able to escape from her before it went too far - although a voice in his head laughed harshly at that. From what had happened so far, he would probably lose, but he was nothing if not a risk taker.

Bucky pushed himself upright and his supernatural lover wound her fingers into his hair and kissed him while gyrating in his lap. He grabbed at her waist, holding her steady and just gave himself over to the onslaught of pleasurable sensations. She tugged on his hair as she plundered his mouth and he could help but jerk his hips up to meet her movements. Thanks to the serum, he could already feel his third orgasm building - that really was one of the unanticipated advantages of it all - and he couldn’t help but chase the pleasure.

It was strange, this frantic coupling. The vampire was cool to the touch under his right hand, but so warm around his cock. It was as though he were heating her from the inside out. And while he was enjoying the way she moved atop him, he really needed to move.

“Please,” he muttered and she seemed to immediately understand. Shifting her weight to the side, she managed to roll the pair of them. Immediately, Bucky’s hips regained their previous pace. He felt untethered - unhinged - in the best possible way. She met him thrust for thrust, rolling her hips and making the most delicious noises.

“Are you ready, Soldier?” she uttered. “I promise it feels like nothing else you’ve experienced?”

He looked down at her, taking in her dark eyes that seemed to drag him down into the abyss. He was helpless not to fall. “Do it,” he replied, an echo of her earlier words, and as he felt her cunt start to flutter around him one more time, she surged up, latching her mouth - her teeth - to his throat.

Bucky knew pain - the man he’d become had been forged in the fire of it. He’d expected this to hurt, but that first bite quickly morphed into something else entirely. It wasn’t pleasure - it was ecstasy - and burned through his veins. His hips stuttered, losing rhythm. There was a roaring sound in his ears along with the heavy th-dump of his heartbeat and the brightness of the world intensified to a white light so brilliant it overtook everything around it, before quickly shrinking to a darkness that pulled him down… down… down… into oblivion.

You lay in the ruins of your bed, your Soldier’s head resting on your chest as you carded your fingers through his hair. You’d have found the destruction of your resting place amusing if it weren’t for the disappointment swirling through you. It wasn’t disappointment at your mortal lover’s performance - that could be described as nothing but spectacular - no, it was the disappointment that his blood has seemed to do nothing to boost your power. You felt no different than after any good feed, the glow of your sated sexual appetite notwithstanding. You’d have to come up with another plan to get rid of those encroaching on your turf. It would be different if you had a clan of your own, had the strength in numbers, but you were on your own.

Beneath your touch he stirred and you turned your attention back to him. You might be a monster, but you weren’t that type of monster. He’d done all you asked, all you’d wanted, and you owed him your care, as limited as it may be. His eyes blinked open, and in the dull light you took in the unique shade of them for the first time.

“Hey,” you whispered as you continued to pet him.

“Hey, yourself,” he replied with a charming smile before looking around. His cheeks pinked adorably as he took in the destruction. “Umm. Sorry about that.”

You waved your hand dismissively. “It’s alright. I was probably due an upgrade. The locals will bring me a new one.” A wave of fear washed over you and you frowned.

The man in your arms frowned back. “What’s wrong?”

You didn’t know why - maybe it was because you’d had no-one else to talk to - but you told him everything. All your fears for the people you watched over, how you weren’t enough on your own and how you’d hoped that his blood would give you the edge you needed.

“And this other group is really that much of a threat?”

You sighed. “Two weeks ago they snatched a family out camping. I wasn’t there quick enough to help, other than to put the mother out of her misery and assure her that her children weren’t coming back - hadn’t been turned. I buried them all myself and then sent their pastor out to pray for them - I wouldn’t put it past those fuckers to come back just to desecrate them further. They’re sick, they’re-”

“Bullies?” he interjected.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I happen to have grown up with someone who’s entire life was dedicated to getting rid of bullies. Not only is he still around, his mentality sort of rubbed off on me.” He grinned at you. “And he’s got some pretty powerful friends, too.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you’ve got a team - if you want one? Also, although it might be a little overdue, I’m Bucky. Bucky Barnes.” he held out his right hand and you took it in your own, squeezing it a little to see him blush.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky. The name I was born with has been lost to time - I’m no longer that person - but you can call me Ailith.”

“Ailith…” You watched as he rolled your name around his mouth. “And are you ready to go to war?”

“Are you ready to have rabid post fight sex?” you countered with a raised eyebrow.

He grinned and leaned towards you. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

Tag list: @km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky, @kmc1989, @kombatfather1796

@alexakeyloveloki, @wolfsmom1, @doasyoudesireandlive, @sonatabee-blog,

@goldylions, @galactusdevourerofworlds, @apenny4thots, @crayongirl-linz,

@nicoline1998enilocin, @king814318, @blackhawkfanatic, @strawberrylore,

@scram1326, @hhiggs

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #build a bucky bingo 2023 #Vampire! Reader #Bucky Barnes x you #Bucky barnes fan

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starsfic · 5 months ago

Note

mk finds a mouse

Pigsy learned that Xiaotian could raise the dead when the kid was about four.

Recently, a restaurant on the next block had started to have a pest problem. While Pigsy was normally glad to have a competitor out of the war for a few months, he was nervous. Pest problems tended to spread if not handled properly.

So, he started to lay extra traps and take extra care to make sure bugs or rodents didn't get in. He refused to shut down and have the shop across the street win! For a few weeks, none of the traps went off and there was no sign of anything.

Pigsy started to relax.

Then, one evening, he found Xiaotian huddled in the corner, staring at something. "What'cha looking at, kid?" he asked. They were closed now. Usually the kid sat at the bar or in his office, drawing. To have them over here was strange.

"She's dead," Xiaotian said in lieu of a proper response.

"Who's dead?" Pigsy asked, craning his head.

His answer was cupped in Xiaotian's small hands, holding gently like it was a kitten or something. What it was was a mouse, head nearly off but dangling by what looked like its spine. He wasn't sure why, maybe the trap had been weird, but his disgust came first.

"Xiaotian, sweetie, put that down-"

"No!"

Pigsy found himself freezing at that. The kid never spoke against him, either being quiet or agreeable. The psychologist he had been visiting and the books he had been reading said that clearly something had happened but Xiaotian could either not describe it or had shoved it down so far that they couldn't remember. Either way, this was a shock.

"I can fix her," Xiaotian said, holding the mouse gently. Their eyes pulsed a soft gold, like when they made that plant glow or were just hanging out with plants.

And, in front of Pigsy's shocked gaze, the blood and gore of the mouse's severed head shifted and twisted, pulling back into the body like it was a dislocated limb or something. The wound healed in a blaze of gold. Then the light and movement faded and the mouse sat there, limp, for a few seconds.

Then it squeaked.

Pigsy felt no shame in throwing the mouse out after that.

#LMK #Monkie Kid #LEGO Monkie Kid #cw: animal death #cw: gore #Pigsy #Qi Xiaotian #my writing #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #prompt fill #prompt fic

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bleedingichorhearts · 3 months ago

Text

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐕

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: Would some like this to be on my Ao3? For better reading perhaps?

𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: You take the Mini Marines to the Apothecary, and find yourself getting uncomfortable with Dr. Ryker.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.

TW // None.

|°ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ ᴀᴘᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ°| |°ɪᴄʜᴏʀ’ꜱ ᴀᴏ3°| |°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°| • {Chapter IV} • {Chapter VI}

To get Saveth and Sarvak to go to the apothecary was a hassle. More so Saveth as that little Night Lord stealth skills definitely has… well, the skill of a Night Lord, evasion skills too. Always running away when you blink, just as you find him. His little armored claws and rumbles skittering across the shelves and floorboards from wherever you find him: behind cereal boxes, mugs, antiques and even behind furniture.

Yes, you tried to persuade him as well with promises that he could… hunt every spider and rodent that he can find and bring it to you to show how proud he was of it, and that almost made him come out before he paused, thought about it more, and then dashed back into his hiding place, making you groan out in frustration. At this point, you just think he’s being a tease. You have been trying to catch him for… about three hours, your determination unwavering because you didn’t really have anything else to do besides cancel your work day off and make an appointment for the Apothecary. So you were sure as hell that you were going to take this little rascal and take him to the Apothecary like you planned. You're not going to waste work time for this.

Though, when you do finally catch the Night Lord it is only because you ask Sarvak to catch him with a promise to him as well that he can bully Saveth on the way there. Not harm him as the Apothecary would no doubt be mad, but just tease the hell out of him… and some cuddles too. Can’t forget the rewarding cuddles. (Which at that promise had Atheloca and Scarab trying to catch him as well.)

Now, you have a Saveth that cries out occasionally for cuddles and out of misery that he had to go to the Apothecary. His claws getting stuck in the net of the Nature Bound toy critter cage that you’ve managed to find around your apartment… You think you remember putting butterflies in there one time, but now you’re catching a rambunctious Night Lord in it.

“Calm down, Saveth.” You sigh down at the Night Lord that claws at the net, wailing to be let out. Your eyes focusing on the road as you drive. His skull-like helmet sometimes hitting against the net in defeat with a low whine. Which, in return, gets a tease from Sarvak as promised. Which then the World Eater gains a hiss in response. “I’m only taking you guys to the Apothecary because of that… weird, growth thing that happened with Scarab.”

The Night Lord doesn’t seemed to be amused by your words and wails out again. Trying to make you feel bad so you can let him out. Your hands tightening on the steering wheel of your car in great effort to ignore such calls before you say and try to persuade him once more. “Don’t you want to get big again, and at a possibly faster pace? Certainly, you would like to.”

The Night Lord pauses his actions, thinking, weighing his options. The car going silent besides the hum of its engine and the sound of other cars passing by as you and the other little marines wait for his response. Wondering what his logic would be, and of course. He gives an almost grieving whine that Sarvak teases outside of the net, and that triggers Saveth in a way that he just starts thrashing at the net, growling, desperate to get his claws on the World Eater.

You could only sigh and shake your head at his actions and attempts Saveth does towards Sarvak that looks all too pleased with himself when you glance down at them before refocusing on the road. You’re honestly even a little surprised that a bug toy like that was keeping the little Night Lord caged in there so well. Admittedly, it was slowly falling apart, but it would keep him in there long enough until you arrive at the Apothecary.

“Hello there Mrs!” A young lady greets you with a bright smile on her face, always greeting you warmly and never faulting. The smell of sterilization hitting your nose while her hazel eyes cast a glance down at Saveth in the sealed, toy bug catcher before her expression becomes more amused. No doubt wondering what caused him to be in such confinement.

“I couldn't get him to come.” You simply say, putting the catcher on top of the counter with a tired sigh. Observing how Saveth seems to prickle up when the young lady coos sweetly down at him. Her fingers gently wiggling at the ruined net, but being logical enough not to get too close. The many metal trinkets on her wrists clunking together.

You think she’s claimed by a Salamander with all these… forge-like trinkets all over her, and how innocent she’s been like over the past times you brought the miniature marines in. It just kinda screamed ‘Salamander’ like… it was just a perfect fit too. Innocent seeming woman with a Salamander? Ultimate fluff.

“Yeah? I can see that.” The young lady laughed lightly, leaning back to stop cooing over a steaming Saveth. Amused by how something that used to be so big and known to be scary is now just so small and cute. “It is known that Night Lords like to ‘play’ a little bit before coming here. I assume you are here for Dr. Ryker?”

You nod at her question. In some way, not appreciating the name of the doctor. His name just sending a weird feeling through your body, something akin to unease. You’ve seen how he looks at you, how he seems to look bored, but really? You think there is something up with the man. The vibes do not lie, neither does your guts. You don’t think he’s earned the title of the ‘doctor’ for feeling that weird.

“Alright…” The woman pauses and leans down to click at her computer, looking for the appointment on there that you had set up last night. Her eyes looking through the files before nodding and looking back at you with another smile. “You can go right ahead.”

“Thank you.” You nod at her again, taking the little bug catcher toy with you that was full of a prissy Night Lord in it as you make your way to the back. The woman letting you in with a button behind her desk. Your body automatically knowing where you’re supposed to be going, having done this a process a couple times before because sometimes, they get a little heavy on their attacks to one another. (More accurately Saveth and Sarvak.)

Settling yourself down in a chair near the counter in the room. You put the bug catcher on the counter and carefully undo the plastic things that keep the thing closed, only to have Saveth burst out of it and immediately attack your hands. Growling and snarling at you while you don’t hesitate to attack back, pinning him to the counter and shaking him with your hand. A tiny yowl escaping him as he kicks up at you, now trying to escape your hands. A little laugh escaping you. You’re thankful however, that he knows his strength… somewhat as you know full well that he could break your fingers. At most, he just makes you bleed like a cat would if they caught your hand.

You continue to gently shake him until the Doctor comes in, only then do you stop and let the little guy have some breathing room. Your hands simply resting on the counter as you look over to the Doctor, getting the heebie-jeebies from him. Watching as he settles himself down into a rolling chair with a sigh. Yet, he brought another person with him, a young, male nurse it looks like.

“The marines, ma’am?” The young nurse asks, putting his hand out at you for the marines. Your eyes quickly look him up and down, assessing him. Not trusting him as they never have been so… blunt before, but if you want them to be regular size…

You swipe up Saveth from the counter, not even looking to grasp him in your hands and carefully place the Night Lord into his hands before doing the same with the other three that climbed on your shoulders for comfort. Their forms squeaking out in questioning when you pick them up and place them into the nurses hands. This wasn’t the usual visit?! What was going on?

“Don’t be alarmed.” Dr. Ryker simply hums, looking at you while you watch the little marines being taken away. Their little confused whirrs and squeaks having you set on edge as you shift in your seat. Hearing them quiet as the door shuts. Now it was just you and the Doctor. “They are simply going through some tests. You did say one of them… grew right?”

You nod at his question, your nerves bundling up inside of you as you play with your hands. Anxious now that you were in a room alone with this man that takes in every detail of you with his sharp eyes. His long legs crossed with a clipboard in his lab, but he’s disinterested in it. His unwavering gaze was set upon you. This… this was certainly strange.

“You’re more… nervous than usual.” Dr. Rykers states, leaning back in his chair, daring to look relaxed while you weren’t. There was something wrong with this man, like he was hiding something classified from you. “Have you gotten any sleepy lately?”

You pause your uneasy thoughts about him for a second at that question, wondering if you should lie or not, but what benefit would it do to you? It’s just a simple, harmless question. Nothing wrong about that.

“Somewhat.” You respond, looking everywhere else besides the Doctor. Neither confirming nor denying what he had asked of you. You’re not sure of him.

“That isn’t a stable answer, darling.” The Doctor slips, or what you hope you think he slips. Your body tensing up at the pet name he had clearly given you. Your fingers just itching to go for the door and book it, but you keep yourself in place. Perhaps, you're just overrating? You have only met this Doctor like… twice.

“Uh, 5 hours at most.” You spill, tensing more up at what you had just said as you realized you could have just went for a simple yes or no, but you went for a more detailed answer. Probably hoping for him to get off your back quicker. To get out of his calm, predatory gaze quicker.

Dr. Ryker clicks his tongue at that, folding his arms while you could feel the disappointment running off of him. His head straining up a little before looking back down at you, his bright blue eyes still on you, following you wherever you may go.

“You know you should get at least 7 to 9 hours of sleep.” He tells you after a second of staring you down. Probably feeling superior or something with how straight he’s putting himself out to be. His body never faulting to slump over.

“I know.” You answer him quickly, maybe too quickly with how the Doctor slightly tilts his head to the right. His gaze wandering over your figure. Trying to read you, scan you.

“You… having troubles at home?” He asks another question, your brows rising up in confusion then. Finally looking at him for a second before glancing away. “Any… bad relationships? Bad roommates?”

Why did that question seem so specific when it shouldn’t be? When it was just so simple? Any doctor would have asked that. It was their job however, why was he talking about you when he was supposed to be talking about the Marines? This wasn’t your chosen doctor. This was practically a stranger. A very weird one too.

“No.” You keep your answer short and bold to end the conversation about your health. Your eyes flickering to him on and off, questioning him and his status. How would people like this man if he had brought this vibe with him all the time? Unless, it was just with you?

The Doctor simply hums, never moving from his place while he eyes you down. Not even a twitch from him. Acting as if he wasn’t doing anything wrong. That he was just simply sitting there before he speaks up again. “How about work? Is it treating you well?”

What the fuck we’re these questions for? They certainly are not for you as he isn’t your doctor nor is he joting anything down. He was simply just enjoying how you squirm underneath him, like you were someone below him, but at the same time you felt like you weren’t. It was just all so… weird.

“I’m not here to talk about me.” You say with a low tone, finally standing your ground just a bit. Your eyes staring right back into his, feeling like he pushed too much and this is what he was getting from you. You can see a brief flash of surprise in them before they turn amused. His body finally shifting as he unfolds his legs, but not his arms.

“Right, your marines.” Dr. Ryker sighs, sounding nearly disgusted by the fact you're bringing them up again. You wouldn’t have caught such a tone if you were being remarkably friendly with this man. If you weren’t so irked by this man. “There is nothing much to talk about them. We have everything we need to make sure we know everything on them.”

Well, that’s not reassuring at all. Why would he ask you questions then? Simply out of boredom? No, that can’t be right. His vibe, his aura says differently…

“Are you bonded?” You ask him out of the blue, watching that flicker of surprise go through him again before he hides it again. His head tilting more to his right than the first time he did. His folded arms shifting on his chest.

“No, why do you ask?” Dr. Ryker tries to question you again, but you just simply nod in response. Now knowing this guy was just a…a creep. It would have made a bit more sense if he was bonded, like to a Thousand Son or another Chaos Marine as their attitudes might affect their bonds as well or it could be simply he was hanging around his family’s Astartes too much and just gained his cold exterior from them too?

The Doctor tries to speak up again before the door opens up again with the previous nurse coming back in with the Marines back in his hands. The sight of them making you sigh out your tension and relax. Their little forms immediately chirping for you while they try and run off the nurses hands to get to you. The nurse lightly laughing at their antics, trying to keep them still before they evade him and jump onto you, latching onto your clothing and quickly climbing up to settle onto their assigned spots on your shoulders and collarbone.

“There, all tests are done.” The nurse simply says before exiting the room with a happy nod. The room going almost quiet if it weren’t for the little guys that cuddled up to you. Purring and rubbing all over you like you have been gone for too long, easing your nerves.

“…Then I suppose this concludes this appointment then?” Dr. Ryker says blandly, standing up from his chair with his clipboard in hand. Adjusting himself as he looks down at you, looks down at the marines with a flash of something you can’t process just yet. Jealousy, perhaps?

You nod immediately, wanting out of this room since the start, like Saveth had. Your body already moving for the door as you brush past the doctor, and you could have sworn, sensed that he backed up in surprise, but breathed in too, smelled you. Yeah, you are going to try and restrict your time here as much as you possibly can until they assign a new doctor to the case.

Especially, since the doctor takes that damaged bug catcher into his hands rather than just throwing it away like you should have remembered yourself to do.

#warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry sentience #second person pov #polygamy #polyandry #space marine #space marine x reader #adeptus astartes x reader #adeptus astartes #oc: sarvak #world eater #oc: scarab #thousand son #oc: saveth #night lords #oc: atheloca #death guard

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