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helaelaemond · 6 months

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Teach Me Your Touch - Michael Gavey x Reader

HELAELAEMOND’S KINKTOBER

thank you @arcielee for the banner!

Pairing: Michael Gavey x f!reader

Word count: 3k

Summary: You missed a lecture and have your classmate Michael Gavey share his notes and help you catch up. He's not good at teaching, and he makes you feel stupid. He makes you feel bad. When you cry, he wants to fuck you all better.

Content warning(s): light elements of bullying (prior to smut), feelings of intellectual inferiority

KINK CATEGORIES: public sex, crying, inexperience/loss of virginity (male), fingering (female receiving)

Rating: E

Tagging those who showed interest: @llemes @assortedseaglass @sapphire-writes @theoneeyedprince @ewanmitchellcrumbs @humanpurposes @underjeno @st-eve-barnes @arcielee @babyblue711

Michael's voice is snappy. "Are you listening to me?"

You look up at him in defeat. "Yes, I'm trying! But I don't-"

"I can't make it any clearer!"

You lean forward on the table and rest your head in your hands. "You're making me feel stupid."

He huffs. "Maybe you are."

Arsehole. Why did you even ask him for his help? You know he's a dickhead, but he's also smart. Last semester, you worked on a group project with him and although he was terrible working with other people, his understanding of the subject was unmatched. He's like a walking calculator, for God's sake, and that intellect seems to apply to every module.

Besides, last time, he had a mean streak, but he also seemed to soften with you. You're not exactly a bombshell, but you're still a woman, and he's a lonely man. You were kind to him last time you worked together, and it made him kinder, too.

Whatever rapport once existed between you, though, seems to have faded. Now, you're sat on the second floor of Radcliffe library under the tall arched ceilings at 2am. No one else is around to see your shame, thankfully.

It's been a long time since you've felt simple. You shouldn't feel stupid - you're on the same course as him! You only missed one lecture! It shouldn't be this hard!

"You're not making it easy to understand," you mumble.

"What?" he asks, irritated.

You lift your head and look at him, eyes red. "My mind doesn't work as quick as yours. I need you to explain it differently."

He blinks at you from behind his thick glasses, and you watch as he swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing above his buttoned collar. "Right. Fine. You did the reading, and you understand that a tangled hierarchy is a hierarchical consciousness system in which a strange loop appears. Right?"

Clenching your jaw, you nod. "That much I understand, Michael. I'm not as simple as you think."

"I don't think you're simple. I think you're acting simple."

It's too late and you're too tired. Hot tears spill down your cheeks. "You're acting mean."

"What?" He has the audacity to look shocked. "I'm helping!"

"No, you're not." You stand up and shove your notes into your rucksack hastily, along with your pens and library copy of the required reading. "You've spent the last three hours making me feel stupid and small and unintelligent, and you've enjoyed every second."

"No!" he protests angrily. "Don't tell me how I feel!"

"Alright! Well, that's how you've made me feel! And that's not fair! God, I really thought-" You cut yourself off and take a deep breath. But you're still crying, and it's embarrassing, and you furiously wipe away your tears. They're quickly replaced.

Michael stands up and follows you as you stalk off down the rows and rows of bookcases. He calls your name, but you ignore him. It's loathsome how hearing him say it gives you butterflies. "Will you just wait?" he shouts.

You whirl around to face him, making your rucksack fall off your shoulder and onto the floor. The noise echoes in the cavernous library, and you're suddenly very aware of how empty it is of other people. It didn't bother you before. It doesn't exactly bother you now, either, but... but there's something intense about the way he looks at you. It's angry, it's apprehensive, it's... it makes your skin crawl.

"What is it, Michael?" you ask. You're caught somewhere between anger and weariness.

"It's not my fault you feel stupid," he says defiantly.

"For the love of-"

"Because you're not stupid. You're just acting it. Like I said."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

He swallows. "Yes. You're not as smart as me. But that doesn't mean you're stupid."

You laugh dryly. "I don't know why I was ever nice to you. You have no interest in being nice to me."

Again, confusion flickers over his face. "I agreed to help you, didn't I? that's nice!"

"I think you only agreed to it so you could make me feel like dirt." You pick up your bag again and continue your way to the stairs that will take you down to the main entrance. You're still crying. He's absolutely shattered you tonight, and it's not fair.

Suddenly, there's a hand around your wrist, and it stops you in your tracks. It becomes abundantly clear that Michael Gavey is far stronger than he looks. You're left breathless when, out of nowhere, he pulls you between tall bookcases. He towers over you. You've always noticed how tall he is. Despite his somewhat bookish appearance, there's something about him that has always been nice to look at. Perhaps it's his thick hair, or his sharp jaw, or his pretty blue eyes. Something about him, despite his nasty streak, makes you wish he approved of you.

"Stop crying."

You sniff and look up at him in shame. "I'm trying."

"Try harder."

That makes your face crumple again. "Leave me alone."

"I want to help."

"Let me go."

"You're kind to me," he says, his voice suddenly quieter. When he says your name, it cracks. "I'm trying to make you feel better."

"It's not working."

"Teach me," he whispers. The intensity with which he is now looking at you in almost too much.

"Say something nice about me."

"Oh. Um." His hand loosens slightly on your wrist. You're all too aware of how clammy it is against your skin. You don't care. Any touch from him is, unfortunately, welcome. "Your work on our projective geometry project was good."

"I know it was."

"Alright." He licks his lips. His eyes dart to yours. "You're... good at explaining things in different ways. I'm not."

You sniff, and look down at your feet. His body is close to yours, and your gaze catches something in his trousers. Perhaps his zipper is caught on something. Or perhaps... perhaps...

Your heart races.

"Why did you agree to help me?" you ask, eyes still downcast.

"You asked."

"Why?"

"I..."

"Tell me the truth, Michael."

"Um."

It's so late, and you're so tired. The uncertainty makes the tears fall again. Your head hurts so much. "I'm going."

Michael cries out your name throatily. In a heartbeat, he grasps your shoulders and pushes you against the bookcase, and then his tall, lean body is pressed against yours and his clammy hands find their place on your neck. "Don't cry," he tells you. His face comes closer to yours. His glasses begin to steam up.

"You've done this to me."

"I want to make you feel better. But..."

"But?"

"But you're so pretty when you cry."

And then he kisses you.

It is messy, wet, and needy. He doesn't hesitate to push his tongue against yours, and his glasses press against your face. It should make you squirm away. But it makes you whimper quietly. Your bag drops to the floor, and your hands fly to his narrow hips. You open your mouth wide against his desperately, your teeth clinking against his, and he mirrors you until your lips, your cheeks, your nose, are wet with his spit.

He doesn't know what he's doing. You hardly do, either. And it's so fucking good.

"Michael," you whisper between hard and deep kisses.

He groans your name. "I've thought about this since we first met."

"You thought about me?"

He nods, before burying his face in your throat. His greedy mouth kisses up and down before they settle where your neck and shoulder meet, and he sucks. At his hips, your hands ball into fists around his belt. The carabiner he wears on it with a collection of USBs knocks against your fingers and you tug on it.

You want to fuck him.

"Yeah," he murmurs against your skin. "Think about you in lectures. What I wanna do to you."

To you. Not with you. God, that should make you want to leave. Instead, you resolve to stay.

"Yeah?" you ask breathlessly. "Show me."

"Okay."

Nervous sweat dampens his forehead, but you don't care. You feel it when he presses it against yours and palms you over your jacket. Your soft bra is padded, and you can hardly feel his touch. It's driving you mad. In frustration, you unbutton your shirt quickly and look up at him. "Touch me. Please, Michael, please-"

He breathes loudly through his mouth. His lips are wet with sailva; he's practically drooling. He hesitates.

"Have you been with a woman before?" you ask, chest heaving with need.

His grits his teeth, anger flashing across his face at the question, the mere insinuation that this is his first time. You take that as a no.

So it's your turn to teach him. But just from his desperate kisses, you're almost blind with desire, and there's not much patience left in you. So you pull your breast free from its cup, and press on the back of his head. He's so fucking tall. "Kiss me here," you whine softly. "Suck my nipple."

He is a better pupil than tutor. Perhaps, if you were less aroused, you would tell him to be gentler. But as it is, his eagerness is rough and hard and just what you need. The sharp pull of his mouth sends electricity through you, from your head to your toes, and you arch up against him.

"Your hand," you tell him. "Down my trousers. You thought about that, right?"

Against your breast, he nods. He bites your nipple, and you dig your teeth into your lip to keep quiet. It's the middle of the night, but anyone could walk in.

He fumbles with your button and zipper, and then his hand is down the front of your jeans and you spread your legs. He palms you hard, and instinctively, you grind against the touch.

"Let me show you something." Your breathing is laboured already, just like his. He releases your breast from his mouth and meets your gaze with pupils blown wide. You feel your heartbeat under his hand.

You wriggle your jeans down to your knees and then push down your underwear too, enough that you can spread your legs and cover his hand with yours. You guide his long fingers against your cunt, and it takes no time at all to show him how hot and swollen your clit is.

"Like that," you whisper as you press his digits into a firm and fast pace.

"God," he whimpers. "You're so... you're wet."

You nod. "Yeah. Means I want you."

Without needing to be guided this time, his touch strays down, and he presses his middle finger through your folds. When he finds your entrace and slips inside, he moans so loudly that you have to clamp your hand over his mouth.

His eyes are wide and pleading with you. He watches your face so closely as he pushes a second finger inside of you, and he kisses and sucks at your palm against his mouth.

"That's good," you tell him quietly, nodding your head. "Rub circles around my clit with your thumb. Oh, God, yeah, like that. That's good, Michael. Oh, God, don't stop."

When your hand against his mouth goes slack, he takes the opportunity to kiss you again. He shoves his tongue back into your mouth and it's so messy, so needy so erotic, that you have to quickly push his hand away depsite your previous order.

"What?" he asks, suddenly panicked. "What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing," you gasp. "Gonna make me come already."

His cheeks flush a deep red. "Really?"

He grins lopsidedly, and you whine, "want you inside."

Gulping, and with shaking hands, he unbuckles his belt and the clink of metal seems to echo loudly in the cavernous hall. He shuffles his trousers down his hips, mirroring you, and you look down to see how his hard cock strains against the soft briefs he wears. God, there shouldn't be anything sexy about the y-fronts he's sporting, but you can see the thick outline of him, his heavy balls, and its maddening.

Neither of you care that you're in public now. He pushes his underwear down, too, and when you whisper for him to lift you up, he does it with surprising easy. You kick your trousers and underwear off, spread your legs for him, and grasp the bookshelves at your back for support. His arms are hooked under your thighs and he watches with glasses slipping down his nose as his cock lines up against you.

Instinct takes over. He shoves his cock through your folds, back and forth, coating himself with your arousal, and he presses over your clit with his tip time and time again.

He moans your name too loudly.

"Shh," you soothe, as if you're not fighting with all of your strength to stay quiet. "God, that feels good."

"Inside?" he asks, unable to take his eyes off his cock on your cunt.

"If you want."

"I do." He meets your gaze. There's a vulnerability in him that you haven't seen before. And then you clench, and he feels your muscles tighten, and desire wins out. After a moment of slipping through you, he presses his blunt head against you, and pushes into you in one, swift movement.

The speed takes you by surprise. He's bigger than the vibrator you've been satisfied with lately, but that's alright. You're wet and throbbing, relaxed enough to take him. But it's still a stretch, albeit a blissful one. It's a stretch that borders the line between sweet and stinging, and tears prick your eyes. Good tears, this time.

"Okay?" he asks, voice cracking.

They drip down your cheeks but you smile, biting your lip, and nod. "Yeah. Hard. Go hard, Michael. Need- God, need you!"

And he does as you tell him. "Think about you," he grunts as he thrusts hard and fast. He's on the tip of his toes, knees bent, as he sets a brutal pace that has your body aflame. "All the... fuck, all the time. Oh! Oh!"

You clamp your hand back over his mouth to stifle his moans, and they dissolve into whimpers that match his hard, laboured breaths. They come through his nose and make the skin of your hand prickle. Michael grips your hips hard enough to bruise and it's so good, it's so fucking good. He wants you, he needs you. That's why he agreed to help you. That's why he accepted your kindness.

He likes you. Buried six inches deep in you, you realise this. It makes you bury your face into his neck, and you bite his earlobe. He whimpers in response. "Shh," you soothe.

"Close," he groans against your hand.

"Me too," you breathe. The coil in your stomach is tightening. The tension in your thighs spreads up your back, between your shoulders, and all the way down to your toes. As you wrap your legs around his slim waist, you wonder, in the back of your mind, if the shoes you still wear will leave a mark on his shirt.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, so good, fuck-!" He comes suddenly, buried deep inside you, and you feel him spurt inside of you. But it doesn't matter, you're so undone it doesn't matter, it doesn't fucking matter-!

He whines your name and presses his groin tight against your as his orgasm stutters over him. Dropping his head on your shoulder, he pants, and whispers your name.

"Michael," you protest quietly. "Plase, I'm not there, I'm-"

You rock your hips against him needily. As if it is the easiest thing in the world, he sets you down and pulls out, and immediately replaces his cock with his hand. Just as you showed him before, he buries his fingers back in your pussy and circles your clit with his thumb, and you appreciate it, you do, but it's not enough, it's not enough-

"Oh, God," you groan softly. "Like this."

You're trembling close and youre's so needy, and you grab his hand and press all fingers against your mound, showing him to press as hard and fast as he can. It hurts in the best way, and his hand is almost a blur, and he studies your face with an open mouth as your expression crinkles, tightens, your jaw slack and eyes scrunched closed.

The orgasm he gives you explodes through your body and you white out, knees giving way and balancing falling through. With his hand still firm against your cunt, he catches you and holds you steady, and you clutch against him blindly for balance. "I've got you," he grunts. "Easy."

But there's pride in his voice. He keeps his hand against you even after your orgasm has washed over you. Your flesh there twitches, hot and swollen, and his fingers gently press in different places to learn about you. Whatever information he gathers makes him smile.

After a long moment, enough strength returns to you that you can stand steadily again. "God, that was..."

"Acceptable?" he asks hopefully.

You're bending down to pull your underwear and trousers back on, and you glance up, trying not to grin. "It was good."

He smiles slightly and nods, looking away as if deep in thought. "Alright, that's good, then. Next time, should I wait for you to... to finish first?"

"Next time?" you ask with a quiet laugh. Standing upright, you do your trousers back up and he does the same, the USB still swinging from his belt.

"We have to do this again." Michael says it as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. And then, he brings the hand up covered in your wetness, and he licks his fingers clean. His eyes close in bliss. "You taste so sweet."

Biting the inside of your cheek, you smile even wider. "You don't have to do that."

Swallowing, he murmurs your name and smiles. It's the most genuine smile you've seen him wear. "Oh, I do. You know me. Always had a sweet tooth."

#michael gavey x you #michael gavey x reader #saltburn #ewan mitchell #ewan nation #mine #helaelaemond kinktober

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daily-toad · 7 years

Note

((How long have you worked for the princess, Toad?))

“TOAD LOVES THE PRINCESS! I've Been Working for her ever since I can remember,And will continue serving her until i catch on fire and explode!”

#thanks for the ask #toad #mario #smb #nintendask #ask-tall-smart-and-loathsome

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shreddedparchment · 4 years

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Pseudo Princess Pt.29

Captured and Caught

04/24/2020

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader Word Count: 5,876

Warnings: language, slightly graphic injuries, angst, trauma

A/N: I hope you like this chapter. It had a lot of stuff I wanted to see but this is the final stretch. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

PLEASE DO NOT RESPOST MY STORIES. Reblogs are welcome!

Tags are CLOSED!

It feels like a nightmare. Bad luck. A curse.

Just when you hope things are better, they’re exactly that much worse.

The world is intent on making things difficult for you.

It will never be easy.

But here, in this moment, with fear licking at your heels and instinct taking over—you react.

Phin moves towards you, lunges at you. All the blackness in his eyes—the familiar lust you’d hoped you’d left behind tells you what he wants.

Before he can touch you, you reach back in search of what you’d been sure you saw on your way down to the village.

You hope it’s still there.

Cold and wet, but hard and sturdy, the broken wooden hoe has only left its staff. It’s enough.

You swing it forward with all the strength you can muster and are rewarded with a resounding THWACK as the wooden rod breaks against Phin’s forearm and the side of his head.

He grunts, pained by the hit, but it sends him staggering to his right and you begin to inch to yours, rounding about his left to put you closer to your old cottage only a short sprint away.

So close. Steve is so close.

“Stay away from me.” You tell Phin, voice shaking despite the strength of your attack.

Phin still terrifies you and your body is still catching up to that. Your desire to protect your little one outweighing the fear and panic.

“You little bitch!” Phin growls, spitting onto the soggy ground a nice thick stream of vibrant red.

“I’m warning you, Phin. Stay back, or I’ll fetch my husband and he'll finish what I started.” You adjust your grip on what remains of the wooden staff, broken and sharp now, you could just stab him.

You can’t.

You will if he comes close. If he threatens the safety of your Prince. You will murder him if necessary.

However, as Queen of Broklin now, you shouldn’t.

“Husband?” Phin sneers, moving a step towards you as he lowers his large arms to swing threateningly at his side. “Who would want to marry you?”

You understand what he means, but he goes on. Insulting you, but you don’t care. As long as he stays away.

“No smart man is gonna want an orphaned trollop.” He seethes, visibly angered by your assault.

“I never gave you anything.” You tell him, you were a maid for Steve and you’ll not have anyone contest that truth. “You tried to take. But I beat you then and I’ll beat you now, Phin.

“I’m more than the girl I was.

“But you’ll always be a foul, loathsome, rapist. If you know what is good for you, you will turn around and go back home. Leave me be. Or you’ll regret it even more than you already do.” You offer, taking another step to your right putting you closer to the cottage.

Phin laughs as if he can’t take your threat seriously. As if you’re a joke.

His gaze goes dark again and he lunges towards you as you raise your makeshift spear. He halts, feet stuck to the ground as his eyes travel over your head towards your little run-down cottage.

“Y/N? Is that you?” Steve’s deep voice wonders.

You don’t dare turn your back on Phin to check on Steve but you’re sure he’s there, being as threatening as he can in the state he’s currently in.

“I’m here.” You tell him, voice flooded with relief and joy that Steve heard your commotion with Phin.

There’s still a small quake of fear as you begin to calm, and you know that Steve will hear it and worry. In this instance, you are more than alright with his fretting.

“Who’s that?” Steve asks.

“No one.” You say quickly. “He’s nobody.”

The intent is clear. Insulting. Malicious. You hope he feels like nothing, just as he made you feel time and again before your life changed.

“Hmm.” Steve says, playing for time. “Well, come inside my petal, it’s freezing.

You finally look at him and nearly faint at the exquisite sight of him in his torn and dirty tunic, white shirt frayed at the seams.

Despite his tattered appearance, he’s a vision.

His wide shoulders still fill the space and as he ducks underneath the doorway—Steve is too tall for the opening.

“Thanks for stopping by, Nobody, but I must ask you to leave my wife and I in peace.” Steve says, almost echoing the casual venom you used yourself earlier.

You move quickly into the box of Steve’s extended arm. As soon as you’re in reach, he caresses the back of your head, neck, then his hand slides down to the small of your back as he moves with you inside.

Dropping your parcels on the ratty bed, you hunch over, pressing your hand to your tummy as you wait for the world to stop spinning.

“Are you alright?” Steve asks, moving to you, intent on putting his hands on your back again.

However, he’s still not well and you’re quick to turn before he can touch you.

“I’m perfect. Get back into bed while I make us something to eat.” You chastise him.

“I’m fine. I don’t need to be in bed.” He argues, his jaw tight in rebellion.

“Steve, please?” You don’t have the inner strength to be stern with him after meeting Phin so unexpectedly.

“You’re not alright.” He says, reaching out with his hand to cup your cheek but once more you stop him, taking hold of it and pushing it down.

“I’m a little startled. I wasn’t expecting to see him so suddenly.” You admit.

Steve watches you for a moment, storm blue eyes intent on every miniscule shift in your expression.

Slowly he inhales. You search his own face and find a quiet fury building in him.

“Steve…”

“It was him, wasn’t it? The guy that tried to-” Despite hating that someone else had hurt you, you can see the guilt in Steve’s eyes.

He’s still torturing himself over your wedding night and probably every night after that when he’d used your body, refusing to accept you as his wife.

“He’s gone. Please let it go. If he comes back then I will not protest your defending my honor, and our little one. But you’re still injured. And we must lay low. We can’t afford to call attention to ourselves.” Turning around you undo the twine wrapped around the largest parcel.

Pulling his new trousers out from the stack of clothes you’d purchased for both of you, you hold them up then turn back to face him and hold the pants against his waist.

They’re just the right size! A smile creeps onto your lips, smug and proud that you’d assessed Steve’s size correctly.

“I’ll heat you some water. You can take a quick washing and then change into these new clothes. We’ll both need some cleaning up.” You ponder the amount of water you’ll need, and you’ll have to take two trips. You’ll send Steve to bathe first, then you’ll wash yourself quickly.

Moving to the cauldron with its broken handle, you manage to lift it, but a light smacking sound draws your gaze behind you.

Steve is already there, taking the large basin from you.

“Doctor Selvig advised you to take care. I’m fairly certain lifting cauldrons full of water would be the direct opposite of that.” Steve tells you, annoyed with your refusal to rest.

“Steve-”

“And we’ll bathe together. I will have you within my sights until we are back in the safety of our castle, or your father’s.” He leaves no room for argument as he tucks the large cauldron under his left arm and then reaches down to take hold of your hand. “How will we do this?”

Waiting for you to instruct him, he stands looking down at you, his hand squeezing yours every few seconds.

“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?” You tell him, lips curling up at the corners.

“And you’re mine.” Steve gives your hand another squeeze. “Where to my flower?”

With a sigh you remove your hand from his to wrap the clothing you’d purchased up one more time, then tuck the package beneath your arm and take his hand again.

“There’s a river close by. We’ll bring the water back, heat it up, and I’ll set down some hay in the corner so that we can bathe in the warmth of the cottage.” You explain.

“To the river then.” Steve declares and pulls you from your home.

With Steve at your side, it’s hard to feel unsafe. Not only is he large and imposing, but he takes such great care to make sure that you are alright.

He makes sure you’re seated comfortably on an old fallen tree before he wades into the edges of the river and scoops up way more water than you would have.

This way, the two of you will not have to make more than one trip. The water will take longer to heat but you’ll take that over trudging out here in the cold again.

“I bought us enough food for two days.” You tell him, sure that it’s enough. “We won’t have to come out again until then, and we’ll go hunting instead of back into the village when the time comes. I think staying out of everyone’s notice is in our best interest.”

“I agree.” Steve nods, holding the cauldron steady as it fills. “If it was Pierce behind the attack—both of them, and I’m sure he was—then he will not give up so easily. He’ll send scouts.”

“You would think that he’d be ashamed to do it.” You frown, hating Pierce with a passion after the fear he made Bucky strike within your heart.

Your son had almost lost his life before he was even here. If Bucky had succeeded, even though it was clear that he’d been under someone else’s influence, you would not have been able to forgive him.

Steve shakes his head. “Pierce cares only what the Kingdom can do for his pocket. He wants the prestige. He wants the glory.”

“Being a King is not glorious. Not always.” You agree.

Steve smiles softly, still watching the water.

“No.” He agrees. “It isn’t. Sometimes we must make terrible decisions. We make choices and must stand by them.”

“Like when you chose to marry me?” You offer.

Steve’s head whips up, his eyes searching your face for any sign of pain or distress.

“Choosing to marry you was the best decision I have ever made, in my life.” He assures you.

“But it didn’t feel like that when you made it.” You remind him.

He sighs heavily, standing up, his wide shoulders slumped a bit as he holds the heavy cauldron. “No. It didn’t.”

“You’re worried I’m upset.” You realize, getting up from your spot and moving towards him.

“No.” He says, holding his hand out towards you. “The water’s cold, stay there.”

You ignore him and move to the very edge, the toes of your fancy shoes resting just out of reach.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think on us, Steve. You made what you thought was the correct choice for your Kingdom. No one with any common sense would fault you for that. And what happened between us in the beginning is in the past.

“It was very painful, and it taught me that one might plan for something and find that it doesn’t go at all how one expects. I am cautioned now. And I also know that when offered a challenge, I can rise to it and weather the struggle—mostly. I did run away.” You smile.

Steve doesn’t return it and instead seems to pout. Unintentionally, but still, that lower lip of his protrudes just a bit and you resist every urge in your body pushing you towards him to capture those pink lips between your teeth.

“Oh, my love.” You chuckle. “When will you believe me that I do not regret our beginnings?”

“I regret them for you.” Steve tells you, still pouting. “I married you and made you my Queen. I should have treated you like one.”

You chuckle again and open your arms for him, your small belly protruding through the open cloak.

His eyes wander down to it and you can almost see the excitement flare up in his eyes.

It sends flutters into your chest and nearly takes your breath away. But he makes the choice to go to you.

As he hoists the cauldron up and begins to move towards you, a shift in the trees behind him catches your eye and you start, alert.

“What is it?” He asks, aware of your sudden panic.

He turns to look at what you see but there’s nothing there now.

“We should get back.” You whisper, almost certain that you’d seen someone watching.

As Steve takes your hand and you both begin the walk back to your little dilapidated cottage, you can’t help but wonder how truly safe you are here. You were never safe before…and nothing seems to have changed.

“Are they here?” Tony asks, wiping the sleep from his eyes as he picks up his golden crown—shining red rubies sparkling at Nat as she stands up from having just woke him.

“They’re approaching the gate.” She assures him, as tony springs from his comfortable cushioned chair.

Nat gives Bucky a glance, just a lump underneath many blankets in her room. No other place would do. She’d insisted once she’d woken up to find everyone gone, searching for you and Steve.

“If I must stay here, then I’m going to have him in my room where I can keep both eyes on him and make sure that you or your guards can finish what you started years ago.”

Tony had of course been offended. He hadn’t tried to kill Bucky in years! And he’d given his word…Doing right by you meant doing right by Steve. He couldn’t go around killing his best friend.

She follows Tony, watching the way he nervously adjusts his lush red velvet robe. His boots fall heavily with his drowsiness against the pale stones of his floor.

Nat smiles. Just a little. It’s amusing, how much he looks forward to meeting with the Wakandans. Especially their Princess. She seems to be of particular interest to him.

Nat knows why. It had been them that had crafted Bucky’s first arm. The skill she used, the way she wielded metal somehow seemed to have a power over it to make it do as she wished was something Tony greatly admired.

“Open the gate.” Tony says loudly and there’s a scramble of guards as they rush to open doors as he goes.

There’s a clatter of hooves as the gates are thrown open and through it marches six large black horses pulling the largest of Tony’s carriages. Behind it is a smaller cart with reinforced wheels, packed heavily with cases and boxes made of steel and iron of the likes that Tony has never seen.

His heart beats rapidly with excitement at the contents that those boxes may contain.

As the carriage rolls to a stop, there’s a flurry of movement as the coachmen dismount to open the doors.

Tony waves over a few of the burlier servants and gestures at the cart behind the carriage.

“Get those down to the first dungeon. And take their trunks to the third-floor rooms, by the Southern tower.” He orders.

Nat and Tony watch the open carriage door until first emerges a tall man in beautiful blue and black silks. The intricate pattern along the neckline—an array of angled triangles and squares—is beautifully stitched. The elegant lines of this man’s dress only enhances the warm umber tone of his skin and the piercing dark of his eyes. The otherwise gentle flow of the fabric is hidden underneath a thick black cloak, silver thread along the hem and neckline.

As he alights, the man bows his head at Tony and Tony returns the gesture. He struts over to the man and holds out his hand who graciously takes it and gives it a gentle squeeze.

“Your Majesty, King T’Challa.” Tony says, his reverence clear. This is a man and a kingdom he admires.

“King Anthony, Tony.” T’Challa replies.

The two of them smile and then chuckle as they quickly embrace.

“My friend.” T’Challa says. “How are you?”

Tony sighs, almost as if he has been waiting for someone to ask this question.

“Much better, now that you’re here.” Tony nods, then looks to the carriage as a petite hand peeks through. “Allow me.”

He moves forward as T’Challa and Nat give their greetings to take Princess Shuri’s hand.

With a firm grip she allows him to lead her down the steps and smiles at him for his kindness. Tony’s eyes shine.

“Good day, Princess Shuri.” He gushes, completely enraptured with her intellect.

“Hello again, your Majesty.” She smiles, a knowing sparkle in her eyes. “Well, where is he? Where is the White Wolf?”

~~~~~~~~~~

“I thought you said he had been beaten to within an inch of his life?” Shuri says, assessing the fading bruises on Bucky’s sleeping face.

“He was.” Nat assures her. “His bruises have begun to fade, and we’ve done the best we could with his arm. Tony removed the remnants of what was left of it. We put them side for you, in case you needed them.”

“I do not need them.” Shuri assures her then takes her finger and presses lightly against the bruising on Bucky’s face. His cuts have healed and have since faded.

Nat had been completely astounded by the miracle of it and then she realized that Hydra must have done more to him than even he knew if he could heal so quickly and not scar.

“He heals fast.” Nat says, hovering by the post footpost of the bed, wringing her hands to release her anxiety.

Shuri’s gaze goes to them and Nat quickly tugs on the bodice of her blue dress before crossing her arms across her chest to keep them out of the way.

“Faster than normal people, I mean.” She clarifies.

Shuri turns back to Bucky and pulls over a small wooden case. She opens it and pulls out what looks like a mirror without the silver. She holds it to where his shoulder sits empty, his arm gone.

“How long has he been unconscious?” Shuri asks, and once again Nat begins to wring her hands. This time, she doesn’t attempt to hide her worry.

“It’s been at least two weeks.” She says in a quiet whisper.

Shuri sighs. “I’ll need to know everything. From when he began his attack to the moment he was brought to submission.”

Getting up, she turns to look at Tony and carefully covers Bucky’s armless shoulder again.

“Do you have somewhere that I can work?” She closes her box and tucks it underneath her arm.

Solemnly, Tony nods, his eyes on Bucky. Wondering if it’s his fault that he hasn’t woken up.

He’d given him the full force of his chest beam…what if he injured him internally?

Shuri grabs hold of her yellow skirts and moves for the door. Tony right behind her.

~~~~~~~~~~

Warmth envelops you. Presses against your stomach. There’s a shift there, like a soap bubble popping, but inside. It feels strange.

You hear a chuckle, hearty and happy. The sound of it pleases you so much that you smile despite the sleepy state you find yourself in.

Still mostly unconscious, you reach down towards the warmth on your tummy and you remember as your hands find slightly stiff hair that you’re pregnant.

The popping bubbles make more sense now and you realize that your little prince must be kicking.

Then you remember that Steve is the only one to chuckle just so and you force your eyes open. You need to see him.

You find him looking towards your feet, both of his large hands pressed against the small swell of your stomach. His ear rests against the exposed flesh, your dress gathered up along your waist leaving you exposed.

Maybe you would have protested if the sight before you had not been so sweet? It is still chilly.

However, you can’t bring yourself to complain as you run your fingers through Steve’s hair with a bit more conviction.

He sits up a little, looking down at your belly, cupping it lovingly. Hot gentle lips kiss your skin, sending shivers up and down your spine.

Steve pulls your dress back down, laying it over your legs carefully before he meets your eyes then lays himself back down beside you.

You melt against his chest as he pulls you close, searching for your lips with his own.

You give him what he seeks, and he chuckles as you pucker your lips against his.

“I’m sorry I woke you.” He whispers, almost as if he’s still afraid to do so.

“You didn’t wake me.” You assure him. “Our son did.”

You reach down with a free hand while the other holds onto Steve’s shirt front.

“He was moving.” Steve declares, his storm blue eyes shining with glee. “He’s really in there.”

What a funny statement. You chuckle, unable to helps yourself with the innocence of Steve’s realization.

“Of course, he’s in there, my love. Where else would he be?” You laugh again, easy and slowly as you reach up to frame his face.

“I don’t know. I guess I just never thought I might feel him move before he was born.” Steve admits.

For a split second, your heart hurts for him and the family he’s so obviously been desperate to have.

Reminding yourself that finally, with you, he will have it—you pass by the painful thought quickly and settle back on pleasant satisfaction.

“He’s really there.” You promise him.

After a few silent minutes, Steve gently caressing your stomach while you take stock of your current state, your stomach growls and Steve is up before you know what happened.

“Where are you going?” You ask, startled.

“You’re hungry.” Steve points out.

Before he can get too far you catch his wrist and pull him back towards you, tugging him down and he obeys, kneeling beside you on the straw bed.

You tug his shirt up, exposing his ribs and the faded scar. He doesn’t fight you, letting you fuss over him. Probably enjoying it.

“It’s so much better.” You gasp.

Steve chuckles.

“I’m sorry, I’m still not used to it.” You admit, shaking your head a little as you lower his shirt again.

You stroke his cheekbone, tracing the lines you’d memorized over the last two weeks where black and blue had mixed on his peach skin.

It had taken these bruises so much longer to heal than the last he’d gotten, and Steve had surmised that it was because Bucky was different.

“What do you mean, different?” You’d asked him, wary.

“He’s changed. I didn’t notice before because we’d kept relatively safe. I’d been so broken up about Margaret’s death and Hydra had gone under after we’d rescued Bucky that we had no reason to seek a fight.

“The few quests we did go one had minimal fighting and I took care of that mostly.” Steve had ignored your frown at the time, refusing to give in to your stress over his throwing himself into harm’s way so readily.

“But what do you mean? Are you saying he’s like you?” You’d supplied, guessing rather well.

“Very much like me. I’m not sure what they did to him, but I don’t think all the did was take his arm. I’m fairly sure they put something else there too. Deep in his head probably. Magics or something of the like.” Steve had gone into silence as he’d mulled over his suspicions and you’d made a mental note to ask Grandmother about magics that could alter one’s mind the way Bucky’s had been changed.

You’re glad his bruising has gone down. No more swelling. Only a faded pink scar reminds you of the beating he’d taken for you.

Steve catches your hand, holding it by the wrist before he pulls you towards him. He wraps one arm around your waist while he continues to hold the other to keep you leaning towards him.

He ducks his head down to reach your lips and kisses you until you’re forced to turn your head to take a breath.

“Steve…” You sigh, laughing nervously. “…you’ll suffocate me.”

He chuckles and gets to his feet. “What will you have for breakfast? Should I go get you a squirrel?”

You frown at him, glancing at the small window that sits mostly covered by an old tattered curtain. There is no light shining in. In fact, it looks absolutely pitch black outside.

“It’s not even morning yet.” You argue.

Steve looks at the window too, hands going to his waist as he stares at the lack of sunlight.

“Guess we overslept a little.” He says, but you know very well that he must have been up for hours.

He’d let you sleep, and when he looks back at you, he’s exuding a quiet worry. He’s trying to hide it from you.

“Steve…” You plead.

“I didn’t want to wake you. You looked very tired and you’re not eating as much. You’ve lost a little weight.” He sighs. “I need to get you back to Tony’s castle.”

“It’s too dangerous.” You shake your head. “We’ll wait another two weeks and then we’ll go. They’ll have moved on by then.”

“We don’t even know if they’re here.” Steve argues. “The last we heard they were two towns over.”

“And that isn’t very far.” You point out. “They will come through here, I know it.”

Steve sighs heavily, frustration sweeping off of him in rolls as he flexes his jaw. He wants you to eat well. He wants you healthy. But he can’t control the stress you’re under. The fear that you feel at every moment that you will be found by Hydra and that they’ll do something to your baby.

They could kill you and you’d be happy, so long as your child was allowed to live. With the fate of the kingdom, however, you know that your son’s life would be the first to go.

No. Food is the furthest thing from your mind, despite the necessity you have for it to live. You want to be home and safe, where no one can touch you and your little one can live in peace.

“I’m fine with bread and cheese.” You tell him, leaning towards him, reaching for him because he’s close enough that you can graze his pant leg.

“We have no cheese.” Steve snaps.

“Then just bread!” You laugh lightly, grabbing his pant leg and pulling him close once more.

He falls to his knees for you, walking towards you before he sits back and places his hands on your belly.

“This will pass.” You whisper for him, reaching up to pull him down so that you can press your forehead to his. “We will get out of here and things will be better. Bucky will be fine, and our child will be born happy and healthy and we will live out the rest of our lives together until we both die wrinkled and gray, still arguing over how best to care for each other.”

Steve sighs, and you can almost feel the ache in his chest in your own. Placing your hand there, you massage it lightly, your brow furrowed in sympathetic agony.

“You are doing fantastic, Steve.” You assure him and he meets your eyes.

They shake, filling with tears before one slips along his cheek. You wipe it away quickly, smearing it along his slightly dirty cheek. It’s been impossible for either of you to get properly clean here.

“You’re losing weight.” He argues.

“And that’s not your fault. I’m just worried.” You finally admit. “About you, about our son. I’m worry about Nat and Father and Bucky. And I’m terrified that someone will find us and you’ll do something stupid to try and protect me.”

You tease him, and he sniffles. Shutting his eyes, he pulls you tight again his chest so that your back is curved in a slightly uncomfortable position as he holds you there. Yet you give him what he needs, wrapping your arms under his and around to rest against his back.

“I can’t lose you.” He whispers fiercely.

As he breathes in, it shakes with emotion and the chuckle rolls across your throat softly.

“Oh, Steve.” You say gently, trying to pacify his own fears. “Once our little one is born, you will always have a part of me with you. Until then, I promise not to leave your side.”

“You can’t leave me even after he’s born!” Steve fights you.

“Alright.” You relent. “Do the others know just how needy you are? How much attention you require? How romantic you can be?”

Steve pulls back, shaking his head before he shrugs.

“They saw me with Margaret.” He says.

“And were you like this with her?” You wonder, genuinely curious and not at all jealous.

“Only once or twice. Under very similar circumstances.” He admits, rising again and moving to grab the basket of food you’d gone out to purchase four days ago.

You relax on the bed, so close to the ground that you can feel the cold from outside seeping through. Rising you move towards the fire and throw in a few more pieces of wood Steve had gathered.

The fire roars a little stronger and Steve meets you back on the bed with the basket.

“Just bread now.” He tells you, but he cuts it in two and offers you the larger piece.

“Steve…” You frown, reaching around his outstretched hand to take the smaller piece.

“You need it more.” He argues.

“And you’re bigger than me.” You point out.

“You’re so stubborn!” He growls but is interrupted as the door to your little cottage is thrown open.

You gasp, nearly screaming as you drop your bed, startled by the sudden noise.

A rush of cold wind fills the cottage, your fire crackling loudly as it tries to combat the sudden cold.

Steve thrusts himself between you and the door, turning to give you his back with his shield already in hand.

“When I tell you to run, run.” Steve says quietly.

From the darkness of the opening, a familiar head of red hair struts in, his smirk hateful and bitter.

“You shouldn’t have hit me, Your Majesty.” Phin says, mocking you and your title.

No! You think in terror. How?

How did he find out?! This can’t be happening!

“And now you’re going to get exactly what you deserve.” He spits, then steps aside as a dark figure moves in behind him.

You coil in on yourself, cupping your belly as you prepare yourself to turn and run as Steve begins to rise from his crouch in front of you only to stop halfway.

The figure steps into the light, and it feels as if your heart might explode in jubilation.

With his sepia skin, still mostly silk save for the frost-bitten tips of his nose, ears, and chin Sam gives you and Steve a small minute shake of his head.

You cling to Steve’s back more tightly, noticing the other things about Sam that you hadn’t noticed before.

He wears head to toe black, the same leather tunic with subtle metal plating on his torso and legs that the Hydra knights had been wearing. He glares at both of you then whistles loudly.

Behind him rush in a party of men you’ve never seen before. All of them wearing the same armor.

“Come quietly and we won’t hurt the Queen.” Sam says, such danger in his voice.

You’ve never heard Sam sound this way. It drives chills down your spine.

With no choice but to obey, Steve drops his arms, defeat in his shoulders.

The other knights haul him to his feet, ripping the shield from his hands and then escort you both towards the door.

Sam steps aside as you move through the doorway, one of the knights poking into your back painfully but you don’t dare make a sound.

As you pass them, you look at Phin, clinging to Steve’s arm which is held out back towards you to offer you what little protective comfort he can. Sam reaches onto his waist and pulls a pouch of what must be gold and tosses it to Phin.

“If you speak of this to anyone, you will feel the wrath of Hydra’s sword.” Sam warns Phin, a true threat.

Phin goes white.

You and Steve are shoved roughly into a large closed cart. You trip on your way in but Steve turns to catch you and settles you there between his legs in the far corner of the carriage. You can feel the wood rough and splintered beneath your legs and adjust your dress as best you can.

“Move quickly. This needs to be done before morning.” Sam orders the guard then climbs in after the two of you and moves to sit himself on one of the built-in benches on the sides of the cart. “Shut the door. Lock it.”

They obey him, slamming the doors shut and then bolting it shut. A moment later, you’re jerked forward as the cart begins to move.

For ten minutes, you cling as tightly as you can to Steve, his arms hot and tight. Then as the cart’s movements become steadier, he relaxes his arms. It gets faster, cutting through the winter night quickly.

Steve sighs.

“What took you so long?” He shakes his head, then reaches up to caress the side of your head. “Relax, my flower. We’re safe now.”

Confused, you turn to Sam and find him smiling. He wiggles his eyebrows at you, brilliant white teeth shining down at you as your heartbeat slows.

It had all been a ruse!

“How are my skills of deceit, your Majesty?” Sam asks you, then chuckles and relaxes against the side of the cart.

“But…” You begin, confused, and so emotionally wrought that you begin to cry without meaning to.

Maybe it was all the built-up fear over the two weeks you’ve been back home, or maybe it’s the relief that you’re finally somewhere that the treat of death no longer presses down on you and your baby.

“Shit…” Sam says, moving towards you on his knees to hover uselessly before you, not daring to touch you as you sob softly.

“Y/N, I’m sorry.” Sam says, but Steve pulls you closer.

You hide your face into his chest, clinging to his shirt tightly as all the stress you’ve been feeling goes pouring from your eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Sam repeats, this time speaking to Steve.

“It’s not you.” Steve assures him, stroking your back. “We’re just finally safe.”

He kisses your head, pressing his lips against your hair. “You’re safe.”

#medieval au #medieval fantasy au #steve rogers x reader #king!steve x reader #captain america x reader #avengers x reader #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #mcu au #marvel au #steve rogers x you #king!steve x you #captain america x you #royal au #arranged marriage au #pseudo princess

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softracha · 5 years

Text

Alpha (pt. 1)

Jurassic Park au - Han Jisung

*Non-reader insert*gif not mine*

If you ever found yourself passing by the raptor habitat on a weekend afternoon, your ears would most likely be met with a soft melody being sung by a young man, paired with the scrapes of claws racing in search of the source of the aforementioned melody. That source would be Han Jisung, a slender blonde kid in his last year of high school with a spirited passion for music. The boy had gotten a part-time job at the dinosaur park outside the city to save up some money for his own recording equipment that he could take with him to college the following year. The job was lame to say the least, it was mostly mopping around the backstage area of the park and occasionally doing other mundane tasks like getting coffee for one of the trainers or bringing a new shipment of plushies to the orange haired boy that usually worked the plushie stand (Jisung was pretty sure he recognized the kid from school but he could never be sure). The position, while it paid well, would’ve seemed almost too boring to be worth it for anyone else but that was perfect for Jisung. He saw his long hours spent mopping as a chance to think on his music, mentally writing new lyrics and creating new melodies inspired by some of the random noises that could be heard around the park. He often found himself singing along to whatever his mind had started producing, just like he was now. His blonde locks blew slightly in the wind as he lifted his head at the familiar sound of raptor claws scraping against the hard habitat floor. Not even a full minute until he saw the tall forms of the dinosaurs emerge from the bushes, charging at their full speed towards him. A wide grin spread across his lips as one came up to him, her face only a few mere inches from his own separated only by the thin metal bars. He stopped his singing as the other four raptors in the pack came up behind the first. “Good afternoon ladies,” he laughed, reaching a hand through the bars and gently patting the snout of the closest.

Jisung hadn’t been allowed anywhere near the dinosaur confinements for his first two weeks on the job since all new employees had to undergo a nearly hour long safety briefing that none of his supervisors had ever felt like giving him. But after he had finally had the briefing, he ended up spending most of his time around the enclosures since the other guy he worked with hated cleaning back there. Jisung remembered the surprise he felt when the raptors had walked right up to the gate when he was mopping over there for the first time, but never had he ever felt afraid of them or any of the other dinosaurs for that matter. The park had plenty of security measures in place to keep him safe, right? None of the other dinosaurs had ever paid him much mind so to see the bloodthirsty pack of raptors staring him down like he was a chocolate cake and it was their birthday, left him a bit unsettled. It took a few more of these raptor encounters for him to put together that they were attracted by his singing and something about that made his heart swell. Several months passed and all Jisung’s older coworkers had jokingly dubbed him the ’Raptor Whisperer’, which he secretly loved. Jisung was never good at making friends at school but in these raptors, he'd finally found the companions he felt he’d been missing all this time. It sounded ridiculous and trust me, he knew that but he couldn’t help it. The raptors clearly loved his music and believed he had talent, unlike all the kids at school. The raptors would surely want him to go to college to study music and follow his dreams, unlike his parents. For once, he had supporters on his side, well…very scaly, sharp-clawed supporters, but when you’re a lonely teenage boy, you’ll take whatever advocates you can get. There was only one thing standing between the boy and his beloved raptors and that thing was-

“Ah, if it isn't the raptor whisperer, again,” he jumped slightly at the voice behind him and quickly retracted his hand from Daisy, the youngest raptor’s snout. She made a low sound, almost like a whine and Jisung shot her an apologetic glance. “Hey Lucas,” he smiled innocently up at the taller man who was walking up to him carrying a big bucket full of meat. “Flirting with my girls again, are ya?” Lucas joked in his deep voice, letting out a shallow chuckle. The younger boy laughed halfheartedly and shook his head. Lucas was one of the park’s dinosaur trainers, only certain species were allowed trainers to look after them, usually just the ones the labs had deemed smart enough to potentially form emotional connections and take commands. The velociraptors were the first species to be given a trainer and Lucas had been with the original pack since their birth, which was rare; that had only happened one other time with the Spinosaurus’ trainer, Chan. The current pack of Dahlia, Jasmine, Amaryllis, Magnolia and Daisy were the second generation of raptors that the park had bred and had only been a week or so old when Jisung first met them. Not that you really would be able to tell with the rapid growth formula given to all baby dinosaurs in the park. Originally, Jisung had gotten along with Lucas just fine. He’d ran into him a few times while running errands around the park or in the employee break room; he was always pleasant and enjoyed joking around with the younger boy. But something about Lucas changed when he lost his raptors to a sudden illness. Lucas would still make his jokes but Jisung could hear the clear bitterness behind his words and more than once had he caught the loathsome gleam in the man’ eyes. Of course, Jisung tried not to take anything personally since he understood that the raptors had meant a lot to Lucas and it was probably hard for him to move on from their deaths. Though Jisung had never gotten a chance to meet them, he remembered how endearingly the trainer would speak of them and it was apparent how much he really loved them. He could also recall a time when he'd overheard Lucas telling one of the behavioral researchers that the new raptors weren’t responding the way they should’ve and he was really struggling with connecting to them the way he did with his original pack.

“You should go. I gotta feed these bitches before I can go home,” Lucas’ gruff voice pulled Jisung out of his thoughts as he looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed. “What?” “You heard me, kiddo, get outta here,” Jisung shook his head, taking a step towards Lucas, “No. What did you call them?” The trainer raised an eyebrow at the shorter male and simply scoffed, “And you wonder why they won’t listen to you! They aren’t going to respect you if you don’t respect them first!” He scoffed again, “Now you’re some white knights for these bitches? They’re dinosaurs, kiddo, they don’t know shit. You think they care what I call them? You think they care about you and your dumb singing? Wake up, buddy, they really don’t give a fuck about you,” the following moments were a blur to Jisung, he felt the rage bubble up within him, he heard the pack hiss behind him, he felt his fist collide with Lucas’ jaw, he felt himself being grabbed and hauled off by a couple of security agents, he heard his manager tell him to take the rest of the day off to cool down but he didn’t really process any of it until after the bus ride home as was laid in his warm bed. He couldn’t figure out what had come over him, yeah Lucas was being a dick but it really wasn’t like himself to punch someone like that. Jisung preferred to let things like that roll off his back and not let them get to him. Maybe it was just because he brought up his music which was already a touchy subject. It didn’t matter what caused it, it was wrong and Jisung felt himself fill with regret. Sighing, he rolled over and closed his eyes, decided to apologize to Lucas first thing the next day. If he didn’t get fired, that is.

Jisung hopped off the bus and charged through the workers’ park entrance, hastily scanning his employee card as he went past in order to clock in. His blonde locks bounced as he raced through the park towards the raptor exhibit, he was determined to tell poor Lucas he was sorry before the man could hate him forever. He scanned his card again, unlocking the gate into the backstage area behind the exhibits. Suddenly he stopped as he came up on the raptor habitat, the entire area was blocked off and full of police officers and scientists from the lab all running around frantically. He felt like his mind was in a haze again as he deftly continued walking towards the barricades. Had something happened to his raptors? Were they sick like the last ones? He forced down the tears beginning to well in his eyes at the thought of something happening to his raptors. All of a sudden, he collided with the ground and he felt his mind clear itself of the fog as he looked up to see the person he’d bumped into looking concerned down at him. “You okay?” the guy asked and he recognized the distinct voice as that of Changbin, another one of the park’s trainers. Changbin was the trainer for a small group of Gallimimus, Jisung was always curious about him since he only ever talked to Chan and seemed to go out of his way to keep his hands in the pocket of his black hoodie at all times. Jisung stood and turned his gaze away from the slightly shorter man and back to the scene before him, “Did…” he choked on his words a bit, swallowing hard before continuing,” Did something happen to the raptors?” Changbin remained silent for a moment before he asked, “You really didn’t hear?” the blonde returned his gaze to the brunette and shook his head slightly, feeling the anxiety grow even more in his stomach, “Lucas is dead.”

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i-did-not-mean-to · 3 years

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Never say never - Chapter 9

Aaaah, the longfic of my heart...

Finally got the time to post the next chapter :D

Fandom: RPF - Richard Armitage

Characters: Richard Armitage x OC

Rating : Mature (but not yet)

Warnings: awkwardness, veiled insults, swallowed compliments

°9° ~Richard~

“I’m sorry if I come at a bad time.” He offered and, of course, now, his warm smile came easily to him.

“You looked pretty upset just now, so tell me everything that’s weighing on your heart as well.” Elizabeth sounded so terribly tired that all of his anger vanished in an instant.

“I’ve just come to tell you that you need to let go of your plan. Victoria clearly dislikes me and…it might be arrogant, but I don’t particularly enjoy being disliked.” He said in a low, careful voice.

“She doesn’t dislike you. She doesn’t know you. She’s scared of you.” Elizabeth replied calmly. When she looked up and saw the concern and the genuine hurt in his eyes though, she heaved a heavy sigh.

“She’s…Her life…” She struggled finding the words. “Her father is a mean man, and her husband has left her for a 20-something blonde after getting his big break. I should have known it.” She was obviously disgusted with herself.

“Because I am so mean or because I have so many blonde women in their twenties in my bed?” Richard asked pointedly.

He could not see the similarities between himself and those two men that had just been described in such unflattering terms. He was not prince charming, he was aware of that, but he didn’t appreciate being thrown together with people who sounded like proper scoundrels.

“Because you’re handsome.” Her tone made it very clear that she did not necessarily share that opinion. So…had Victoria called him handsome? Probably not, it was likelier that she had referenced Hiddleston, and Elizabeth had just assumed that he had been included in her assessment.

“It is unfair to her either way. Don’t try to make her meet people she doesn’t appreciate or who scare her.”

“Do you enjoy scaring women?” Elizabeth asked and he bristled. Naturally, he didn’t.

“In that case, I have done you both wrong it seems. If I had given her time to prepare and not sprung this on her, she might have been less panicked.” – “Well…yeah, she seemed terrified just now.”

Elizabeth had thought about that as well and would need to ponder this situation again, at home, with Angie.

There had been shock, that much was clear, but she had also read something else in the demeanour of her friend. She had not been completely wrong in her appraisal of Vic’s taste; she seemed clearly impressed.

“She has not expected you, that’s all. Neither did I, by the way.” Slowly, Elizabeth seemed to get her bearings again.

One never quite knew when that scheming glint would return to her eyes, but Richard was smart enough to be wary of her quick wit. She had not been handed her career on a silver platter; no, she had a particular skill when it came to the visualisation of a storyline. And Elizabeth was ruthless when it came to getting things done.

“I just came to advocate for her as she seems unaware of your plot. She’s your friend, don’t do this to her.” He pleaded softly, hoping that she would not pick up on his own hurt in this matter.

“I did not sell my friend. I am not a pimp, Richard. I just tried to coax her into a situation that might make her happy.” Elizabeth corrected him firmly, seemingly reading his mind and all the dark thoughts he was trying to hide.

“You failed; it made her miserable.” His voice was harder now and he cleared his throat to gain some time.

He had not wanted to put it like that, but now that she had spoken the words, he couldn’t deny that this had been part of his thought-process as well. She had literally offered Victoria like a sacrifice on the altar of whatever reason, only known to her.

“I had imagined it differently, that much is true.” Elizabeth nodded slowly. Richard felt attacked; even though Elizabeth had not said anything about her own expectations pertaining to him, his own insecurities were wreaking havoc on his mind since the previous night. Had she hoped that he’d be anywhere near as suave and charming as Hiddleston?

What could he have done differently? She had never directly spoken to him or engaged in a conversation with him. He had not come up with a funny pun or an alternative scenario she could evade into…

“I have been worried about her. I didn’t quite know what to do or say…” He tried to justify himself when he had never been accused of anything. Elizabeth gave him a broad, sly smile in reply to his stammered explanations.

He couldn’t help being a considerate person, he did not have the skill of comforting people easily; especially when he was ill at ease himself, putting others at ease was not always self-evident, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t care.

Victoria had been distressed and he had been very aware that he was part of the reasons why, so of course, he had not forced her to engage with him. His aim had been damage-control; he had tried to limit the harm suffered by that strange woman by not jostling any of the invisible and unintelligible stop signs around her.

“Are you hurt?” Elizabeth blindsided him with that one, he had to admit, and he blinked a few times before uttering a vague grunt to get her to explain what she meant by that. “I told Vic that she had been unkind, and she was afraid that she had hurt people’s feelings.”

Well, she can’t help disliking me, Richard thought, but yes, she might have endeavoured to not show her disapproval quite so plainly. “As I said, I do not rejoice that she finds me loathsome.” He answered evasively.

Somehow, it felt imprudent and indecent to talk about his feelings with this woman he barely knew. That kind of discussion had no place in the workplace, and after the stunt she had pulled, Elizabeth did not strike him as the most reliable and trustworthy of people to confide in either.

“She doesn’t. I can promise you that much. Nobody does.” Elizabeth’s deep eyes were warm now, swirling whiskey, and her voice had the smoky quality of that very same beverage.

“She literally said “It’s you” and “Oh no” not ten minutes ago, must I remind you?” Richard shot back, dismayed at how petulant and vexed that sounded. That was definitely not the way he wanted to deal with this.

“Again, we did not expect you. We both felt a bit caught as we had been talking about you.” Elizabeth conceded.

“Oh, I’ve caught the end of her BEGGING you to keep your, I quote, “old men” away from her. I am not paranoid here, Elizabeth, there are very clear signs that she’d shoot me to the moon just to avoid ever seeing me again.”

“Aah, yes, so…she did hurt your feelings. Well, we did.” Elizabeth murmured in a hushed voice, letting her lids fall slowly to her cheeks in a perfect picture of penitence. Her mind was racing, no doubt, as her fingers tapped the desk in a frantic staccato.

“Let me clear this up.” She said in a business-like tone and typed furiously numbers and combinations into the phone on her desk. Richard thought about how funny it was that she’d still use that relic, but when the ringing tone resounded, his mind snapped back to the present with acuity.

~Victoria~

She was trembling head to toe. Was that man everywhere? Would he haunt her now for real?

It had been less than 24 hours, but she had dreamt about his face and the discreet smell of him seemed to follow her doggedly. He was like some perversion of the bogeyman; she had come to expect and dread him at every corner and behind every closed door.

How ridiculous; he seemed as tall as a tree to her and yet, he had the nasty habit of sneaking up on her, just to stand there, silent, and glorious, like a statue made of flesh and bone. She had talked of dolls made of hard plastic, she had thought of marble, but no comparison really captured the amount of vitality that man carried in his stillness.

Victoria looked at hairdryers with such intensity for such a long time – all the while daydreaming about the way Richard had not even really swayed when she had bumped into him with all the momentum of fleeing prey – that an assistant came to hover at her elbow, afraid that she’d make off with the exposition unit.

Tearing herself from both the blind contemplation of hairdryers and the mental sketching of that scowling face that had hovered too close for comfort for a millisecond, Victoria made her way to the electronics that actually interested her.

The inspiration came quite naturally to her; she would buy a huge TV and a treadmill and watch movies while running in that drawing room she never used. Maybe, she could get a fainting couch just for good measure.

She ended up ordering all the electronics and made her way to a nearby furniture store where she found a beautiful, antique chaise longue with vivid purple upholstery and a bookshelf the movers would have a hard time getting upstairs.

Shrugging, she bought both nonetheless, ignoring the calls that made her whole purse vibrate. Finally, she decided to allow herself the pleasure of roaming a bit in the bookshop as well, to fill that new bookshelf with all the soppy, irrational stories her father loathed so deeply.

First, she had to take that call though, she knew it, but when she read Liza’s name on the display, her heart sank.

“What have I done now?” She asked, defeated, as soon as she had picked up.

“I don’t know, what have you done?” Liza replied with a smile in her voice. “I have bought furniture, a lot of it.” Victoria confessed with a sigh, nodding at the waiter of the small café belonging to the bookshop who wriggled a cup and a bag of tea at her as she sat down on a wrought-iron chair on the sidewalk to talk to Liza.

“What for?” Liza sounded genuinely interested now, and Victoria could imagine her leaning back in her office chair to hear of her newest folly. “To never be unprepared again. I bought another TV, a big one, a treadmill, a DVD player, a bookshelf, and an actual fainting couch.” Victoria laughed. “I intend to binge all of those soppy movies.”

“You wouldn’t? Who is this talking and what have you done to my friend?” Liza exclaimed in mock shock.

“Oh, stop it, you cow! Did you really think that you could introduce me to some of the most shockingly handsome men to ever have walked the face of God’s green earth without me doing my research afterwards?” Vic jeered.

“Most shockingly handsome, yes? Ah, music to my ears. While on the subject, I have Armitage still here with me.”

Stunned silence.

“He is of the opinion that you do not like him well; he looks like a kicked puppy. What have you to say to that?”

Victoria heard the click of the speakerphone being activated and cleared her throat, swallowing all the curses she had been about to loosen on her friend for letting her talk on and on with the very man in the room.

“Good day to you, Sir. I cannot like or dislike him, I’ve hardly spoken to the man.” Vic then replied, addressing her friend again as she was the person she was in a conversation with.

“That might be the reason why he thinks you loathe him.” Liza suggested, which made Vic snort with derision.

“I do not loathe him; how would I loathe someone I don’t even know?” Vic shook her head and took a sip of the scalding tea that had been placed before her a moment earlier.

“Your reactions have been less than positive this far.” Liza objected, watching Richard grow paler by the second. He did not seem familiar with the way women sometimes handled things, especially women as open and impatient as her.

“Well, they were, as you so aptly put it, “reactions”; I have never consciously “acted”. He’s been like that fairy-tale wolf lurking in the shadows, and I had a right to be weary.” Victoria grumbled.

“Does that make you Red Riding Hood, Vic?” Liza purred, imagining Victoria slaying poor, old Richard.

Victoria sighed. What was expected of her?

“Well, it’s too late for all of that now. Tell the man that I bear him no ill-will and let it lie.” Victoria was eager to get into the bookshop now, and she was growing impatient with her friend’s aimless prattling.

“Alright then, he still looks a bit upset. Do you have any nice thing to say to him as a parting gift?” Liza asked with a tone of finality that made Victoria’s heart soar. She would be dismissed soon enough, she only had to be gracious first.

“Erm…” Victoria reviewed her previous interactions with Richard in her mind. “He’s very pleasant and polite.”

Even to her own ears, her words sounded more like a thinly veiled insult than like a compliment, but she didn’t dare backpedal now. It would have to be good enough, he would have to believe that she meant well.

How would he know though? Already, he thought that she disliked him, and her half-arsed compliment wouldn’t convince him otherwise. No doubt, Liza would tell him that she found him beautiful…not that this would make any difference or carry any kind of weight or importance, but at least it was a real compliment.

~Richard~

Victoria did not pick up for a long time and when she did, Elizabeth picked up the receiver and effectively shut him out from the conversation.

He felt increasingly like an unwelcome guest who has not asked to leave because Elizabeth pitied him.

She asked Victoria a series of questions and he could dimly hear Victoria laugh and answer, her words a blur of cheery sounds that made Elizabeth smile sharply.

Someone was called “most shockingly handsome” and that comment was to serve as a bridge to the actual subject of the telephone call. Victoria denied disliking him, mainly advancing her complete ignorance on the subject as the reason, but her greeting was still cold, and she seemed eager to put the whole thing behind her.

He didn’t quite know how he felt about that; between the lines, she was probably saying that she had not yet unearthed the proper reasons to dislike him fully and that, as of now, she was merely weary of him.

Also, she had called him a dangerous predator again. What had he ever done to that woman to make her fear him so?

Pleasant and polite, huh? Stand-offish and cold, those were the words he heard, and they cut deeper than he had imagined. Up to now, he could have chalked her behaviour up to the startling situation, but this comment had been made calmly and after conscientious consideration of her words.

“Buh-bye. See you tonight.” Elizabeth chirped into the phone and pressed the call away.

“See? She doesn’t dislike you…” She turned to him, her face alight and shining, but the glow faded upon seeing his stern brow cloud over with disappointment and hurt.

“If you say so…” Richard grumbled and, for a moment, it looked like Elizabeth would say something more, but her lips tightened. She would not stroke his ego and alleviate the weight crushing his soul.

#richard armitage #fanfiction #fanfic #longfic #rpf #ao3 fanfic #romcom #silliness #miscommunication #story of my heart

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goldenponcho · 6 years

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Battle for Neverland: Chapter 7

First chapter

The Captain admired the crystal clear reflection in the polished iron of his hook. He hadn’t slept a wink last night, and nothing but adrenaline kept him alert and awake. Come tonight, however, he would sleep as if he had been tucked in by Somnus himself.

He almost tore a hole in the cloth he had been polishing his hook with at the knock on the door, and Short Tom, who had been perched calmly on his shoulder, flapped his wings with an agitated squawk.

"Entrez!" Hook heard the door swing open.

“I realize you have this fixation on me dressed in pink frills…”

He turned to see a somewhat perturbed Riley. "Miss Blade?” He set his handkerchief aside and stood to address her.

“But if I run into another bear wearing this on our picnic today,” she fluffed the heavy ruffles of her skirt and gave a pointed look, “I’m screwed.”

His mouth twitched with the phantom of a smile, “The only wildlife we need concern ourselves with today is that blasted crocodile.”

She arched a brow, “Thanks for the reassurance?”

“She favors the sun in the morning,” he continued, settling Short Tom into his cage, “so our best course of action is to head toward the other side of the island.”

She caught his mischievous gaze too late and barely muffled a yelp as he darted out to grab her hand and twirl her to stand before him, “Or is there some other reason you might feel the need to run?”

Her eyes were wide with surprise, and she gave a nervous laugh, feeling an unwelcome flush in her cheeks. She distracted herself by turning her attention to Short Tom, who continued his shrieks of ‘Belay!’ and ‘Abandon ship!’

Hook tugged gently at the hand in his grasp as she reached fingers in with the intent to scratch Short Tom’s feathers, “Wouldn’t want to loose those, would you, my lady?”

She pulled her fingers away as Tom nipped at a knuckle, “Someone’s a bitey boy...” She risked another scratch to his cheek, and though he made for another peck, he eventually calmed enough to let her stroke his feathers for a moment, still clucking quietly.

Hook let her hand slip from his, a look of near admiration crossing his features as he watched. He released an astonished breath, “I must say, you’re braver than most when it comes to that bird.”

She shrugged, “I have a cat at home. She’s a real butthead sometimes, so I’m used to bites and scratches,” Short Tom nibbled again at a finger, and she gave a gentle tap to the beak before turning back to Hook, “Despite my terrible luck lately with wildlife, I love animals.”

With an amused smirk, he offered his arm and led her out to the deck where Cookson and Mason were readying the longboat.

"After you, Miss Blade," he supported her hand as she stepped into the boat, and she took the seat second from the back where he had indicated. He turned to Mason and whispered something that Riley strained to hear but couldn't, then with a glance about, bellowed for Smee.

"Aye, Cap'n, I'm a'comin', sir!" Smee scurried toward them from somewhere near the bow, nearly bumping into Hook as he slid to a halt.

He snarled and reached to grab Smee by the shirt, but with a glance toward Riley, he redirected his hand to Smee's shoulder and gave him a gentler light shove. The man stumbled to collapse in a seated position at the front. With an intense nod toward the remaining men on deck, he stepped in to stand at the back directly behind Riley. As soon as they hit the water, Smee began rowing.

Riley's eyes darted along the shoreline as they rowed for the mouth of the bay. She couldn't contain herself from leaning slightly over the side of the boat to get a close look around the bend. There were no signs of anything supernatural yet, but the view was as incredible as ever. Sunbeams hit the water and scattered into jewels of electric blue, and when she looked straight down, it was so clear she could see a whole world of seaweed and coral between the waves.

He hadn’t bothered taking the time to appreciate the beauty of the island himself, but Hook found joy somehow in watching her take it all in. The spark in her eyes as she spotted something of interest… He remembered long ago when he had had that same passion for discovery, and he wondered if he could have known the same appreciation for the mystic isle had circumstances been different.

“I wouldn’t get so close to the water, if I were you, Miss Blade.”

She had already righted herself to look back at a bemused Hook before she noticed she actually had been leaning over the side of the boat.

Hook tapped a gloved finger on the hilt of his sword and nodded forward, “See those rocks ahead?”

She turned to see the jagged rocks in the distance, many of which formed arches big enough for the longboat to pass through.

“Mermaid Lagoon…” he finally sat to come near eye level with her, “They’re usually about this time of day. Though, they prefer to avoid pirate vessels…particularly ones with me in them.”

Riley glanced beneath the now calm water as they went under the first stone arch. They were much nearer to shore now, but the water still went down at least a good thirty feet, where tall spires and strange reef-like structures wound in and out creating a whole underwater cave system.

“Are we talkin’ about man-eating mermaids?” she asked with a half concerned, half interested look.

“They tend to entertain themselves with much vainer matters,” Hook chuckled with a sideways glance, “But they wouldn’t think twice about drowning a pretty face.”

He noticed the color heighten in her cheeks in the moment before she turned to the bosun with a shrug, “Might wanna hide your face, Mr Smee!”

Smee shrieked, “Bejeepers! I hadn’t t’ought o’ that!” he scrambled to pull the bandana that hung around his neck up over his nose.

Hook choked on what may have been a laugh before quickly composing himself, “Don’t let go of the oars, ya dunderheaded foozler!!”

Riley laughed as Smee reached for the paddle he had dropped, but it was cut short by a sizeable wall of water, the brunt of which hit her square in the face, “Jeez!!” she sputtered and a fit of giggles alerted them to the two mermaids who lurked behind the rock they had just passed.

The Captain snarled, standing and drawing his sword in one motion, “Loathsome sirens!!”

The two mermaids shrieked, still giggling as they dove to their grotto below. Smee tried to splash back at them with a paddle. Hook stopped himself from burying the sword into the side of the longboat, instead puncturing it with his hook as he sat back down hard.

Riley removed her glasses rubbing the saltwater out of her eyes and blinking to try and ease the burn.

“Are you alright?” Hook offered her his handkerchief...for the second time within ten hours, she noted.

“Fine!” she patted her stinging eyes gingerly, fluttering her eyelids with an expression she could feel the unattractiveness of, “Just blind now.”

“Those seductresses rarely provide one with a pleasant encounter…”

She shook the now wet hair out of her face, wringing it out and blinking one last time before putting her glasses back on, “No offence, but I can’t say I expected many pleasant encounters with the locals while touring with pirates.”

“Mm…if the locals are smart, there’ll be no more encounters to speak of.”

Now armed with the knowledge that saltwater to the face was a definite possibility, she was much more cautious about looking directly into the water, especially when she caught a glimpse of fish-like movement between the rocky, coral spires.

“Run her aground on the other side of the headland, Smee,” Hook ordered, “We continue on foot from here.”

Riley craned her neck as they passed through the short tunnel in the narrow protrusion of land and gasped when she spotted several small figures disappear into the trees beyond the beach, “Oo! I saw something!”

Hook scoffed, “And here I thought you had regained your vision some time ago…”

“I mean I saw little people." 'Smartass,' she thought to add.

“Leprechauns, most likely, lass,” Smee nodded, “Run rampant in these parts.”

Hook rolled his eyes at Smee but reasoned that the man was close enough to the truth that he didn’t bother correcting him. The keel cut into the sand, and he stood as Smee jumped out to push the boat onto shore.

Riley’s eyes darted back and forth along the tree line, intent on picking up any other sign of movement, and she nearly jumped when she noticed Hook’s hand in front of her.

He chuckled, “Shall we?”

She accepted his help out of the boat, but he didn’t keep her attention for long.

“Woah! Coconut crab!”

Hook blinked as one second he was helping her out of the boat, and the next she was ten yards away squatted next to a rather large crab, backed slowly away from her. He exhaled in exasperation, again closing the distance between them.

“This guy could probably pinch my fingers off!”

Hook raised an eyebrow at the tone of admiration in her voice and shook his head, “I’m certain it could, but I was under the impression that you were interested in seeing something a tad less common than crustaceans."

"I take in the sights as they come." The crab had backed into a palm tree and begun scaling it, and Riley wobbled as she maneuvered around her skirts to stand. "But if you've got something more interesting, let's see it."

Hook steadied her, "I trust you aren't opposed to a leisurely hike?"

"I'm fine with it, but if we run into a stickerbush, I will show your dress no mercy..."

He simpered, taking her hand delicately in his, "Perhaps I shall have to carry you through the brambles should the time come."

She felt the color rise in her face as she stammered incoherently behind a self conscious titter, then cringed at her own awkwardness as he turned to lead them into the forest.

Luckily, the path they took seemed to have been traversed enough to leave little underbrush, and squeezing her sizeable attire through was no issue. When they came to an obstruction, Hook simply sliced through with either sword or hook with little effort. She kept alert for any unusual sightings, catching glimpses every so often of the twinkling light of a fairy or a rustling in the bushes accompanied by a sound that couldn’t be mistaken for a natural animal. She would stop suddenly as they came to unusual plants or mushrooms to examine them. She took a mental note to pester Hook until she got her phone back so she could get some pictures.

That was when they came to the most gorgeous waterfall Riley had ever seen in her life. The sheer cliff face rose high and water cascaded into sheets of glittering silver that projected vivid rainbows across the pool of clear water.

She came past Hook as they entered the clearing, tilting her head as far back as she could manage to take in the sight. She was barely aware of him coming to stand next to her again.

“Forget-Me-Not Falls,” he said simply with a nod.

Smee, who caught up seconds later, grasped the hilt of the crooked sword at his side, “We best not be dilly-dallyin’ around here fer too long, Cap’n. We don’t want that Forget-Me-Not pixie ta stupefy us.”

Hook gave a dismissive scoff, “Oh, let the girl wander, Smee. No vermicious fairy is a threat to us.”

~*~*~*~

Mullins wiped the sweat from his brow with a miserable groan, “What’d I tell ya about that broad bein’ bad luck, lads… If she hadn’t come along, we wouldn’t be traipsin’ around on dry land.”

“Come off it, Mullins!” Starkey rolled his eyes, “You said she was bad luck on a ship, not on land. Or is your brain so stewed that you can’t keep up with your own superstitions?”

“Just cause we’re off the ship now, don’t mean the damage ain’t already done.”

"Yer grumblin' ain't fixin' it neither, matey," Mason adjusted the heap of rope and netting slung over his shoulder, "'Sides...last I checked, the only dog who's got a problem with dry land is you." He lobbed one of the tangled masses into Mullins's stomach, "Now get ta settin' this trap! If we don't have one in each spot the Cap'n's marked fer us, he'll use 'em as our nooses."

Mullins lurched with a sickening grunt and did all he could to not vomit as he got to work.

"Eez no vorry, Mullins," Cookson took one end of the rope, "My tripe and ginger porridge make you feeling much better."

The pirate almost lost the battle with his stomach at the suggestion, but managed to keep his breakfast down, mostly due to the fact that he didn't want to taste it again.

Jukes, who was now perched in a nearby tree with a spyglass, scouted the area for any sign of outside movement. "Something's in the trees! About fifty fathoms out! Quick, shipmates, quick!!"

They could hear the rowdy yelps and cries from what was unmistakably children and finished rigging the ropes, covered the evidence with leaves and brush, then made to hide. As the yells grew closer, another sound, a guttural roar pierced through the forest, and the men tensed, attempting to flatten themselves as far into their hiding places as possible.

The footsteps of something large echoed louder and just after the Peter Pan and Wendy darted past, Jukes hardly knew a thing when his tree seemed to shatter, and he was thrown to the forest floor, narrowly avoiding the largest of the splinters that speared the earth around him.

As he fought to regain the breath that was knocked out of him, he caught the back side of a massive, rock-like creature disappear again into the trees.

"Jukes!!" Mullins sprung from his hiding place to come to the boy's side, "Talk ta me, lad! Are you alright?!"

Jukes coughed with a painful horseness but nodded, Mullins helping him to his feet.

"Foul troll..." Starkey sneered toward the place they had gone, "...let us hope he chokes on Peter Pan and every one of his wretched brats."

"No time fer bellyachin', lads! We gotta finish the job!" Mason slung the remaining rope back over his shoulder and jerked his head for them to follow.

"I just hope he didn't set off any of the other traps," Jukes rotated his arm in its socket, rubbing his shoulder, "That's all we need for Pan to figure out the Cap'n's plan before it's even hatched."

~*~*~*~

Peter cackled, "Stupid O'look!! There wasn't a chance he was gonna catch up with me!" He spiraled around a large oak and corkscrewed to fly next to Wendy.

"And you! I thought I might have to rescue you a couple of times, Wendy, but you really gave him a run for his money!"

The girl giggled with a rosy-cheeked smile, "Better watch out, Peter...you might have to keep up with ME before long!"

"Oh, will I?" Peter laughed and gave a good natured bump of his shoulder against hers, "Well, let's see who makes it there first!"

Wendy gaped with a half smile as Peter took off ahead of her, "No fair! You've got the map!!" And she disappeared into the trees behind him.

~*~*~*~

“Here will be a suitable place to take our tea,” Hook motioned for Smee to unload their goods, to which he quickly complied.

The meadow they settled in was just as picturesque as the rest of the island was, a rainbow of flora and butterflies, some of which Riley was sure had very human features, speckled the lush, green grass and a sparkling stream trickled calmly next to them.

Smee finished setting out a blanket and their spread, and before Hook could motion to help her, Riley squatted uncomfortably before letting herself fall back on her rear to sit. She thanked her lucky stars that Jukes had not yet repaired her skirt boning, which had been left in a heap in her cabin. She nibbled on her fruit and scones and sipped her tea in contentment, all the while enjoying the scenery.

Hook, however, was paying little mind to his own refreshments, and Riley noticed him scanning the area closely, as if expecting an interruption to their meal. He finally ventured a glance toward her, "I gather that you are enjoying yourself."

She nodded, "It's an upgrade from the vacation I came from, for sure..."

Just beyond the meadow, Wendy and Peter zigzagged through the trees, and as they approached, Wendy gasped, grabbing Peter's cape, "Shh! Peter look!"

Peter floated down with her as he spotted Hook seated in the meadow accompanied by Smee and the woman he had attempted to rescue the previous day.

"It's her!" he whispered beneath his breathe, "Hook still has her."

Wendy cocked her head, "She doesn't seem like a prisoner. She seems...happy..."

Peter muffled a laugh behind a palm, "Don't be silly, Wendy! Who would be happy around ol' Codfish?!"

She shot him a sideways glance, "I seem to remember one instance where a friend of yours preferred Captain Hook's company for a time..."

"And he was up to no good then, so he's certainly up to no good now! Besides, once we find the right magic dust for Tink to get her back home and out of Neverland, we can't have Hook getting in the way."

Wendy nodded, "I suppose you're right... But how are we going to get her away from Hook and Smee? You said she didn't cooperate last time."

Peter puffed out his chest with a proud grin, "Just leave that to-"

There was a loud thud, and a flock of birds erupted from the trees near the opposite end of the meadow. The two children looked at each other wide-eyed, "Oh, no..."

Riley jerked her head toward the cloud of birds that had suddenly taken to the skies with panicked squawks, and Hook twitched, grasping the hilt of his sword.

"Uuuh..." Riley glanced back at him with a look of concern.

"Stay here," he ordered her, getting to his feet, but he had barely taken two steps before a low growl rumbled through the trees.

The Captain drew his sword as the foliage ahead of them swayed and the sound of limbs snapping under massive feet crept nearer. That was when the most gargantuan creature Riley had ever laid eyes on stepped into the meadow clearing. Her mouth hung open as the rock faced thing grunted at the realization of their presence.

"More humans for O'look's dinner!" it grumbled in a gravelly, primal voice.

"Picnic's over!!" Riley got to her feet to run, and Smee retreated to a safer distance as well.

Hook stood his ground. "Come and try it, ya oversized troglodyte..." he growled, brandishing both hook and sword with a fearless glint in his blue eyes.

"Pirates no match for O'look! He be picking teeth with your tiny bones soon!" The beast made to swipe with a massive club he wielded on one gnarly hand jutting out the other clawed appendage as Hook sidestepped it and gashed the monster's wrist with the tip of his hook.

The troll roared in pain, stomping at Hook as if he were no more than an irritating rat. The Captain darted between O'look's feet, nicking an ankle with his sword as he spun around to face him from behind.

The beast grunted at the wound but caught sight of Riley pressed against a tree, and he grumbled with delight, "Maiden make most delicious meal boiled with shallots and squash!"

"Shit-shit-shit!!!" Riley ducked behind her tree and ran into the forest, followed by Smee, who was followed by O'look, who was followed by Hook.

"We've gotta help her, Peter!" Wendy shook his shoulder in a panic.

"I'm way ahead of you, Wendy!" And he took off toward the ensuing chaos.

"Fair afternoon to you, Admiral Anchovy!"

The sprinting Hook did a double take as Peter floated next to him before racing ahead to where O'look was gaining on Smee. The eternal boy laughed, "You would make a magnificent distraction if you tripped right now, bosun."

Smee shrieked, waving Johnny Corkscrew toward the brat, who continued his merriment, "But that would be playing like a pirate, and Peter Pan is NO pirate." He darted ahead to catch up with Riley, who was doing her best to push through the now dense underbrush.

“Hello again, m’lady!” he bowed midair as he swooped in front of her.

“Outta the way, kid!” she shoved a chagrined Peter aside and trudged forward through the snagging branches.

Peter grabbed for her arm, “Hey! What’s wrong with you? Can’t you see I’m trying to rescue you?”

“And I’m trying to rescue myself, but you’re in my WAY!!” She yanked her arm away, and fled for a large, sturdy tree up ahead.

Peter huffed, “Grownups!! Always so stubborn!” Riley had already begun climbing, so Peter instead switched priorities to fending off O’look. He zipped past Smee again, who was making his way to follow Riley up the thick trunk of the chestnut.

"Going somewhere, you stupid troll?!” Peter waved the map he and Wendy had purloined from the monster’s cave only moments ago.

O’look sneered, baring dagger-like teeth, “Give O’look back his property, leetle bug! Or he make stroganoff of you all!”

Peter placed the map in his belt, about to reply, when Hook slashed into O’look’s side from just behind him. The old troll howled, reaching out again with a set of claws.

Hook deflected the blow, “Why hello, Peter...” he greeted with a malevolent leer, “A fine afternoon for troll hunting, wouldn’t you agree, dear boy?”

Peter gave a courteous nod toward his mortal enemy, “So thrilled that I’ve caught you in such a fine mood today, Captain!” He sprung once more from the ground to join Hook in taking jabs at O’look with his dagger, nicking the troll just before a gigantic hand would come to swat him like a mosquito, and like a mosquito, he would evade at the last second only to repeat the action again.

Riley had finally made it to a height she felt safe at, seating herself on a branch to catch her breath and watch the ensuing fight. As she witnessed the two enemies practically tag-team O’look, she heard a strangled cry from below her and looked down to see poor Smee clinging to the trunk beneath her.

“A wee bit ‘o help ‘ere, missy?” he whimpered pitifully, and she reached down to give him a hand up to climb next to her on her branch.

Smee huffed, catching his breath as well as he removed his spectacles to wipe them with his shirt. Riley peered back to the battle before them to see that O’look was being worn down significantly by the eternal boy and the pirate captain.

She let out a light, breathless laugh, adjusting her own glasses on her nose, “Wow...they actually make a pretty good team when they’ve got something to kill besides each other.”

Smee squinted before placing his spectacles once again over his eyes, “Ehehe! Strange as it is, lass, it seems true, t’be sure.”

With a pained growl, O’look finally retreated back into the woods from whence he came, and Peter bowed low to Hook, “Truly an honor to fight alongside you, Captain Codfish.” Peter was, of course, prepared for the thrust of Hook’s sword, and they locked blades, each wrestling for the upper hand.

Riley had made her way back down the chestnut tree much more quickly than she had scaled it, and as Hook wrenched his sword away from Peter, he called to her, “Don’t move from where you stand, Miss Blade...”

She tilted her head, but halted her next step, and Peter glanced toward her, then back to Hook with a boyish grin and a chuckle. Hook gave one last swipe before Peter ran toward Riley, who timidly took a step backward.

“This is the last day you hold this lady hostage, Codfish!”

Smee had finally found his way back out of the tree, and he unsheathed Johnny Corkscrew to defend Riley from the boy, but Hook’s triumphant smirk foretold the outcome before the trap had even been sprung. Peter yelped as the ropes closed in around him, and he was hoisted above the forest floor only feet from where Riley stood. She had sprung backwards as the trap was activated, and now she looked on in bewilderment as Hook chuckled darkly, coming to admire his catch.

“Oh, dear boy!” Hook shook his head, voice mirthful with barely concealed malice, “When will your childish nobility cease to betray you?”

Riley arched an eyebrow, attempting to decode the situation, when a young girl’s cry could be heard from nearby. Wendy sprung from the bushes, reaching toward the dagger Peter had dropped, but just as she neared it, the rest of the Jolly Roger’s crew, whom Riley hadn’t even known were there, spilled in from the surrounding brush, Mason grabbing Wendy and forcing her into a rope netting similar to what Peter had been snatched from the ground in.

“Ah! Mistress Wendy,” Hook approached the struggling girl, wiping his claw on his handkerchief jauntily, “I’m honored that you’ve chosen to be present on my most immortalized of days.”

The pirates around them chuckled, brandishing swords with bloodthirsty gleams in their eyes, and Hook turned to Riley with a graceful and genuine bow, “I owe you my deepest gratitude, little lady. For had you not assisted me, this most glorious moment may not have come to pass!”

Riley looked in his direction as she passively allowed him to take her hand in his, but her eyes were unfocused as he kissed her knuckles. She turned to look at the children struggling to break free of their bonds, and Mullins slashed at the rope holding Peter in the air. The boy grunted as he landed painfully in the dirt.

“You understand, my dear, do you not?” Hook took her chin in his hand to coax her gaze toward him, “The boy is not the innocent child he appears. You see the girl, Wendy? He stole her from her home. Brought her to this dangerous place without a mother or father to care for her.”

“That’s a LIE, Captain Hoo-“ Mason clasped a hand over Wendy’s mouth, and she squealed in anger.

“You need not worry for the girl,” The Captain’s expression was strangely gentle as he explained, “But the boy must be dealt with so as not to hurt anyone again,” he held out his hooked arm in emphasis of both the boy’s crimes and his fate.

Riley glanced to the ground, shaking her head lightly. This had never been a mere outing in the woods. This whole thing had been a scheme. Not just today, but the entire time she had been aboard the Roger. He had been planning it from the beginning.

She raised her head, swallowing the lump in her throat, “I-I...I understand...” she said with a gentle nod, “You...have business with this boy, and it’s none of mine.”

Hook gave a contented look that appeared sincere, “I had greatly hoped that you would, my dear,” He was about to take her hand again when Billy Jukes emerged from the trees.

“Begin’ yer pardon, Cap’n, but them Lost Boys have already gotten wind of Peter and Wendy’s capture. They’re plannin’ retaliation within the hour!”

Hook tapped the curve of his claw, “Then let us make to intercept them. Mullins, Starkey, and Jukes will accompany me; Cookson, Smee, and Mason will remain here to guard our, ahem...charges,” he smiled adoringly down at Riley, “Miss Blade, I think it best you remain here. There is bound to be another skirmish, and it would be most ill fitting for you to be caught up in two fights in a single afternoon.”

Riley quietly cleared her throat, “Yeah...I’ll, uh...supervise,” she nodded with a nervous smile.

Hook bowed once again, then motioned to his men, “Come, dogs! Let us intercept a Lost Boy.”

Once they had disappeared into the forest, Riley took a slow breath and exhaled steadily, sitting on a knotted root of the large chestnut she had been treed in moments ago.

Mason chuckled, tapping Peter with a dusty boot, “Not so smug now, are ya, half-pint?”

“Ergh! You haven’t won yet, Alf Mason!” Peter said through gritted teeth, squirming against his bonds, "My Lost Boys know Hook’s coming, and he’ll never find them before they take care of you and set us free.”

Cookson snorted with a laugh, “Jou eas going nowhere, Peter ze Pan! Hook do away w’jou faster zan Cookson pluck dead neverbird.”

“What the hell? Did you guys hear that?”

All eyes turned to Riley, who was listening intently for something. The rest listened quietly, exchanging puzzled looks.

“Cookson hear nothing,” the sea chef replied with a furrowed brow.

“No, I’m serious listen...”

They were quiet once again, Smee nearly falling over in an attempt to reach an ear out as far as possible. Then, there was the snap of a twig in the distance.

Mason unsheathed his sword, “Must be them scurvy boys!”

“Aye,” Smee nodded, “It be them brats for sure!”

“I’ll take care of ‘em,” Mason reassured with a nod, but Riley stopped him.

“Wouldn’t it be smarter for all of you to go?” They turned to her once more, “I mean, there are a lot of them, and they really seemed like they could put up a fight yesterday...”

Mason scratched his chin, “Well somebody’s gotta keep an eye on the twerps.”

“I can keep an eye on them,” Riley said quickly with a confident look.

“You?” Mason questioned.

“Jou doesn’t have weapon,” Cookson countered.

Riley’s gaze darted around, and landed on Peter’s discarded dagger. She knelt to pic it up and raised it in suggestion.

Mason eyed her skeptically, “You sure you know how to use that thing?”

She nodded, “My dad taught me. He’s a hunter.”

The men looked to each other.

“I can call if I need you,” she assured, “I’ve got this. Don't worry!”

Mason finally conceded, “Alright, then,” he nodded, “You let us know if trouble finds ya.”

“I will. Definitely.”

And the three men were off into the woods... Riley peered after them, and as soon as they seemed to be out of earshot, she took the dagger to Peter’s ropes.

“What are you doing?” Peter startled at the blade so near his side.

“Rescuing you, duh...”

“But you said-“

“I lied!” she cut Wendy off, “Sometimes adults do that.”

Peter chuckled, “I guess not all adults are as stupid as I thought.”

Riley rolled her eyes, “Thanks...”

“You’re welcome!” Peter shook off the last bit of rope, snatching the dagger from her before she could react and cutting Wendy free.

“I’m gonna need to get outta here,” she began unlacing her bodice, “I suggest you two do the same.”

“Why are you taking off your dress,” Wendy questioned innocently.

“Because there’s no way I’ll be able to run in it,” she quickly shed her pink dress and corset leaving the petticoat, the skirt of which she tucked into the waist of her bloomers. She was about to leave before Peter tugged at her sleeve.

“Wait! We have to get you out of here!”

“That’s what I’m-“

“No, I mean out of Neverland!” he explained, “You have to go back home!”

“You can get me there?” She raised an eyebrow.

Peter and Wendy looked at each other. "We’re...sort of working on that...” Wendy said, “We need a special kind of dust...found in only a certain place.”

“And we have the map to find it!” Peter held up the scrap of parchment.

“Then spill the directions! I need to get home before my friends declare me dead!”

“It’s not that simple...” Wendy shook her head, “See...the location moves.”

“Moves?”

Peter grabbed the hands of both girls and tugged, “Come on! We need to get outta here before the pirates get back! We can explain on the way!”

They retreated into the woods in the opposite direction from where the pirates had gone.

~*~*~*~

Hook had searched the forest but found no trace of a Lost Boy. Perhaps it was best to head back. They would be prepared to face the boys when the time came, and they would certainly be no match for him and his men without Peter to lead them. Without there leader, they were nothing more than lost little children.

Just as he was about to give the order for his men to head back for the others, he halted. He motioned for his men to keep quiet as he drew back his sword.

As the bushes in front of them began to shake, he almost lashed out before Smee’s fuzzy face appeared in front of them with a delighted “Cap’n!”

Hook narrowed his eyes, mouth agape, “Smee?! What the devil are you doing here?!”

Mason And Cookson appeared behind him as the bosun stuttered to explain their plight. As Smee wove his nearly incoherent tale excitedly, Hook’s eyes focused in angered realization, “You left Peter and Wendy alone?!”

Smee shook his head heatedly, “Oh, no no, Cap’n, sir! We certainly wasn’t foolish enough to do some’n like that! No no! We left ‘em wit the lassy!”

“Aye, Cap’n,” Mason affirmed, “She said she would call if she had any trouble.”

Hook boiled for a moment, before lifting Mason from his feet, “You dunderheaded zounderkite!! Do you expect to hear a call of distress this far out?!!”

He tossed the man to the ground, dragging his cape over him as he passed, “Move, ya worthless mongrels! If those brats have escaped, I’ll have Cookson stew every one of your livers and then his own!” Cookson gulped before following their irate Captain.

Hook’s breath came in heavy heaves as he neared the chestnut tree where his prize catch had been left. His men stumbled to keep up with the all but rampaging man, and all of them held their own breaths as they came within sight of the tree.

Hook snarled when he saw the two tattered and very empty rope nets, his eyes darting over the scene for any sign of his enemy. And that was when he saw it. Riley’s discarded dress in a heap on the dirt ground. Hook’s face contorted into a scowl as his mind pieced together what had happened. His whole body shuddered like a tremor before a volcanic eruption, and he unloosed a roar of absolute fury.

~*~*~*~

Riley trudged through the woods alone, having agreed to meet Peter that night in a secluded area after he had found the dust they needed to send her back. She had suggested she go with them now, but despite her rescue, Peter still didn’t trust her enough to reveal where their Underground House was to her, and they had decided to part ways until they were prepared to send her home.

She fumed as she finally had the time to dwell on what had happened. He had used her. Pretended to be her friend only to make her bait. She flushed with embarrassment at how stupid she had been to trust him. She had even started to like him. What an idiot she had been!

That was when she heard the cry of rage, and she froze, distinctly recognized it as Hook’s.

“Fffffudge!!” She sped up her pace, anger turning to fear as she heard him coming all too close behind her. She searched feverishly for a place to hide, at last finding a large tree trunk to duck behind.

“Find her, scugs!! Or I’ll set anchor in ya!!”

Riley heard the men scatter, pressing close to the tree as they each disappeared into their own wing of the forest. Hook’s heavy footsteps, however, grew closer, and Riley held a hand over her mouth to silence her breathing.

“Riiileyyy...” he purred, the noticeable edge to his calm voice giving away his anger, “I know what you’ve done, young lady... Come out! And I swear upon my dearly departed mother’s grave, I shan’t hurt you.”

He came to stand just on the other side of the log, and she willed her heart to stop it’s rapid beating.

“You don’t know what a glaring error you’ve made, dear girl,” he rumbled, “I don’t want to punish you. But if you don’t show yourself, I shall have to.”

His footsteps receded, and Riley shifted her position only slightly. She came to regret it sorely as a tiny squeal emitted from behind her, “Watch where you’re sitting, you clumsy oaf!!”

Her heart stopped as Hook’s footsteps did as well, and a small, curly-headed fairy fluttered to wag a finger in her face, “I didn’t come here to get stuck under your GIANT, HUMAN A-“

Riley grabbed the fairy, covering her mouth with a hand, shaking her head wildly and motioning for her to be quiet, but all she got was a surprisingly painful bite.

“Miss Blade...”

A shiver ran up her spine at the purr of her name, and she looked up to see a leering Hook crouching from the other side of the tree. She had little time to think, so she made her move without doing so. She chucked the fairy into the Captain’s face, a poof of sparkling dust blinding him and sending him into a sneezing fit as she got to her feet and ran.

She heard his displeased snarl and his footsteps as he perused her, and she pushed her legs to go as fast as physically possible. She knew she was probably faster, but she prayed that adrenaline would aid her in out-enduring him. She tore through a thicket, gritting her teeth at the scratches and forcing her significantly thinned out skirts through them only to come to a nearly shear drop into a creek. Thick brambles crowded at either side, and she was certain to be caught now if she went that way.

The shing of metal alerted her to Hook’s arrival as he made quick work of the brush she had just exited, and his bright eyes bore into her, “Ungrateful little wench!”

Riley turned an equally angered gaze toward him, “Ungrateful?! Are you KIDDING me?! You used me! And I can’t believe I fell for it!!” She backed nearer to the bank as he edged closer, “I knew you were a liar from the beginning! And somehow you still cheated my dumb ass,” she clapped her hands sarcastically in mock applause, “Greaaaat job! Hope you’re proud of yourself, but you still lost!!”

The Captain growled, “Lost because of YOU! Spiteful MINX!” He sprung forward, intent on grabbing her, and without a thought, she slid herself down the muddy bank and into the creek.

She paddled to keep her head above water. The current was strong, but not so strong she couldn’t make her way across. She could see that the other side was steep and muddy but also a shallower drop than the one she had come from. If she could make it up, her escape would be certain. She paddled until her arms burned but eventually made it across and clawed into the mud, gaining leverage to lift herself up. The mud was just the right consistency to dig divots for her hands and feet to climb up.

She was more than halfway up the slope when her ankle was grabbed in a painful grip. She looked down into the enraged face of Captain Hook, hair wild in loose, wet ringlets.

“You shouldn’t have run from me, Riley! You’ll be lucky if you get no more than three nights in the brig with naught but bread and water!!”

She thrashed her leg as forcefully as she could with out losing her grip, “Let GO of me!” she kicked wildly, then turned her scowl down to him, "You bastard! I can't believe I ever even LIKED you!!" her voice cracked as tears were now streaming down her face, and Hook's enraged expression wavered, "I cried to you about my MOTHER!! I actually thought you had CARED! But all you were doing this whole time was making me feel secure so you could USE me! Well you’ve gotten your use out of me! So STEP! OFF!!”

And she landed a powerful kick square to his chest with her free leg, knocking the wind out of him and sending him sliding back down the muddy bank. She scrambled to reach the top, and pulled herself onto the grass, hearing his cries of anger behind her.

But she stopped only a few yards from the bank when his cries turned to panicked yelps, and she could hear a hissing roar. The Croc...

She danced on her feet. She should keep going. She knew she should just keep going. But her legs wouldn't move. She couldn't. She was angry. LIVID. But she couldn't leave him to die like this. She growled in frustration, “FINE!”

Hook tried to right himself on the slippery bank, attempting to evade the monstrous creature of his most chilling of nightmares. "BACK! You ghastly leviathan! Go back to the sewage from whence ye CAME!!"

The prehistoric lizard was only all the more frenzied in her ambition to devour as she nearly snagged a kicking boot in her vice like jaws, managing to rake a gash across his calf with the largest of her piercing fangs, and he cried out in anguish and fear.

That was when he felt something relatively weighty strike his shoulder, and looked to see a sturdy vine hanging next to him. He followed the vine up the bank too see a muddy, disheveled Riley.

"Miss Blade?!!"

"JUST GRAB IT!!" she cried, shaking the vine to bump against him again, and he did so without further hesitation.

Riley tugged on the pulley she had rigged around a nearby tree, and Hook dug his heels into the muddy bank, slipping several times but finally making it to pull himself up onto the grassy knoll and away from the snapping croc.

Both collapsed only feet apart from each other, panting to inhale as much oxygen as their lungs could hold. Riley jumped when Hook jabbed his sword into the ground, using the blade as leverage to stand, and she shuffled away before assuming a defensive position on her feet.

Hook scrutinizes her with stern eyes, and they stared each other down. When his expression finally softened oh so slightly, her muscles relaxed a touch, and she opened her mouth to say something before the rest of Hook's crew emerged from the bushes, swords drawn in her direction.

She froze again, and with a glance around, raised her arms in defeat.

"Crap..."

#peter pan and the pirates #Fox's Peter Pan and the Pirates #captain hook #Captain James Hook #peter pan fanfiction #battle for neverland

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mushroomcityapartments · 7 years

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ask-tall-smart-and-loathsome replied to your post: .

((I understand your plight Tis quite the burden to be a writer in n artist’s world :/))

SIGHS YEAH... I try to read as much writing as I possibly can bc I understand it’s hard for writers in communities like this and I really wish it wasn’t ;; I would like to hope ppl care abt characters outside of looking at them lookin however but... :////

my depression has been bad recently and it can be hard bringing myself to draw so just writing would be nice for once but i guess i Gotta to have ppl pay attention

#ask tall smart and loathsome #i just!! why the fuck is everything like this!!!!!#ooc replies

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chaoticgoodollie · 6 years

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Send me art??

I need an icon. That’s mostly gender neutral. And not my face because all my pics are of me wearing makeup and not really recent enough for me to tolerate. So send me art? Please?

Gonna tag @hopped-up-on-maple-syrup (@ask-tall-smart-and-loathsome ) @kaithekoi @felix-r-l @rebelcolumbia @sororising @beepbeep42 @wanderingnork cuz ya’ll are really the only people who interact with me

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lasands-artgallery · 7 years

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Spiderwebs- CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREE

Plot: Action picks up.

Warning: salty language, violence

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX

Roxx is pacing to and fro in the room. From one corner to the next. Dean and Jared are in their sides of the room, watching with growing concern. The room the three of them are being guarded in isn't small in any sense of the word. It's one of the largest civilian rooms OSI has, in fact. Guards are outside, respecting their privacy. But Roxx feels cramped. Like there is not enough air for her to breath or nearly enough room to move freely.

She knows it's not a space problem. It's a people problem. She is clearly the odd one out here. A super villain with indisputable ties to the Guild. A cat girl science experiment that catches looks wherever she goes. And not in a good way. What is the point in having her here too? She is a certified Guild member. A low leveled one and probably out of desperation because of so many villains jumping ship, but still. Not in any tangible way associated with OSI.

Roxx knows she is over reacting. That being in the OSI building is no big deal, even with her current room mates. But she can't stand watching Jared touch Dean so casually. It's nothing obscene. Just little shoulder touches while studying. Fingers lingering a second too long when handing a pencil. Standing a touch too close when looking over his work.

Dean has never been interested in anybody not dark and tall and smart. But Jared is all three of those, in spades. Jared has a better chance then she has ever had, she has to admit. Stepping aside is the smart and mature thing to do. Let Dean be happy, no matter what or who it is with. Leave, don't turn back. Let him go. And yet, she keeps pacing around, staying in the confining room with the sources of her pain. She still can't shake her need to please. And she was told to stay put while they handled the problem.

It's been three days since Dean's call to his pop that lead them here under OSI protection. His pop and his brother are in different rooms, next door she believes. every once and awhile she hears music or Rusty talking to himself. They were put in a single room as a safety measure. Easier to protect three people in a single room then three people spread over three rooms.

A stupid maneuver, pure OSI in every way. It would one lucky shot to kill all three of them. Even the lowliest of Guild grunts would know that. Spreading the targets would have minimized the dangers presented. She knows Brock would never have signed off on something so stupid. Jared is the first to speak. He clears his throat, putting a stop to Roxx's pacing and Dean's nervous tapping.

"We are going to be here awhile," Jared states. Roxx rolls her eyes before he continues. "I think we should find something to do before we all go crazy." "You mean go over the file again?" Roxx says." And try and find out where Garters is, again?"

"Not like you've got a better plan," Jared says, crossing his arms. "You mean besides leave and get answers?" Roxx retorts. "Yeah, got nothing better then that."

Roxx steps up to Jared, tail flicking back and forth. He may be two feet taller and probably twice her weight, but she isn't going to let that stop her. She isn't afraid of him or his spider powers. Cats eat spiders all the time, and she is definitely not above breaking a few legs. She sees a flicker of surprise in his eyes and smirks as she cracks her claws. She knows she is nowhere near menacing with her cream fur and tiny stature, but it's a start.

"Guys," Dean says as he stands between the two. "We have to work together." "I don't have to do anything," Roxx hisses.

Roxx ducks under Dean's arm. She almost forgot he was there as well. Seeing the look Dean is giving Jared is too much for her. She powers her way through the lone guard standing at the door. A small cat girl would go unnoticed in a place like here. Only upside to this place. Any freak can just walk out the door and nobody would bat an eye.

Roxx ruffles her pink hair as soon as she gets out of the building, breathing in the fresh unfiltered air. She can smell pine trees and rich soil. The sounds of animals in the woods nearby greet her, but are not her interest. Her interests are less rural. Taking deep wafts of the air, she hones in on a scent. A scent that has does not belong anywhere near here.

Roxx tracks the scent back to town, secretly glad that OSI has a base close to New York now. It's not a large one, just an abandoned barn out in the woods bordering Vermont. She thinks it's Vermont because of a bear company they passed getting here and how everything smells sticky like pancake syrup. It's not important. What is important is the scent she is following.

It's a very long shot, she knows. Could just be a random OSI grunt who happened to be carrying metal that matches the smell of Garters shield. But it's her best shot for getting to the bottom of this. She keeps her ears open and eyes wide as she follows the scent to a....news station? She wasn't expecting that. But it makes sense, in a way. What better place for a so called hero to be then a place where information passes through freely and endlessly?

Roxx tries to gather her nerves to enter the building. She wasn't hopeful she would find answers, and she is so close to them, and she is suddenly nervous. She has gotten this far, she is only a small handful of steps away from maybe getting answers. She reaches to open the door when it swings open. Standing in the door way is a tall woman with dark flowing hair and stern glasses. Roxx can't help but stare. She looks familiar in a way. Like she should know who this person is. But she doesn't, not even a little bit. The woman straightens her shawl, looking at Roxx curiously. Roxx picks a twig from her hair, suddenly wilting under the woman's stern gaze.

"You're that cat girl that hangs out with the Ventures, aren't you?" she asks.

Roxx nods. A look of pity crosses the woman's face. That is how Roxx reads it, anyway. Could be curiosity. Those two tend to be interchangeable with her and other people. The woman smiles and Roxx can't help smile back. Roxx sniffs the air and catches the scent of peculiar metal once more. It's coming from this woman. But why? The sun gleams off the woman's hair like it's a golden lasso or something. Her eyes widen and it dawns on her who this is. This is Warriana, Mr. Samson's maybe kind of sort of girlfriend. Looking at her, it's so obvious that that is who this is.

"You're Warriana," Roxx says in amazement. "That means you must know what Stars N Garters is plotting as we speak."

She raises her eye brow at Roxx's declaration. Warriana crosses her arms and her demeanor changes from open to on the defensive. Roxx resists the urge to cower at the powerful glare Warriana is shooting her way. She is used to people trying to intimidate her. It's not going to work, she isn't going to let it. She is on a mission. She puts her hands on her hips and doesn't back down for a moment. All her righteous rage is focused into her glare as she stares at Warriana just as intensely. Warriana backs down first, throwing her head back as she laughs. Roxx pouts but doesn't move.

"Feisty one, aren't you?" Warriana states, still chuckling. "I do not know what Stars N Garters is up to. He has been shirking his responsibilities to CAL."

"That like him?" Roxx asks, curious.

"Nay," Warriana says. "He's usually the one telling us to work harder, and to show up at more meetings. But he hasn't been attending as well."

"And you guys aren't responsible for menacing Brown Widow's arch enemy?" Roxx asks, having to ask for the sake of asking it.

"Of course not," Warriana laughs. "CAL has more important matters then some low level puss."

Roxx ignores the biting remark, somewhat grateful that her secret identity is still secret. She knows that she has a long way to go before becoming a legendary super villain. She thanks her for her time, turning tail back to the OSI base. As much as she loathes the place, she needs to inform Jared and Dean that CAL is not responsible for Stars N Garters' actions. It's some kind of information that might help. Sniffing her way back, she heads back to the loathsome building of incompetence.

Back at OSI, Jared has taken over Roxx's pacing. Dean is sitting cross legged on what was Roxx's bed. He is flipping through her diary, brow furrowed as he tries to decipher her looping hand writing. Dean feels dirty looking through her diary but it's the only clue where she might be they have. He sees his name written in the margins with small hearts on a few of the pages, absent doodling surely. He feels a strange feeling in his stomach, like he ate a toasted marshmallow straight out of the fire.

Roxx could be in danger right now, there is no time for an upset stomach. Nobody at OSI has been able to find any trace of Stars N Garters, if they are even looking. Who knows what he is up to right now? Looking through the frilly pink diary didn't offer them any clues where she went. She isn't with her grandparents and his brother hasn't seen her since they got here.

Dean closes the diary, the second half blank. He puts it back in her pillow case, straightening the sheets as much as he can. He knows if....WHEN Roxx gets back she will smell him on her sheets. Maybe if he removes them and has the guard bring new ones, that could explain it? But then she will know for sure he saw her diary. Making a choice, he tugs the sheets free of the bed, choosing the lesser of two evils. Maybe he can play it off better this way.

Dean tosses the sheets at the door. Jared stops his pacing, spider senses giving him the edge to duck the tossed sheets. He manages to catch them before they hit the ground and he looks at Dean curiously. Dean doesn't look up, but he can feel Jared's gaze drilling into him. He knows Jared is on edge not just because Roxx is missing.

Dean has tried to get Jared to quit smoking multiple times. No incentive can get him to stop the habit he proclaims to have had since he was a teen. And "visitors" aren't allowed to smoke, OSI safety policy. He puts the diary on the small stand provided for Roxx's personal things as he strips the bed to the bare mattress and pillow. Jared crumples up the used sheets and strikes up a conversation with the guard as he hands them over.

New sheets are given and Dean handles redressing the bed. The sheets are a faint lilac colour and he hopes Roxx likes them. He is grateful the OSI has coloured sheets instead of drab white sheets. Already way too much like prison here. He finishes dressing the bed, tucking the book in the case like it was in the old one. He sees Jared has not moved from the doorway, his arms crossed.

"What?" Dean asks, patience giving out. "Roxanne is my arch enemy," Jared says.

"Okay," Dean says, confused at what angle Jared is going for. "I know you like her," Jared says. "But we need to accept the possibility that she has gone to seek outside support. Of a Guild nature" "Like who?" Dean asks. "Wide Wale, perchance?" Jared says.

Dean looks at Jared, can't believing he is serious. But he is. Dean tries to think of what Roxanne could possibly over the whale themed villain and can only think of one thing she has that could be of interest to him. But never in a million years would she do that.

"She wouldn't," Dean states. "Only thing she has to offer is Hank and she would never give him up. Not for anything. He's her best friend." "You don't know that Dean," Jared says. "Roxanne is a villain. She isn't the cat girl you grew up with." Dean gestures at the pillow where the diary is hidden before proclaiming, "She is the same Roxxy I know. She'd never do that, never!"

Almost as if on cue, the guards scramble as the front door alarm sounds, somebody entering without a clearance card. Dean and Jared both lean out the door, trying to see who is causing the commotion. Neither are able to see over the crowd of guards, wandering in to see what the commotion is. Colonel Gathers comes and parts the crowd, barking out orders. The crowd parts like the Red Sea and there stands Roxxy, sheepish grin on her face. Dean beams and dashes out of the room, glad to see she is safe. He ducks past the crowd and picks up the small cat girl in a tight hug.

Roxx meows in confusion at the embrace. Dean releases her, and she feels her cheeks flare. He was just showing his appreciation she was safe, that's all. Just how Dean is. Always the more sensitive Venture brother and more likely to over react to everything. Nothing to read into. He isn't able to make eye contact with her and Jared is standing apart from the crowd, looking at her intently. A look that makes her vaguely almost kind of uncomfortable in an not all the way unpleasant way.

Anannoyed growl catches her attention. Looking over, she can see Gathers has arrived. After the Black Hearts and SPHINX switchover, she isn't sure how to refer to the colonel. Nobody has corrected her when she called him he, so until she is corrected, she will continue doing that. She steps in front of him. She can't see his eyes past the hat and sunglasses, but she can tell he is grumpy at her "escape".

Roxx braces for the chewing out he no doubt has been building up since she left. With a wave of his hand, the room empties . Dean takes a step towards Jared, not to her surprise. She straightens her postures, gritting her teeth as Gathers starts tearing into her. Security risks, wasted man hours, the whole spiel was nothing new to her. She's heard the same complaints from Hatred, just less organized and directed at Hank. She knows she should be scared, whimpering, promising to never do it again.

But she's lived through scarier then Gathers. St. Cloud trying to kill her parents or an angry old codger of a man she has her pick sorted. She knows that Gathers has the abilities to "take care" of her. But he won't lay a finger on her fuzzyy head, that is a fact. Messing with the Guild with the Sovereign and all his mysteries currently MIA, he wouldn't do anything that could bring him out of hiding. No matter how bad he wants to know those secrets.

Course, she figures with how the Guild has been getting run lately, the rumors of Sovereign's demise by an unknown assailant (or possibly even the Investors?) might not be as exaggerated as she first thought. Not that she is going to let the OSI in on that little secret. What reason does she have to help them, after all? After all the lack of help she has gotten from them, it serves them right.

After what feels like an eternity, he dismisses the hapless trio back to their room with a snarl, security doubled with warnings to not let any of them leave without a chaperone. Obviously. She sits on her bed, mouth screwed into a scowl as she sees the pale purple sheets. Kneading her pillow, she doesn't have to look to know that her diary was flipped through. She sighs internally at the invasion of privacy. Typical hero antics. Invading privacy and claiming goodness. Makes her feels so much better about going out and looking for answers on her own if they couldn't trust her and flipped through her private diary. She wishes that it didn’t hurt that Dean did that.

She puts her hands in her lap and looks at the two "Spider dweebs" as Dermott calls them. Dean still can't make eye contact with her, gazing at Jared instead. She chooses to ignore it for now. More important things then what Dean may or may not have discovered in her diary. Not like it matters. She can always deny whatever he thought he saw if she must. Not like he can read her handwriting, as he has proven many times over.

"I know you think I was off conferring with the Guild or whatever," she starts, not addressing either directly. "I actually found out some information that might be interesting."

She notes the huff of disbelief from Jared and ignores it for now. Course he doesn't believe her, she's his arch enemy. Dean lifts his eyes for a moment, green locking onto blue for a moment before going to the floor once more. She takes a deep breath.

"I ran into Warriana," she says. "And Garters' actions against us are not sanctioned by CAL." "What does that mean for us?" Dean asks.

"It means that Garters is hiding what he is doing from his own group," she answers. "He is on his own, doing what he is doing. He might be working with Wide Wale or somebody like that to menace us. I don't know why, but I think it has to do with Jared."

"Why me?" Jared interjects.

"Because you are the only common link between Garters and I," Roxx says. "Unless you have a better idea, I think he really, REALLY doesn't like you and wants to make you suffer for some reason. "

She looks up at him, doing her best not to roll her eyes. It's really obvious how much Tosh hates Jared. She could tell just by the way Garter's posture completely changed when Dean mentioned going to Jared's restaurant after school one time they were in the library at Dean's college. Well, Jared and Garter's too. The cold hate in his eyes stuck with her. She has the beginnings of a plan, she just needs to get the pieces together.

"Dean," Roxx asks, turning towards him. "Is Hank still dating Sirena?"

#venture brothers oc #dean venture #the brown widow #shipping #fanfic #venture brothers fanfic

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