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walker33961 · 11 months

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JHON "SOAP" MACTAVISH, Y/N "LAVENDER" RILEY - TF-141, LOS VAQUEROS.

HEARTBEAT

CHICAGO, US

4 NOV 2022 0300

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- Price and Ghost got stunned by what the doctor said before entering the OT again.. Lavender was shivering by the words.. Her past trauma and all the bad memories flowing in her.. She went all silent.. She tried to stand up but fell on her knees.. Ghost & Jade held her....

Ghost :

I - I know him, he's strong....

He'll be alright...

Jade :

We worked together in all shoot training..

He was the best in moments when need recovery..

I'm sure God will make him steady again..

- No words we're coming out of Lavender.. Ghost & Jade understood that past trauma runnin' in her..

Price got close to her...

" If you're the reason why the base can take bullets & come back with a smile I'm sure Son will be back - for you "

- Lavender only moved to hold Price's hand.. Her hands we're shivering & cold..

Ghost saw Viena and Alejandro rushing towards them, Pearl & Rodolfo was on their way.. Pearl used to work here so they came fast...

Ghost :

Hermano?!

Alejandro :

How's the situation going Simon ? *Spanish*

- Ghost explained everything, Alejandro was boiling in anger seeing what happened by Shepherd's one mistake..

Viena, Rodolfo, Pearl were angry as well.. Then they came to Lavender and saw her trembling figure sitting on the grown, eyes swollen, hair loosen, uniform smudged in blood, blaming herself for not seeing the shooter...

Pearl :

It's not your fault Hermana..

No one expected...

Lavender :

I - I tried.., b-but he...

Pearl :

*brought her to a hug, few tears slipping through her eyes, Viena as well*

I'm going to check over him..

Viena, guys.. Stay here *Spanish*

- Pearl knocked the door, a nurse shout no entry, then she said who she is and the doctor immediately let her in wearing equipments*

...

After 10 hours of non stop operation, the bullets were taken out but he was paralyzed for 2 months, his hand ....where he got 2 bullets at one time

Pearl & Doc came out of the room, Everyone came near them...

Doc :

Is the patient's Dad or Brother present?

*Ghost & Price came forward*

Doc :

He's arn was heavily injured, we were successful to take out the pieces but sadly he won't be able to move his arm for 2 months..

& we don't know when his sense come back.. He's in coma right now..

*looks at Y/n*

Please take care of her.. The guy won't like if she turns sick..

Price :

Did he say some...

Doc :

" Please don't tell her if I die soon, she's my Heartbeat"

.. But luckily God's blessings he's alive.. Just wait for him to wake up..

Take care...

- The doc went off to his other room...Ghost & Price just stood there.. Lavender came running to them..

Lavender :

What did he say??!

Tell me brother...!!

*Ghost said everything*

*Lavender stopped crying,started running towards the heli*

Lavender :

Bravo 3-7 , prep a bird, we're heading to the base and coming back here ASAP.

Price :

Were are you going..

- Lavender didn't listen, Price told Gaz to go with her..when they landed on the base she told Gaz to wait outside Soap's room as she entered..

Lavender took one of his Shirts and wore it in...after getting off the bloddy clothes.. She washed her face, looked at the mirror to see if she still looked broken.. Tried her best to cover the dark circles...

Then she opened the door, Gaz was wide staring at her, realising why she's doing it .. Then He also took Some of the members outfits for a change and also changed himself to something bloodless.. He knew Soap won't like to see any of them smuged in blood and worried that way..

They flew back to Hospital.. Gave them all their outfits and they came back after change..

Gaz :

Was he shifted to a normal room?

Viena :

Yes..

Gaz :

Where?

- Viena took Gaz and her outside the room.. Everyone was standing.. Got themselves clean from the blood - dirt dresses..

Ghost was looking at Lavender's figure realising that it's not her shirt, so loose and big.. He remembered how Jade wears it like this when he was in a sick state for days...

Laswell :

You can go inside..

- Laswell took her near Soap, He was surrounded by set of machines and wires were attached to his chest through his hospital dress.. Lavender sat near him.. Laswell left her inside.. And waited outside and everyone was looking over them from outside by the clear class viewer...

Rodolfo :

She doesn't deserve this...

Alejandro :

Yes *Spanish*

It all happened because of that simple missile..

Everything turned good but why did it had to end with her tears....

Hermano didn't deserve the pain, Hermana didn't deserve to be in this state..

No one.. I swear no one deserves the troubles...

Viena :

Alejandro...

*Alejandro looked at Viena, She got everyone's attention.. *

She thought us a lesson you know?

Alejandro :

What?

Viena :

" Soldiers and fighters do have a heart, Not just for Motherland "

- Everyone stared at her, a tear slipped from her eyes..

Alejandro hugged her...Everyone got her word in their brains to remember it forever .. And also remember the things happening right in front of their eyes..

*inside the room*

- Lavender was staring at his face.. Her tears were streaming from her eyes, rubbing her thumb in his hand lightly..

Took his hand to her lips and kissed his ankles...

Lavender :

Im such a fool not noticing the threats..

It's my fault.. I can't forgive my self...

Please.. Please don't leave me in the dark Jhonny..

I can't live without you... You're my Heartbeat...

- Suddenly.. Soap's Finger turned to a grip in her hands.. Was weak but strong in emotions..Lavender sparked by the movement... She called the doctor immediately...

Lavender :

Doc! Doc!

He's awake....

- The doc came over to check up, it was a miracle that he woke up fast..after checkup doc allowed everyone to go in... Ghost grabbed his hand lightly..

The other gentlemens were standing behind one another... Able to see Soap...

The ladies stood on Lavender's side...

Ghost :

You're awake Brother!

Price :

Son,

I knew I can trust you....

- Soap opened his eyes, everyone was worried if he remembered anyone due to coma, as doc mentioned but they found relief when Soap called Lavender by her name...

Soap :

Y/n...b-Bonnie....

Is.. That... You...

Lavender :

It's me! It's me Love!

You're alright now!

God's blessings...

*Soap was able to identify the ladies...looked at the men's side*

Soap :

Simon..

Dad...

Hermanos...

Alejandro :

Yes! You're the strong man *Spanish*

Rodolfo :

Holy mother of God ..you're alright now ! *Spanish*

- Everyone got relief washed over them...they left the room and talk outside after chatting short with Soap... Leaving Lavender only...

Soap noticed her in his shirt...

Soap :

You look so beautiful and happy Y/n

Y/n :

No more call sign in field.. Your off for 3 months...

Soap :

No way. How did -...

- Soap tried moving his arm but didn't feel.. Lavender told what happened to him and he turned a lot upset.. That he will be staying in the room and she's gonna be fighting alone..

Y/n :

I also got off until you're well Love..

Dad managed to set up things right after the incident.. Brother will take the lead with Gaz and Laswell.. Los Vaqueros will support..

( Chuckle)

- Jhonny pulled her close by his working arm...bringing her to a sweet kiss.. Promising that he'll never leave her.. She promised the same....

3 days later.. He got discharged and went back to base. Los Vaqueros created another base near the 141.. Reconstructed the main perfectly..

Price already shifted their rooms together for 3 months till Simon gets back from the mission & Soap gets all well and ready to serve again..

Simon will leave for the mission at 5...

Lavender went near the heli to say bye to her brother , Dad and others... Soap was standing, his arm tied with his neck for support..

Lavender :

Take care guys...

And Jade... Don't forget to give your beanpole a Rose too from the garden fields.. Sis

Soap :

Haha.. Bonnie..

Jade :

I'll make sure of it Y/n...!

Take care of your SniperMan..

*Lavender blushing*

Soap :

Ya she will... !

Be safe LT.

Ghost :

Count on it!

- They left for the mission...

Soap :

*ugh*

Lavender :

Oh not again..!

Soap :

Hehe I'm sorry i was just seein' you're reaction...

*y/n hits him on the chest lightly*

Y/n

You and your tri.......

- Soap pulled her by waist and kissed on the lips softly.. She responded the kiss... After pulling out from the grip... She was blushing furiously...

Soap :

Ah c'mon.. Even thae tomatoes are in shame-

Y/n :

Okay.. Let's get some food or your tummy will be serious and won't act..

- They both got even more closer.. Got to know more about each other..

Even the wallboard in y/n's cabin is filled with Soap's picture and his family moments now..

Later the years... Simon's dream garden date pictures were also there..

Not to forget the photo when Soap photo bombed in one of Simon's picture and he was staring dead.. Lavender dying laughing over it...

Everything got well... The flowers finally bloomed in the dead land of the base corners.. Happiness all around"""

..............................................................THE END.................................................................

[ Writer's message :

Don't know how to thank you guys for reading the whole custom MW ll storyline written by me..with so much patience... I tried my best to make it good.. English isn't my first language but Call of Duty fandom has given place to me very warmly...

Some of the moments were inspired from @sleepyconfusedpotato 's fics and arts... A big thanks to her..also for making a beautiful strong character "Jade"

Thank you everyone... Again!

Love,

- Walker #33961 ❄💙💍

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thirsty4villains · 1 year

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Bound | A Loki x Reader Fanfic

Rating: E

Warnings: Eventual smut, human sacrifice, torture, blood and injury, violence, angst

Tags: sharing a bed, slow burn, eventual romance, fix-it, canon divergence of Avengers Infinity War/Endgame, humor, limited use of Y/N, action and adventure

A/N: Sorry about taking a while to post these other chapters to Tumblr!

Consider joining my Patreon. I just made it ヽ(•‿•)ノ

Summary:

A year has passed since the Snap. As you look to find a fresh start in life, you end up in the wrong place at the wrong time. A small cult dedicated to the newly revitalized Norse religion chooses you as a sacrifice with the belief that this will give Thor and the other gods the strength to undo what Thanos has done. What you don’t know is that human sacrifices come with a powerful magic — those who are sacrificed become linked with the god they have been given to.

It’s been a millennia since a human was sacrificed to one of the gods. You’ve been bound to Loki.

CHAPTER 10

The inside was equally extravagant as the outside of the palace. Not an inch of the walls of the entrance hall were undecorated. Large statues that you had to crane your neck to see led the way through. Plaques were at the feet of each of these warriors but written in Norse. You assumed that these were prominent warriors of Viking lore.

The Viking leading the way for Loki and you introduced himself as Arne. You asked him the meaning of his name and he pointed to a large eagle engraved into the leather on his shoulder. When you reached the end of the hallway into a large central room that branched off into other hallways, Arne asked you to wait.

“I’ll find The Allfather and bring him to you. He roams around quite often and we don’t need the two of yous getting lost.”

“I’m tired of waiting,” Loki replied with an edge.

“Thank you, Arne,” you said, partially as an apology for Loki’s brash behavior.

Arne nodded his head and walked down another corridor leading who knows where. You weren’t sure how long it was before he came back to you. You were glad when he did because Loki seemed like he was about to storm off and find Odin himself.

“He’s in the library. Follow me again.”

“You said you would bring him to us.”

Arne shrugged. “He said he wanted to read his book. He wouldn’t budge from his seat. Told me to bring you to him.”

So you followed the Viking once again. It was good to have an escort because you surely would have gotten lost like Arne said. As you entered the hallway that led to the library, a large figure stood in front of the doors, a book open in his hands. He had a commanding yet wise presence to him, a white beard, and one eye. You already knew who this was, but if you didn’t, Loki’s sudden change in demeanor shifted the moment this man came into his vision.

The Allfather looked up from his tome, surveying the three individuals approaching him.

“Is that my son, Loki?” He shut the book in his hands.

“As I told you, Allfather,” Arne spoke.

“Thank you, my friend, for bringing him to me.” Odin clasped Arne on the forearm.

Arne nodded at you and Loki before he took his leave. You thanked him once again for his hospitality. The Viking disappeared down yet another hallway.

The old man turned to Loki, who seemed to stiffen up. There was silence as the two men looked at one another. There was a conversation to be had, you just didn’t know what it was about. You knew little of Loki’s relationship to his father but the story of his true birth and how it was kept from him spoke volumes.

Odin made the first move by pulling Loki into an embrace. Loki’s lack of reciprocating the motion made the hug a bit awkward. After a moment, however, Loki raised his arm to pat his father on the back once and quickly. He stepped away.

“How did you die, my son?”

“Thanos.”

“I’m sure you fought valiantly. I am surprised that I was not made aware of your presence in this realm.”

“That is because when I died I was not sent to this realm. I was sent to Folkvangr.”

Odin nodded. “But how is it that you are here? Freya does not let her people leave her realm. I know not what mischief you intend but now that you are here I cannot let you leave. The dead must rest. You had a good life, Loki.”

“That’s just it. I let myself die. I have a plan, father. I needed to die in order to get here, but to my luck I found myself in the other warrior’s afterlife.”

“What nonsense are you speaking?”

Loki grunted. “It’s not nonsense. Allfather, I need Idunn’s apples. It’s the only way to confront Thanos and make him reverse what he’s done.”

“You think Idunn will give you one of her apples? You are foolish for thinking so. And before we go on, who is this companion of yours?”

The Allfather and the mischief god turned their attention toward you. Odin scrutinized you with his one good eye.

His voice boomed through the hallway. “She is not dead!”

“No, she’s not. But Y/N helped me get here.”

“Tell me why I shouldn’t banish this girl out of my realm. She’s not dead and she is certainly no warrior. She has no right to be here!”

“Father. Listen to me. If you help we will be on our way, she will be back home where she belongs. I just need some assistance.”

“No right to be here…” The Allfather mumbled.

“You foolish old man, have you not heard a word I’ve said?” A blood vessel looked like it was about to burst in Loki’s temple.

The old man’s voice boomed, bouncing off the walls as he retorted: “And have you not heard what I have said?”

“Loki brought me here because we’re bound!” you shouted, unable to take a second more of this. “I was sacrificed to Loki. If he left me back in Folkvangr I would have withered away into some husk of myself.”

Odin closed his mouth as he looked at you in surprise. His expression softened. “I thought you were Midgardian, girl.”

“I am. Sacrifices seem to have come back into fashion.”

The Allfather placed his hand on your shoulder. “My deepest apologies that you had to endure that.” He turned to his son. “I am happy to see you, Loki, but this request you ask of me cannot happen. If you will excuse me. I have matters to attend to.”

Odin patted Loki on the shoulder, who shrugged it off with a grunt.

“I will call for someone to show you two your rooms.”

The two of you waited in silence. You were angry at Odin’s immediate dismissal of Loki’s plan but you couldn’t imagine how deep his anger must be The mischief god was fuming. Usually his temper was attractive to you. Not this time. Right now he was a bit terrifying, so you allowed Loki to disappear within his own head. He would become sociable again, in time.

A Viking appeared, a young man, and had you and Loki follow him down the corridors. You were each given your own room in the same hallway but several doors apart from each other. Loki barely regarded the man when he was shown his room, and disappeared, the door slamming behind him. You thanked the man and entered your own room.

The quarters you were given were lovely, like the one you had in Folkvangr, but this one was almost ridiculously lavish. The color scheme was gold and deep red. The four-poster bed against the back wall looked like it would suck you in like quicksand if you climbed in. The ceiling was a large mural depicting a great battle between Asgardians and another race you did not recognize. A figure unmistakably Odin was on the front lines, his spear pointed forward, charging toward the leader of the opposition. You would have to ask Loki about it later.

The room also had a bathroom connected to it. The shelf above the bath provided various oils and fragrances. You grabbed some and drew yourself a bath. It was a lovely distraction from the stress of learning to conjure portals and today’s argument. You sank in and allowed the warm water to do its trick.

Upon drying and redressing yourself, you decided it was time to check on Loki. From the wardrobe you had chosen a light blue dress with a hem that extended to your ankles. You were unsure what to say and hoped to God… Odin? That he was in a talking mood. You walked down the hallway and stopped in front of his chamber door. The door, a thick oak-like wood, made a low noise as you knocked three times.

A muffled, “Come in,” was heard from inside.

Loki sat at the foot of his bed. From the way his hair was slightly ruffled it was evident he had been laying down. You sat next to him. There was silence for several moments. You were the one to finally speak.

“We’ll convince Odin to continue with your plan.”

Loki grunted. “You don’t know my father.”

“You’re right. I don’t.” You paused. “I’m sorry today didn’t go like we planned.”

You were looking up at Loki, but he refused to return your gaze. He looked ahead, his eyes fixed on the fireplace but he wasn’t really looking.

“As am I. Yet I don’t know why I am surprised he wouldn’t hear me out. He wouldn’t in life, why would he in death?”

His words hit you like a tidal wave. You placed your hand on his arm and Loki surprised you by placing his other hand over yours. For once he seemed lost. You rested your head against his shoulder, thinking of how right it felt and how best you could help him.

You hatched an idea and a surge of emotion flowed through you. You stood up. “Well, if we can’t convince him, we’ll do what we did in Folkvangr. We’ll find the way.”

For the first time since you entered his room, Loki looked at you. He quirked an eyebrow as you stood up.

“What’s got you so determined?”

“Because we’ve come all this way. We’re not going to let your dad’s stubbornness get in the way if you have a plan that could undo the Snap.”

Loki cocked his head as he surveyed you.

“Well? Come on, let’s get that smart brain of yours thinking! Let’s figure out what to do next.”

Your brazenness caused a spark of fire to light in his eyes. Loki lifted himself from the bed. “For once, Midgardian, you make a sensible argument.”

He approached you, stopping at a rather intimate distance from you. His emerald green eyes burned into your own, that spark now a flame. Your knees felt weak per usual.

Loki’s hand moved to wrap around your waist. He pulled you forward and there were no words as you gazed at one another. You wondered what he would do when suddenly, he locked his lips with yours.

You’ve been trying to avoid this, but everything in you shut down and you completely melted into Loki. His lips were soft and just a little chilly to the touch. He smelled like temptation and oh, was he tempting. You discarded any semblance of self-restraint and felt massive relief, for you wanted the mischief god’s affection for weeks and giving in was so much easier. The feeling within you caused by the binding magic soared to a new height, tugging you toward him. So when Loki pulled away you had no other way to describe the magical bond’s response other than a whine. You almost whined yourself but you did well to hide it. And if the length of the kiss was any indicator, you wondered if Loki’s bond meant he had to muster some strength to break off.

“Well?” Loki asked. You imagined you probably looked a little dazed right now, considering the hundreds of thoughts and feelings swirling through you a mile a minute.

“I thought you didn’t like me,” you said half-teasing, half sincere.

He rubbed his thumb over your chin, his eyes moved from yours to your lips. “I don’t.”

“Good, because I don’t like you either.”

The god smiled. “Today we will rest. Tomorrow we will devise a plan.”

---

The next morning, Loki devised a plan to convince the goddess Idunn to give Loki some of the apples from her tree. Odin appointed her to oversee Valhalla centuries ago and the tree was moved from the realm of Asgard to this one. However, due to the life-giving power of the apples, Loki hypothesized she and her tree were hidden. Hidden, but not unfindable.

Loki had studied Idunn and her apples before. He always intended to seek her out one day and obtain one of them to extend his life further. From his decades of research, his belief was that she was hidden on a mountaintop. The two of you made the proper preparations, which were primarily getting warm enough clothes for you to climb the peak.

As you trekked up the mountain, the snow and wind were biting cold. You conjured yourself a fire to keep your hands and face warm on the journey up. You shivered some more just looking at Loki, who was wearing his usual garb.

“Aren’t you cold? Why don’t you have a coat?”

“I’m a frost giant, remember? I’m built for the cold.”

“Lucky you.”

When you finally reached the top, the snow, ice, and wind disappeared in the blink of an eye as if it was never there. Atop the mountain stood a single apple tree, its bark a warm, reddish brown, and hanging from its branches were large, golden apples the size of a man’s head.

A woman sat underneath the tree with a dress the same gold color as her apples. In her hair she wore a white flower garland. She stood up and approached the two of you.

“Come no closer,” spoke who was no doubt the famed Idunn.

“Idunn, I am Loki.” He gestured to you. “This is Y/N.”

“I know you, Loki trickster god. I’ve heard tales of your mischief. I suggest you go back down that mountain.”

“I need you to listen to me. I need some of your apples to undo what Thanos did one year ago.”

“It’s sad what happened to the universe, but what’s done is done,” the woman said.

“But I plan to eat an apple, seek Thanos, and get the Infinity Gauntlet from him. It’s life-extending powers will keep me alive. I’ll win.”

Idunn shook her head, her light brown hair fell over her shoulders. “If you aren’t lying, you’re a fool.”

You spoke. “Please, we can right the wrongs of the universe and bring back people who died before their time!”

“My apples are to be protected. My last priority is to give them to the god of lies and his mistress.”

Loki balled up his fist. “If you will not hand them over, I will take them.”

Loki ran past the golden-clad woman and jumped, swiping the apple hanging lowest off its branches. Before he even had a chance to examine it in his hands, the fruit turned to ash. His expression of triumph fell to shock. He opened his hands and everyone watched the remnants float to the ground in a heap.

Another apple grew in its place on the tree.

“Pick them all you want, they won’t work for you if I don’t give my consent.”

“Please,” you repeated.

“I’m sorry,” Idunn said, almost sympathetically. “I don’t give my apples to just anyone. You must prove your worth, and I am not inclined to hand this powerful magic over to the hands of the god of lies.”

Idunn glared at Loki as she spoke her last sentence.

“How do we do that?” you asked.

“I’m not one to say. You must figure that out for yourself.”

“Foolish woman,” Loki said. He put his hand on your back to signal that the two of you were leaving. “We’ll be back.”

Idunn said nothing as the two of you took your leave. As you descended the mountain, Idunn and her tiny paradise atop the mountain disappeared and again you were in the ice, cold, and snow.

“What’s your plan, Loki?” you asked.

“I... don’t know.”

You and the mischief god returned to the halls of Valhalla in silence and defeat.

#loki #loki fanfiction #loki x reader #loki x you #bound #mine #loki fanfic #fanfic #fic #fanfiction #romance #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #smut #loki x y/n

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etrangersvoyageant · 1 year

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One day at Motel Mozaique

Truth be told, if you told me I’d ever find myself going to this festival I would have give you a look of surprise. Unlike Rewire, MoMo (as it’s lovingly called) is a place with a more friendly and popular programme. My taste for experimental and electronic music wouldn’t be satisfied.

However the festival put on my radar when I found out they had some solid producers like Rival consoles and Gold Panda on the line-up and put them on the same night… Tickets were sold out, but with a lively second-hand market I was able to get a ticket.

In general, MoMo is a rather considerate and friendly festival. It tries to limit its waste, so they rather not give schedules – I asked for one, because I was without a phone, and it rewards good behaviour – I was given a stamp granting discounts, because I came to the festival by train.

After I collect my wristband, I head for the first venue. Rival Consoles was to play early in the evening and I wanted to get a good spot. However, as I enter the lobby, which was pretty crowded, I spy a poster with an update: Rival Consoles is sick. (Edit: turns out he has covid and feeling unwell. All the best to him.)

That took me by surprise. I mean Rewire lost one of the acts I wanted to see, but it happened a few weeks prior to the event. This was a little different. So, I left the lobby and decided to pick up my plan B. This meant going back to the ship where I saw PVA last year. Part walk/part metro and I found myself back at the venue.

Softcult is a Canadian band consisting of twin sisters Mercedes and Phoenix Arn-Horn. Their genre is grunge with some instrumental rock on the side. Live they were accompanied by two guitar players. Apart from rocking out, they are a band with an activist message. Halfway through the performance Mercedes introduces a song by dedicating it to Sarah Everhardt. (TLDR: she was abducted, assaulted and killed by a policeman in London.) Unfortunately, there were some technical difficulties during the show, but after ‘turning it off and on again’, the band was able to finish their set without any further errors. Regardless, a solid effort.

Next, I wandered around Rotterdam to find the next venue. Safe to say, I’m not as knowledgeable about Rotterdam as The Hague. This also became painfully clear when someone shows me a map of the venues and I got none of them right. Oh, but the places I go and see!

Ah well, the music starts. Yunè Pinku supports her own vocal work with fun beats and sequencers and it works. People sway and move along as she blends her songs into a dance party. I had expected a bit more hyperpop along the lines of yeule’s, but Pinku is her own woman. Another solid performance, albeit a little tame for my strange mind.

Lastly, I close the evening with Gold Panda, who enjoys the bass as much as the beats. The room is a moving entity, as his instrumental hiphop creations trickle out of the speakers, while the beat keeps people going. There’s one funny moment. As I move along to the tunes, there’s a small collision with a woman. We look at each other, raise our hands to check if the other is okay and say sorry. In doing so, due to close proximity, our gestures turn into the smallest and least intentional high-five I’ve seen. So, we give a smile and a nod before we each continue on.

There’s more to hear, but I’ve got more to do. After Rewire, a night at MoMo was a bonus and it showed me again why I like Rotterdam. It’s a city with its own face. I made plenty of notes for both current as well as future stories.

#live music diary #Motel Mozaique

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esonetwork · 1 year

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Timestamp #CLS5: Detained

New Post has been published on https://esonetwork.com/timestamp-cls5-detained/

Timestamp #CLS5: Detained

Class: Detained (1 episode, s01e06, 2016)

Confessions, frustrations, and an uncertain future.

As four objects fall through space toward a rift, Miss Quill tosses the Coal Hill defenders into detention. She claims to have other things to do as she locks the door. Once she leaves, April unlocks the door just in time for one of the asteroid pieces to slam into the classroom. The event knocks the classroom out of sync with time and space, effectively trapping the students in detention.

Charlie realizes that Miss Quill isn’t to blame. After all, if she murdered him, the arn in her head would kill her. They note that they’re all getting more aggressive, that Charlie is experiencing extreme claustrophobia and paranoia, and that the meteor is lodged in the wall. It may also be radioactive. Matteusz grabs the meteor and tries to toss it outside of the classroom, but he’s immediately entranced, recalling the day that he came out to his grandmother. He also reveals that he’s afraid of Charlie.

April knocks the meteor from his hand and it bounces against the open doorway. As it lands back in the classroom, the defenders realize that they are truly trapped.

As the team ponders their situation, Charlie and Matteusz discuss the revelations. To calm Charlie, Matteusz talks about a place called Narnia in a book that he read. In that book, Susan judged her friend based on a single bad thing that she said, and Matteusz questions whether or not Charlie complains about his friends. Meanwhile, the team grows more aggressive and Charlie more panicky. Tanya tries to learn more about the rock and picks it up, revealing that she feels like the team doesn’t really like her.

The meteor apparently makes people tell the truth, and the team is able to discover that the rock contains a prisoner and is dangerous to them. Ram knocks the meteor free and the team takes cover to discuss this new information.

Charlie tests the boundaries of the room and demonstrates that the room is the prison. Ram picks up the rock next and reveals that he loves April more than she could ever love him. As April struggles to deny the claim, Ram passes out. When he comes to, he reveals that the prisoner is a murderer and wants to kill them all. The prisoner is one of four and its consciousness is spilt among the pieces of the meteor.

April holds the rock next and confesses that Ram’s assertions are true. She doesn’t love him as much as he loves her. She also makes the prisoner disclose that the classroom is outside of space and time and that they are all trapped there until they kill each other, unable to age or die naturally.

Everyone continues to get more and more aggravated. Charlie picks up the rock, believing that it does not have the same effect since he hasn’t been feeling aggressive. When he engages with the prisoner, he realizes that he’s more guilty than the prisoner as he culturally believes that his desire to kill the Shadow Kin is the same as actually doing it. His reactor to the prison is due to feeling that it is for him, and his guilt actually kills the prisoner. The classroom returns to Coal Hill Academy.

But Charlie introduces one last complication. The prison requires a prisoner and his guilt draws him toward the prison cell. As the rock tries to welcome him, Miss Quill enters and shoots her gun at the rock. The rock is destroyed, but as the team leaves the classroom in frustration, Charlie and Matteusz stay to ask about Miss Quill’s newfound ability to use a gun.

She now has a scar over her eye and longer hair. She has had a stressful day and the arn has been exorcised from her head.

Miss Quill is now free.

The ending and its uncertain future for the team aside, this episode does double duty in exposing schisms in the team while also forcing them to confront their inner conflicts. Unfortunately, this feels like a step backward from the last adventure since the team ends the story fragmented once more.

The confessions are important, but it feels like these characters can never be happy or in a cohesive team. Are they destined to survive through constant sorrow?

Rating: 2/5 – “Mm? What’s that, my boy?”

UP NEXT – Class: The Metaphysical Engine, or What Quill Did

The Timestamps Project is an adventure through the televised universe of Doctor Who, story by story, from the beginning of the franchise. For more reviews like this one, please visit the project’s page at Creative Criticality.

#Class #Doctor Who #Timestamps Project

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therosecrest · 2 years

Text

I also dreamt of watching this cube-shaped room. It was the lifepod of a spaceship, which would be launched electromagnetically in the event of an emergency. Almost like being fired from a railgun. I don't recall the details, but I watched a small number of the crew escape to it and have it launched. Inside the room was a blue person. A robot operator, who they would have activate the eject sequence and such.

I watched the scenario repeat itself once or twice, although the staff and operator were different each time. Would it be one of my dreams without a loop? The next time, I found myself inside events. As before, we escaped to the room and prepared to eject. Only, I got a bad feeling about the operator. He was a bald-headed blue man, who seemed somehow extremely dangerous to me. Sure enough, I believe he failed to comply, even attempting to stop us from entering the launch sequence ourselves. I grappled with him, eventually forcing him out the door, which, incidentally, was nothing but a wooden framed, glass-windowed door you'd find in any school. Before I shut it completely, he put his arn in the gap to try and stop it. I snarled and pushed harder, until I crushed his bones and severed his hand. The door was locked, but I made a mental note to destroy the hand, else he might still be able to control it and sabotage us. I woke up again after that.

#dreams

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whileiamdying · 5 years

Text

Emily Brontë’s WUTHERING HEIGHTS; Chapter XXXIII

On the morrow of that Monday, Earnshaw being still unable to follow his ordinary employments, and therefore remaining about the house, I speedily found it would be impracticable to retain my charge beside me, as heretofore. She got downstairs before me, and out into the garden, where she had seen her cousin performing some easy work; and when I went to bid them come to breakfast, I saw she had persuaded him to clear a large space of ground from currant and gooseberry bushes, and they were busy planning together an importation of plants from the Grange.

I was terrified at the devastation which had been accomplished in a brief half-hour; the black-currant trees were the apple of Joseph’s eye, and she had just fixed her choice of a flower-bed in the midst of them.

“There! That will be all shown to the master,” I exclaimed, “the minute it is discovered. And what excuse have you to offer for taking such liberties with the garden? We shall have a fine explosion on the head of it: see if we don’t! Mr. Hareton, I wonder you should have no more wit than to go and make that mess at her bidding!”

“I’d forgotten they were Joseph’s,” answered Earnshaw, rather puzzled; “but I’ll tell him I did it.”

We always ate our meals with Mr. Heathcliff. I held the mistress’s post in making tea and carving; so I was indispensable at table. Catherine usually sat by me, but to-day she stole nearer to Hareton; and I presently saw she would have no more discretion in her friendship than she had in her hostility.

“Now, mind you don’t talk with and notice your cousin too much,” were my whispered instructions as we entered the room. “It will certainly annoy Mr. Heathcliff, and he’ll be mad at you both.”

“I’m not going to,” she answered.

The minute after, she had sidled to him, and was sticking primroses in his plate of porridge.

He dared not speak to her there: he dared hardly look; and yet she went on teasing, till he was twice on the point of being provoked to laugh. I frowned, and then she glanced towards the master: whose mind was occupied on other subjects than his company, as his countenance evinced; and she grew serious for an instant, scrutinizing him with deep gravity. Afterwards she turned, and recommenced her nonsense; at last, Hareton uttered a smothered laugh. Mr. Heathcliff started; his eye rapidly surveyed our faces. Catherine met it with her accustomed look of nervousness and yet defiance, which he abhorred.

“It is well you are out of my reach,” he exclaimed. “What fiend possesses you to stare back at me, continually, with those infernal eyes? Down with them! and don’t remind me of your existence again. I thought I had cured you of laughing.”

“It was me,” muttered Hareton.

“What do you say?” demanded the master.

Hareton looked at his plate, and did not repeat the confession. Mr. Heathcliff looked at him a bit, and then silently resumed his breakfast and his interrupted musing. We had nearly finished, and the two young people prudently shifted wider asunder, so I anticipated no further disturbance during that sitting: when Joseph appeared at the door, revealing by his quivering lip and furious eyes that the outrage committed on his precious shrubs was detected. He must have seen Cathy and her cousin about the spot before he examined it, for while his jaws worked like those of a cow chewing its cud, and rendered his speech difficult to understand, he began:—

“I mun hev’ my wage, and I mun goa! I hed aimed to dee wheare I’d sarved fur sixty year; and I thowt I’d lug my books up into t’ garret, and all my bits o’ stuff, and they sud hev’ t’ kitchen to theirseln; for t’ sake o’ quietness. It wur hard to gie up my awn hearthstun, but I thowt I could do that! But nah, shoo’s taan my garden fro’ me, and by th’ heart, maister, I cannot stand it! Yah may bend to th’ yoak an ye will—I noan used to ’t, and an old man doesn’t sooin get used to new barthens. I’d rayther arn my bite an’ my sup wi’ a hammer in th’ road!”

“Now, now, idiot!” interrupted Heathcliff, “cut it short! What’s your grievance? I’ll interfere in no quarrels between you and Nelly. She may thrust you into the coal-hole for anything I care.”

“It’s noan Nelly!” answered Joseph. “I sudn’t shift for Nelly—nasty ill nowt as shoo is. Thank God! shoo cannot stale t’ sowl o’ nob’dy! Shoo wer niver soa handsome, but what a body mud look at her ’bout winking. It’s yon flaysome, graceless quean, that’s witched our lad, wi’ her bold een and her forrard ways—till—Nay! it fair brusts my heart! He’s forgotten all I’ve done for him, and made on him, and goan and riven up a whole row o’ t’ grandest currant-trees i’ t’ garden!” and here he lamented outright; unmanned by a sense of his bitter injuries, and Earnshaw’s ingratitude and dangerous condition.

“Is the fool drunk?” asked Mr. Heathcliff. “Hareton, is it you he’s finding fault with?”

“I’ve pulled up two or three bushes,” replied the young man; “but I’m going to set ’em again.”

“And why have you pulled them up?” said the master.

Catherine wisely put in her tongue.

“We wanted to plant some flowers there,” she cried. “I’m the only person to blame, for I wished him to do it.”

“And who the devil gave you leave to touch a stick about the place?” demanded her father-in-law, much surprised. “And who ordered you to obey her?” he added, turning to Hareton.

The latter was speechless; his cousin replied—“You shouldn’t grudge a few yards of earth for me to ornament, when you have taken all my land!”

“Your land, insolent slut! You never had any,” said Heathcliff.

“And my money,” she continued; returning his angry glare, and meantime biting a piece of crust, the remnant of her breakfast.

“Silence!” he exclaimed. “Get done, and begone!”

“And Hareton’s land, and his money,” pursued the reckless thing. “Hareton and I are friends now; and I shall tell him all about you!”

The master seemed confounded a moment: he grew pale, and rose up, eyeing her all the while, with an expression of mortal hate.

“If you strike me, Hareton will strike you,” she said; “so you may as well sit down.”

“If Hareton does not turn you out of the room, I’ll strike him to hell,” thundered Heathcliff. “Damnable witch! dare you pretend to rouse him against me? Off with her! Do you hear? Fling her into the kitchen! I’ll kill her, Ellen Dean, if you let her come into my sight again!”

Hareton tried, under his breath, to persuade her to go.

“Drag her away!” he cried, savagely. “Are you staying to talk?” And he approached to execute his own command.

“He’ll not obey you, wicked man, any more,” said Catherine; “and he’ll soon detest you as much as I do.”

“Wisht! wisht!” muttered the young man, reproachfully; “I will not hear you speak so to him. Have done.”

“But you won’t let him strike me?” she cried.

“Come, then,” he whispered earnestly.

It was too late: Heathcliff had caught hold of her.

“Now, you go!” he said to Earnshaw. “Accursed witch! this time she has provoked me when I could not bear it; and I’ll make her repent it for ever!”

He had his hand in her hair; Hareton attempted to release her locks, entreating him not to hurt her that once. Heathcliff’s black eyes flashed; he seemed ready to tear Catherine in pieces, and I was just worked up to risk coming to the rescue, when of a sudden his fingers relaxed; he shifted his grasp from her head to her arm, and gazed intently in her face. Then he drew his hand over his eyes, stood a moment to collect himself apparently, and turning anew to Catherine, said, with assumed calmness—“You must learn to avoid putting me in a passion, or I shall really murder you some time! Go with Mrs. Dean, and keep with her; and confine your insolence to her ears. As to Hareton Earnshaw, if I see him listen to you, I’ll send him seeking his bread where he can get it! Your love will make him an outcast and a beggar. Nelly, take her; and leave me, all of you! Leave me!”

I led my young lady out: she was too glad of her escape to resist; the other followed, and Mr. Heathcliff had the room to himself till dinner. I had counselled Catherine to dine upstairs; but, as soon as he perceived her vacant seat, he sent me to call her. He spoke to none of us, ate very little, and went out directly afterwards, intimating that he should not return before evening.

The two new friends established themselves in the house during his absence; where I heard Hareton sternly check his cousin, on her offering a revelation of her father-in-law’s conduct to his father. He said he wouldn’t suffer a word to be uttered in his disparagement: if he were the devil, it didn’t signify; he would stand by him; and he’d rather she would abuse himself, as she used to, than begin on Mr. Heathcliff. Catherine was waxing cross at this; but he found means to make her hold her tongue, by asking how she would like him to speak ill of her father? Then she comprehended that Earnshaw took the master’s reputation home to himself; and was attached by ties stronger than reason could break—chains, forged by habit, which it would be cruel to attempt to loosen. She showed a good heart, thenceforth, in avoiding both complaints and expressions of antipathy concerning Heathcliff; and confessed to me her sorrow that she had endeavoured to raise a bad spirit between him and Hareton: indeed, I don’t believe she has ever breathed a syllable, in the latter’s hearing, against her oppressor since.

When this slight disagreement was over, they were friends again, and as busy as possible in their several occupations of pupil and teacher. I came in to sit with them, after I had done my work; and I felt so soothed and comforted to watch them, that I did not notice how time got on. You know, they both appeared in a measure my children: I had long been proud of one; and now, I was sure, the other would be a source of equal satisfaction. His honest, warm, and intelligent nature shook off rapidly the clouds of ignorance and degradation in which it had been bred; and Catherine’s sincere commendations acted as a spur to his industry. His brightening mind brightened his features, and added spirit and nobility to their aspect: I could hardly fancy it the same individual I had beheld on the day I discovered my little lady at Wuthering Heights, after her expedition to the Crags. While I admired and they laboured, dusk drew on, and with it returned the master. He came upon us quite unexpectedly, entering by the front way, and had a full view of the whole three, ere we could raise our heads to glance at him. Well, I reflected, there was never a pleasanter, or more harmless sight; and it will be a burning shame to scold them. The red fire-light glowed on their two bonny heads, and revealed their faces animated with the eager interest of children; for, though he was twenty-three and she eighteen, each had so much of novelty to feel and learn, that neither experienced nor evinced the sentiments of sober disenchanted maturity.

They lifted their eyes together, to encounter Mr. Heathcliff: perhaps you have never remarked that their eyes are precisely similar, and they are those of Catherine Earnshaw. The present Catherine has no other likeness to her, except a breadth of forehead, and a certain arch of the nostril that makes her appear rather haughty, whether she will or not. With Hareton the resemblance is carried farther: it is singular at all times, then it was particularly striking; because his senses were alert, and his mental faculties wakened to unwonted activity. I suppose this resemblance disarmed Mr. Heathcliff: he walked to the hearth in evident agitation; but it quickly subsided as he looked at the young man: or, I should say, altered its character; for it was there yet. He took the book from his hand, and glanced at the open page, then returned it without any observation; merely signing Catherine away: her companion lingered very little behind her, and I was about to depart also, but he bid me sit still.

“It is a poor conclusion, is it not?” he observed, having brooded a while on the scene he had just witnessed: “an absurd termination to my violent exertions? I get levers and mattocks to demolish the two houses, and train myself to be capable of working like Hercules, and when everything is ready and in my power, I find the will to lift a slate off either roof has vanished! My old enemies have not beaten me; now would be the precise time to revenge myself on their representatives: I could do it; and none could hinder me. But where is the use? I don’t care for striking: I can’t take the trouble to raise my hand! That sounds as if I had been labouring the whole time only to exhibit a fine trait of magnanimity. It is far from being the case: I have lost the faculty of enjoying their destruction, and I am too idle to destroy for nothing.

“Nelly, there is a strange change approaching; I’m in its shadow at present. I take so little interest in my daily life that I hardly remember to eat and drink. Those two who have left the room are the only objects which retain a distinct material appearance to me; and that appearance causes me pain, amounting to agony. About her I won’t speak; and I don’t desire to think; but I earnestly wish she were invisible: her presence invokes only maddening sensations. He moves me differently: and yet if I could do it without seeming insane, I’d never see him again! You’ll perhaps think me rather inclined to become so,” he added, making an effort to smile, “if I try to describe the thousand forms of past associations and ideas he awakens or embodies. But you’ll not talk of what I tell you; and my mind is so eternally secluded in itself, it is tempting at last to turn it out to another.

“Five minutes ago Hareton seemed a personification of my youth, not a human being; I felt to him in such a variety of ways, that it would have been impossible to have accosted him rationally. In the first place, his startling likeness to Catherine connected him fearfully with her. That, however, which you may suppose the most potent to arrest my imagination, is actually the least: for what is not connected with her to me? and what does not recall her? I cannot look down to this floor, but her features are shaped in the flags! In every cloud, in every tree—filling the air at night, and caught by glimpses in every object by day—I am surrounded with her image! The most ordinary faces of men and women—my own features—mock me with a resemblance. The entire world is a dreadful collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her! Well, Hareton’s aspect was the ghost of my immortal love; of my wild endeavours to hold my right; my degradation, my pride, my happiness, and my anguish—

“But it is frenzy to repeat these thoughts to you: only it will let you know why, with a reluctance to be always alone, his society is no benefit; rather an aggravation of the constant torment I suffer: and it partly contributes to render me regardless how he and his cousin go on together. I can give them no attention any more.”

“But what do you mean by a change, Mr. Heathcliff?” I said, alarmed at his manner: though he was neither in danger of losing his senses, nor dying, according to my judgment: he was quite strong and healthy; and, as to his reason, from childhood he had a delight in dwelling on dark things, and entertaining odd fancies. He might have had a monomania on the subject of his departed idol; but on every other point his wits were as sound as mine.

“I shall not know that till it comes,” he said; “I’m only half conscious of it now.”

“You have no feeling of illness, have you?” I asked.

“No, Nelly, I have not,” he answered.

“Then you are not afraid of death?” I pursued.

“Afraid? No!” he replied. “I have neither a fear, nor a presentiment, nor a hope of death. Why should I? With my hard constitution and temperate mode of living, and unperilous occupations, I ought to, and probably shall, remain above ground till there is scarcely a black hair on my head. And yet I cannot continue in this condition! I have to remind myself to breathe—almost to remind my heart to beat! And it is like bending back a stiff spring: it is by compulsion that I do the slightest act not prompted by one thought; and by compulsion that I notice anything alive or dead, which is not associated with one universal idea. I have a single wish, and my whole being and faculties are yearning to attain it. They have yearned towards it so long, and so unwaveringly, that I’m convinced it will be reached—and soon—because it has devoured my existence: I am swallowed up in the anticipation of its fulfilment. My confessions have not relieved me; but they may account for some otherwise unaccountable phases of humour which I show. O God! It is a long fight; I wish it were over!”

He began to pace the room, muttering terrible things to himself, till I was inclined to believe, as he said Joseph did, that conscience had turned his heart to an earthly hell. I wondered greatly how it would end. Though he seldom before had revealed this state of mind, even by looks, it was his habitual mood, I had no doubt: he asserted it himself; but not a soul, from his general bearing, would have conjectured the fact. You did not when you saw him, Mr. Lockwood: and at the period of which I speak, he was just the same as then; only fonder of continued solitude, and perhaps still more laconic in company.

#Wuthering Heights #Emily Brontë #Project Gutenberg

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lostboysmate4ever · 3 years

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Arne Johnson x Fem!reader (Soulmates)

|| pairing: Arne Johnson x fem!reader

Plot: Soulmates can hear their soulmate singing in their head. If a person were lucky to meet them then they would be able to sense their soulmates emotions and read their minds. Y/n is working with Lorraine and Ed Warren. She has the same powers like Lorraine. The Warrens, Drew (Y/n’s ex) and Y/n are investigating a family in Connecticut, the Glatzels. In Connecticut, Y/n finds her soulmate.

Y/n were working with the Warrens to investigate the Glatzels. The eight year old was being possessed. It’s been days since meeting the family and Arne Johnson. The crew was setting up for evidence to get an exorcism for David Glatzel.

Y/n heard her soulmate singing and started quietly singing. She walked into the living room singing her soulmates song. She had headphones on and didn’t notice everyone staring at her.

Y/n felt someone tap her shoulder and turned around. She looked puzzled “who just tapped my shoulder?” She asked. “No one.” Drew said. She saw a shadow but ignored it.

“Y/n, sweetheart are you okay?” Lorraine asked. “I’m fine” she said. “Oh n/n your terrible at lying” Drew said. “Shut up” she said grinning. Drew and y/n were best friends and stay as friends after the breakup.

“Drew get your ass up and help” Y/n joked. The entire time Arne was staring at her. Y/n was his soulmate. “Debbie let’s talk in private” he whispered to his girlfriend. “I agree” she said. They both walked out.

(Later that night)

We were going to wait until the next morning to do the exorcism. Until David, the possessed child stabbed his father in the leg. We all were holding down David. I had to look away. I was feeling sick. “Y/n are you alright?” Ed yelled over the loud noise. I nod “I-I’m fine” I mumbled.

I hold my head when suddenly I got a vision. I saw a goblet that had fire inside it. I screamed when David knocked me into a wall. “Y/n!” I heard a male voice yelled.

I looked up when David jumped on Ed. “Ed!” I yelled. I realized Lorraine was getting a vision. The others were also on the floor. I felt rage hit me and grabbed the boy from on top of Ed. “Your a coward! Leave him alone and .. take me!” I yelled.

“TAKE ME” I yelled. Suddenly David’s eyes turned back to normal and y/n dropped the kid to the floor. And something entered her. Ed looked at y/n, gasping “no!” He yelled.

Y/n slide down the wall and gasped in horror. The Glatzels and Arne rushed to David. Y/n stayed frozen. The Glatzels were on the stairs, holding David. Arne looked at her with concern. Y/n snapped out of it and rushed to Ed’s side “Ed!” She cried.

Lorraine rushed to them “Ed!” She yelled. Lorraine placed her fingers on his pulse and he went limp. Y/n placed her head on his chest and his heart was beating too rapidly.

“Call 911!” Lorraine yelled. Debbie rushed to the kitchen. Y/n was shaky. She felt different and cold. Arne was still staring at her with concern.

She leaned against the wall “y/n are you okay?” Drew asked, crouching in front of her. Y/n didn’t feel okay.

“I-I’m fine. That was insane” she stuttered not telling him what happened. Drew helped her up.

Y/n got up and helped the priest up. What have I done?! I just invited a demon inside me!

Of course she didn’t regret it because David was just a kid. He doesn’t deserve this torture. He was just eight years old.

Ed was taken to the hospital and Lorraine came with him. It was just Drew and her there now. “Let’s wrap the equipment up and get out of here” Drew told her.

She slowly nodded and started packing up. Y/n felt like something was wrong with the house.

This wasn’t just a demon possession. Something seems wrong... Arne was debating on talking to y/n because she seems shocked and terrified.

He was shy because this girl was his soulmate. Debbie and Arne broke up after learning y/n was his soulmate.

They just want to be friends. Now all he needs is courage to talk to her. Y/n was feeling sick to her stomach “L-let’s get the equipment tomorrow” she told Drew.

“I’m not feeling that well” Y/n told him. He nodded “Mrs. Glatzel can we get the equipment tomorrow? We want to head to the hospital to see if Ed is alright” she asked.

“That’s fine my dear. I pray that he’s alright “ she told her. Mrs. Glatzel gave her a hug, which made y/n smile.

“See you guys tomorrow “ she told Arne, Debbie and Mr. Glatzel. Drew and y/n walked out.

Arne felt upset that y/n left. He was too much of a pussy to talk to her. “She will be here tomorrow. You can talk to her then” Debbie told him. Arne felt grateful for his ex-girlfriend. She was supportive and understanding.

“Let’s head to the hospital and then head home” Y/n sleepily told Drew. They both went to the hospital. Lorraine had tears in her eyes and looked scared. She told them that it was a heartattack and it was serious

“Ed is a fighter. I know he will fight through this Lorraine. He will be fine” Y/n told her, hugging the crying women.

Lorraine pulled away from the hug “Drew, Y/n you should go home and get some rest” she told them. Y/n agreed and left the hospital.

Y/n was worried for Ed but also felt sick to her stomach. She invited the demon in and she was most likely going to hurt someone.

She refuse to let that happen. She headed to her house telling Drew goodnight. Also told him to check her updated. That night, she had terrible nightmares and remembered the exorcism.

~~~

“Coward! Take me! TAKE ME!” she continued to hear. She woke up gasping and sat up in bed.

Y/n felt her stomach flip and rushed to the bathroom, puking into the toliet. She puked for five minutes when finally stopped vomiting.

“Ugh” she said when she heard a noise. Y/n walked into the living room, looking around. She realized the demon followed her home.

Y/n turned around and a lady in a priest outfit was behind her. She screamed when the lady grabbed her head.

She fell to the ground and no one was there. She gasped and felt scared. A vision hit her and words pop up in her mind.

“Curse... ram... demon... need soul... suicide... murder...

She grabbed her head and checked the time. It was 5am. “Ugh seriously! Why wake me up this early” she groaned.

Y/n got a snack and ate it before heading back to bed. She walked back to her bedroom.

Y/n fell onto her bed. Her place had lots of activity and it was bugging her. It was hard to fall asleep due to the activity.

Y/n put her headphones on and listened to rain sounds. It relaxed her and she finally fell asleep.

Part 2 anyone???

#conjuring 3 #arne johnson #Possession #soulmates #TheGlatzels #EdWarren #lorraine warren #Conjuring3thedevilmademedoit #Arne Johnsonxfem!reader #imagines

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Pressure

Finale to Push and Pull

Warnings: noncon sex, oral, violence, abuse, and death.

This is Lee Bodecker (who is already dark!af) and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Life changes and you’re swept up in the tide.

Note: Alright, here’s out final part! Lee is such a bastard man.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

“You left a stain On every one of my good days”

-Disease, Matchbox Twenty

🚔

Arn had quickly taken up your father’s mantle as a moonshiner. When he got home, he went to the shed and tinkered with the sill. He met with the same men your father had and even began to act like him. Quiet, terse. He ordered you and your brothers around as he emulated the dead man.

Will had grown quiet. In those days he spent at home with you, you’d noticed how distant he seemed. He was the youngest, the sweetest. When your mother had passed, he had been the most distraught but he seemed numb to your father’s absence.

And Cal; Cal was just as oblivious as ever. You almost admired how he always went through life without heed for the past or future. He only seemed to live in his own little bubble as he floated along; untouched and unaffected by the taint of Knockemstiff.

And you, you were just an afterthought in the lives of the men around you. You cleaned after them, cooked for them, and saw that all was in order for them to exist. They didn’t give a second thought to their dirtied dishes or torn trousers. They just left them for you to tidy and mend.

And Bodecker. You hated just the thought of him. Hated the way your stomach churned as you recalled that mighty heat he’d stoked within you. The feeling you knew was so wrong. How could you feel that way when he was touching you? When you didn’t want him to touch you? You didn’t want it, right?

Your nightmares were stained in your father’s blood. You woke with a start at the gunshot as it echoed inside your head. Every morning without fail. Visions lingered as you dressed; the gun, Lee’s voice, the blood seeping into the dirt. You shuddered and pressed your hands to your face.

Had it really been so long? A month already.

You descended the stairs and yawned into your sleeve as you hugged yourself in the early morning chill. It was early, the men would not rise for another hour or so.

Maybe not. You heard the crackle of a log and the whisper of a page being turned. You stood in the doorway of the living room. Will sat on the rug before the fire, bent over a book as the flames licked behind the grate.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he spoke before you could. “But I’m almost done my book.”

“That’s good,” you neared and lowered yourself beside him, “What are you reading anyway?”

“Lord of the Flies,” he marked his page, “I think… I think it’s about good and evil. If people are born one or the other, you know?”

“Oh?” You crossed your arms over your knees.

“Yeah, I mean, if we were allowed to make our own rules, would we make them for us or the for the good of everyone?” He wondered, “Because even with the rules, we do the worst, don’t we?”

“I suppose but… the rules don’t really make much difference around here.” You snorted. “Not in this town.”

“You think it’s different somewhere else? In the city? Maybe in another country?” He chewed his thumbnail.

“I like to hope so, not that I’ll ever know,” you said, “Is this about daddy?”

He shrugged. He dropped his hand and stretched his long legs before him. “All the good went with mama.”

“Don’t say that,” you admonished.

“It’s true. How many times did he take the belt to you? And why? Because you made him think of her.”

“You really think that?”

“He was nasty to all of us,” he sighed, “But nastier to you. And I can’t even be sad that he’s gone.”

“Death is hard, Will,” you touched his shoulder, “It’s hard to know what you’re feeling about it. Sad ain’t so clear as it should be. It could be staring at the wall or tossing and turning in your bed or sitting up in the early hours and readin’ some book by yourself. It’s not always a feelin’, sometimes it’s in the things we do.”

“It’s just a book,” he muttered.

“But you lookin’ for daddy in it, ain’t ya? Askin’ if he was good or bad.”

“I know he was bad,” Will said, “It’s why I don’t feel bad for him. Probably ran his mouth at whoever it was who gave him what he got.”

“Don’t talk like that,” you took his hand and squeezed, “Please. For me.”

He looked at you. The light of the fire flickered in shadows across his face. “You know, you never had to take care of him. Or us. You should got out and married.”

“Maybe I didn’t have to,” you sidled close to him, “But how could I leave my little brother, hmm?”

“I’m a man now. Almost.” He said. “Arn won’t let you stay. I know it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Him and Rose from the diner. He’s gonna marry her. Won’t be no place for you here. Or Cal. Or me.” Will said. “And I’m gonna go work down at the yard. Or maybe the factory.”

“You should finish school.”

“For what?”

“You’re the only smart one. You could find your way. Get a degree.” You urged. “You should do all of that. You shouldn’t stay here.”

“And leave you behind?”

You sniffed and hung your head. “No, I’m grown. I’ll find my way and I won’t get in yours. You got half a year left. You’re too close to quit.”

“I don’t know…”

“Mama always wanted you to do something big. She always said you were special.” You said. “A lawyer? Maybe even a doctor. Imagine that.”

He was quiet. He squeezed your hand and wobbled his foot as he thought. “You should leave too. Leave this town. We could both go once I’m done school.”

“No, no, you can’t be takin’ care of me.” You argued.

“Why not? You’ve taken care of me.”

“Because that’s what women do. I promised mama I would.” You liked the idea of leaving but it was terrifying. Even if you did have that courage, you knew you wouldn’t be gone for long. And if fate didn’t bring you back, you expected something, or someone else, would. “If Arn decides to toss us to the curb, I’ll see you through the rest of the year and then you’re gonna go out and make mama proud.”

He nodded and leaned back on his hands. “I know no one else ever gave you a chance but you should start givin' yourself one. You’re too good for us. Too good for everyone in this damn town.”

🚔

When the Sheriff showed up next, you were alone. He walked into the house without knocking, as had become his habit, and sat at the table as you prepared a roast for dinner. He watched you silently and you tried to ignore him. You were waiting for his command.

How did he want you? What vile things would he do to you that day?

“When’s the boys gettin’ home?” He asked.

“Soon,” you answered as you turned on the oven.

“You got something sweet,” he reached in his pocket and pulled out an empty wrapped.

You slid the cookie jar towards you and plopped it before him on the table. “Made ‘em last night. Chocolate chip.”

“You’re always so good to me,” he smiled and you choked down your revulsion. “Too bad it took me so damn long to get here. I really wanted to have some fun.”

You turned back and opened the stove. You slid the roasting pan inside and snapped it shut.

“Them dresses you got, they really do nothin’ for ya,” he said through a mouthful of cookie, “‘cept when you’re bending over.”

“Why are you here then?” You crossed your arms as you turned back to him.

“I gotta talk to your brothers,” he said, “But let’s be clear on something, girl. You don’t ask me my business unless it’s to do with you.”

“I know about you,” you sneered, “Everyone does. Why don’t you get one of your whores and leave me alone?”

The chair nearly toppled as he stood and tossed down the cookie. He rounded the table and stomped over to you, cornering you against the counter.

“You’re my whore,” he snarled, “You got that?” He pinched your tit roughly. “Now, if I wanna, I can bend you over right now and let your brothers see what a whore you are.” He grabbed your chin and pushed his body against yours. “You should be flattered, you know? I ain’t touched another bitch since I been in you.”

You bit down and glared at him. Your lip curled but you said nothing.

“I ain’t gonna leave you alone,” he rocked his body against yours and exhaled. “What do ya think is gonna happen if I do? If I toss you out like the used bag you are? You got me or you got nothing. No man’s gonna marry a flower without her petals.”

He pushed harder against you until you could feel his bulge through his pants. His stomach crushed you against the counter. He leaned in and kissed you. You were shocked by the gesture, disgusted at how you could taste the chocolate on him.

“I really need to fuck you,” he growled as he drew away, “Fuckin’ hurts so bad.” He pushed himself from you and turned as he cleared his throat. The loud rumble of the Ford truck called from just outside as it pulled in. “Guess that means I’ll have to pay you back in kind.”

You narrowed your eyes and went to the fridge. You poured him a glass and slammed it down as the front door opened and the boys’ voices mingled in the hallway. Bodecker drank deeply and cleared his throat as he watched you retreat.

Arn entered first, followed by the other two as they chattered noisily. “...in the shed, we-- Sheriff Bodecker,” Arn shook the sheriff’s hand as he stood. “Figured you were waitin’ for us. You know, we got everything sorted with the shine.”

“That’s good to hear but sadly I’m not here about that,” Bodecker said, “Other business. ‘Bout your daddy.”

“Ah, okay,” Arn glanced over at Cal as Will took a seat at the table and grabbed a cookie from the jar. Your youngest brother looked at you as he took a bite. “What’s, uh, what’s goin’ on?”

“Well, we think we got the prick who did it,” Bodecker began and you stiffened, “Found your daddy’s belt buckle and same caliber gun. Some rat down by the tracks. Been arrested before for robbin’.”

“You found him?” Cal asked, “Well, suppose that’s good.”

“We will be chargin' him to the full extent of the law. Shouldn’t see a free day ever again.” Bodecker said. “Out of courtesy, I figured I’d tell ya before the papers ran the story.”

“Thank you, Sheriff,” Arn said. “You know it’s been tough tryna get everything together since he been gone but… this’ll be good for all of us. Now that we have some peace about it.”

“Oh, you got big plans?” Bodecker asked.

“House is mine now. Figure I need a wife. And the boys… well, they gotta go find a place of their own, ain’t they?”

“Mmm,” Bodecker hummed, “And your sister, too.”

“We have an aunt. I’m sure she could use the company.” Arn said.

“What?” You sputtered, “You just gonna send me away to live with Darlene?”

“What else am I gonna do with ya?” Arn barked. “If I got Rose here to do my cookin’ and cleanin’, I don’t see the use in keepin’ you around. Don’t know why daddy didn’t find someone to take ya before.”

“I ain’t askin’ you to do nothin’ with me,” you huffed, “But I ain’t goin’ to Darlene’s. I’ll go out on my own. I’ll clean someone else’s floor and get paid for it in more than spit and stupid.”

Arn snarled and Will stood slowly from the table. Cal squinted as if lost.

“Now, now,” Bodecker clapped Arn’s shoulder, “Lots to be done, lots to be done. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. This is a lot. Big news. I say, take some time, have some of that shine your daddy left you, and calm down, huh?”

Arn looked at the sheriff and shook his head. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right, I s’pose.”

Will lingered by the table, his eyes never left his older brother as his hands balled into fists. You neared him and touched his arm softly. He glanced over at you, his face tensed with anger.

“I won’t let him do it,” he whispered. “I told you, we can get out together.”

“So let’s give it a day,” Bodecker boomed, “I’ll be back tomorrow. We’ll talk business and… well, I think you’ll be happier after we have all that figured out.”

Arn nodded and shifted his weight.

“You got big shoes to fill,” Bodecker said, “Gotta make sure you get ‘em laced on right.”

🚔

As promised, Bodecker returned the next day, this time after your brothers. He joined them in the shed, a relief as you worked at stitching one of Will’s shirts. Cal appeared as you held up the shirt and eyed your work. You sensed his shadow and dropped the fabric to your lap.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” you assured him.

“You need to come out to the shed,” he ignored your promise of a hot meal and you frowned.

You stood and slung the shirt over the chair. You grabbed your jacket and boots and followed him out the door. You hadn’t been to the shed since before your daddy died. Your teeth chattered as you slipped through the door and Cal slid it closed behind you. Arn sat in your pa’s old armchair, Lee on a stool, and Will on the crooked bench with a space free for his other brother.

“I don’t know why she needs to be here,” Arn said, “But she is, so let’s get on.”

“Well, the only way you’re gonna expand across the county is through me, Arn,” Bodecker talked as if he were addressing a child. “And I’m up for re-election. That means we need each other. Means we need to set this little partnership we have down in stone.”

“How’s it that you need us, sheriff?” Cal asked as you swayed by the door.

“Well, my reputation ain’t exactly pristine. I need to tidy up the edges,” Bodecker leaned forward and twined his fingers together. “I’ll see that you get your shine from one end of the county to the other and I’ll also take a little weight off your shoulders. I need a wife and your sister needs a new home.”

Your mouth fell open and even Arn seemed surprised by the proposal.

“No,” Will said, “You can’t… you can’t marry her.”

“I don’t see why not. She’s gettin’ up there in years, I don’t see anyone else lining up.” Bodecker chortled.

“Because she--” Will looked at you helplessly. “She deserves to be happy.”

“I don’t think any woman be unhappy being the sheriff’s wife,” Bodecker hissed, “Won’t be no different than her cleaning up after y’all. If anything, it’ll be easier.”

“Take her,” Arn said, “Two birds, one stone.”

“And Cal, I’ll get him on the force by the end of the year. Always good to have another set of hands.” Bodecker continued. “He’ll make good enough money to get outta your hair.”

“And Will?” You said. All the men turned to look at you. “He’s gotta stay in school.”

“School ain’t shit,” Arn scowled.

“I don’t see why he can’t finish,” Bodecker said.

“I ain’t takin’ care of him,” Arn said. “He either gonna work for his lot or he can live outside.”

“Say what you want about daddy, but at least he had the decency to see to us,” you said. “You think you’re the big man now he’s gone.”

“You better shut your fuckin’ mouth if you know what’s good for you,” Arn stood and the sheriff did too. He stepped in front of the younger man.

“She’s grievin’. You know the ladies don’t handle all this so well,” Bodecker said, “I’ll see after the kid. I was gonna up my take to twenty percent but I’ll settle for fifteen if you keep him on.”

“Up your take?” Arn scoffed.

“We’re gonna be family and I’m gonna make sure none of my officers get in your way. Boy, that’s gonna mess with numbers, you get me? You can’t get without givin’.”

Arn lowered his chin and looked between you and Will. He blinked slowly.

“He got a roof till he’s done school. No longer than that.” Arn sat back down heavily, “And you be best to get a leash on my sister and quick. The sooner she’s out of my house, the better. Rose is getting awfully antsy.”

“Y’all got a date yet?” Bodecker said.

“Wait? Just like that? You’re gonna marry me off--”

“Fuck’s sake. You ain’t never know when to shut up!” Arn hollered as he reached for a jar of shine.

“And you’re gonna drink away your years just like daddy,” you snapped.

“Hmm, maybe, but you’re gonna do what I tell you and get on your back for our sheriff.” He spat, “Or I’m gonna dump you on the corner and you can see who else will have you.”

“Arn, you can’t--” Will began.

“You two can go off and see how far you make it,” Arn bit back, “I’m done arguin’. The next person pipes up, I’m gonna tar ya.”

You looked at Will and shook your head. You knew what wasn’t being said. If you didn’t do what you were told, it wasn’t that you’d be out of your home. You wouldn’t have anything. The sheriff had a stranglehold on every citizen in the county. He’d make sure you were helpless until you were forced to grab his outreached hand. You’d take what he gave you, as you had to that point.

“Fine…” You uttered, “You know what mama would think, Arn. As much as you think daddy’d be proud, you know she wouldn’t.”

“Go back to your kitchen,” Arn took a gulp of moonshine, “You got a month, Sheriff. You get her out and you got your fifteen.”

🚔

You didn’t expect your wedding day to be so gloomy. A winter ceremony in the town church with a man you didn’t and couldn’t love. You’d always thought you would wear your mother’s old gown but he wasn’t worthy of that. So you wore the plan dress from the local shop with a short veil and a pair of white flats.

The sheriff had done his best to clean up for the ceremony. Freshly shaved, hair combed neatly, his stomach barely continued above his cumberbund. This man, your husband, your jailer.

Your brothers sat in the first row as you listened to the priest. Your vows were nothing special, the same template handed out by the church. To love and obey. Only one of those would be true. You stared at the loose stitches of the veil, your surroundings blurred beyond the white lace.

You hated Arn for trading you away like livestock but you knew deep down your father would’ve done the same. He would’ve done worse. You recalled his last words; he would’ve had you on the street. Maybe this was the best you could hope for.

The room came back into focus as your veil was lifted. Your husband kissed you. He still sent a shiver up your spine every time he touched you. You turned back to the audience, his hand around yours as he led you between the rows of strangers. Your brothers were the only familiar faces though they were hardly welcome.

Arn had quickly taken up your father’s part in mistreating you, Cal was his mindless followers, and Will, you only saw pity in his eyes. Bodecker guided you between the pews and the doors open to the frigid winter afternoon. He ushered you to the waiting car and was quick to climb in behind you. There would be a dinner awaiting you at town hall; a whole room rented out for the occasion.

“So,” Bodecker’s hand settled on your thigh, “Are you wearing it?”

You nodded. He had brought you the lurid attire only nights before. A lacy brassiere and satin panties, stocks and frilly garners; all in as if you were still a virgin. He stretched his arm over your shoulders and pulled you close.

“It’s gonna just be you and me, honey,” he purred, “No more hiding.”

“Yes, Sheriff,” you spoke into your lap.

“Lee, or sir. No need to act strange anymore,” he dragged his nose up your cheek and his hot breath choked you. “I can’t wait until tonight. I’ve been holdin’ it in so long, god, I could blow now.”

“You know I hate you, don’t you?” You looked at him dead in the face.

A smile slowly spread across his face as he played with the hem of your veil. “Well, don’t really matter now, does it?”

🚔

Bodecker, Lee, your personal tormenter; whoever he was, ate as you avoided the same. You felt too sick to do anything but wait out the night. You accepted the congratulations of family and friends that weren’t yours and bided your time as he did all the talking. You expected your new life would be filled with these people eating out of the hand of their sheriff in hope that he didn’t swat their heads.

He drove you home in his cruiser. A strange end to a strange state of affairs. His house was large and closer to town. It was more modern than your father’s old farmhouse but not so tidy. A man living on his own didn’t have time to do his dishes before his wedding or put his used socks in the hamper

He closed the door behind you as you looked around. Cleaning was never a pleasure for you, an obligation, a ritual which kept you from dwelling on the bad. At that moment, you wanted to clean up the mess of this man’s life to keep from dealing with your own.

You jumped as he slapped your ass hard enough to make you stumble. You rubbed the stinging flesh beneath your dress and drew away from him. He caught your arm before you could go far.

“The bedroom’s through there,” he nodded to the doorway on the other side of the room, “A lot better than the car… and the coffee cups… hmmm?”

“It’s all the same,” you muttered.

“It gets better each time,” he pulled you against him and groaned. “You’ll see it soon. You’ll feel it.” He leaned in and his hot breath tickled your lips. “Go to the bedroom, get that dress off and wait for me.”

He tapped your ass and let you go as he turned away. He removed his jacket and hung it as you watched his back. You looked at the door. Where would you even go? Your mama once told you marriage wasn’t for love, it was practical. A roof over your head. What more could you ask for?

You walked down the hallway and stopped to look at the picture. The fresh-faced corporal didn’t look like the ruddy cheeked man with the wrinkle above his brow. Even in black and white, his eyes seemed brighter then. You tore yourself away and found the bedroom at the end.

You supposed you were different too. Different from yesterday, different from a month ago, a year ago, ten years ago. So much could change in so little time.

You reached back and unhooked the top of your dress. You struggled to undo each button along your spine as the fabric drew taut across your stomach. A week ago, the dress had seemed looser, same with much of your wardrobe.

You shimmied out of the dress and folded it over the walnut dresser. You looked down at yourself and the underwear better fit to the racy scenes in the theatre. You didn’t dress like this. You weren’t Marilyn or Elizabeth. You were just you and you were entirely out of place.

You slipped out of your shoes and unpinned your veil. The ring on your finger chafed your skin. You sighed and turned to sit on the bed. It bounced beneath you as you toyed with the diamond. Say what you would of the man, it had all been adequate. More than.

“You look good,” Bodecker said and you raised your head as he entered. He began to undress as he strutted across the room. “Wife.”

He unbuttoned his shirt as he neared the bed. He looked down at you with a smirk as his bowtie hung loose from his neck.

“You know what would happen if I didn’t marry you?” He pulled his tails loose and wiggled out of the shirt. He tossed it away with his tie, his stomach poking out slightly from his undershirt. “I mean, you could have my bastard inside you right now. You think anyone else wants it?”

Your eyes widened and your lashes fluttered. You bunched up the blankets in your hand as you teetered on the edge of the bed. You shook your head.

“You see, unlike all those whores, you got more than what’s between your legs,” he unbuckled his belt and undid his fly. “You work, real hard. And despite yourself, you’ll always need someone to take care of.”

He reached into his underwear and rubbed himself before pulling out his cock. You closed your eyes as he groaned and reached out to caress your cheek.

“Open your mouth, honey,” he purred. “Let me show how a wife serves her husband.”

You hesitated and he gripped your chin. He squeezed, a warning, and you opened up. He pressed his tip against your lips and pushed so that you let him in. His skin was salty and warm as it slid over your tongue. He hit the back of your throat and your eyes welled.

“Mmm mm mm,” he hummed, “That is good. Come on… just a little--”

He grunted as he forced himself down your throat. You choked and he shuddered as his hands held your head firmly. He moved his hips carefully. He slid back and slammed back in. Your eyes rolled back and you tried not to gag as he repeated the motion, each thrust harder than the last.

“Fuck, girl, I love that mouth,” he cooed, “Now it’s all mine.”

He pulled you forward as he pushed himself as deep as he could. He jerked into you even harsher than before and you grabbed the top of his pants. He dragged you off the bed and you fell to your knees. He fucked your face and shoved your head back against the mattress. He planted a hand on the bed and hammered into you over and over. Slobber spilled down your chin and you slapped helplessly against his thigh.

“Fucking take it,” he growled.

Your vision began to spot as you went limp and he stopped suddenly, halfway down your throat. He snarled and slipped out of your mouth and let you drop to the floor. You leaned forward as you coughed and his belt jingled as he stripped off his pants.

He stepped past you and climbed onto the bed. He fell heavily on his back as you looked up and bent his hands behind his head. His cock stood, glistening, and he grinned.

“Better climb on, girl,” he said, “We ain’t done yet.”

You grabbed the edge of the bed and pulled yourself up. One knee, then the other, you crawled over to him. It was the first time you’d seen him entirely naked. You stood shakily and reached to the top of the satin panties.

“Ah,” he tutted, “Just pull ‘em to the side.”

Your brows drew together but you didn’t argue. Your only hope was to bide him until you were on your own. Make yourself numb to his company and you could reward yourself in your solace.

You got down on your knees and reached between your legs. You took him in one hand and pushed your panties aside with other. You paused as his tip prodded at your entrance then lowered yourself onto him. You withdrew your hands and the satin was taut around the side of his shaft. You stilled and tried to adjust to the fullness.

“Well, come on,” he grabbed your hips and tilted them, “Move.”

You carried the rhythm and rocked atop of him. Your crumpled panties rubbed against your clit and added to the storm brewing in your core. His hands swept up your sides and he cupped your tits through the lace bra. His thumbs rubbed your barely concealed nipples and he groaned.

“Shit, it’s so good, honey. So good.” He moved his hips beneath you, “Faster.”

You obeyed and he tugged down the cups the brassiere. He pushed his head into the pillow and gritted his teeth. He grabbed your sides and pulled you to bend over him. He nuzzled your titts and nipped at the tender flesh. He took a nipple in his mouth and sucked as you kept your hips moving.

His hands skimmed over your curves and he gripped your hips. He pulled your ass down harder and you flesh clapped against his loudly. He turned his head away as your breast hung over him and you sped up. You were close. So close.

“I’m gonna cum,” he rasped, “I’m gonna--”

You threw back your head and cried out as you orgasmed first. You dug your nails into his arm as you fucked him through your climax and felt him burst inside of you. That joy, that second of joy, was enough to forget, a spark of happiness before it all came back.

You slowed and stilled atop him, out of breath. You sat up, the straps of your bra sagging down your shoulders as he tickled your thighs.

“You know,” he poked his finger between your legs and flicked your overwrought clit. You twitched and he chuckled. “I can’t wait til you got my child inside of you. Seein’ you all big. I’m still gonna fuck you.” His other hand rubbed your stomach, “If you’re anything like your mama, we’ll have a whole herd of our own.” He licked his lips as he took your hands and placed them on his chest. “But you remember, your husband always comes first.”

#lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #dark!lee bodecker #dark lee bodecker #the devil all the time #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #short series #series #push #pull

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ally-127 · 4 years

Note

my request... joshua angst where there's an argument on ur anniversary n you can decide whether to make it a happy or sad ending!! thx ally :-)

lisianthus

pairing: husband!joshua x reader word count: 1.6k warnings: reference to sex, slightly suggestive material music: ‘lose’ by niki a/n: okay like this is more fluff than angst,, im sorry- my mind literally blanked out when i was trying to think of what they could argue about. but enjoy this romantic af, poetic(?) piece that i also enjoyed writing ngl. thanks for requesting @chocosvt , i hope u liked it...luv u the most <3

“come on kiddos, it’s time for bed!”

you ushered your seven and three-year-old into their shared bedroom, your lips stretched wide into a grin at their playful giggles.

“goodnight, mum,” your daughter, seven, hummed as you tucked her into bed while your younger son climbed clumsily into his beside.

you dropped a kiss on her forehead and turned to your cheeky son, who still had that smile of his. you give him a huge smooch on the cheek. “goodnight, you.”

with both children wrapped up in their sheets comfortably, you flicked off the light switch and closed the door quietly behind you.

a sigh couldn’t help but escape your lips as you shuffled your way back into your room to finish up some work, but before you did, a certain glow caught your attention.

the kitchen was dark all around when you entered, lit scented candles dotted around the table and the only light source in the room.

the flames danced in the breezy air of your apartment, lighting up not only the bouquet of lisianthus on the table but your husband, joshua, who sat on one of the chairs, staring wistfully at the flowers. a glass of wine sat solitarily in front of him, the stain on the rim a sign that he had already started to drink without you.

the beat of your heart was now apparent as ounces of dread slowly settled into the pit of your stomach.

you forgot.

“are we not important anymore?” he began, taking the glass in between his fingers.

“what do you mean?” you remained standing, feeling as if the soles of your feet had been embedded into the hardwood of the floor.

“did it completely slip your mind, or am i now the least of your concerns?” continuous rhetorical questions, or rather, questions of accusations, escaped his beautiful mouth.

you could kiss it a thousand times and still, your need for them to be on your skin would never be satiated.

“jihyun and—“

“do not bring our kids into this,” joshua was painfully serene, like the calm before the storm; the storm in which you could see in the depths of his eyes. “you forgot we’ve been married for ten years.”

you cursed under your breath.

how did you forget?

bringing the subject of work into the argument was pointless now, it only seemed like an excuse.

“josh—“

“i was waiting all day,” he finally shifted his almond-shaped eyes to you. “for you to run into my arms, to kiss me, hell, even to just smile at me. but no, you didn’t even look at me once.”

joshua, on a break from being a performer, occupied himself with taking care of the children and the apartment. he had plenty of time on his hands, his heart full with a sincere wish to spend it with the people he loved most in the whole universe.

you, a full-time working mother, had recently just been promoted in your company. with new responsibility came heavy workload and a brand new project dumped into your control. it was overwhelming, and it blinded a tremendous amount of aspects in your life, including your husband himself.

you realised you didn’t even meet joshua’s eyes as he got them ready for school this morning, while he adjusted their jackets and shouldered their little backpacks to carry it for them, knowing fully what date it was.

you simply kissed your daughter and son goodbye before you took half a litre of coffee with you out the door without uttering a single word of goodbye to your lover.

now, as you stared at him from where you stood, you could feel the effects of neglecting him for the longest time hurling back to you like a tidal wave.

there was no trace of a smile, of the crinkle of his eyes, of the lines that would form at the ends of his eyes that deepened over time and with age.

the expression that stared back at you was foreign, stoic.

there‘s a saying: you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.

you knew it wasn’t gone, but the absence of his smile made your heart sink into the bottomless pit of your regret. it was a horrifying feeling.

suddenly, you wanted to do all the things he said you didn’t, smile at him, run into his arms, kiss him.

“i’m sorry,” you almost lost the capability of speaking, your voice small as you gathered enough courage to take more steps towards him. “i really am. i’m such a fool.”

he stood up, his height casting a dim shadow over you. the plastic of the wrapper crunched in his hands when he extended his arm, offering the bouquet of your favourite flowers in your favourite colour to you. joshua could never forget that.

you took them with shaky hands, eyes looking everywhere but into the abyss of his caramel eyes.

“you are not a fool, my love,” he engulfed you in his strong arms, a familiar place, a place you missed often and could call home. a place you almost forgot was your home. “you are my wife,” he kissed away the single tear of remorse that escaped the duct in the corner of your eyes. “my beautiful, strong wife.”

your head on his chest, your fingers fisted in the material of his shirt, you held on to each other for what seemed like the first time in a long time. his woody scent had the effect of waves crashing against the beach and echoes of seagulls in the distance—it calmed you immensely.

everything about joshua calmed you.

it felt like you could remain in his arms forevermore, until the morning sun rose and the lisianthus wilted in the grip of your hands.

“i love you,” you told him, quietly, setting the bouquet aside to sink into his touch.

these were the words he wanted and needed to hear the most, to reassure himself that you did still love him the way he loved you, to make sure that work had not completely overtaken your senses.

“i love you too.”

fingers rubbing your back in soothing strokes, joshua kissed your temple, then the tip of your nose. to reach your lips he had to angle his head in the slightest, long eyelashes fluttering as he reached his destination.

a hum of satisfaction escaped your lips, conjoined with his, knowing fully that you didn’t deserve it yet you savoured every minute. your arms were secure around his neck, not a millimetre of space to be seen between your torso and his.

as joshua pulled away to gasp for air, he reached into his pocket for his phone, tapping away at the screen. half a second later, music began to play from the speakers he had installed on the corners of the ceiling.

your husband enjoyed music, thrived in it. it was his natural element, his escape from everything and life itself.

“dance with me, darling,” he whispered as louis armstrong blew the first few notes of his trumpet, a light melody that entranced your step into aligning with your lover’s, barefoot in the kitchen, head on his shoulder.

“remember in college,” you pondered, reminiscing the iridescent days of your youth. “when we would dance around the communal kitchen in the refrigerator light?”

“when i snuck out of the dorms to visit you half-past two in the morning?” the smile on his face reminded you of how much you truly longed for it, like a breath of fresh air after being suffocated for so long.

he grinned at you like you were back in the heart of a bustling city, of seoul, the thrill of the unexpected running through your veins like a drug. you found an impossible love, forcing the rebellion, suppressed deep enough in yourself until you forgot about it, to resurface again as you met him.

you had never felt as daring as you did when you first saw him.

“we lost so much sleep,” the airy sound of your chuckle urged joshua to tug you closer, dancer feet still in time with the rhythm of jazz buzzing in the background.

“first college, then jihyun,” the way in which your daughter’s name left his lips made the knot in your heart twist, your entire being captivated by his voice.

he twirled you around, stars—no, the entire galaxy—sparkling in those brown eyes as you spun to meet him once more.

“and jiyoung,” the sound of your youngest son’s name elicited a permanent smile from your husband, perfect teeth peeking through.

“i don’t regret a single second of it,” he said, mellifluous in tone, filled with content.

“i don’t either,” sometimes, the possibility of being in love for so long was a question to you that you could not answer.

magic doesn’t exist, but it did then, in that night, surrounded by wicks, aglow in passion, organic scent of lemongrass wafting in the air.

jazz-driven steps, hungry gazes and the brush of his fingers under your sweater made you wonder if you were back in the era of your faded youth. it was as if you were reliving each night of delirium once again, of heated sex in the darkness of your compact bedroom, of muted grunts and the slapping of skin that reverberated off the chipped walls.

joshua lifted the sweater up your head, up your arms. the music, transitioning ever so timely from armstrong to the weeknd, your eyes widening and your hips swaying ever so slightly to the bass. his grin twisted into a smirk, eyes narrowing in desire and the previous storm behind them calming into a wave of dirty intentions.

“take the week off for me, love,” kisses were peppered down your neck to your collarbone as he whispered each word into your skin.

you promised him you would, and you did.

#caratwritersclub #kwritersworldnet #joshua #joshua hong #seventeen #joshua angst #joshua fluff #joshua smut #joshua x reader #joshua imagines #joshua drabbles #seventeen angst #seventeen drabbles #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines

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welcometowcwmondaynitro · 3 years

Text

WCW Monday Nitro 09/09/1996

Shit be exploding, so you know what time it is.

Yes sir.

Once again we are not given a location this week, which generally means the town is too small-time for the big shots at WCW to even consider giving a shout out to. My research tells me this broadcast comes from the Columbus Civic Centre in Columbus, Georgia.

As always we are introduced to our first hour announce team, Schiavone and Zbyszko.

Tony is looking quite smart this evening. Larry as expected has a horrific multcoloured abomination on underneath his jacket. It’s basically his gimmick a this point so whatever.

They talk about how the balance of power has shifted to the nWo and Larry says Giant is “the biggest traitor since Benedict Arnold”, nice ancient reference there, Larry. We get a recap of last week’s awesome show-ending brawl.

Once they’re done wrapping this up, Goldberg’s music plays. What? I check my file - yes, definitely 9th September 1996. Has Goldberg time travelled back to 1996 and changed history by debuting early?

Well, either that is one hell of a disguise or no, actually Goldberg’s theme music was first used by this Japanese guy called Pat Tanaka. It’s really weird seeing this random fella walk out to Goldberg’s music. The crowd boo mildly - I guess just because he’s Japanese? I don’t remember there being any storyline reason to boo him, anyway.

Pat’s opponent is... this.

Looks like a mascot from a early/mid-90s video game brought to life. If this is Super Calo then I am curious as to what regular Calo is like. I am unsure as to what makes this version ‘Super’, but maybe we’ll find out in the upcoming match. Mike Tenay joins the announce crew because it is Calo’s debut and Tenay is the only one likely to know anything about him.

Pat Tanaka vs Super Calo

I was kind of hoping Tanaka would start the match with a spear and then jackhammer Calo into oblivion, but no such luck.

As one would anticipate from a man dressed like a stereotypical kung-fu master in an 80s movie, Tanaka starts the match off with some kicks.

Calo jumps around pointlessly and then gets kicked in the face. Bants.

Tenay tells us Calo’s name and look comes from the “top rap group” in Mexico. He does not name this group. Confusingly wikipedia claims Calo is named after a Mexican rock group with the same name, but his image is meant to convey a rapper. So, just... what? Also what rapper has ever looked like Super Calo? In Mexico is that how rappers dress?

Well anyway this odd fellow somersaults over the ropes onto Tanaka outside of the ring.

The screen then cuts to this.

Then we’re back to the match. OK then.

Tanaka hits Calo with a powerbomb, which leads to Tony talking about him being “so schooled in the martial arts”. Yes, because we all know that classic martial arts move the powerbomb. Often followed by a leg drop and a scorpion deathlock.

The ending to this match is beyond ridiculous.

First, Tanaka puts Calo onto the top turnbuckle.

Neither man seems to know what is meant to happen next, so they awkwardly wrap their arms around each other.

Tanaka then lifts Calo up like he’s going for an inverse piledriver and falls backwards.

Apparently he knocks himself out, gets pinned, and loses.

What an idiot.

Super Calo defeats Pat Tanaka via Pinfall.

Nothing too super about our friend Calo in this one I’m afraid. His victory came largely because Tanaka is a super dunce.

We got some lads in the front row who are big fans of the classic moustache.

They seem quite pleased that Calo emerged victorious.

Just under seven minutes in and we throw back to Mean Gene in the locker room with Rick Steiner. This should be good.

Shirts hanging out of the lockers behind them, as you do.

Gene asks Rick Steiner about Nick Patrick’s questionable officiating - referring to the incident last week where Luger was disqualified in seconds for basically nothing. Rick says that he had Luger, and Gene saw it. Total bullshit as the match had barely started, and Gene does point that out.

Luger walks into the frame as we see last week’s replay. Rick is continually going on about how he was going to win, sounding like a mentally challenged three year old. On the other hand this is a guy who also genuinely thinks he’s a dog, so... I should probably be impressed that he is able to form words and put them into a somewhat coherent structure.

Gene says that Steiner is “a little confused” in the understatement of the century,

Luger tells Rick that he’s “a great tag team wrestler” but he feels like he has the edge in a singles environment. Rick continues to fail to understand basic english and keeps repeating “I can beat you, ask Sting” and then starts calling for Sting.

Gene then ushers Rick away like an unruly child as Luger walks off as well. Gene says that Luger was alluding that Rick “doesn’t have it upstairs”, pointing to his head. Wow, what a dick. Luger didn’t say anything like that. All he implied was that he was a better singles wrestler than Rick. Not sure where Gene has gotten his interpretation from, but my guess is he just wants to stir the pot as usual.

Next it’s nWo announcement time.

Just the usual t-shirt ad with Nash saying “all proceeds go towards the Ric Flair retirement fund”. Joke’s on him, that fund must have accrued some serious cash before it was finally paid out.

We’re back and...

Somebody buy these poor kids some real nWo t-shirts.

Where did these people come from? Did they decide to stop by Nitro after a corporate dinner or something?

Are these pilots in the audience as well? Wtf? Why are all these people coming to the show dressed in their work clothes? Is this a common thing in the States?

Oh, hey, guess what - Glacier debuted. I would say “remember all that hype” but if you’ve been reading this sad collection of nostalgic drivel then you will indeed remember the many Glacier adverts that have been on every Nitro broadcast since May or so. We’re now in September and Glacier finally had his first match... on WCW Pro.

Seriously.

WCW Pro is like... Sunday Night Heat or Velocity in WWE terms. It’s below WCW Saturday Night for fuck’s sake. Tony calls it “one of the most eagerly anticipated debuts ever” - which is why he made his first appearance on WCW FUCKING PRO. Oh WCW, what are you like?

Larry says Glacier will be “a force to be reckoned with”, which, spoiler alert. turns out to be the opposite.

Oh good, these two walking charisma vacuums.

And these two lumbering idiots. WCW, the best wrestling on the planet. How could WWF in 1996 find no way to entice people away from Pat Tanaka vs Super Calo and The AFC vs the Nasty Boys? Seriously. It isn’t that difficult.

The AFC do their usual schtick of singing the Canadian national anthem badly and the crowd get angry because ‘Murica fuck yeah and whatever. The Nasty Boys say “fuck this” and attack the AFC after about 10 seconds of this bullshit, getting the match started.

The Amazing French Canadians Vs The Nasty Boys

You don’t care about this match. I don’t care about this match. Let’s just skip to the end.

Knobbs whacks the eyepatch guy with the flag the AFC brought out. Saggs pins for the win.

The Nasty Boys defeat The Amazing French Canadians via Pinfall.

Mean Gene comes scurrying out to interview the Nastys, for some reason.

Saggs says everybody has been pointing the finger at the Nasty Boys, accusing them of being with the nWo (can’t imagine anybody really cares but OK, sure). Saggs says the Nasty’s are only worried about the tag titles which are in WCW, ergo they aren’t interested in joining the nWo. Does he not realise that faction affiliation is irrelevent as far as challenging for belts is concerned? I mean, Hogan is literally WCW Heavyweight champion at this point in time.

Knobbs says that the Nasty’s don’t care about the nWo, they’re in WCW and they’re coming for Harlem Heat to take the tag team titles. Short and to the point, which is fine by me, even if the Nasty’s appear to be under the mistaken impression- that joining the nWo would invalidate them from challenging for the tag titles.

We’re back from a commercial break to find Scott Norton and Sgt Craig Pittman in the ring.

Sgt Craig Pittman Vs Scott Norton

The commentators bill this as a “hold versus hold” match and I’m not sure what this means, as I was under the impression every match is hold versus hold. But whatever.

After some back and forth Pittman decides that it’s time to ram his head into Norton’s sternum.

It looks pretty painful and not especially effective, but Pittman enjoys it so much he does it again.

They head to the outside of the ring. Norton gets whipped against the guardrail, the entirety of which moves upon impact, but then Norton regains control by slamming Pittman’s shoulder into the ring post.

Norton locks in the armbar but the Sarge will not give up. Long gets onto the ring apron to beg Pittman to give in, but he won’t. WCW, for reasons beyond my understanding, is very careful about protecting Sgt. Craig Pittman. He never gets pushed, as far as I remember, but this man WILL NOT QUIT.

Then...

Ice Train wanders out wearing this abomination. Seriously - what the fuck? It’s like a demin vest with a backpack built in. It’s something you would expect to see an eight-year old girl in the mid-90s wearing over the top of a t-shirt or something. What clothing brand figured that this design was suitable for huge, beefy dudes? I don’t know, but they clearly have a customer in Ice Train.

Train throws in the towel for Pittman.

Scott Norton defeats Sgt. Craig Pittman via Forfeit.

He enters the ring and stares down at Norton, who is looking at Train’s vest top and moobs like “dafuq?”

The two former amigos have a staredown which doesn’t lead anywhere.

Pepboys Power Pin of the Week is a submission. Go figure.

We head to the locker room where Gene-o is with Ric Flair, Arn Anderson and Lex Luger.

Three of these men are dressed appropriately. The other is Lex Luger.

Apparently Sting is supposed to be a part of this interview as well but is nowhere to be found. Luger assures Flair & Arn that Sting is in the building, but the Horsemen are having none of it and are concerned that Sting doesn’t have his head in the game. Flair starts going crazy and practically flings himself into an alternate dimension with his erratic movements.

Like a jet propeller is being put directly in front of his face.

Anyway eventually these two sad sacks come lumbering in...

Mongo looks like he’s about to explode, whilst Benoit as usual appears barely awake. Mongo yells about not being able to count on Luger and Sting. Luger reiterates that Sting is in the building somewhere, he’s just not around for the interview. The Horsemen do seem overly paranoid here - how hard would it be to track Sting down and talk to him if they are this pissed off?

Arn says he’s called ahead to Winston, Salem (where Fall Brawl/War Games is being held) to pre-book himself a hospital room as he assumes he’s going to need one. Seems like a somewhat pessimistic thing to do, but is it even possible to pre-book hospital room? Arn is talking like he’s booked a hotel room for the night. Strange lad. He also suggests Hogan uses battery acid to burn out his eyes which... I mean, don’t give the guy ideas, Arn.

Interview ends with everybody talking over each other and Flair wooing a lot - so, the same as most Horsemen interviews.

People in the crowd are holding these signs which say “nWo - you haven’t seen bad... but it’s coming!” - indeed, Hogan Vs Piper is coming.

We get a recap of this thrilling DDP/Eddie/Chavo storyline which nobody cares about, but why this is recapped is beyond me as the next match has nothing to do with any of those three.

Instead, out comes “the desparado” himself, Joe Gomez.

Somebody throws a wad of paper at him as he enters. Obviously not a fan.

His opponent is Juventud Guerrera, who Tony repeatedly refers to as Juventud Guerrero.

As Juvi enters he runs past these ladies, who appear both baffled and unimpressed with him.

Cold.

Joe Gomez Vs Juventud Guerrera

The match starts off okay, but descends into disaster fairly quickly as Juvi starts trying various lucha things which poor Joe is clearly not comfortable with. First Juvi stands on the apron, jumps onto the ropes as Gomez slowly walks towards him and does this...

It’s clear from this angle alone that there is no way in hell Juvi is going to reach Gomez. In fairness to WCW they switch camera angle just in time to make it look slightly less terrible, although I imagine it was more down to luck than skill. Nonetheless Gomez at least tries to sell the move, falling backwards theatrically.

Weeee! Points for effort if not execution.

This happens next, and thanks to Uproxx “Best and Worst of WCW Monday Nitro” series (check it out, it’s great) I have a GIF to put into pictures what I would struggle to put into words.

Speaks for itself.

After this Juvi seems to want to go for a hurricanrana from the top turnbuckle but I‘m not sure if they botch this as well or it was the plan, but Juvi ends up backflipping away from the turnbuckle and then catching Gomez with a weak looking dropkick as he jumps towards Juvi.

Juvi just about manages to hit the finishing move...

But even that looks a little bit dodgy. At least Joe just had to lay there for this one. Ref counts to three and mercifully this one is over. Not sure if Gomez or Juvi are to blame for this shitshow, but either way I advise never putting them together again.

Juventud Guerrera defeats Joe Gomez via Pinfall.

For some reason Mean Gene is on the ramp to interview Nick Patrick. Oh good, more of this storyline.

Before they start the interview though, as Juventud walks past Gene and Patrick, Gene says “very good match there on the part of Juventud Guerrera”, then gives Juvi a disdainful look and mutters “guy just kind of... wanders around here”. LOL. Why is Gene throwing shade at poor Juvi? “Guy just wanders around here”, like he’s a lost child or something. I guess Gene is still salty about the interview with Juvi that went wrong a couple of weeks ago, but come on, that was hardly Juvi’s fault. Obvious Gene is still holding a grudge though.

I don’t think anybody really wants to hear from these two ballbags but here we are anyway.

Gene is accusing Patrick of making too many controversial calls for it to just be coincidence, whilst Patrick is accusing Gene of being a shit-stirring cock cheese who needs to get a life. Neither are lying but nobody really cares either. What is funny is that Okerlund is very haughty and dismissive of Patrick - until Patrick threatens to take Gene to court - at which point Gene stutters “well I-I hope that doesn’t happen” before saying “thank you very much Nick Patrick, sir, thank you” to Patrick as he walks off. Pathetic.

Meanwhile Hogan, Hall, Nash and the Giant are outside in the pouring rain putting those nWo flyers with the “you haven’t seen bad... but it’s coming” slogan on random cars. This seems like a total waste of time as by the time the car owners get back to their vehicles the rain would probably have destroyed those flyers anyway. Do these guys really have nothing better to do? Tony tells us the nWo are “literally” in the parking lot - as opposed to what, being there in spirit?

Ted DiBiase is the smartest of the lot as he 1) has an umbrella and 2) isn’t wasting his time putting up useless flyers in the pouring rain. He’s talking to somebody in the car, and the announcers are shitting themselves as to who it might be, as they tend to do. For all they know DiBiase might just be talking to the driver.

“HERE’S A STORY OF TWO BROTHERS, RICK AND SCOTT!”

Just Rick tonight. He comes out doing that sad half-bark he does whenever something is troubling him.

His opponent, of course, is Flexy Lexy.

Rick Steiner Vs Lex Luger

These two are not exactly known as ‘ring generals’ so I am not expecting a classic here. Let’s see, though. Perhaps we will all be pleasantly surprised.

After various arm drags, headlocks, shoulder blocks, and so on, this happens.

Uh...

Yeah. Rick is basically molesting Luger in the ring and keeps this up for a disturbing amount of time. I guess it’s meant to show his amateur wrestling background but it basically just looks like sexual assault. Rick’s hands are going to places they really should not.

Hour two begins with the usual fireworks. Bischoff, Heenan and Tenay come in on commentary for the rest of the show.

Rick hits Luger with a nice powerslam, and Randy Anderson cannot bear to watch the impact. The crowd bark their approval which, personally, I don’t think is helpful. Rick’s clinical lycanthropy is only going to get worse if people bark at him when he does something good. Or bark at him in general, really.

More cuddling. Back away, Rick. Even Randy Anderson is telling him to cut it out at this point.

Luger takes control with a powerslam and signals for the rack. However, before he can attempt his finishing move...

This dicksplash comes running out waving his arms around. Looks like he’s doing the sieg heil there but fairly sure it’s just the timing of the screenshot.

Anyhow, Patrick tells Luger to follow him out the back, yelling something about the nWo beating up Sting.

Considering Patrick’s recent behaviour, Lex, it might not be wise to...

OK. Never mind. Of course Luger goes running after Patrick, abandoning the match entirely and getting himself counted out.

Everyone looking towards the entrance way like “where’s he going?”

Rick Steiner defeats Lex Luger via Countout.

We get a shot of DiBiase talking to the mystery man in the limo. Sting’s voice is heard but it is blatantly piped in from some other promo. He says he’s “tired of the DTA stuff, don’t trust anybody”, so I guess he’s not a fan of Stone Cold Steve Austin. DiBiase pretends to talk to the pre-taped Sting voice until Lex shows up.

A guy who is clearly not Sting gets out of the limo and starts beating up Luger whilst Bischoff screams “NO! NO!”

I have the advantage of hindsight and my monitor is probably bigger than most people’s TVs back in 1996... but still, it’s really obviously not Sting. Were people genuinely fooled by this?

The nWo along with “Sting” beat Luger down and leave him laying in a broken heap in the rain...

It has not been a good night for Luger. First he got yelled at by the Horsemen, then he spent ten minutes getting inappropriately touched by Rick Steiner during their match, then he gets smacked around by the nWo and left on the ground in the pouring rain. Bad times for sure. Although if you’re stupid enough to follow Nick Patrick anywhere...

Luger does manage to get back up but ends up just kind of wandering around in the rain looking confused whilst the nWo flee, leaving the limos parked outside the building.

These bois are not impressed by what they have just seen. Tenay looks like a dad who is about to grab his belt and put a whippin’ on somebody. Bischoff is indignant. Heenan wears the expression of a man who was just forced to sit through every Raw from 2015. Pure torture.

Bischoff says he has an update which is literally “we don’t know where [the nWo] are. I’m sorry. I don’t know”. Well thanks for that. Very helpful.

We get a long recap of last week’s angle including more footage of the amazing all-out brawl that ended the show. Then we get another nWo advert for their t-shirt.

A bunch of random jobbers are outside with Luger and Rick Steiner milling around the limo yelling out “DIBIASE!” - as if he’ll just pop up and be like “sup bois?” - pointless endeavour. Rick Steiner is the only one smart enough to bring an umbrella outside. Let that one sink in. Luger chucks a bunch of stuff out of one of the limos onto the floor which seems unnecessary.

Out comes pre-Flock Billy Kidman. The commentators could not care less, just droning on about Sting’s supposed “defection”.

The other combatant in this contest is Cruiserweight champion Rey Mysterio Jr.

Rey Mysterio Jr Vs Billy Kidman

The announcers spend the entire match in ‘sad voice’, like their dogs have all collectively died. It’s really annoying.

The match spills to the outside very quickly. Rey gets the advantage and rolls Kidman back in. He attempts to jump off the ropes from the apron, but Kidman knows what’s coming and meets Rey with a dropkick to the chest.

Kidman slams Rey in the centre of the ring, runs over to the turnbuckle and leaps off.

Just a two count though. Rey wins the match soon after this by flipping off the ropes onto Kidman.

It looks weak but whatever. This wasn’t anything special.

Rey Mysterio defeats Billy Kidman via Pinfall.

We come back from a commercial and the Dungeon’s of Doom’s “music” is playing, and I put that in inverted commas because it isn’t really music, just a pseudo-creepy OTT villainous laugh accompanied by some kind of chant. Whatever. Normally any sign of the Dungeon is enough to make me want to hang my head in despair, however!

If Meng is involved, it might be somewhat entertaining. Just to note those aren’t two random arms sprouting out of Meng’s shoulders – the Barbarian is behind him.

The announcers are still going on about how tragic Sting’s supposed betrayal is – and Bischoff apologises for “not giving Rey Mysterio the attention he deserves in his match”. I mean, kind of tough to take that apology seriously considering how often this has happened and will continue to happen until Nitro goes out of existence. It is the only time I can recall any commentator in WCW actually apologising for the routine ignoring of the cruiserweights in favour of talking about/complaining about the nWo, though.

These two are the opponents. Yeah, Public Enemy, they definitely deserve that pyro. Sure. Look at them waving their hands in the air like they just don’t care.

By the way, the commentators are still going on about Sting. I wonder if we’ll get another apology for ignoring this match as well? Not that I’d necessarily blame them here.

Some diehard wrestling fans here. I think we saw them previously – seemingly someone in production has taken a liking to these ladies. They look like they got lost on their way to a PTA meeting, but fuck it, might as well enjoy themselves now. Watch out for the dude behind you though, ladies. That smile worries me a little.

The Faces of Fear Vs Public Enemy

We go to a commercial break, and as soon as we come back Bischoff says “I hate to keep repeating this, but apparently Sting has joined forces with the nWo”. Bullshit, if you hated it that much you’d have shut up about it by now. I mean, jeez, we get it.

This contest is just a brawl, as you’d expect. Not exactly a match for the ages, but all of a sudden, randomly…

This dude on the left appears and begins running/skipping around the ring.

The fuck? It’s like Rockstar Spud’s demented uncle or something.

He briefly chases Jimmy Hart, then just… vanishes? Oh, and by the way, the commentators make no mention of this. They do not acknowledge this at all. Why? Because they’re talking about everything except the match itself. Literally, I’m not kidding, it’s like this match is not happening. It’s like listening to a radio show or a podcast spliced together with unrelated WCW footage.

Wait, what? What’s happening now? The match is ongoing and they just cut to the back. Judging from the faces of these lads you’d think someone died. It’s a sombre scene to say the least – but seriously, why even have the match in the ring? What’s the point? The commentators are acting like it isn’t happening and we cut to an interview as the match is happening. Bischoff doesn’t even note that we’ve cut away from a match in progress, he just says “take it away Gene”, like this is totally normal. Whatever, I guess. It’s not like I’m desperate to see the Faces of Fear versus Public Enemy, but what a bizarre way to structure… everything.

Gene asks Arn to explain what happened in the parking lot earlier. Seemed quite self-explanatory to me and the commentators have not stopped talking about it since it happened, so the viewers really don’t need any extra information.

Arn says he doesn’t give a shit about Luger losing a friend, or that he’s lost a team mate, he’s just shocked. He brings up Sting’s loyalty to WCW.

They actually move to a split-screen here – I guess someone in the production truck remembered there is actually a match going on. It wouldn’t be fair to deprive the dozens of Faces of Fear/Public Enemy fans the chance to see their favourite grapplers go at it.

Anyway, Arn says he has a sick feeling in his stomach, he’s shocked, and he’s out of words. He’s said quite a few already, though, so not really.

Flair stands there with his arms folded, eyeing the audience like a disappointed father.

Luger says he doesn’t have any answers, and that his “best friend in the whole world” stabbed him in the back. He then says he knows where Sting lives and where he works out, and he’s going to go and find him “right now”. Sounds like Lex is planning to murk Sting. However, he should keep in mind this is a guy who only last week tried to murder somebody by chucking a rock through the window of a limo, then stole a police car. Come to think of it, I’m not sure why Sting isn’t in jail. Regardless, I wouldn’t be chasing after him without a good plan.

Flair screams that he’s “sick of it” and just generally yells about how they’re going to beat up the nWo at War Games (including Sting). Arn says “it’s a fight to the death – yours, not ours”. I suppose that was worth emphasising? Also Arn has a tendency to see these matches as ending in death, even though it never comes close to that.

We return to the Faces of Fear/Public Enemy match. By “we” I mean the audience – the commentators are still talking about War Games. I genuinely don’t think they have said anything about the match – oh, wait a minute, Bischoff does mention the match, finally. Although he says the teams are “literally fighting for their lives” which is not exactly accurate. What is up with these people thinking matches are going to end so tragically?

Anyway, the brawling continues for a while and eventually, somehow, Rocco Rock ends up lying on a table. Barbarian heads for the top turnbuckle.

Guys, I don’t foresee this ending well. Seriously, what is the absolute best result of this? Rocco (who can clearly see Barbarian on the turnbuckle) for some reason lays there and lets Barbarian jump on him. It’ll be brutal for both. Or, Rocco moves and Barbarian crashes through the table. Either way Barbarian doesn’t win in this scenario.

Uh oh. Jimmy Hart is absolutely useless at holding Rocco down, kicked away like an insect as Rocco sits up.

That is a fucking sick bump. It’s funny because Barbarian barely takes any serious bumps at all, on Nitro at least, then he decides to say fuck it and leaps to the concrete through a table because YOLO I guess?

Well anyway he dead. Rocco brings a second table into the ring.

Looks pretty old. Nick Patrick wags his finger in disapproval, but incredibly that isn’t enough to persuade Public Enemy to stop. They lay Meng on the table, then Rocco goes to the top turnbuckle for a moonsault…

He almost misses the table entirely, only catching Meng with his legs. The table is weak enough that it breaks despite the soft contact.

You’d think that would be the spot that ends the match, but no. Meng gets up like nothing happened and starts brawling with Rocco again. Barbarian is also somehow revived and back in the ring fighting with Grunge. This is weird because the outside table spot with Barbarian getting wiped out, and then Meng getting put through the table by Rocco’s moonsault, felt like the end sequence of the match. Now it’s like we’re back at the start again. Keep in mind the match has been going for about 10 minutes now. That’s at least 7 minutes longer than is ideal for these teams, really.

Whilst Rocco and Barbarian are hugging it out in the corner, Meng puts the Tongan Death Grip on Grunge and now this one is over.

No explanation as to what the fuck was going on with that random ginger guy running around the ring earlier by the way. Oh well. During the replay Heenan accidentally calls Meng “Haku” and then goes silent immediately. Oops.

The Faces of Fear defeat Public Enemy via Pinfall.

Suddenly Okerlund appears at ringside, accompanied by the Dungeon of Doom.

Maxx, Jimmy Hart, Big Bubba, Gene, Kevin Sullivan, Hugh Morrus and Konnan. To quote Rufus from Final Fantasy 7 – “what a crew”.

Sullivan is no longer painting his face with those stupid markings, but for some reason is now wearing a white headband. Does he think he’s the Karate Kid now?

He also starts making this derp face - and this isn’t just a screen grab catching an awkward expression momentarily, he’s making this face on purpose.

For some reason we go to Jimmy Hart first, who tells the Giant “it’s the beginning of the end for you, you just don’t know it yet”. I’m sure he’s quaking in his boots.

Big Bubba then rants about Glacier, talking about him saying he’s coming for “6 or 7 months” and asking if he’s not debuting because he’s afraid. Slight exaggeration on the 6 or 7 months from Bubba, but to be fair it does feel like those vignettes have been running for at least that long. Bubba actually doesn’t seem to be aware that Glacier debuted on WCW Pro, but it’s WCW Pro, so... understandable. Bubba calls the Dungeon of Doom “the masters of intimidation”…

What he means is that Meng is the master of intimidation. The others aren’t exactly adding much to the equation. Maxx is standing off to the side looking distinctly unimpressed by the entire thing.

With that said, bored does seem to be his default expression regardless of what is happening. I imagine he’d have the same expression even if Bubba was in the process of sprouting three heads whilst doing a kossack dance.

After calling Gene “homes”, Konnan calls Sullivan a “hardened veterano”. He then says Sullivan has seen and led gang wars from coast to coast.

Yes, Kevin Sullivan wearing that silly white headband is exactly what I think of when I think of leaders of gang wars. Sullivan’s ‘wut?’ expression here says it all. I’m not sure you can call the Dungeon of Doom/Alliance to End Hulkamania Versus Hogan and Macho Man a “gang war”. I’m not sure two people can even constitute a gang. Also Sullivan may be worried Konnan is unintentionally (?) implicating him in genuine gang wars… which probably isn’t in the Taskmaster’s best interests.

Konnan challenges the nWo to come out and confront the Dungeon, who he calls “the toughest set”. Yeah, sure. The challenge is not accepted, because the nWo are for sure terrified of a “gang” featuring the likes of Maxx, Kevin Sullivan, Big Bubba and Hugh Morrus.

Sullivan says that Savage thinks he’ll owe the Dungeon “a debt” for carrying him out from the ring last week. I doubt it in all honesty – maybe if they’d actually done something to help him before he’d been beaten down and spraypainted. Carrying him out after the fact didn’t really help much.

Anyhow, Sullivan says Savage can repay this fictional debt by first beating John Tenta, because why not I guess, and then by getting rid of the Giant. That doesn’t really seem like a balanced deal. We carry you backstage after you’ve been beaten up, you make it even by beating John Tenta and the Giant. Hmmm.

Time for some nWo propaganda.

Hogan tells us that they “aren’t here for a stinkin’ reason” – directly contradicting Nash and Hall, who had previously made it clear they’d come in specifically to take over WCW. He then randomly says “we’ve got our boss with us” and points to Ted DiBiase, who’s sitting in a chair behind them.

Homely. DiBiase looks like he’s being held prisoner, but whatever. Hogan says DiBiase makes Ted Turner look like a “pauper”. Honestly I could try to recap this whole thing but it’s really just a bunch of random sound bytes ripping on WCW for the most part. They talk about wanting “their own tag team tournament” for some reason. They also want a segment (on Nitro, presumably) where they can “highlight” their talent. What they actually mean is a segment highlighting Hogan, as we’ll discover going forward. Scott Hall says “nWo 4 life” with the hand sign (might be the first instance of this?) and they all end the segment laughing like it was an amazing joke.

I was a satellite dish owner back then – or rather, my parents were - but no WCW PPVs in the UK, sadly. We only got a butchered hour-long version of Nitro on TNT UK during 1996 & 1997. I didn’t find out that I’d been watching an edited version of the show until many years later. At least now I can sit back and relive the glory of the Faces of Fear Vs Public…. eh, maybe TNT UK were doing us a favour after all.

Back with your bois at the announce desk. Tenay once again has that “stern dad” look, whilst Heenan seems to be whimsically remembering something from years gone by. Take a guess as to what Bischoff is talking about?

A) The upcoming main event

B) Meltzer being wrong about everything

C) Blue Chew

D) Sting’s betrayal

If you’ve been following along thus far, you’ll know the answer. The lad does genuinely hate big Dave though, and loves that Blue Chew. Come to think of it, what is the main event? I can’t even remember. Sting’s supposed betrayal has been hammered into my brain so many fucking times at this point I can barely conceive of any other event occurring at any wrestling show.

Chris Jericho’s music plays, but…

It’s John Tenta? Still got that stupid haircut by the way. Seriously, fish man, you’ve made your point. Get that shaved.

But yeah, I’m confused here. I thought Jericho was coming out. But hold on, that’s Jericho’s second theme, “One Crazed Anarchist”, aka the Pearl Jam ripoff, not the one he’s using at this point in WCW, which I believe is the Journey ripoff. So John Tenta is in fact the OG “One Crazed Anarchist”. For the record, the theme suits Jericho far more than it suits the former Shark.

As he comes out Tenta says “Savage, you’re not putting me down”. You think so, John?

What exactly has that guy in the hat been up to? That is not the look of an innocent person.

Ohhh yeahhh, it’s the Macho Man. The commentators are pretending that the result of the match is in any doubt, which I suppose they have to do.

John “anti-fish” Tenta Vs “Macho Man” Randy Savage

Savage storms to the ring, but that turns out to be a bad idea as Tenta stomps on the Macho Man’s back as he slides in and then clobbers him with a forearm to the back.

Bad strategy, Macho. Tenta’s moobs though… whoa.

That’s an interesting choice of attire for a wrestling event, madam.

Tenta works over Savage in the corner for a bit. Savage then begins to make a comeback, before for some reason attempting to slam Tenta…

Goes about as well as you’d expect. Macho really needs to work on his strategy.

Bischoff actually specifically says here that Heenan accidentally referred to Meng as “Haku” earlier and wants to make it clear Meng now works for WCW and not the WWF. I guess they were really taking this kind of thing seriously due to the lawsuits flying around at this point in history. Funny though, as you hear these kinds of slip-ups all the time. I mean, if TNA or AEW were sued for every time a commentator accidentally used a competitor’s ex-WWE name there would need to be a legal department created specifically just to deal with the fucking volume. At least Heenan didn’t call it “WWF Nitro”.

Tenta hits Macho with a decent looking drop kick – quite impressive considering his weight. Outside of the ring Savage hits Tenta with a steel chair…

He isn’t disqualified because…? He whacks Tenta twice more with a chair. This is not a no-DQ match, but it is WCW, so fuck the rules unless we need them for storyline purposes, right?

Flying elbow drop!

Macho goes up for a second, but then Teddy Long comes to ringside yelling “Macho!” – what could the so-called “godfather” want with Savage? Also where’s my man Ice Train at? Come to think of it, I just remembered what he was wearing earlier… best for him to stay backstage.

Savage still hits the second elbow drop. Long is gesticulating wildly at Savage and yelling something about the nWo. Savage leaps over the top rope with nice agility.

But before we go any further…

Son, I am disappoint. I can’t even say “A for effort” because that is the lowest tier of effort.

Anyway, Savage follows Teddy to the outside of the arena where Teddy announces “YOU GONNA GO ONE-ON-ONE WITH THE UNDERTAKER PLAYA!”

Actually, they run towards a limo.

The limo drives off as soon as Savage approaches it. What was the point of that?

Flair and Mongo randomly appear as the limo drives away.

There’s another limo there, but only a box of spraypaint inside it. There are a ton of WCW guys out there now – the Horsemen, the Dungeon, Public Enemy, Juvi, Super Calo, Savage… basically everyone who was on TV tonight. They start spraypainting “WCW” on the limo windows… or rather, they try to. Due to the fact it’s been raining and everywhere is wet it ends up just looking like a green smudge. As an aside, if that is in fact not an nWo limo, somebody is going to be in for a surprise.

For some reason the commentators are all standing up. Tenay is looking more evil every time he’s on camera. It’s like he wants to reach through the camera and strangle each and every viewer.

Seriously though, he is repeatedly making a “pissed-off dad” face.

“Dad, I borrowed your car…”

“Um… and… I got a speeding ticket…”

“And there’s a dent on the front as I kinda sorta knocked over the mailbox…”

Grounded forever.

Anyway, once they all sit back down Heenan goes on a rant about the nWo which concludes with “if we don’t stop them now then they can’t be stopped”. If only you could glimpse into the future and nWo 2000, Bobby.

Oh, by the way, I guess John Tenta won the match against Savage by count out? It wasn’t announced or shown, but Savage jumped out of the ring and never returned, so…

John Tenta defeats “Macho Man” Randy Savage via Countout.

I guess Tenta was right, Savage didn’t put him down after all. Score one for the fish hating weirdo.

Double A suddenly appears on set. Heenan gives Arn his headset. Can’t help but think it’d be better for Anderson to be in the ring with a mic, as the fans in the arena can’t hear any of this… but whatever.

Arn says that the world is “in shock” and “outraged”. The world is probably a bit of a stretch, but OK. Flair turns up as Arn is talking, as do Benoit and Mongo. Arn says that this all began ten years ago with the original Horsemen, and that they paved the way and showed the nWo how to do it. Technically true. Arn says the nWo want to be the Horsemen “when they grow up”.

Tenay continuing to give that evil stare, even at Arn. Bischoff looks kind of sad.

As an aside, I may have mentioned it before, but I really like this shirt design:

Bischoff begins talking about making mistakes, but Flair interrupts him. Flair screams so loudly that the headset seems to take some damage as the volume decreases slightly. Flair explains War Games – although if you don’t know what it is by this point then what have you been doing with your life? – and says Hogan won’t leave War Games alive. Spoiler alert: he does.

Bischoff then talks about how maybe bringing Hogan in to WCW was “a mistake” and that the Horsemen “haven’t been given their just due”. The same exact sentence could have been said in 2000 and been even more relevant.

WCW then ends the show with a replay of Luger getting beaten up by “Sting” and the nWo. I’m sure he appreciates that. A good thing they reminded us, as I think a whole ten seconds passed at the end there without mention of Sting’s betrayal and my memory had started to go hazy.

#wcw #wcwnitro #nwo #nwo4life #Sting #luger #flair #horsemen #outsiders #wtfwcw #lolwcw #stinger #mondaynightwars #moobs

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july-jackson · 3 years

Text

Tove’s Prince

Short, smutty story. Loki/Ofc. 18+

++++++++++++++++++

Tove balanced five large round plates of well-done steak in her arms, that she was sure were all for Volstagg. She could hear the rowdy laughter and chatter through the doors of one of the palace dining halls as she got closer. Using her shoulder to push open the heavy door, she was greeted by a loud cheer from the huge, red-haired warrior, who banged his fists against the table in eager anticipation of his meal.

“Good woman, thank goodness you are here, I am wasting away,” Volstagg boomed.

“Wasting away? Volstagg, you ate a whole roasted goat not more than an hour ago,” Sif exclaimed, rolling her eyes at the larger man’s relentless appetite.

“Volstagg, as affable as you are, wouldn’t it be more acceptable to use the young lady’s name?” Loki spoke up from his seat directly across from Volstagg.

All eyes on the table were on Loki, but Loki’s eyes were on Tove. She felt his unwavering gaze on her, her skin tingled with heat as she unloaded the plates from her arm.

“If I knew her name, I would use it,” Volstagg answered back, ripping into one of the steaks the second she had put the plate down.

“Her name is Tove,” Loki stated, still staring at her with piercing eyes.

Tove’s eyes flicked up towards him, then back down to the table just as quickly, He knows my name.

“Tove? Would you please fetch more wine, Thor has almost drunk the lot and I’ve barely had a drop,” he asked, ignoring Thor’s annoyed expression.

“Of course, Prince Loki,” Tove replied, hurrying out of the room. She closed the door and leant herself against it, taking a deep breath in to steady herself. She could still feel his eyes on her, as though he could see her through the door.

Why was he staring at me like that?

Whatever the reason was, Tove couldn’t shake the warmth that he’d created inside of her. Back in the kitchens, she leant forward into the sink and brought handfuls of cold water to her flushed cheeks.

“Shouldn’t you be heading home, Tove?” one of the kitchen servants asked.

“I’m just going to take some wine up to Thor and the others and then I’m done here,” Tove replied, wiping her wet hands on her apron.

“They’re still going?!”

“Oh yes, I don’t think they’ll be done anytime soon, either.”

“I’ll get Arne to take over,” the older servant said with a sigh of irritation.

Tove gave a sympathetic smile, nobody liked serving when Thor started a dinner party, they ate and drank for hours. She picked up the large pitcher of wine and several fresh goblets, hearing the older woman screeching loudly for Arne as she made her way up the steps.

Back in the dining hall, she laid out the goblets and poured fresh drinks for everyone, starting with Thor and working her way around the table. Volstagg made an effort to thank her using her name, as did the others, but Loki remained silent. In fact, he didn’t even look at her as she stood by him to pour the red liquid into his goblet. There was a sudden coldness about his demeanour, it sent a chill through her. Before, his eyes had been burning into her, now there was no feeling in them, his gaze fixed on his plate instead. He mumbled his thanks as he pushed food around his plate with a fork, his silence was pronounced amongst the din from the others, but no one else seemed to notice. She left without a word, but she was sure that he had glanced up at her as the door was closing.

+++++++++++++++++++

Once she got home, she kicked off her shoes and hung up her apron. Relief washed over her as she hurried up to her room, tugging at her dress until her flesh was exposed to the cool air. Something on her bed caught her eye, making her gasp, for it was not there when she had left the house this morning. She walked over to the single white rose that lay on her pillow and picked it up, there had been no one else in her house all day, a prickle of fear stabbed at the base of her spine, crawling up towards her neck. Tove looked around her room, opening cupboards and checking under her bed. Whoever had left the flower hadn’t left a note, she had no idea how they had got in or why they chose to remain anonymous.

Tove took out a dagger from her bedside table and stashed it under her pillow, then slipped into bed, pulling the blankets all the way up to her chin before her eyes grew heavy and she drifted off.

“Tove?”

Tove spun round in the empty dining hall, there was no one in the room with her.

“Did you like it when I looked at you, Tove?”

She knew the voice; it came from the shadows in the darkened corners.

“Is that you, Prince Loki?”

The fireplace in the room ignited, illuminating the slender figure of the dark-haired Prince.

“You didn’t answer my question. Did you like it when I looked at you. Did you feel something?”

Tove pulled at her apron, he was watching her intently as he flipped a dagger in his hand.

“Yes...” she said quietly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear you. Louder.”

“Yes! I liked it when you looked at me,” she repeated, more forcefully.

“How did it make you feel?” Loki asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Excuse me?” Tove blushed.

“It’s a simple question. Did it make you burn inside? Did it make you want more?” he drawled, moving closer to her with slow steps.

“I don’t want to answer that.”

“Why not? Are you ashamed of what you felt?” he asked, right in front of her now.

“No... I mean... I didn’t feel anything,” Tove stuttered.

Loki leaned in, close enough for Tove to feel him against her. He reached behind her, his hair brushed against her cheek, and she stifled a shiver. He smelled like freshly cut wood and bergamot, the scent was heady. Before she could lose herself to the ripples of delight that radiated from her core, he pulled back, holding an apple in his hand.

“Liar,” he smirked, slicing into the green fruit with his dagger.

“What do you want from me?” she asked, observing him from under heavy lids.

“Looks like our time is up,” Loki replied.

“I don’t understand...”

“It’s time to wake up,” he smiled.

Tove blinked her eyes in the sunlight that streamed through her open window, the dream still fresh in her mind. She clenched her thighs together, her core throbbing in response to her arousal at the images her mind had conjured up.

“What was that all about?” she asked herself aloud.

She threw off her covers and stretched in the warm rays, there was little time for her to reflect on the content of her dream, she had to get to work in the palace kitchens. If she hurried, she could grab a quick breakfast from Signe before she began her work.

++++++++++++++++++

“Good morning, Signe,” she called out to the elder maid, the smell of bacon and eggs greeted her.

“Good morning, Tove, help yourself,” Signe replied as she came out of the storeroom with her arms full of food.

“Signe, let me help you,” Tove rushed towards the kindly woman, taking some of the items that weighed her down.

“I swear, they eat more and more these days. Thor almost rivals Volstagg with his appetite,” Signe complained.

“He’s a hungry one, that’s for sure,” Tove laughed.

“Now eat, I’ll start the cooking. When you’re finished, can you prepare Queen Frigga’s fruit?” Signe asked.

“The usual?” Tove asked, knowing what the answer would be. Frigga was always the first of the royal household to wake up, she always started her day with a plate of apples, berries and a few nuts.

Signe gave a sharp nod, accompanied by a grunt of agreement. She was busy cracking eggs and whisking them up. Tove wolfed down the last of her bacon and started on Frigga’s breakfast, preparing them the same way she always did. She took the plate and began to leave the kitchens when Signe waved her hand and motioned for her to stop.

“Can you take this to Prince Loki?” Signe said, moving a large omelette and a dozen slices of bacon to a serving plate.

“Loki?” Tove questioned.

“Yes, is that a problem? Arne isn’t here today, he slipped on some spilled wine in the dining hall last night, we’re the only two on breakfast right now.”

Tove, along with Arne and Signe were the first three in every morning, they served the royal family until the other staff arrived to begin helping with the cooking duties for the Einherjar. Arne was usually the one to serve Loki and Odin, Tove was tasked with serving Frigga and Thor.

“Not a problem,” Tove replied, taking the extra plate from Signe. Her heart jumped a little, she had never been in Loki’s bedroom before. Would he stare at her like he did last night? His words from her dream rang clearly in her mind.

Frigga’s room was first, Tove liked her the most, she was always smiling warmly when Tove entered with her meal.

She knocked at the door, “My Queen, it’s Tove with your breakfast.”

“Enter,” Frigga replied, greeting Tove and taking the plate from her at the door. Tove gave a small nod when Frigga thanked her and moved on to Loki’s room.

Her knuckles struck the thick wood, announcing herself, “Prince Loki, I have your breakfast.”

“Come in,” he called.

Unlike Frigga, Loki did not meet her at the door, he remained in his bed. Loki was leafing through a book as she entered, his wavy black hair hung around his face. The blankets on his bed were pulled up to his navel, the pale skin of his chest was on display.

“Place it on the table by the window, please.”

Tove did as she was told, staring straight ahead as she walked towards the table. She could feel him peering over the top of his book at her, his eyes following her across the room.

“Tove, was it?” he asked.

“Yes...” Tove whispered, her mouth dry.

“Do you like it?” he said, placing his book down in his lap.

“I’m sorry?”

“Working in the kitchens, do you like it?”

“It’s as good as any other job, my Prince.”

“You may go now,” he said, nodding his head towards the door.

“Of course, enjoy your meal,” Tove said turning and leaving as quickly as she could, hearing him get up from his bed as she left the room.

++++++++++++++++++

Back in her house, her working day finally over, when she had eaten and washed away the remnants of the day from her skin, there was little for her to do. She thought about reading one of her books, but her mind was elsewhere, too distracted to focus on a blossoming romance between the characters in the story.

Do you really believe that he’s staring at you because he wants you? You’re a servant, he’s toying with you, that’s what he does.

The voice in her head was right, Loki was known for his mischief. The idea that he might be messing with her for his own amusement was not so farfetched. Before she climbed into her bed, she checked under her pillow to make sure that her dagger was still there.

“What the...” Tove exclaimed out loud.

Around the handle of her dagger was a gold bracelet, in the shape of a snake eating its own tail, its eyes were emeralds. She took it off the end of her dagger, inspecting it in the light. It was finely carved, stunningly intricate, detailed right down to the individual scales along the snake’s body. Tove placed it on the table at the side of the single rose that she had put in a slim glass vase. The bracelet was expensive, that much she could tell, far more than she would ever be able to afford. Again, there was no note, no indication of who had been in her room to leave the gift. She hid the dagger back under her pillow before she got into bed, feeling uneasy about the mystery gift giver. The last thing she saw as she fell asleep, was the green eyes of the snake, glinting in the low light.

“Tove?”

This time she was in Loki’s room, stood at the foot of his bed, Loki sat at the table by the window, eating from the plate she had brought that morning.

“This is delicious, did you make this?” he asked, mouth full of omelette.

“No, Signe did.”

“Then I’ll be sure to compliment her.”

“What am I doing here?” Tove asked.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he replied, rising from his seat and sauntering in her direction, the light skin of his bare, muscular torso was illuminated in the moonlight.

“About what?” Tove said, moving backwards but instantly hitting the frame of his bed. He moved in close, right in front of her.

“This morning, you called me your Prince,” he bowed his head down to her ear, “Is that what you want? For me to be yours?”

His voice in her ear sent a tingle across the skin on her face, he delicately traced his fingers up her neck, across her jawline, brushing dark blonde curls away from her other ear.

“All you have to do, is say the word,” he whispered.

Feverish with lust, Tove didn’t move, she didn’t speak, her heart was beating so hard in her chest that she feared that Loki could hear it. The lingering sensation of his soft fingers on her skin, made her feel intoxicated.

“You liked my gifts, didn’t you?” Loki continued.

“Your gifts?” Tove asked, stunned.

“I have one final gift for you, but you have to want it,” he said, his lips hovering over hers, “Now, wake up.”

“ Noo,” Tove complained as she opened her eyes to the new day. She had no idea why her brain was tormenting her so, she had never dreamt of Loki, never thought of him that way before she’d caught him staring at her. She ached to relieve the pressure that had built at her core, there was no doubt in her mind now that she desired the prince. She knew that he wasn’t really the one who had sent her the gifts, that her mind had just created Loki’s revelation from her desire for him and her confusion over the mystery of her admirer.

She had no work today, the whole day to do whatever she wanted and so she had settled on taking a walk to the meadows that were north of the palace. They stretched on for miles, you could spend all day there and not see another soul. Once she was dressed into slim black trousers, a thin grey tunic and ankle high leather boots, Tove packed her book and some food and drink, grabbing a soft blue blanket to lie on and another smaller blanket to use as a pillow. Before she left her house, she doubled back and grabbed the gold bracelet from her table, slipping it over her hand.

++++++++++++++++++

Tove walked for an hour, following a small river upwards towards the mountains, before she found the perfect place to set out her blanket. The meadow was filled with wildflowers of yellow and blue, the grass was tall enough that she could lie down and not be seen. She threw her blanket up into the air, shaking it a few times until it was straightened out. She had to roll around on the blanket a few times before the grass flattened beneath it, then she grabbed her book from her bag and the extra blanket, folding it up beneath her head.

“Tove!”

Tove opened her eyes, she was in the meadow, but the sun was no longer in the sky, she looked up to an inky black sky dotted with shimmering stars.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” Loki’s voice came from behind her.

“Did I sleep all day?” Tove asked, turning to face him.

“You’re still sleeping,” he replied, bending down to pluck one of the blue flowers, he twisted it between his thumb and finger.

“Oh...”

“You’re wearing the bracelet,” he noted, gesturing towards the gold band around her wrist.

“Seems a shame to keep such a beautiful thing hidden away," Tove said, lifting up her arm to admire the golden serpent.

“My sentiments exactly,” he smiled.

“Why do I dream of you so often?”

“Because I want you to,” he said softly.

“This is your doing?” Tove blushed, feeling flustered.

“I’ve been watching you, you interest me,” he explained, running a slim hand through his dark hair.

“Me? I’m just a kitchen servant.”

“Ohhh, you are so much more than that,” he said, advancing on her.

“Please don’t toy with me,” Tove said.

“Toy with you? Do you think giving you that bracelet is me just toying with you?”

“I hear stories, in the palace. You love to play tricks, to tease people.”

“If this was a game, you’d know about it,” he wrapped a hand around her waist, lowering the both of them onto the soft grass, “Do you want this?” he whispered into her ear.

Tove trembled beneath him, nodding fervently.

“Say it, out loud, tell me that you want me,” he demanded.

“I want you,” she said quietly, her breath hitched in her throat.

“Then wake up...”

“Noo... Not again,” Tove complained, squinting in the sunlight. Her book was resting against her chest.

“Hello, Tove,” Loki said, standing over her, his shadow falling across her face.

Tove jumped at the sight of the prince hovering over her, “Prince Loki, what are you doing here?”

He moved to the side, no longer blocking the sunlight from Tove’s eyes, she winced at the brightness.

“I was out hunting with Thor, but I spied a much more valuable target,” he smiled and Tove felt a weakness that made her head feel fuzzy.

“Well, I’m sure that Prince Thor would be disappointed at you abandoning him for a servant.”

“He won’t mind, besides... I still have my final gift to give you.”

Tove went cold, all the dreams, the mystery gifts, they really were Loki’s doing all along.

“That really was all you? Why the secrecy, why didn’t you come to me in person?” she asked, sitting up as the revelation sunk in.

“I enjoy the chase; it makes for excellent foreplay. And... I’m here now, in the flesh,” he said, circling around the edge of her blanket.

“My Prince, I don’t think I’m what you’re looking for.”

“I’ll decide what I want. You said it yourself, you want me. Why deny yourself the pleasure?” Loki shrugged.

“That was just a dream.”

“That I created, for the sole intention of taking you for myself. Would you like to be mine, Tove?”

Loki didn't wait for her answer, “There is no answer that you can give me that your own body hasn’t already told me, you could try to lie to me, but you'd be betrayed by your own heart. I can hear it, fluttering away beneath your breast, I can see the lust in your eyes, your chest rising and falling with your quickened breaths."

Tove knew he was right, and he was in complete control of her, all she had to do, was say the words he wanted to hear, “I want to be yours,” she answered, unable to contain herself anymore.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he grinned, kneeling down beside her on the blanket, “I’m going to have you, right here.”

“Outside? In the open? My Prince, what if someone sees us,” Tove said, looking around.

“No one will see anything,” he said, bringing his lips down to hers.

The electricity that surged through her as their lips touched, was almost too much to bear. Her body arched upwards in an effort to get closer to him, he responded by wrapping an arm around her and lifting her up onto his lap, sitting back so that she was straddling him. Loki deepened the kiss and pulled at the belt around her waist until it fell away. Running his hands up inside of her tunic, his fingertips trailing up and down her spine, she gave a shudder of pleasure. His hands moved to the edges of her tunic, breaking the kiss briefly as he tugged it over her head. Her clip fell from her hair, sending blonde curls tumbling around her shoulders, Loki tangled his fingers in them, pulling at her head until their lips met again. Tove ran her fingers up the nape of his neck, eliciting a moan from his lips that vibrated on her own, she kissed him more forcefully in response.

Loki buried his face in Tove’s neck, planting light kisses beneath her ear and then tracing his lips softly across the smooth skin of her collarbone until he reached the top of her cleavage. His mouth inched slowly downwards, Tove gasped as his tongue flicked over the tip of her breast, still confined in the soft cotton of her bra. A blissful tingle radiated outwards across her chest.

Tove gave a small cry when he suddenly stopped what he was doing, “Don’t stop.”

“Beg me,” he said, his voice low but firm.

She wasted no time in complying, “Please, my Prince, I’m begging you... I want more.”

Pleased with her response, Loki ripped off her thin bra, casting it aside. Tove threw back her head, grinding against his lap as he took the soft pink nipple of her breast in his mouth, his tongue grazed along it as he sucked gently. He moaned as Tove writhed slowly, she felt the hardness of him beneath the leather, longing to feel it against her bare skin. He pushed her upwards to stand her up, getting back onto his knees and pulling her pants and underwear down to her ankles. Tove stepped out of each leg and kicked them behind her, Loki was looking up at the gift he had just unwrapped, taking in the sight of her naked body in the sunlight.

“I want to taste you,” Loki growled, nestling his face between her lips and letting his tongue glide between them.

Tove’s legs almost buckled right there, but her held her steady, his hands gripping onto her behind. He kissed gently at her clit, giving a gentle suck now and then, while Tove’s fingers found their way into his hair, her hips bucking forward firmly as an exquisite warmth developed at the base of her spine. Her movements became more urgent, she was desperate for release.

“Not yet,” he said, pulling away and getting to his feet.

His clothes disappeared in a flash of green, and Tove witnessed the prince in all his glory. She had little time to enjoy the visual feast, for he had her in his arms again, lifting her up with ease. His strong arms made her feel weightless, her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms draped over his shoulders.

“My Tove,” Loki whispered, pressing himself up against her entrance.

She kissed him hard, with a hungry desire, a silent permission to push further until he was deep inside of her. He nipped at her breasts lightly while his fingers dug into the flesh on her hips, guiding her steadily up and down, his cock sliding against her slick folds. There was a heat between them, in the places where their skin touched, their bodies moist with sweat. Their movements became faster, more erratic as they both lost their minds to the burning of their building climaxes.

Loki’s head was resting against her chest, his hands splayed across her back, holding her firmly while she rocked herself up and down, her clit was rubbing against his abdomen.

“Tove,” he moaned, passionately. His hips jerking rapidly upwards into her, his body trembling with each deep thrust.

“My Prince,” Tove cried out, finally losing control in an explosion of overpowering pleasure. Her centre pulsed and she shuddered wildly.

Loki’s eyes flashed as he watched Tove slip into a blissful abyss, her head rolling backwards. He continued his fervent thrusts, his lips hovering against her breasts as he fell from the precipice with loud groans of ecstasy.

Loki lowered himself to his knees, laying Tove down on her blanket and lying next to her. He trailed his fingers over her stomach, waiting until her breathing had slowed and she was back in control of her senses.

“You’re mine now,” he said with a wide grin, his playful eyes sparkling as he lifted her hand to his lips.

“I’m yours.”

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