#in a way i guess it could tie into how restricted or trapped he felt since the type of chair he's shown is more like. a hospital one | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jokeringcutio · 1 year

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A Gift for his Gift - Albert Shaw / The Grabber x Reader Insert [ WARNINGS ]

Minors, Do not read. There are more warnings and tags to this that you'll find below.

Summary:

“I think I’m gonna keep you,” he had said. And he seemed to keep that promise.

Note: This part can be seen as a (dark and explicit) continuation of The Gift, in which the reader explains how she ended up in the Grabber's basement... to him.

Pairing: Albert Shaw | The Grabber (The Black Phone)/ Fem. Reader

Fandom: The Black Phone (2022)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Kidnapping, Dark Story, Smut.

Additional Tags: Reader Insert, Age Difference, Older Man/Younger Woman, Height Differences, Extremely Dubious Consent, Kidnapping, Female Identifying reader, Angst, Dark Fantasy, Rape/Non-con Elements, Stockholm Syndrome, Dark

Series: Part 2 of The Window

Written for @willshipanything-blog (Not even sure you'll like it when it goes dark and twisted like this but, lol, I promise I'll try and write a sweeter continuation as well for you ;) )

Read [ on AO3 here ] Or read below on Tumblr:

He was going to keep you. The stranger whose house you had barged into had made his promise and kept to it. Waking up to the basement room had you back into a panic, but when your heart calmed down again, and the pain between your legs brought you down to earth, you remembered.

Oh, you remembered how you got here and how things got this far.

A quick glance at the dirt in the corner of the room to see if he had brought a plate, only to realize he was standing there, quietly staring at you. A white polo shirt with thin red stripes vertically and bigger ones horizontally at the hems was covering his chest. It had only a few creases but looked clean. He was wearing brown pants and old man slippers. So ordinary, it made you wince.

Ever since the time he caught you, he’d never shown his true face again. Always there was that damned mask. Sometimes fully, sometimes just half of it. The emotions on it changed as well.

You knew who was behind it though. You’d seen him. You knew the color of his hair and the depths of his pale eyes. You could draw the wrinkles on his head, the crinkles at his eyes whenever he smiled. You knew how his mouth looked, how his lips felt against your skin.

You could measure the size of his hands with two or yours. You knew all the hairs, everywhere, that he had on his body, knew of the shape of his hips or the firmness of his thighs. The way his hipbones pressed against you as his pelvis was pressed to your core, you remembered.

You’d learned the hard way about the shape of his stomach, the lack of hair on his chest, the firmness of his hand when he wielded his belt.

That horrid belt.

How he loved to tie you down to the bed with it, ever since that very first day when he had trapped you in his house. You remembered how tight the belt had felt when he had first used it on you; how the edges cut into your skin whenever you tried to move. He had his big black dog watch you so you couldn’t get away while he moved the rugs. Unfair, it sounded in your mind. How heavy those rugs had been to you, but how easily he carried them away, two at a time. It was not fair, you thought. Nothing about this was.

You had hated how you could not do anything but watch as the man who had tied you to the dingy bed made his way up the stairs, rugs disappearing with him. Your arms were still restricted to the bed, the dog still snarling and growling and sometimes snapping at your feet. You had watched the rugs being carried away until they had all gone, and with them, your chance to escape via the window.

Oh yes, you knew each and every bit of him. From his laughter to his growling as he pounded deep into you, as deep as he could go. You knew the sound of his rapidly increased breathing as he neared his peak, and the feel of the stickiness of his cum as it dripped from your core.

You knew it all, and it was unfair that he had left you guessing at his name. Nothing other than sir, mister or monster. But he was just a man. He had you rasp daddy to him during those moments of heated passion, when he would pin you down to the bed and have his way despite you crying he was in too deep. He urged it out of you, punished you if you didn’t say it.

He loved that you were smaller than him. Younger too. He alluded to your size, to your age, to everything about you that he deemed so different from himself. He often placed you on a pedestal, compared you to goddesses and the virgin Mary.

You were none of that, not any longer. He had made sure of it.

Looking up at him as he stood several feet away, back resting against the grey paint-chipped wall, you hoped he did not see the distaste for him in your eyes. He hated it whenever he caught sight of it, hated that after weeks in his underground prison, you still chose not to love him back. Not fully.

You had to force the memories away. They were all that had been built during the time that he had kept you here. He was your world. He was all you knew now.

And there he was, staring at you like he had done for many of the nights since you arrived. A mask covering his face as if you didn’t know what you would find beneath it. But you would recognize him anywhere. Among crowds. Among any star in the universe.

Your captor. Your keeper.

You rolled over, wincing at the ghostly feel of him still inside of you. He knew how to bruise. You did not know whether he’d done it on purpose and took delight in it, though.

Then your eyes slid to the dried blood and cum stains on the mattress. Your very first time, down here, with him. How dirty you felt knowing what he had done. To know what he had done to you.

He moved. A step forward from the dirt-streaked wall. His polo shirt so ordinary. Like any other man, except he was not.

“Still thinking that they might find you?” he asked, his head tilted, curiously. His mask fittingly neutral today.

“My friends,” you started, but your voice came out dry, barely audible to his ears. My friends will come to find me, you wanted to say. Just… anything to show you had not given up the fight. You’d be out of here, one way or another. But your throat felt swollen and you had to cough. No words came forth. You felt little. Small and isolated.

“Your friends?” he urged you, and you hated it. How curious he sounded, how caring, when you knew he was not.

When had he ever listened to you? Ever since you got here, things had always been done to his terms. He invaded your privacy whenever he fancied, came down to look at you long and hard, even during the nights. He often refused to engage in conversation with you, stating that he just wanted to be with you or liked the look of you.

It made you wonder what was going on in that mind of his.

The mattress dipped under his weight as he sat down next to you. A scent of musky mildew, eggs and something that was all uniquely testosterone invaded you.

His strong hand was upon you, turning you by the shoulder till you faced him. Your lips trembled and you did not dare to look him in the eyes, knowing what you would find there. Raw lust. Possessiveness. A primal need.

“Oh, little dove,” the words came out like a whisper. As if he cared about you.

His free hand drifted to the hem of the shirt you were wearing. His shirt. Your own clothes had long since been discarded and taken away from you. Now you were dressed in his leftovers. Another mark of his ownership of you.

His shirts were a few sizes too big for you and looked more like a dress. He found it easier that way. They gave him easy access to your body whenever he wanted to cope a feel. Like now, you thought, when you felt his calloused hand deftly slide underneath the shirt. His rough fingertips gently tipped against your skin, touch ever so lightly, tracing a pattern upwards, until you felt his strong fingers curl around your breast. His hold was instantly firm, thumb twitching past your nipple, massaging your breast and kneading it in his hot hand.

A gasp escaped you, unbidden, but you could not hold it back. You felt his touch shoot sparks down your body, all the way to your core, betraying your mind. Slick started to form between your legs, your pussy throbbing with each and every pinch his fingers made.

You hated how your body betrayed you. It had only taken a few weeks, but now, whenever he touched your breasts or kissed your neck, slick would form down below, lubricating your passage for his awaiting cock like an invite. That bulbous monster riddled in veins, that was too thick and too large for your body to handle. Yet he made you take all of him, and your body adjusted to his size. Every. Damn. Time.

Fit him like a glove, he'd said. You imagined it being a glove a few sizes off.

You knew he craved you hot and slick and ready. Pussy pulsing and throbbing. You thought that despite your feelings for him, he had trained you well. As if your body adjusted naturally; an instinct to survive that had kicked in. The first time your walls had been dry and it had been awful. Awful, what with the size of him and all. And he had given you no respite, thrusting and grunting and coming deep inside – with only his pre-cum and spit to guide the way.

He usually wasted no time before he penetrated you deep, you knew by now. He'd shown his true colors during the many visits he made. He came downstairs to the basement only to watch or touch or come deep inside. There was nothing else. Just that.

Like now, when he lifted the hem of your shirt to reveal your dripping cunt. How he nudged your legs apart – it only took a soft nudge of his elbow and you spread them. Your own hand instantly snaked between your legs to help him, knowing he liked it this way, your fingers spreading your glistening lips.An invite in. A glistening core. Tight walls pulsing with need.

He positioned the head of his cock between your glistening moist lips, then, without delay, pushed the tip of his throbbing shaft inside. You threw your head back in a gasp, fingers clawing at the stain-streaked mattress below. You felt him, all of him. His ridges, his veins, his pulsing hardness as he thrust deep inside and stroked your vaginal walls. Hot skin deep within you.

He started a firm and modest pace. Deep strokes that made your walls quiver and pulse. Dirty, you thought, while your hands clawed at his shoulders to give you some leverage. This man, who showed you no mercy in his thrusts. Who dived even deeper, hitting your core, making your pussy itch while battering your cervix painfully. This man who grunted dirty little nothings in your ear, gasped and puffed and bit his lip for you to hear. So very close upon you, his sweat covered skin rubbing against yours.

And still, that damned mask would not come off.

Wet, sopping sounds filled the room. The heavy scent of sweat and sex coated you like a thick blanket, suffocating, unable to break away from. The scent filled your lungs as he thrust even deeper, his strokes irregular now as he reached the point of no return. How he loved slicking you up and then filling you up with his seed. How he loved to paint your womb with his semen. He retreated with a loud squelch, his cock popping free from your abused core. How many times had he been within you today? Two? Three? You’d lost count, and you could not quite say. Sometimes, the days seemed like nights here.

You looked at him through your lashes, lying on your back while his hand pushed your tummy down, pinning you to the mattress. Your knees fallen to each side, showing your treasure to him. You could see the fascination in his eyes despite the stupid mask he wore.

His grey-blue eyes were upon you, watching, intently, as the white dribble slowly started to trickle out between your legs, only to push it all back inside of your pussy with one thick thumb, his index finger then joining in as he stuffed you full – and yes, there it was. His finger was all in, all the way up to the knuckle while you heard him whisper for you to be his good girl and take it all in.

A gift for his gift. Why not let him give you something in return, when you came to him so willingly?

You bit your lip and turned your head to the side. You did not want to see this, did not want to see the fascination in those eyes and imagine how he was biting his lip behind that mask in pure fascination. You did not want to feel him push all of the juices back inside, but did you have a choice? How could you not feel his fingers teasing your itching core? Ignore how your sore vaginal walls fluttered around his fingers as he pushed back his sperm and your cum?

Did you have a choice not to? Was there a place to spit it out when he had abused your mouth? To hide his cum after he was done? You tried it, so many times, to just sit on that dirty cracked toilet and push it all out. You’d used your fingers, clawed at your own cunt, tensed all of your muscles, just to get the last traces of him out of you. But like him, his semen was thick, it stuck. It would only escape you hours after he had been done. And if he had abused your mouth, the taste of his cum would remain on your lips and down your throat till the next time he came down to have you taste him. You'd gladly have his eggs and soda, if he hadn't started to cover them in his sperm to ensure you'd never get rid of the taste of him. It'd be nutritious for you, he had said.

He was ingrained in your being, in so many ways.

His fingers diving deep inside of your cunt broke you out of your thoughts and your eyes flew open wide. Another gasp. Your body clenched. “So wet,” you heard him chuckle in your ear, his voice breathy and dangerously low, his breath ghosting past your ear. “So willing.”

You pressed your lips into a tight line and waited for him to remove his hand, but he did not. His fingers remained there, nestled deep within you.

“Thank you,” it were those huskily whispered words that made you close your eyes tightly and turn your head away. He thanked you for wanting to do this with him? But you had not-

He caught your chin with his fingers, aware of how you tried to block him out. But he’d have none of that. He turned your head back to his, forcefully with his fingers on your chin. As if to make a point, he moved his head closer to yours, forcing your lips tightly against his mask.

You knew he was regretting his choice of mask now, that he would have wanted this to be his real lips on your skin. But he had chosen for this, to be masked, and he would stick to it. He always would.

Soft humming in your ear. He was delighted by what he had done. Another wet squelching sound and his fingers were gone. You felt like you could breathe again.

The sound of a zipper and the rustling of clothes. You could hear him fasten his belt.

It took a moment, but you managed to catch your breath and bring it back under control. Your chest moving less rapidly, you turned to face him. You felt the mattress dip again and watched as he lay down next to you, head propped upon his hand as he lay sideways, elbow supporting his weight. He hummed an unknown tune near your ear. The mask muffled the sound somewhat.

“They said this place was abandoned,” you slowly said, while you watched how he seemed to tense up. He was resting on his elbow, mask towards you. His wispy grey hair fell around it like it was part of the attire. You wondered if he was unshaven underneath. If there was a grayish stubble like there had been a few days ago.

“My friends,” you said, swallowing while you gathered your courage. You’d never told him this. You’d never explained how you got to be in his home.

“They said this place was abandoned and dared each other to check it out. I was on my way home when I came across so I…” the words died on your lips when you saw tense again, spine straight. There was a glint in his eyes, one you could not place, and it frightened you. You tugged the shirt you were wearing down, as if it could cover the whole of you and create a barrier between you and your predator.

The man stopped humming and you thought he looked to be lost in thought. Had you said too much?

You saw him sit up fully now. He held his mask, as if the object was about to wobble off.

“Abandoned?” you heard him say, voice muffled from the mouthless mask he wore today. His fingers twitched, and a low laugh escaped his throat. He wanted to change masks, you thought as you studied him. This face did not fit his emotions anymore.

“Oh no,” another dry heaved chuckle, “No, dearie.” It was odd to see this creature, this abomination of a man, propped up on the bed next to you, probably smirking behind his mask. His pale eyes were upon you. “This place is lived in.”

You merely looked at him as if to say, yeah, I figured that now, but then the man started laughing again. His right arm fell to his side, then slid around his own belly. Your eyes traveled there, noticing how the white shirt he was wearing had ridden up, revealing parts of his naked stomach. How often you had felt that part of him pressed against your own. Naked. Sweating.

“Good God, I am lucky.”

You watched as his laughter died down and you imagined how, behind the mask, his tongue came to peek from between his lips, tipping one of his canines as if in thought. You could see his eyes, drifting away from your form and sliding across the room.

The words that came out of him next sounded unbidden; like they were a thought fleeting away from him. “The house, the unlived in house? They must have meant the one across the street.”

You stiffened. Wait. Did that mean…?

But as he said it, his voice faltered. Another realization, you thought. But what?

His whole attitude seemed to change all of a sudden and within a flash, he had scooted to the edge of the bed. With a clap of his hands on his thighs, the man rose. You watched his hand fall to his side, his rings glinting in the faint light that came from the window high above you.

His voice was low, dangerous almost. “You hang in here, dearie. I’ve just been remembered there’s something that needs to be done.”

And with that said he left, leaving behind the realization that your friends, if they had been looking for you would have been visiting the house opposite of the one you were trapped in. And wasn’t that a horrible thought?

#Hope you've had a lovely day dear #Ethan Hawke fandom #The grabber x reader #dark fanfiction #albert shaw x reader #prompt fill #smut fanfiction #black phone dark smut #black phone

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wildernessuntothemselves · 3 years

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Don’t Make Me Jealous Again

Summary: You’re the only muggleborn Slytherin in the history of Hogwarts, and you suffer about as much as one would expect because of it. You didn’t think it was so bad at first as you’d made the unexpected acquaintance of a certain ice prince who was always there to help you when no one was looking. So can anyone blame you when you started developing a crush on him? You even thought that he might like you too. And so, armed with the stupid valor of youth, you made a confession to him in front of the whole dining hall, expecting him to break out into his sweet grin and take you into his arms, and you could finally be together without hiding.

Instead, he brutally turned you down in front of everyone and proceeded to treat you like the dirt under his shoes lest you even make the mistake of thinking you’re worth anything to him again.

So why was he now, a year later when you’d finally moved on from him and everything that happened, so furious that he’s caught you sneaking out from the Gryffindor dormitory after fooling around with Soobin?

Genre: Smut, Angst

Warnings: NONCONSESUAL!!!!- mind control- face fucking- masturbation

A/N: longest summary i ever wrote but I had to explain the backstory since this just jumps straight into action lol

This is a nonconsensual fic. Be careful and read at your own risk!

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You had left the gryffindor dormitories blushy and giddy after having had a slight rendezvous with your long time crush Soobin. He was such a gentleman, and as sweet and shy as you are so you felt more than safe messing around with him despite your inexperience, knowing he'd never hurt you. In fact, you think he might ask you to be his girlfriend soon.

As you made your way back to the Slytherin dormitories however, treading through the midnight darkness of the ancient castle, that feeling of safety dimmed more and more until your skin crawled with the feeling of being watched.

You nearly shriek out when you round a corner and bump into someone, their hard body not yielding and instead your own body being flung back. You're sure you would've hit the ground if it wasn't for the mystery person's arms snaking around your body and pulling you up to steady you against the wall.

"T-Taehyun?" You gulp, coming face to face with the intimidating prefect. The ice prince. The man whose mere gaze could bring you to your knees.

But he's not looking at your eyes, preoccupied instead with the tie partially hidden under your shirt. "Why are you wearing a gryffindor tie?" His soft voice makes you shiver, scaring you more than anyone's shouts would.

Your throat was suddenly parched, making you struggle to form any words. "I-I... Soobinie..."

As soon as you say the other male's name, Taehyun's eyes snap to yours, and you could feel your knees buckling under his gaze.

"This is his?" He asks, thumbing at the brightly colored tie. You would smack yourself if you could, but he was holding you too tightly for that. How could you ever think this could be a good idea, sneaking off from your crush's dormitory with his house's tie around your neck? You thought you were being cheeky, high off the endorphins you got from your encounter with him. But in reality, you were just stupid.

"You snuck into the Gryffindor dormitory to give him a taste of your cunt?"

You gasp at his crude words and try to wriggle out of his grasp but he just presses his body harder against yours and traps you completely against the stone wall.

"You're so easy. At least make him work for it."

"You're wrong. We didn't do anything." You squeak. You don't know why you're lying. You didn't have to justify anything to him. You can do whatever with whoever you want, yet still you find yourself hoping he'd believe you.

"Don't lie to me, slut." He grabs your shirt and tears it open, sending the buttons flying everywhere and exposing your bare breasts to him, Soobin having taken your bra in exchange for the tie.

"What are you doing?" You try to cover yourself with your hands but Taehyun quickly mutters a spell under his breath that has your hands pinned against the wall. With your arms now out of the way, he's free to grope your breasts.

"What are all these hickies then?" He tuts, his hands rough as he squeezes your breasts and pinches your nipples. "You've really let him do whatever he wants to your whore body. That makes me really mad, baby. I thought you liked me," He lets one of his hands drop between your legs to stroke over your pussy. "but I guess you'll go to anyone who'll fill your holes."

"Stop it. Why are you doing this?" You cry, struggling against your invisible bounds but not even making them budge. "You rejected me."

"Because you're stupid! Asking me out in front of everyone. You know I can't be seen with the mudblood. Doesn't mean you're not mine." He growls, hand slipping under your panties and pushing a finger into you. It's a tight fight despite your regrettable wetness at his ministrations. "Shit, you're so tight. At least you weren't that much of an empty headed whore to let him take your virginity. That is mine, baby."

You pale at his claim. "Are you g-gonna--"

"Fuck you?" He finishes for you and you wince as his finger pumps in and out of your pussy. "Yes but not here. I'll have you in the prefect's quarters so we can get all the space and privacy we need. It's going to be a long night for you."

"But I don't want to."

He laughs at your protest. "It's cute that you think you get a say in this. You can't be trusted after you've shown yourself to be a loose whore who'll run after any dick that offers."

The tears stream freely down your face now. "I'm not a whore! Me and Soobin like each other."

He slaps your face, anger filling up his expression. "Don't fucking say his name again. You think anyone would love a mudblood like you?"

You don't know what possessed you to defy him. You know the punishment will be severe just from the fury on his face but it's the only thing you can do, the only form of protest, the only way you can hurt him, so you do. "Soobin loves me."

What he utters is something you would have never expected in your wildest dreams.

"Imperio."

You don't even get to express your shock before the spell takes over your body.

"On your knees." He commands hoarsely, and your body smoothly falls to the ground, no hint of resistance from your muscles, and you wonder how much he practiced that spell to be able to do it so seamlessly.

But the horror just keeps on coming. Now eye level with his crotch, you see clearly as he undoes his pants and pulls his cock out, but instead of putting it to your lips right away, he drags the hardened length all over your face, humiliating you as his precum smears over your skin and he lets out little gasps of pleasure. "That's it. That's where you belong, mudblood. On your knees for your master."

You can't even cry anymore as he finally presses the head of his dick against your mouth. "Open."

He hisses as you easily take his length in, the spell making it so you don't gag or flinch away as his length pushes down your throat. "Gonna wipe his name from your whore mouth."

Taehyun is ruthless as he fucks your face, and even though your body gives him no resistance, it still hurts to have his cock repeatedly ram down your throat and his crotch slap into your face.

You're making an embarrassing mess around him in no time, saliva and precum gurgling around his cock and dripping over your chest, obscene sounds filling the ancient hallways around you.

You wonder if anyone would hear and come to your rescue. You wonder if you even want to be seen like this, even if it meant you'd get to escape from the cruel man above you, moving your head over his cock like you were a disposable toy for him to use.

But ultimately you know no one would hear you. Taehyun is smart, and it wouldn't have slipped his mind to put a silencing charm around you, and if he could use an unforgivable curse with such ease then he certainly knew a spell or two that could divert any unwanted attention.

You vision starts getting foggy from the lack of oxygen and you wonder if he'd even notice if he killed you. How would he know when he has total control of your body and you have no way of warning him of your impending loss of consciousness.

To your surprise, he somehow senses it, pulling back from your mouth with a lewd squelch, his cock dislodging from your mouth dragging a gush of spit with it.

"Fuck, you look like a mess." He strokes your hair, almost fondly but you can't look up to see if his face is as soft as his tone. All you see is his slick and swollen dick hanging heavy between his legs.

"Pull your shirt open for me." He murmurs and you immediately obey, pulling apart the fabric that had fallen to cover your chest again. He grunts as your breasts come into view.

"That damned tie." He wraps the tie around his knuckles until there is only a small part between his fist and your neck then he pulls on it, tightening the knot around your neck and restricting your breathing. "Touch your tits."

You do as he says, and if you could move, your body would shiver as soon as you touched your nipples, and for the first time you feel lucky that you can't.

You hear a slick sound as Taehyun starts pumping his dick to the sight of you. "Play with your pussy." He whispers, and immediately one of your hands goes to rub at your clit, shameful pleasure burning in your belly at your own hands touching yourself and you wonder if the imperius curse can control your pleasure too.

Yeah, that must be it. You can't possibly be aroused under these disgusting circumstances. It was all the work of the sick man standing over you.

But Taehyun can't even let you lie to yourself, as he suddenly takes the spell off you, and you body immediately jerks at the pleasure.

He groans out loud as he sees your body react to your own touch. "Yeah, that's it. Make yourself cum for me, baby."

You marvel at how you still have the resolve to disobey after all he put you through, stopping your movements in spite of his command.

Cold fury passes over his face and you flinch, immediately regretting your small act of defiance. He tightens the tie around your throat again.

"Would you rather I choke you on my dick then? Maybe after I cum in your mouth I should leave you strewn on the floor for everyone to find you in the morning."

"No!" You cry, your voice barely coming out of your abused throat, and you quickly put your hands back on yourself, touching yourself for him like he wanted.

He sighs at your quick defeat, leaning back into his own touch again and loosening his grip on the tie. "You have so much training to go through before you can be my perfect pet."

"Please let me go." You choke out, still rubbing your fingers over your nipples and your pussy even as you beg. "I don't want this."

"I'm sorry, baby." He didn't sound sorry at all, his face twisted in euphoria as he neared his orgasm. "I promise I won't be so harsh in the future. You just gotta be a good pet and not make me mad."

His hand lets go of your tie and falls to your chest to palm your breasts. You instinctively arch in his touch, and when his fingers pull lightly on your nipple, you cum.

Valiantly, you try to conceal your orgasm, biting down on your tongue to not make any sounds but it's no use, he can see the fucked out look on your face and the way your body shudders with the intense pleasure.

"Yeah, like that. Good girl." He groans, hand faltering over his dick as he too cums, his seed spurting over your face and dripping down to join the mess on your tits.

He continues lazily stroking his dick as he looks down at you, clearly proud of the mess he made of you.

"You look perfect." He purrs, content. "You look all mine."

"Don't make me jealous again."

___________

A/N: anyway if you have a yandere or hybrid txt idea send it to me and I might write something like this for you too (but most likely way shorter)

#txt smut #taehyun smut

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sergeantsporks · 3 years

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Another Shot at Life

Rating: General Audiences, Gen

TW: Child abuse, emotional manipulation

Ao3

Hunter accidentally makes his way into the human realm and can't get back home. But he's discovering that might not be such a bad thing.

Ch 6/7: Fall into Your Nightmare

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5

Hunter watched the portal close, tears rolling down his face. Belos pulled him away.

“Hunter, I thought you were better than that. Really, your lack of loyalty is painful.” He coughed. “Agh—”

Hunter bit back a whine of pain as Belos’ grip tightened even further, and his arm started to go numb and tingly.

Belos steered him back through the hallways to his room. “You are going to stay in there. I will have meals brought up. Do not leave this room.” Belos tugged Hunter’s gloves away. “Oh, and I’ll be taking these, in case you had any ideas about trying to get back to the human realm.

He slammed the door shut and locked it. Hunter’s legs wobbled, and he staggered to his bed, sitting down.

She would have fought for me.

But this had been the right choice, right? Even if Camila and Vee would have fought for him, they wouldn’t have won. How could they?

Red fluttered out of his pocket, chirping sadly. Hunter cupped the palisman in his hands. “We’ll be fine. I still have you, and—this isn’t so bad. If he won’t let me out of my room, then there’s no chance that he’ll send me after Luz, right? Right. Really, this is probably the best outcome I could have hoped for when I ran away. A couple of bruises and not-so-solitary confinement? I’m getting off easy.” He swiped tears out of his eyes. “Yeah. This is—it’s fine. We’ll be okay. And Camila and Vee are safe, and that’s what really matters.”

The door creaked open, and multi-colored eyes glared hatefully at him. Hunter jumped up. “What do you want?”

Kikimora pushed the door shut behind her. Her eyes flashed dangerously, and the coven patch on Hunter’s arm started to burn, glowing red and black. A wave of pain hammered up his nerves, and his vision went blurry.

“Belos might have forgiven your attack on me,” Kikimora hissed, taking a step closer, “but I have not.”

The patch throbbed, and Hunter clutched his arm to his chest, looking around wildly for his staff—but of course, Belos had taken his coven staff away. Red fluttered to him, shifting into a staff, and he swung it towards Kikimora.

She lazily drew a circle in the air, and his staff flew from his hand. Another wave of pain swept up from his arm, and his legs gave out, tears pricking at his eyes.

“Hngh—Kiki—”

“What are you going to do?” she taunted, looming over him. “Fight back? I doubt Emperor Belos will let you get away with it twice. Tell on me? I’ll claim I caught you attempting an escape. Naturally, I had to stop you. Guess who he’ll believe? I’m in the emperor’s good graces. Not you.”

His coven patch faded to its usual color, and Kikimora turned her back on him, striding back to the door. “Just remember your place, Golden Guard.”

The door clicked shut behind her, and Hunter curled into a ball, waiting for the pain in his arm to subside. Red fluttered down next to him, chirping anxiously.

He managed a smile. “I’m okay—that doesn’t hurt nearly as much as she thinks it does.” Hunter sat up, rubbing the patch. “I promise you, we’re going to be okay.”

Xxx

Hunter jumped to his feet as he heard a familiar cough echoing down the hallway. He grabbed Red as Belos burst in. His uncle’s chest was heaving frantically, and cursed goop dripped from his face.

“Give me—the palisman,” he rasped.

Hunter’s heart stuttered in his chest, and he clutched Red close to his chest, backing away. “You said I could keep it if I came back,” he accused.

“That was before your disobedience caused me another attack,” Belos snarled, holding a hand out, “Give it to me!”

Hunter shook his head. “N-no.”

Belos lunged towards him with a growl, making a grab for Red with a hand that was half liquid. Hunter turned his back to his uncle, shielding the bird. Belos’ grasping hand slammed into his back, and all of the air rushed out of Hunter’s lungs with a whoosh. He staggered forward to the window, launching his palisman out. “Get—out of—here—” he wheezed.

Belos ripped him back from the window with a roar, reaching out the window for Red, but the palisman fluttered out of reach, diving down away from the window.

Belos gasped as more and more of his body shifted into a goopy mess. Hunter scooted backwards, but the room wasn’t big enough, and Belos’ curse lashed out. Hunter rolled to the side to avoid one flailing tendril, but another one caught him, throwing him back into the bed. His head hit the frame with a crack, and everything went a little fuzzy. He didn’t know how long he was lying there, but when he came to, Belos was back to normal, breathing heavily.

Hunter pulled himself into a sitting position, his head spinning. He tucked his head between his knees, willing the sharp pain to go away.

“You should have… given me… the palisman…” Belos gasped, “Hunter… you know… better… than to set off… the curse…”

Hunter closed his eyes, sick to his stomach. “Camila s-said… you shouldn’t blame me…” he whimpered, rubbing the back of his head.

“What was that?”

Hunter hugged himself, his shoulders shaking. “N-nothing.”

“Hunter, Hunter, Hunter. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to be the bad guy. I hate to be the villain. And if you’d just listen the first time, things like this wouldn’t happen.

Belos put a hand on his head. Hunter was sure it was supposed to be comforting, but the touch sent another spike of pain hammering through his skull. He whimpered, and Belos shook his head, walking out.

“I do wish you wouldn’t make me be the bad guy, Hunter.”

Red fluttered through the window when Belos was gone, tweeting in concern and landing on Hunter’s hand. Hunter retched as his head swam, tears running down his face.

“I—I want to go b-back,” he sniffed, scrubbing at his eyes, “I want—I want—”

Red gently pecked his hand, and flew to the window, chirping.

Hunter looked up. “R-run away again? B-belos would just find me.”

Red tweeted that Belos couldn’t possibly search the whole isles, and there were plenty of places to hide. And people who would help him.

Hunter staggered to his feet, stumbling to the window. “How?” he croaked.

Red shifted into its staff form, flapping its wings. The staff floated, and Hunter hesitantly climbed on, clutching onto the staff for dear life as his palisman took off, shooting out the window.

To their credit, they made it all the way to the wall before Kikimora swooped next to them on a massive hand demon.

“Return to your room, or I will be forced to take action against you, Golden Guard.”

“Where does she keep getting those?” Hunter muttered. He nudged them down into a dive, aiming for an arch that was just a little bit blurry—how hard had he hit his head?

Almost immediately, the patch on his arm burned, sending a shockwave of pain up his arm. Hunter fell off of the staff, tumbling to the ground. Red stopped, fluttering back to him as Kikimora strode across the ground towards him. With a wave of her hand, ropes appeared, snaking around Hunter’s arms and dragging him back towards the keep.

Kikimora ‘tsked.’ “The emperor will have to hear of this. A good thing I was here to stop you—if you’d gotten out of my range of sight, I wouldn’t be able to activate your patch.”

“What—a shame.”

Red dove down and pecked at Kikimora’s head, shrieking and undoing her hair tie so that her hair fell into her eyes. Hunter bolted as his coven patch returned to normal, his palisman fluttering after him.

HUNTER!

Hunter froze as Belos’ voice echoed around him. Red chirped for him to come on, hurry, but Hunter couldn’t move.

Belos was angry.

Really angry.

Hunter hadn’t known the difference until now. Before, it had always been a cold, calculating anger. He could pin it now more as… Displeasure, maybe?

But this was angry.

At him.

Before it had just been disappointment. Now? Now he was driving Belos up the wall. Belos was actually going to lose it at him.

His mind screamed at him to run, go, go, go, but his legs wouldn’t move as Belos strode towards him, huge and rageful. One hand reached out and snatched Red out of the air, and finally, Hunter could move, fueled by blind panic.

“G-give it back!”

“No. You can’t be trusted with it. Running away, Hunter? After I gave you another chance? This creature of wild magic is a bad influence on you. I will be taking your pet away until you prove you can be responsible.”

Hunter grabbed for Red as the little bird struggled against Belos’ grip. “No!”

Belos grabbed his shoulder to stop him, adding a new layer of bruises. “Stop this at once,” he hissed, “You are behaving like a child. I raised you better than this!”

He squeezed Red tight, and at the cardinal’s chirp of pain, Hunter stopped struggling.

“You will return to your room,” Belos hissed, “You will stay there. If I catch you trying to run away again…” he squeezed Red just a little harder. “…just don’t run away, Hunter.”

Hunter nodded. “Yes, sir,” he murmured in a hoarse whisper, trudging back through the palace while the coven scouts and guards whispered. He struggled to latch the door, his head spinning, and after the third miss, he gave up, kicking the door, then hopping up and down on one foot in pain with a yell.

Hunter flopped back on his bed, tears pricking at his eyes.

“I want to go home.” The whisper escaped his lips, and panic built up in his chest. He wasn’t ever going to get out of here. Belos would keep him locked up forever, and he would never see Vee or Camila again, and he was trapped, and he couldn’t get out, and no one here cared about him, and he would die here, alone, and no one cared, and he was trapped.

Hunter unbuckled his chest plate, throwing it across the room with a certain kind of savage pleasure as it clanged against the floor. It had used to feel protective, like a shell shielding him from the world. Now it just felt restrictive, like a cage. The cloak followed, the coven symbol on the pin gleaming mockingly at him.

Hunter scrambled down halfway under his bed, pulling out the clothes Camila had given him, and he changed into them, pulling the over-sized hoodie over his head with a sigh of relief. He pulled the hood up and retracted his arms into the sleeves, curling his knees to his chest and chewing on the ends of the hoodie strings.

The fabric smelled like the Noceda house.

Hunter buried his face in his arms, his stomach nauseous.

I want to go home.

Hunter drifted off into a half-dazed dream, voices from coven guards floating in and out.

The Golden Guard is just a kid.

Whoof. He doesn’t look too good.

You think he’s sick?

What is he wearing?

Hunter blearily opened his eyes. Ugh—his head was still throbbing, little pulses of pain emanating from the back of his head where he’d hit the bedframe. Hunter shuffled to his first aid kit, pulling out a pain patch and slapping it on the back of his neck. The pain in his head subsided, but the disoriented, displaced feeling stayed.

“Golden Guard.”

Hunter flinched at Belos’ voice, turning around to see his uncle looking down at him, and casting an irritated glance at the messy heap that was his uniform. Hunter drooped. “Sir…”

“What. Are you wearing.”

Hunter tugged at the ends of his hoodie sleeves. “I just thought—that if I was staying up here anyway,” he said in a small voice, “and if I wasn’t going to leave, that it didn’t really… matter what I wore?”

Belos’ lip curled. “Put your uniform back on. Then you will join me. There is something I want you to see.”

Belos swept out, and Hunter sat down on his bed with a whump, still dazed and groggy. He stared bleakly at his uniform, then started to change with a sigh. Was there any point in resisting? He couldn’t run away, he couldn’t get back to the human realm. Maybe… maybe if he just stopped acting up, things could go back to the way they’d been. Belos would stop being angry for running away eventually, if he just behaved himself. If he proved that he could still be loyal, if he could prove that he was still useful… maybe he would be able to leave the keep again. He could work on getting his palisman back. He just had to get back into Belos’ good graces.

Hunter folded the human clothes up neatly, burying his face in the hoodie for a minute, then pushing the pile back under the bed. He poked his head out into the hallway, where Belos was waiting.

“Come along, Hunter.”

Hunter trudged next to his uncle, zoning out as they passed through hallways until they came to the dungeon. Hunter blinked, swallowing hard. Well, he hadn’t thought life could get much worse, but apparently, Belos didn’t care about appearances anymore.

But Belos led him to the very back, to a solitary cell.

“I thought you’d like a reminder of your time in the human realm,” Belos purred.

Hunter peered in the cell, and his heart stopped in his chest.

Vee.

Chained to the wall, bruises showing on her face.

He shook himself, forcing himself to think through it. No, that was Luz, not Vee. Which wasn’t ideal either, but he knew Luz could handle herself. “What—what is she doing here?”

“She’s attempting to build a portal. I want to know how close she is.” Belos put a hand on his shoulder, pushing him towards the cell. “And you are going to find out for me. After all, you’re some sort of human expert now, hm? You spent time inside of her home, you know her family.” Belos held out his coven staff. “Prove to me that you are still loyal. Prove that you can leave the people in the human realm behind. Find out about her portal by any means possible. Perhaps if I see you can be trusted, I’ll even return your palisman to you.”

That clicked in Hunter’s numb mind. Prove his loyalty—even if he wasn’t sure about it himself, doing this could get that loyalty back, right? Prove he was useful, prove that Belos could still use him, and then he could get back to some semblance of normal. He couldn’t get back to the human realm—he might as well stop moping about it and make the best of his situation.

But that was Camila’s daughter!

That was Luz, the first person to be nice to him!

It didn’t help that she and Vee were identical.

Prove that you can be trusted.

Xxx

Luz lifted her head as the cell door creaked open. “Back for more?” she quipped shakily.

Hunter shuffled in, closing the door behind him. “Uh. Hey.”

“Oh, are we playing good cop, bad cop? Warden Wrath was the bad cop, now you’re the good cop? Fun.”

Hunter looked down at the ground, his knuckles white on his coven staff. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said softly, “Please just tell me about your portal.”

“Ehehehe, no.” Luz twirled a finger in the air. “Props to you for asking nicely, though, that is a nice change.” She glanced at Hunter. “Hey—you okay?” his face was pale, way too pale, and his eyes didn’t seem… quite focused. Then she spotted the healing patch on his neck. “Whoa, what happened to you?”

“I’m supposed to be asking the questions.”

“What, I can’t express concern for my jailer?”

His hands shook. “You’re in a much worse position, here. You’re not looking great, either.”

“Well, yeah. I’m the prisoner. Hunter. Seriously. Are you okay?”

Hunter glanced at the door. “I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

Right, that was a big fat lie.

“I—I met your mother.”

Luz felt a steely cold settle over her soul. “If you’ve hurt her I will—”

“No! I…” Hunter ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t do this. Luz. Please. It is really, really, really important to me that you tell me about your portal.”

There was a certain kind of desperation in his voice that made Luz pause. “…Hunter?” she asked quietly, “What happened?”

He glanced back at the door again. “I—I went to the human realm,” he said in a low voice, “I met Camila and Vee.”

Luz’s eyes widened. “And? Are they okay?”

“They’re fine.” He hesitated, then took a deep breath. “I stayed with them for a while, but Belos came to take me back, and everything since then has just been… he has my palisman, Luz.” Hunter’s chest heaved frantically, and he ran a hand through his hair. “He has my palisman, and I keep making him really mad, and Kikimora-!”

“Hey—Hunter—whoa—deep breaths.”

He looked like he might just be sick on the floor of her cell, but he inhaled deeply.

Man. She couldn’t just leave him like that—and she definitely didn’t want Lil Rascal to get hurt. “Okay. Look. Hunter. You can tell Belos that I’m nowhere close to finishing that portal, and I’m nearly out of titan’s blood, anyway.”

He squinted at her. “Is that the truth?”

Actually, she still had a good amount of titan’s blood left, but Belos didn’t need to know that. “Unfortunately, yes. Hunter, look—I hope you get your palisman back. I really do. But also… I’ve broken out of here before. I’ll do it again. Just… don’t try to stop me when I do, okay? I don’t want to hurt you, I think you’re dealing with enough right now. But I will fight to escape. I can promise you that.”

He rubbed his arms. “I tried to run away,” he admitted in a whisper, “It… didn’t go well. Best of luck, but… don’t get your hopes up. If Belos wants you to stay here, you won’t be going anywhere.”

Xxx

Hunter blankly watched Red hop around his room. He should have felt happy he’d gotten his palisman back. Or at the very least, he should have felt relieved.

But he just felt tired. He’d won this time. He’d gotten Red back safe and sound, he hadn’t even had to hurt Luz to get the little bird.

But it wasn’t over, he knew that. This was just a respite until Belos confiscated his palisman again, or Kikimora decided she wanted to hurt him again, or Belos decided he wanted something else.

And it was just going to keep on going.

Best behavior. Prove he was trustworthy, banish the lingering feelings from his time in the human realm. He could do this—he’d always had to claw his way to the top, he could do it again.

He heard yelling and explosions outside, and he went to the window. A small figure in a blue cape was running for the walls, knocking out coven guards right and left. Luz.

Hunter leaned on the windowsill with a small smile, watching her progress. She made it all the way to the walls, and slapped down a glyph, a pillar of ice rocketing her towards the top.

Only for an attack from Kikimora to knock her off. He winced as she hit the ground, and coven guards grabbed her arms, dragging her back inside. The smile faded from his face, and he closed the window.

Red warbled sadly, and Hunter sighed.

“Yeah. I hoped she’d make it, too.”

He waited about an hour, then rifled through his first aid kit, pulling out a few pain patches. He slowly pushed the door open, checking both ways for anyone coming down the hallway, then crept out, palisman on his shoulder. He snuck through the hallways and down to the dungeon, unlocking Luz’s cell door with a creak, and slipping inside, checking one more time for guards.

She lifted her head when he came in, wincing. “Oh. Heyyyyyy. Are we… doing another interrogation?”

“Shh.” Hunter pulled up her sleeve, putting a few pain patches on her arm, then rolling the sleeve back down. “Those should make it hurt less,” he whispered, “They’re more effective if you put ‘em on the back of your neck, but Belos or one of the guards would see it there.” He shuffled back, rubbing his arm. “Sorry I can’t do more, but I… I’d get in really big trouble.”

She managed a faint grin. “Awwwww thankssss, Hunter. You’re not… such a bad guy.”

Hunter glanced out the little window in the cell door. Still no one out there. Of course, Belos could be watching at any moment, but he was pretty certain that he would have heard an angry voice telling him to get out if he was. “Do you think… isn’t Amity Blight going to come for you?”

Luz shook her head. “I… was on a solitary training retreat… to the Knee… my friends won’t expect me back for a while.” She blinked at him. “Thanks for… for helping me.”

“’s not a lot.” Hunter turned to go. “I’ll leave you alone, now. In case you want to try escaping again.”

“No, wait!”

He paused at the door, looking back at her.

“Stay and talk to me? How’s my mom?”

Hunter sat down on the floor, crisscross with his hands on his ankles. “She misses you. She wants you to come home. But she and Vee are… they’re happy, I think.”

“Yeah?”

“Your mom, she… she took me in. Even after she found out I was your enemy. She was nice to me. I… I was happy there.”

“Why’d you come back?”

Hunter shook his head. “Didn’t have a choice. Belos came for me, and if I hadn’t come… he just would have hurt your mom and taken me back anyway. He can go to the human realm whenever he wants, he has the door, and he has enough blood in the key to go back as many times as he needs to drag me back.”

Luz was quiet for a moment. “What if… he didn’t have the key?”

“Wh-What?”

“If we got the key away from him—”

Hunter stood up so fast it made his head spin. “I can’t steal the key! Are you insane?!”

“Insanely clever! Ah, come on, I’ve tricked him before.”

Hunter shook his head. “I want to escape. Not get myself killed. Or worse.” He went to the door. “The sooner you come to terms with the truth, be better off you’ll be. We’re both stuck here—or at least, you are until your friends realize you’re missing. If you keep trying to escape, you’ll just keep getting hurt. Belos doesn’t let prisoners go.”

Hunter left the cell, closing and locking the door behind him. He turned around, and yelped. “E-emperor Belos!”

His uncle shook his head. “Hunter, what are you doing down here?”

“Getting… the human… to trust me?” he tried.

Belos held a hand out. “Palisman.”

Hunter grabbed Red, holding him close. “I swear I wasn’t going to help her escape, I promise!”

“Palisman, Hunter. I don’t want to keep taking your pet, but if you keep proving you can’t be trusted, then I have no choice.”

Hunter backed up, pressing his back to the cell door and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Hey, goop man!” Luz called from inside of the cell, “Leave him alone! I’m the problem!”

Belos glanced in the cell. “Quiet.”

“No! You leave Hunter alone, he didn’t do anything!”

Xxx

Luz waited, holding her breath. She was not going to be the reason Hunter or his palisman got hurt—he’d just been trying to help her.

Belos’ eye stared into her cell. “Are you really so eager to rush your own petrification, human?”

“Oh, please, is that supposed to be scary? You’ve already failed to kill me several times.”

Belos straightened. “If you two enjoy each other’s company so much, why don’t you have a little sleepover together?” he said in a voice steely with rage. Luz heard a yelp from Hunter, and then the sound of a door locking. “No—wait—Uncle, I promise I won’t come down again, don’t—”

“Goodnight, Hunter.”

The dungeon door closed behind Belos, plunging them into darkness.

Luz could hear ragged breathing from the cell next to hers. Oh, boy. Not again. “Hey—Hunter, buddy. Deep breath. Deep breath, buddy. You’re okay. I’m right over here. It’s just a dark cell, it’ll be okay. Deep breath.” She heard Lil Rascal’s chirp. “Hey, wait, you still have your palisman? Just break out!”

“Why, so Belos can catch me and lock me up somewhere else?” Hunter snarled miserably.

“Oh. Yeah. At least here you’ve got company, eh?”

She heard a deep sigh.

Xxx

“Hey. I’m sorry I got you in trouble.”

Hunter leaned against the wall. “I haven’t been out of trouble since I got back here.”

Luz chuckled. “That doesn’t sound like you, golden boy.”

“Thanks for… for standing up for me. If he’d taken Red away again I—” Red snuggled against him, and Hunter scratched the palisman’s head. “Luz? Why did you—why did you run away from home?”

Luz was quiet for a moment. “I… I wasn’t trying to run away. Not really. I always planned on going back, I just… everything happened so FAST, and then I’d destroyed the portal—or I thought I did, anyway. I just… I never fit in. Guess it sounds like a pretty silly reason to run away to you, huh?

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s just—I mean—I love my mom a lot. And I know she tries her hardest. And I did feel bad about leaving her behind—it was just that the rest of my world… I didn’t fit in, and I wanted something more. But Belos is horrible to you. I’d understand if you wanted to run away.”

Hunter curled his knees up to his chest. “It wasn’t always like this. It used to be—well, better. He wasn’t ever as caring or kind as Camila, but he… he wasn’t this bad. But then I ran away to the human realm, and I just… He’s really upset, you know? Like I’m sure your mom is, too. It’ll settle down eventually, I guess, he can’t be mad forever. It would probably help if I stopped getting into trouble.”

Luz was quiet for a moment. “But what if it shouldn’t settle down?”

“What?”

“Hunter, you don’t have to take this! Fight back!”

Hunter shook his head, nauseous at the thought. “It’s not… You can do that, Luz, you live in a world where a—a plucky attitude can get you out of a bad situation, and good wins, and the power of friendship or whatever can do anything. That’s not how it is for me, Luz. If I keep standing up, I’m just going to keep getting knocked down. It doesn’t matter what the issue is, the fight doesn’t end until I’ve lost. I can’t win, Luz.”

“So you’re just going to give up?”

“Yeah, okay? I’m giving up. It’s not just about me anymore—I have to watch out for Red, too. If I keep fighting back, Belos will hurt me, he’ll hurt Red—it’s just not worth it.”

“But—”

“I’m done talking about it, Luz.”

“Fine.”

There was a small explosion from the cell next to him, and Luz burst out into the open with a small grin. “What if you didn’t have to be here?”

Hunter’s heart started to thud in his chest. “Wh-what?”

Luz drew a glyph on the floor, and vines erupted from the ground, ripping his cell door off of its hinges. “I’m breaking you out, Mr. Tragic, let’s go!”

“I—I can’t, he’ll catch us!”

Luz shrugged. “Oh, well.” She drew another glyph, and a block of ice rose up, encasing him.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

“Kidnapping you!” Luz slapped a fire glyph on the back of the ice block, and Hunter shot forward towards the door, Luz clinging to the back.

“Stop it! You’re going to get us both in trouble!”

“Belos’ fault, really, for leaving you down there with me.”

They shot up the stairs, and Red fluttered after them, turning into its staff form. Luz grinned. “Good idea!”

She used a plant glyph to tie Hunter’s ice block to the staff and sat on it. “Let’s go!”

“Traitor,” Hunter grumbled to his palisman, but hope fought his panic. Luz had nearly made it last time—and with his palisman, she had a way to get over the wall.

They zoomed through the hallways, Luz immobilizing coven guards along the way. Hunter’s heart pounded, leaping up to his mouth. They were going to make it—this time, they were really going to—

A blast of magical energy barely missed Luz, and she dove to the side, glaring down at Kikimora, who was standing next to Belos, her finger smoking. “Hey!” Luz yelled angrily, “I’ve got Hunter—you really going to risk me dropping him?”

For a moment, just a moment, Hunter thought he saw Belos hesitate. But then he nodded to Kikimora, and another energy blast slammed into Luz, knocking her out of the sky and severing the vines securing Hunter to the staff.

Wind whipped past his face as he fell, but he barely even noticed, his mind numb.

Belos would let him die rather than escape.

Red dove down with a shriek, slamming into the ice block so hard it broke. Hunter grabbed the staff, hanging on for dear life as he scrambled to get into a sitting position. Then he angled the staff down. “GO!”

They dove down towards Luz as she fell, wind whistling in his ears. They shot past her, and Hunter pulled up. Luz slammed into him, and they plummeted again, Red straining to hold them both up. They skidded into the courtyard, tumbling to a stop, and Hunter flopped on the ground with a groan, Luz unconscious on the ground.

Belos glided over, peering down at him as coven guards hauled Luz away again. “Excellent work, Hunter.”

“I almost died!” The words burst out of his mouth before he could stop them. “You were going to let me die!”

“I knew you could handle it,” Belos said dismissively. His eyes glinted. “Besides, I won’t negotiate with rebels, and she should learn that.” He started to walk back towards the keep. “Clean yourself up, you look a mess.”

Red tweeted anxiously, hopping up to him.

Hunter hauled himself into a sitting position with a wince, picking up the bird. “’m okay.”

Red chirped again, glancing in the direction the guards had taken Luz.

“I know—I want her to get out, too, but I just… I don’t think she can make it out of these walls, the perimeter is just too secure.”

Hunter watched after Belos, the gears in his mind quietly clicking.

But what if there were a way for her to escape without ever leaving the walls?

Xxx

Luz was half asleep when she heard it. A thump and a yelp from the guard that Belos had permanently posted, then the click of a key in a lock. She somehow just knew from the sound that it was Hunter, even before he poked his head in.

“Okay, we’re getting out of here.” He unlocked her from the wall, and she fell, her legs wobbly. “Whoa!” He caught her, lowering her gently to the floor and pulling out a couple of the pain patches he’d used before, pasting them to the back of her neck. “I’m going to get you home.”

“Home?”

Hunter held an arm out, and his palisman fluttered through the door and landed on his arm, the portal key in its mouth. He took the key. “You’re taking the portal out of here, back to Camila. Oh—and I’m coming with you.”

Luz blinked as the aching in her muscles and the throbbing in her head subsided. “How’d you get that? And what about Belos, aren’t you worried he’ll see us?”

“Well, to answer both of your questions…” Hunter winced. “Let’s just say that I set up some traps specifically designed to set off his curse, and Red lured him in.” His face paled, like what he’d done had just now caught up to him. “Ohhhhhhhhhh, he’s going to be so mad.”

“Well, we’ll just have get out of here before his curse recedes,” Luz said confidently. She hauled herself up. “Lead the way!”

They crept through the hallways, Hunter jumping at every sound.

And then Luz heard it.

A drip, drip, drip, and ragged breathing.

Hunter went white as a sheet, and he turned to face the noise, jabbing one finger behind him. “Down the hallway, giant doors, can’t miss it. I’ll misdirect him and meet you there.”

“Hunter are you—”

“Go!”

Xxx

Hunter took a deep breath and tucked Red and the key into his pocket as Belos shambled towards him, the ooze of the curse dripping on the floor.

“U-uncle Belos, you shouldn’t be out like this, let me help you get somewhere—”

“The human,” Belos rasped, “She’s escaped. I can feel it. And your palisman is helping her.”

“Then she’s—she’s probably outside, again, making another go at the walls, we should—”

“No. She’s… trying to return home. She has the key.”

Hunter ran around the emperor, standing in front of him. “But she doesn’t want to go home! She likes it here, besides, why would she be so stupid as to head deeper into the keep, that doesn’t make any sense, it makes way more sense for her to have stolen the key for the blood in it and she’s probably going to keep trying to make her portal, I mean—”

“Step aside, Hunter.”

Hunter backpedaled, keeping himself between Belos and the throne room door. “Really, we should go to the walls and look for her, she tends to make a mess of the guards, and—”

Belos’ curse lashed out, throwing him against the wall. Hunter collapsed in a dazed heap, blinking stars out of his eyes. “I said to step aside,” Belos growled. He put one hand on Hunter’s head. “Just stay down, Hunter. I can still pretend you had nothing to do with this. You don’t have to implicate yourself with her.”

He strode towards the door, leaving Hunter crumpled on the ground. He slowly pulled out the key, clutching it tightly.

She’s… trapped.

Xxx

Luz hopped from one foot to another. “C’mon, Hunter, where are you?”

The door creaked open, and she brightened. “Hunter?”

“I’m afraid Hunter will not be joining us,” Belos’ voice oozed.

A chill ran down Luz’s spine. “What did you do to him?” she demanded.

“You and your family turned him against me,” Belos hissed, “I’m sure it will distress him, but you must be eliminated.”

Luz backed up, reaching for her glyphs. “I’m not so easy to take down!”

Belos tilted his head. “Maybe not. But there’s someone else who posed an even greater influence on him—perhaps you will escape.” The emperor leaned in. “But I know exactly where to find your mother and the basilisk.”

There was a thump, and a singular boot thudded to the ground, bouncing off of the back of Belos’ head. He turned around. “What—”

In a flash of gold, Hunter appeared just above Belos, his palisman in its staff form and cackling with red electricity. Hunter swung the staff, catching Belos right in the mask. Belos fell, and Hunter landed, breathing heavily. “Don’t—you—touch—them—” he snarled.

Luz crowed, half-tackling him in a hug. “You did it!”

“Huh?”

“You stood up to him, Hunter, you fought back!”

He glanced down at Belos, face pale. “… I did. Oh, titan. I am so dead.”

“Then let’s get out of here!”

Hunter clicked the key, and the portal hummed, opening up. Luz raced back into the human realm, turning back. “Come on!”

Hunter was busy tugging on his shoe, hopping on one foot. “Hang on—”

He took a step forward, then stopped, his eyes widening and darting down.

Luz glanced at his feet.

They were covered in Belos’ cursed mud, holding him in place. The emperor groaned

Luz started forward. “Hang on, I’m coming, Hunter!”

He held his hand out. “No! If you set foot back here, he’ll get you, too!”

“I’m not just going to leave you!”

Hunter held up his staff. “Take care of Red.”

Luz felt tears press at the corners of her eyes. “Hunter—”

Hunter tossed the staff through the air, and Luz caught it, catching the palisman as it transformed. “Are you sure?”

Hunter squeezed his eyes shut, turning his face away. “Belos will kill it if it stays. And I… I don’t want it to see this.”

Red shrieked shrilly, snapping and clawing at Luz’s hands, struggling to get back to its witch.

“Hunter, just hang on,” Luz begged, “I can help you get out—we’re escaping together!”

Hunter shook his head. “Belos can’t have the portal. We can’t risk it.” His voice cracked, and he pulled out the key again. He clicked it, throwing it through the portal as it closed. “Say hi to Vee and Camila for me.”

The key clanked to the ground in front of Luz.

And the portal was gone.

Xxx

Hunter watched once again as the portal closed, trapped on the wrong side.

Emperor Belos rose up behind him with a growl, his face melting and reforming and melting and reforming. The cursed mud on Hunter’s feet crept up further, oozing and cold, but also burning at the same time, like acid wherever it touched him.

“You,” Belos growled, “are a horrible, disobedient child.”

Hunter squeezed his eyes shut, his hands clenching into fists. “Then get rid of me,” he challenged.

The mud crept all the way up to his neck.

“No, I don’t think so. I have a much better way to keep you in line.”

Cursed mud covered Hunter’s mouth and nose, and his back arched instinctively. He held his breath as long as he could, but his lungs forced him to open his mouth, and the curse crept in, filling his lungs. Hunter choked and screamed, and then he was falling into an inky black sea. He clawed for the surface.

Willful child, a voice whispered, Just submit. Give in. Won’t that be easier than fighting?

No matter how hard he swam, Hunter couldn’t—reach—the top—

You cannot win this fight. Just give in, and it will all be over.

Despair swept over Hunter, and he let himself sink.

Maybe… it is… easier…

He didn’t know long he was there, sinking into the darkness.

Time was irrelevant.

At least nothing hurt him here. It was just… endless nothingness.

At least it was until a shaft of light pierced through the darkness, and a voice called his name.

Ch 7

#this one is so long asdfghjkl #toh #the owl house #toh fanfiction #my writing #luz noceda #toh hunter #emperor belos #tw: child abuse #tw: emotional manipulation #the golden guard #kikimora

36 notes · View notes

writerpeach · 4 years

Text

Competition

Blackpink Rosé x Male Reader

8325 words

categories - smut, rough sex, oral, degradation, dirty talk, daddy kink, voyeurism

---

read on AFF

read on AO3

Rosé just wanted to enjoy her day off.

There she was at her favorite cafe with her best friend, sipping on her iced americano on a hot summer day, trying to ignore Jennie’s annoying habit of guessing the dick size of every young guy that walked into the cafe.

“Six inches...eight inches…” Jennie quietly said, subtlety pointing at each man entering.

“No, wait...nine inches. He’s definitely packing.”

“Can you stop being a slut for five seconds?” Rosé asked, loudly slurping on her drink.

“Have you met me?” Jennie laughed.

“Sadly yes,” Rosé teased. “Your legs are like a convenience store, they never close.”

Jennie stuck her tongue out. “You’re just jealous that I get dicked down more. Oh, that guy definitely has a huge cock.”

“Are you trying to beat your record? Getting fucked by four guys wasn’t enough? Unnie, save some cock for the rest of us.”

“There’s plenty here to go around. Like a dick buffet."

“God, you really are a whore. You do know you don't actually need dick to survive?"

“You’re just saying that because not every guy will drop his pants for you.”

Rosé scoffed. “Is that so? You think I couldn’t pick any cute guy here to suck off in the bathroom?”

“That’s too easy, there’s nothing but hot guys here. You need a real challenge.”

“I’ll take whatever you can throw at me.”

“You’re on then. Follow me.”

✦✦

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Jennie asked.

“I’m not backing down,” Rosé said.

“Fine. Two rules, and you must accept both.”

“No problem.”

“The first - the next guy who shows up. It doesn’t matter who - you drop to your knees and you suck him off.“

“That’s it? The bathroom is right there, this will be a cakewalk.”

“Bathroom? Sorry, Rosie, that’s off-limits. That’s too easy. You suck his fucking dick right here.”

“What? Are you out of your fucking mind?” Rosé said exasperatedly.

“Too scared? Don’t worry I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Fine, whatever. What’s the second rule?”

“No swallowing. I know that’ll be difficult for a little cumslut like you.”

Rosé scoffed. “What do I do when he cums then?”

“That’s not my problem, you figure it out,” Jennie laughed.

“Fine. You’re on you whore.“

✦✦

You had one plan for the day, pick up new clothes for work, and head out. Your favorite department store was always crowded after work, so you took the morning off, needing to run other errands at the same time anyways. You used your time to shop early first thing, seeing very little people getting in your way.

Heading towards the section you always browsed, you walked with purpose, but before reaching your destination you were stopped as you heard a voice to your left.

“H-hi!”

You saw what caused the interruption - two gorgeous women to your left, one slightly skinnier than the other with colorful hair in a variety of pink and purple hues.

“Hi? Uh, can I help you, ladies?”

The girl with the purple hair smiled. “Well, in a way. I’m here to help you.”

Her voice was accentuated by an incredibly sexy Australian accent, were it not for that you would have completely ignored her. You didn’t really know what she was talking about or what she wanted but you weren’t that interested anyway.

“I’m sorry but I’m pretty busy right now,” you replied.

“Oh, this won’t take long. Well...it might depending on you,” she playfully said with a giggle.

“You’re stalling, Rosie,” the dark-haired woman said.

“If you’re trying to sell me something I’m not interested, I’m just here to pick some things up for work,” you said.

“We’re not!” she responded.

“Rosie-”

“How you’d like to get your dick sucked today?” She abruptly asked, throwing you completely off-guard.

“I’m sorry, what?”

She smiled again. “It’s still pretty early. Wouldn’t you like to start your day off by having a pretty girl sucking your cock?”

You were stunned. “I-I, I don’t even know you-”

“Well, my name is Roseanne, but you can call me Rosé. This is my friend Jennie, but you don’t have to pay attention to her.” Not simply just Rose, but Rosé. You might have rolled your eyes were you not looking in their direction.

“What the fuck-” Jennie complained.

“It’s not every day you get an offer like this, is it? If you’re not interested in a little you know...” she said, making a jerking off motion and miming her cheek being full.

“I’ll just leave you alone and find someone else.”

“Wait. Hold on-”

“See? Told you he’d be interested, “ Jennie said.

“I’m very good at it,” Rosé smirked, sweetening the pot. Well, how could you refuse an offer like that?

“So you’ll just blow me...just like that?”

“Of course,” Rosé eagerly responded.

“Why? I’m just a stranger.”

“That’s part of the fun. Does it really matter why?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Come on then,” Rosé said as she offered her hand and whisked you away to a faraway part of the department.

“This will do nicely,” she said.

“Wait. Here? There’s like two bathrooms right over there”

“Bathrooms are against the rules,” Jennie interrupted.

“Rules?”

“We’re just having some friendly competition,” Rosé said.

You hesitated. “We could get caught, arrested or who knows what else.“

“Isn’t that also part of the fun? The thrill of getting caught? Besides, I’ll be making you feel so good you won’t even be thinking of anything else. ” Rosé said with a flirty smile.

“I’ll be a really good lookout,“ Jennie said.

“Look, do you want me to suck your dick or not? I’m not gonna ask again,” Rosé asked impatiently.

“O-of course I do.”

It was a rather secluded area in the corner of the men’s department. High shelves and mannequins dressed better than you ever had blocked most of the view, and Jennie found herself in a rather perfect position to keep an eye out for anyone who would ruin the fun.

Still, you couldn’t help but feel nervous as Rosé slowly lowered her body down until her knees hit the carpet, positioning herself in front of a rack of expensive-looking sports jackets that obscured the view as she grabbed a hairband off her wrist and used it to tie her hair up into a messy ponytail.

“Relax,” Rosé reassured as she began unfastening your pants, dragging your zipper down as if in slow motion as she looked up, giving you a good look at her natural features. Rosé was so beautiful to look at. Her eyes were gorgeous, her full pink lips looked so kissable as you braced yourself, knowing you were about to feel them on your body.

She yanked your pants down to your ankles, and her eyes were drawn to the forming bulge in your boxers as she licked her lips. Grabbing a handful of crotch she rubbed at your cock through the restricting fabric of your underwear, planning her next move as she traced the outline of your hardening shaft.

“What should I call you?” she pondered.

“Well, I do have a name. It’s- “

“No names,” she bluntly interrupted. “If you tell me your name then you won’t be a stranger anymore.”

Rosé grabbed the waistband of your boxers and pulled them down in one swift swooping motion, releasing your trapped cock and briefly avoiding getting smacked in the face with it.

“Wow,” she said full of surprise as her eyes grew wide at the sight of your unleashed shaft.

“Can I call you...Daddy?” Rosé asked as she grabbed your dick and squeezed gently, stroking slowly as her fingers wrapped around your hard throbbing shaft.

“Call me anything you like.”

“Okay. You have a really nice cock, daddy.”

The second time she used the word you felt a tingle up your spine.

“That’s a little overboard, Rosie,” Jennie teased as she overheard.

“Just shut up and do your job,” she fired back.

And there you were, trying to process it all. Your pants down to your ankles in the middle of a fucking department store, being jerked off by a girl you had met no less than five minutes ago. Her innocent face was at odds with what she was doing, and you weren’t sure why you had landed such an opportunity, but quite frankly you didn’t care and were going to enjoy every moment.

Rosé watched the look in your eyes as she stroked your cock, spitting on your shaft to help lubricate it as she twisted her soft delicate hand as she squeezed and pumped up and down, making you leak all over her fingers. She enjoyed it all too much, it was as if she was testing you to see how long you could hold out until you felt her lips.

The moment you felt her wet tongue pressing flat against your shaft, gently brushing up from base to tip you groaned louder than expected, feeling the wetness of her saliva being left in the form of a thin sheen all over your cock.

Rosé did not miss a spot, flicking up and down every inch of your shaft before she found your swollen sensitive tip and began swirling around it in a way she had done many times before, collecting your pre-cum as her tongue gathered every drop that leaked out of your slit.

Her sparkling eyes looked up once more as if to ask if you were ready, although nothing could prepare you for the next few moments. Giving a chaste kiss on the very tip of your shaft, Rosé wettened her lips and they parted as they wrapped around your cock and you felt yourself entering the warmth of Rosé’s mouth.

“F-fuck,” you moaned, as her pretty lips sealed around the head of your cock, gently sucking your tip while keeping a hand stroking your shaft.

She began to bob her head as her lips went deeper down your shaft and retracted back, giving you deep satisfying pleasure as her lips slowly sucked you off at a slow sensual pace.

"That feels fucking amazing."

"I taught her everything she knows," Jennie butted in.

"Oh please," Rosé said, rolling her eyes."I give way better head than you. You just go for quantity over quality."

Your eyebrow furrowed, letting her know you didn’t know what she meant by that.

“Jennie sucked four guys off in a bathroom once. And they all fucked her after that.”

“You girls are wild.”

“We just like to have fun,” Jennie replied.

The warmth of Rosé’s mouth returned, as the pace of her blowjob changed dramatically, slobbering all over your cock as she used one hand to stroke your cock in a corkscrew motion while the other fondled your balls.

“They feel so full, daddy. Seems like you have a lot of cum for me.”

It didn’t take long until Rosé was taking most of you inside her mouth, slurping on your cock like she had missed breakfast and was starving. Her lips felt so soft and her mouth felt so wet, you’d had to admit this was easily one of the best blowjobs you’d ever had.

“God, you’re really good at this,” you admitted, encouraging Rosé as she slapped your cock on her wet pink tongue before licking all around it.

“I’m glad you like it, daddy.”

Her lips tightened around your shaft as she slurped and moaned around your cock, loud enough to make you remember you were very much not in a place designed for such a lewd act, trusting Jennie to keep an eye out.

Rosé bobbed her head faster as she gave long, deep satisfying strokes with her plump lips, moving closer to the end of your cock each time.

“This is my favorite part,” she said with a sly smile, adding more suction and saliva with every movement until her lips met your base and she began deepthroating you, causing you to hit the back of her tight throat and groaned in pleasure.

“Oh f-fuuck,” you moaned, throwing your head back.

The time for slow and sensual was over, as Rosé swallowed up your cock, messily sucking on it with her hungry mouth as she braced herself on your thighs, keeping the oral onslaught on your cock at full potential.

“I hope you’re almost done with him, Rosie. I keep seeing more and more people,” Jennie said.

“Oh, I think we’re getting to the finish line. You’re close aren’t you, daddy?”

You weren’t given a chance to respond as you felt your cock hit the back of Rosé’s tight warm throat, maintaining constant eye contact as she took you deep down as you would fit. Her lips hit your base with every stroke and she moved rapidly from base to tip and then the reverse, not once feeling the need to come up for air as pleasured your cock, wildly bobbing her head up and down to draw out your orgasm.

You closed your eyes almost involuntarily. Savoring the way Rosé’s soft lips traveled up and down your shaft, leaving a trail of saliva and the hungrily slurp of her lips and her wet tongue playing around with the underside of your needy shaft.

There wasn’t a chance in hell you were going to last much longer, and you were thankful for that as Rosé sucked the life out of your cock, that knot in your belly tightening more and more by the second.

“I...I’m gonna cum.”

Rosé’s eyes lit up as she pulled your cock out of her mouth, furiously jerking you off in anticipation. You waited for her to open her mouth back up again, surely she wasn’t going to let you-

“She’s not allowed to swallow,” Jennie explained as she approached for a closer look at the action, interrupting your thoughts.

“Another rule?” you asked. Jennie nodded. “You sure have a lot of rules.”

“Just have to keep it interesting. We do this a lot, “ Jennie smirked.

Rosé kept the pressure on your cock as she stroked even faster, the gears turning in her head as she realized that without the ability to keep your cum contained in her pretty mouth that there weren’t a whole lot of places for your cum to go. Except for all over her.

“I can’t wait for you to explode, daddy.”

You just stood there, practically motionless as you watched Rosé jerking you off furiously, one stroking your cock while the other fondled your balls, doing everything she could to drain your balls as fast as possible.

Watching the eagerness in your eyes, you felt every stroke through your entire body, the faster and longer she stroked the deeper your breathing became until you gave into the pleasure.

“Oh god, I’m-”

You groaned louder than you were expecting as you erupted all over Rosé’s stunning innocent features. Rosé leaned forward as her face collected thick milky strands of hot cum everywhere, painting her forehead and cheeks, her cute nose, and her pink lips. You felt all the tension in your body being released all at once as Rosé milked every last drop onto her beautiful face, her expression in awe at how much of your load she had covered herself in.

Rosé smiled widely and proudly, cleaning off the remains of your cock clean and feeling a wetness between her thighs forming at the task she had just performed in public.

“We should go. It’s getting busier,” Jennie said.

“I’ll just head to the bathroom and then we can leave-”

Jennie looked down at the girl with her face covered in your cum. “Bathroom? Did you forget already?”

“You said I couldn’t use it to suck his cock in,” Rosé said as she stood, feeling the weight of your load as it began dripping down her face.

“Well, you can’t use it to clean up either. And no using your shirt either. “

“Jennie, what the fuck? Aren’t you taking this a bit too far?”

“Am I? You wanted to dethrone me, didn’t you? Then you’ll walk outside with this messy fucking load all over your slutty face.”

Rosé sighed, frustrated, and dumbfounded.

“You can’t be fucking serious. Look at me, I’m a mess.”

“Hey, you agreed to this. You can clean yourself off when we get to the car, I’ll bring it around front. Now, give him your number before anything, and I’ll meet you there,” Jennie said as she gave Rosé’s cum-stained face a long lick, sampling a bit of your semen and licking her lips.

“You taste good. It was nice meeting you,” she smiled and headed off in her own direction.

“Jennie!” Rosé yelled, realizing she was powerless to do anything at this point. She couldn’t waste any more time as you grabbed your phone and handed it to her as she inputted her digits into it, calling herself as you heard the vibration of her phone in your pocket.

“I’ll see you later,” she said with a nervous smile as she hurriedly exited the department, trying to avoid anyone and everyone as she was still covered with you as she stepped into a waiting car idling by the entrance.

✦✦

You don’t remember what time it was, but you felt the buzz of your phone going off twice as you stared up at the ceiling, resting from both the day's events and an unusually long day of work.

There were two messages as you checked your phone, both from the girl named Rosé which you had met earlier as part of your lucky day. The first was a full-body selfie, showing herself still in the same outfit from before.

The second message was an address.

These clothes are annoying me, daddy. Come take them off of me.

Well, you certainly weren’t going to refuse such an offer.

Twenty minutes later you arrived at her apartment, both excited and nervous to see her again.

“Rosie, your dick appointment is here,” Jennie said as you knocked on the door as she unexpectedly answered it.

“Oh, hi, daddy!” Rosé excitedly said as she scurried to the door. Jennie verbally groaned. “Are you still going to call him that?”

“Yes. You don’t mind do you, daddy?” Rosé said playfully. While her outfit remained the same, you clearly noticed the lack of a bra, not that you minded.

“Not at all.”

“See, I thought so. Okay, time for you to go, Jennie. I’m sure like twelve guys are waiting in a public bathroom somewhere to give you all a facial again.”

“It was only four. And you think I'm going to miss out on all the fun?” Jennie said.

Rosé rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m not going to let him fuck you too if that’s what you’re thinking. His cock is too nice to share with your slutty ass.”

“You selfish whore.”

“Find your own cock, Jennie, this one is all mine.” Rosé smiled.

“Fine,” Jennie huffed, as she grabbed something out of Rosé’s back pocket. “But I’m going to be nice and help out. Might as well put this new phone to good use, hm Rosie?”

“Oh my god, you’re so annoying. Can’t you go be a slut somewhere else?”

Jennie turned her attention towards you. “Look, if you’re going to have a hot night with this little slut, wouldn’t you like to be able to replay it over and over?”

“That does sound nice…”

“I’m sorry you have to deal with her, daddy,” Rosé sighed. “Fine, but you don’t get to touch him, and stay out of the way.”

“I’ll be just like a ghost.”

You weren’t expecting a second pair of eyes, but given the circumstances in how you met Rosé, you felt like anything could happen with these two.

Rosé grabbed your hand and led you to the bedroom while Jennie followed.

“I’ll give you two time to warm up before I start recording,” Jennie smugly said.

“How generous,” Rosé sarcastically replied.

You felt a bit awkward with Jennie in the room, even though hours ago she had watched you give this gorgeous woman with the sexiest accent a huge facial in public.

“Just ignore her,” Rosé said as she brought you closer to the bed and wrapped her arms around your neck, planting her soft lips against yours, lips you missed feeling on your cock already. Rosé tasted sweet, and you wanted more as you engaged her lips again, your tongues dancing around as your hands wrapped around her slender waist.

You both carefully climbed the bed, with her petite body under yours you couldn’t help but want to uncover more of it, you needed to see every inch of it.

“Can I take this off?” you asked, gently tugging on the material of her shirt.

“Of course, daddy. That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it? Take it all off me.”

She smiled and you crashed your lips against hers again as you grabbed the hem of her shirt and hastily removed it from her body, tossing it away as fast as you could as you admired her bare torso and her small, but perky tits.

“God, you’re so gorgeous,” you said as your mouth watered.

“Are you just going to stare?” she teased.

“I just might,“ you replied, not knowing where you wanted to start. You kissed her again, this time rougher, forgoing passion for lust as you sucked on her bottom lip as you wanted to devour every inch of this girl's body.

“Fuck, you really are sexy. You make me want to ruin you,” you growled, as you brought your lips to the side of her neck and licked up and down it before parking your lips against her sensitive skin, earning your first moan of the night.

“I won’t stop you, daddy.”

You kept your lips sucking away on her neck, hungrily eating up every bit of her sensitive warm flesh you found there with every desire to mark her. Sharing lustful stares, you slowly peeled yourself from her neck before moving down, kissing her collarbone, her chest, her breasts, and her tight stomach, falling completely in love with her body.

“I’m definitely going to ruin you.”

Rosé blushed as you moved your lips back to her chest, sucking on her nipples that had already hardened.

“Things are getting spicy now,” Jennie commented, as she readied Rosé’s phone, and prepared to play camerawoman.

“Just pretend like I'm not here.”

It was rather easy to forget about Jennie’s presence, given the infatuation you had already had with Rosé’s tight body as you continued sucking on her perky tits, biting on her nipples, and slurping on them as her cute whiny moans filled your ears.

Unlike your earlier shenanigans in the department store, you were going to take your time here, using your time freely to explore every inch and surface of Rosé, not leaving a part of her body without your lips touching it.

It didn’t take long for Rosé to melt at your touch as you kept a nipple in between your lips as a hand began travelling south. You slipped a hand in between her slender thighs, actually surprised with the fact that she still had underwear on as you pushed against her core and felt a piece of thin fabric impeding your progress.

Rosé gasped as you pushed two fingers against her underwear, pressing against her clothed pussy and you could feel an obvious wetness already. You withdrew your mouth from her tits rubbing circles against her clothed core and seeing the lust and desire in her pretty sparkling eyes.

“F-fuck, daddy,” Rosé said as she gave another desperate gasp. Exposing her weakness, you felt obliged to take advantage of it as you hiked up her tight red skirt and revealed the lavender pair of panties that almost matched the color of her hair, taking note of the very prominent wet spot front and center.

“You’re drenched, Miss Rosie,” taking advantage of the cute nickname for the first time, spreading her thighs wider and nudging your nose against the wet spot, taking in her intoxicating aroma and giving a lick across the damp spot that caused her breath to hitch and her hips to buck.

“Sensitive are we?” you asked teasingly, giving another short lick and then nothing, just staring at the anticipation in Rosé’s dazzling round eyes.

You barely knew this girl hours ago, and you still didn’t, but you knew you needed to turn her into a puddle, an absolute squirming mess. Maybe it was the fact that her friend Jennie was involved in this little romp, filming the reaction on her face that you felt obligated to up the ante.

Rosé’s thighs were surprisingly full considering her body type, plenty to work with as you began kissing up and down each thigh tenderly, planting a trail of kisses on her pale flushed skin as you felt the fabric of her panties becoming wetter by the moment.

“God, do you have to tease me so much, daddy?” She whined as you began to replace soft kisses with long delicate licks, tasting the warmth of her soft sensitive skin.

“Of course,” you said, responding with messier licks that turned into bites, wanting to mark every part of her body. If she was this needy now, you couldn’t wait to see how she reacted with your head in between her thighs.

This was too much fun really, making her squirm with every touch but you grew a bit hungry, with the only thing that could satisfy your appetite inches apart from your lips. Giving a delicate kiss to Rosé’s wet center that made her jerk, you hooked your fingers into the waistband of her ruined panties, and with her lifting her ass up you slid them down her incredibly long and sexy legs, tossing them at Jennie who was not amused at your antics.

Words did describe how beautiful Rosé’s pussy looked. Absolutely perfect in every way, pink, shaved, and appetizing as could be as the soft flesh between her spread thighs was abundantly coated with her nectar that you were dying to have a taste.

“God, you look so delicious. You look good enough to eat,” you said, admiring the view her wet pink pussy gave, your mouth continuing to water with each second you stared between her legs.

“Then taste me, daddy,” she pleaded, but you weren’t going to make it easy for her. There wouldn’t be any fun in that as you began sucking on one of her thighs, running your hand up and down the other, and switching sides until she was falling apart.

“D-daddy, please,” she whined, as you sucked on her skin deeper, before removing your lips from her marked thighs and licking your lips at what you saw ready for you.

“Please what?”

“Please eat me,” she said, but you weren’t convinced, planting more kisses on her thighs and ultimately one on her pussy, blowing hot air aimed at her clit as her whole body jerked.

“F-fuck, daddy, p-lease.”

You quite enjoyed the control you held over her, wanting to give her just a sample of what was in store as you gave one slow, long lick up her drenched slit, hearing a loud needy moan as you tasted her for the first time.

“Like, this, baby?”

“Y-yes, daddy. More.”

“I didn’t hear a please. Daddy wants you to beg.”

“P-please, daddy. Please let me feel that tongue inside my pussy, please, please daddy.”

Her begging really turned you on. You didn’t know whether to make her continue or not, but you figured she had enough for the time being as you almost ripped her skirt off her petite body licked in between her folds slowly, gathering every bit of honey to taste on your tongue.

“Oh f-fuck, daddyyy…” she moaned with that ridiculously sexy accent, and you wanted to hear more and quickly grew tired of teasing, eating Rosé out like she was your last fucking meal. You explored her delicious pussy with your tongue, licking every inch of her cunt and lapping up her juices on your lips as you began to feel her soft thighs slowly closing around your face.

Feeling a warm thigh on either side caressing your face you looked up at Rosé as you devoured her pussy, seeing her mouth agape as you licked everywhere you could before taking her sensitive clit between your lips, taking a few swipes before bringing it into your mouth and sucking on it loudly.

“Oh fuuuck, daddy, you eat me so well, you really know how to use that fucking tongue,” she said, her thighs shaking around your head.

Rosé sure was something. All you knew about her was her name, that she looked amazing naked and she gave amazing head, and also both her and her friend really liked to have a lot of sex. You also knew she was the most delicious thing you’ve ever tasted, her taste unforgettable and you wanted it lingering on your tongue forever.

“You taste so fucking good,” you growled out as you continued to feast on her sensitive pussy, burying your face between her thighs as you felt her small hands grabbing onto your head and pulling on your hair as you lapped at her leaking hole, trying to get more of her juices into your mouth.

The more you ate her out the more you wanted her, feeling her dripping cunt smearing all over your face, every lick inside her pussy earning a cute whiny moan, and the way you could feel her body reacting to your touch you could tell she was close.

You kept your lips surrounding her clit, running your hands all over her body while you brought two fingers inside her wet hole and curled them, hitting her spot and making her lose it. Her back arched as you furiously rocked your fingers inside her tight cunt, trying to make her hit her peak as fast as possible.

“D-daddy, p-please don’t stop, I’m almost there,” she whimpered, and you did everything in your power to bring her there. Rubbing at her core and sloppily slurping on her clit, feeling the warm thighs around your head vibrating in time with your fingers, and soon after Rosé came.

Her juices gushed into your mouth and you felt the whole bed shaking in response to her climax. Keeping your fingers buried in her leaking cunt and your lips wrapped tightly on her swollen clit, her whole body turned to jelly and rendering herself out of breath.

Jennie kept the camera focused on her o-face, getting a closeup view of the intense orgasm that had just run its course through her body.

“G-god, you’re amazing,“ Rosé breathlessly said as you kissed up her body and brought your fingers into her mouth. Without even asking, she sucked on them, tasting her own juices and needily slurped on them, cleaning them off.

Rosé didn’t stop, even after the taste of herself no longer lingered on your fingers, her lips and tongue continued slurping away and couldn’t get enough, revealing one of her weaknesses to you.

“You really are such a needy little slut,” Jennie said, keeping Rosé's glazed over eyes in perfect frame.

“I wanna taste your cock again, daddy,” Rosé said, cutely pouting, wanting the same thing as you flipped positions. She quickly stripped your shirt off and slipped her delicate hand inside your shorts and began stroking your cock.

You continued to intoxicate yourself with the taste of Rosé’s lips as her small hand pumped you up and down, finding that slow rhythm that built you up, leaving you wanting more.

“Then suck my cock,” you demanded, and her eyes beamed at your command, instantly wanting to obey.

“I’ll do more than that, daddy,” she seductively said as your pants and boxers were removed in a flash, matching her state of undress as her eyes admired your cock, hard as could be.

Rosé didn’t waste time diving into your cock, freely stroking it as her naked body laid down flat on her stomach and spread your legs, licking up and down hungrily all over your shaft and leaving a sheen of saliva all over.

Her attention changed as Rosé brought her mouth to your balls, kissing each one tenderly before she brought them into her mouth individually, licking and sucking each tenderly as she stroked your cock, causing you to moan even louder.

“You must really like his cock, Rosie. Not that I blame you,” Jennie said as she aimed the phone carefully to make sure she didn’t miss a single section of the action.

“I do. I love daddy's cock,” Rosé said as she nudged her nose against your balls and sucked even more before she covered your shaft in a plethora of kisses from base to tip, making sure not to miss a spot untouched by her beautiful soft lips.

“Daddy…” Rosé said, pausing afterward. “I want you to fuck my throat.”

The erotic words you had just heard was anything but surprising, yet you wanted to hear her repeat it. Not just because you wanted to hear her confirming what she wanted, because you wanted just to hear it again.

“What was that?”

With her hands stroking your cock Rosé repeated her request. “Fuck my throat, daddy.”

Rosé’s lips pulled into a needy smile as you took your cock from her and took control, rubbing your tip all over her soft lips, smearing your leaking precum all over her sinful mouth.

“Slap my pretty face with that fucking cock, daddy.”

Rosé had said a lot of filthy things that day, but this had to be one of your favorites. With your cock rock fucking hard, you slapped her cute face several times, your tip striking her cheeks and leaving more precum as you heard her pretty moans after each soft impact.

Desperately needing more out of Rosé’s mouth, you pushed half of your shaft back in her mouth, roughly grabbing the back of her head and shoved her all the way down your base as you began to fuck her warm pretty mouth.

You picked up speed right away and harshly rammed your cock down Rosé’s throat, feeling it tightening as you hit the back of it and instantly causing a series of gags.

Rosé’s eyes looked straight at you as she maintained perfect eye contact, slurping and gagging on every inch of your shaft as you used her for your own pleasure, fucking her mouth like a toy and causing your shaft to be drenched with her saliva in a matter of seconds.

“Choke on that fucking dick,” Jennie said as you increased your speed, your slippery cock moving in and out of her open mouth with ease, her eyes beginning to water as her drool smeared all over her lips and chin.

“Fuck, that feels so good, baby,” you moaned after a series of harsher thrusts, your balls slapping against her pretty face. Soon the sounds of Rosé gagging on your cock matched your rhythm, and you gave in to your animalistic desires as you used both hands and repeatedly drove every inch of your needy cock down her messy warm mouth.

“Such a messy little slut aren’t you, Rosie? You’re really taking that cock well.” Jennie said.

You continued to moan as you fucked Rosé’s pretty drool-covered face, the look in her eyes not only encouraging you to continue but letting you know that she was getting off on this just as much as you were.

With your hands running through her hair you pulled her all the way down and held her all the way against your base, debating on whether you wanted to unload deep down her throat but opting to keep her held there with her throat stuffed with every inch, earning more sinful gags as you furiously fucked her throat mercilessly.

Holding her down again and again, you lengthened the time pressing her face against your crotch, not letting go until Rosé tapped on your thigh repeatedly and you weakened your grip slowly and released her.

Rosé gradually withdrew your cock from her mouth and smiled widely as she gasped for air, rubbing your cock all over her already messy face.

“Did that feel good, daddy?”

"It felt amazing."

“Good, I want you to feel even better. Come fuck me, daddy," she said with a lustful smile.

“How do you want it, baby?”

“Just like this,” Rosé said as she turned around and faced the foot of the bed, giving Jennie the perfect angle and getting onto her hands and knees as she looked back with desire in her eyes, shaking her cute little ass.

You gathered yourself as you positioned behind her naked bent over body, running your hands all over her and giving her ass a quick slap, hearing her gasp loudly.

"Fuck me, daddy," she whined and you weren't going to keep her waiting as you rubbed your tip against her folds, feeling her wetness spreading all over your cock.

"You're so wet, baby," you said as you pushed against her entrance, feeling her tightness and warmth inviting you inside.

"Put it in, daddy. Don't you dare be gentle."

Holding onto one of her hips, you slowly pushed inside Rosé and groaned as you entered her, feeling her intense tightness and warmth squeezing your cock.

"Fuck, you're tight," you moaned as you pushed deeper, more wetness surrounding your cock as Rosé scrambled to grab onto the edge of the mattress.

"Oh f-fuck, fill me with cock, daddy."

With one more thrust you, bottomed her out and fully parted her hot wet flesh, grabbing both hips tightly and began fucking her from behind without hesitation, earning several gasps and moans.

"Stretch her out with that fucking dick," Jennie hissed as you built up a rhythm, earning loud moans from Rosé as you pumped in and out of her tight dripping cunt.

"Oh fuck, daddy!"

You quickly upped the pace, giving long deep strokes inside Rose's tight wet pussy, her dripping pink lips gripping your cock with every full thrust.

"God, you're so fucking tight, baby," you said as you flattened your palm and struck her tight ass, rippling the flesh as she shrieked in response.

"She is, isn't she? Even after all the cocks she's had inside her," Jennie smirked.

Rosé ignored her, opting instead of gaining more pleasure as she pushed her hips against you, wanting to take more of your cock as possible.

"Pound me, daddy," she begged as you began slamming your cock deep inside her tight cunt, rocking the bed with every thrust.

"Oh god yes," she moaned, as your hips smacked against her petite frame, giving harsher and faster thrusts as the sounds of hot flesh slapping against hot flesh filled the room.

Running your hands all over Rose's sexy tight body you felt the sweat misting over her soft skin as you pounded into her, listening to every cute moan and whimper that came out of her lips.

"More, daddy. I need more, please," Rosé begged, her cheeks smacking as you drove your cock harshly inside her, juices leaking down her thighs and dripping onto your shaft and balls.

Rosé’s hot wet flesh felt so heavenly wrapped around your shaft as you leaned forward and wrapped your fingers around the short ponytail she still had equipped, pulling back on it as you used even more force to fuck her, causing the bed to creak violently.

You immediately felt her walls clenching tighter as you kept a tight grip on her hair, giving her ass several smacks as it jiggled each time deliciously with every impact.

“Slap my fucking ass, daddy. Harder.”

You did as asked as you began to up your pace even more, raising your palm and giving repeated spanks, squeezing her tender flesh at the end of your impact to add extra oomph until both of her delicious cheeks were painted bright red with your handprints, feeling her walls tightening and pulsating each time.

“You like taking this cock like a good little slut?” you asked, keeping a handful of her pretty hair as you continued to spank her ass, giving her the deepest thrusts you could summon.

“Oh-oh fuck, yes I do, daddy! Don’t stop fucking me!”

Nothing could stop you from drilling into her tight body, using her tight wet cunt as if it was just a toy for you to fuck. Every thrust into Rosé felt wetter and tighter, her moans increasing in length and volume to confirm her satisfaction. She mirrored your thrusts, continuing to push backward and timing the movement of her body as she held onto the bed for dear life, trying to get your cock as deep as possible in her.

You gave her sore red cheeks a break, keeping the harsh grip on her ponytail as you felt sweat dripping off your forehead, focusing only on the wetness and warmth of Rosé’s pussy as you gave her everything you had, her tight walls pulsating in response.

“Oh fuck, daddy, I’m going to cum!”

Rosé’s words made you fuck her as fast as you could, slamming her tight cunt and filling her with cock as her walls tightened even more, almost painfully so.

“Cum for me, baby. All over my fucking cock.”

Looking straight into the camera Rosé moaned and came on command as you felt even more wetness as you harshly pumped inside her pussy, losing control as she gushed all over your cock.

Your drenched cock threatened to slip out but the warm tightness of her hole kept you buried inside her as her body shook in response, her juices spilling liberally out of her warm hole and staining her thighs, your cock and the bedsheets underneath that were already a beautiful mess.

You fucked her straight through her orgasm, abruptly letting go of her hair as she fell forward and gasped for air as she tried to recover her senses and stabilize her tired breathing.

“You must be getting close, daddy,” Rosé weakly said.

“I am, baby, but I can fuck you all night.”

You withdrew out of her tight pussy, the act of pulling out almost made her climax again. Using her hips you turned her over as she laid onto her back and spread her legs for you, showing just how wet she was and played with her pretty pussy.

Rosé was more than ready to continue, but you wanted to earn it and rubbed your cock through her slippery pink lips, her warm flesh even wetter after her climax. You smirked and slapped her pussy with your hard shaft, the wet sounds of her flesh evident.

"Daddy…" she whined.

"Want it?" you asked, teasing penetration by nudging your cock against her entrance several times but withdrawing at the final moment.

“Y-yes, daddy. I need your cock inside me again."

“Then beg for it. Beg for it like a good little slut."

“Please fuck me, daddy. Shove your big hard cock in my tight cunt and stretch my pretty little hole, please, daddy, fuck me like the needy slut I am daddy, please.“

You loved hearing her beg as much as she loved begging and you were eager to reward Rosé for her efforts. Not wanting just to fuck her in a simple position, you opted for something different as you grabbed her legs up and lifted them in the air, bending her knees.

Rosé looked lustfully into your eyes, hugging the back of her knees to assist and keep her legs in the air, allowing you to focus on her dripping cunt.

"I'm going to enjoy ruining you, baby," you said and slid every inch inside Rosé who gasped in surprise, throwing her head back as you felt her pussy clenching around your shaft.

Rosé didn't have a chance to adjust to your cock as you placed a palm on each of her thighs and started thrusting, immediately bottoming her out as you began fucking her balls deep at a rapid pace.

The addicting squeeze her pussy gave drove you crazy as you used her body, only concerned with how good you felt.

"Fuck, you’re such a tight little slut, Rosie," you growled, pounding her deep and stretching her tight walls out as wide as you could.

Every thrust was smooth and pleasurable as could be, aided by the intense wetness of her slick-filled walls and driving your cock deep as you could possibly go.

"Oh fuck, daddy! Don't stop! Please don't stop fucking me like this, use my pussy for your own pleasure!"

"Fuck this cheap little whore so hard she can't walk for a week," Jennie spoke up.

"Is that what you want, baby?" you asked. Rosé nodded needily, unlocking more of your animalistic urges.

"Yes! Pound my tight slutty pussy, daddy. I'm just a pretty little fucktoy for you to use and ruin!"

"That's all you are, isn't it? Just a cute little cum dump for daddy?"

"Yes, daddy! I'm nothing but a hole for you to empty your load. Please keep fucking me, daddy!

The vulgarity spilling out of Rosé's naughty mouth heightened your arousal as you gave more aggressive thrusts, pistoning your hips and keeping the rhythm harsh enough as the flesh of your body loudly smacked against her own.

"So fucking wet, baby. Am I turning you on that much?"

"Y-yes, daddy! You're fucking me so deep, I love it. Don't stop until your cum is inside me!"

Every stroke inside Rosé felt better than the last, her pussy felt so fucking heavenly, so hot, tight, and wet around your shaft that you couldn't see yourself lasting that much longer.

"I love fucking you so much, baby. Your pussy feels so fucking good, I might cum soon."

"Please do, daddy! Fill your little slut's pussy with all of your cum!"

You didn't dare stray from your position, giving your all and continuing to grasp Rosé's warm thighs and slamming so harshly into her cunt you were worried her bed might break.

"Take that fucking cock. Take all of it you whore!" you hissed. It wouldn't be much longer now.

You watched the lust and need in her eyes, savoring the way her wet tight walls felt as you drilled her cunt, giving the deepest thrusts you could muster and felt your body tensing up.

With sweat liberally dripping down your forehead you used up all your leftover stamina and gave Rosé your final thrusts, fucking her as hard and deep as possible at a breakneck pace with her pussy squeezing your cock harshly and urging your release.

"Rosie I'm-"

You couldn’t even finish your sentence, groaning and grunting loudly as you exploded, pumping Rosé full of your thick creamy load deep inside her cunt, finding relief as you emptied everything into her body.

You kept thrusting until her pussy had milked your cock completely dry, filling her hole to the brim and watching the lust overtaking her features.

"Daddy...it feels so warm and thick…" Rosé said, her expression equal parts exhaustion and satisfaction.

Resting inside Rosé you didn't want to ever leave the comforting warmth of her pussy, but also wanted to see the load you had just deposited, catching your breath.

Eventually, you slowly pulled out an inch at a time as Jennie prepared to capture it all.

The moment your cock withdrew from her pussy your cum began leaking out as Jennie found the perfect angle to capture the dripping creampie slowly leaking from her freshly fucked pussy.

"Fuck, Rosie, you made him cum a lot."

Rosé tiredly smiled, both at you and the camera.

"Daddy must really like fucking me."

"I do, fuck I really do," you said, exhausted

"Hold this?" Jennie asked, handing you her phone. You watched through the phone screen as Jennie positioned her face between Rosé's thighs, hungrily sucking your cum out of her Rose's cunt, cleaning up her creamy pussy.

"Hey, you slut! That's my load," Rosé complained in between moans.

"Not anymore," Jennie smiled, continuing to give her pussy repeated licks to collect your cum on her tongue before swallowing it all down.

Rosé climbed off the bed and dropped to her knees, sucking your entire length clean. She didn't want to let Jennie get a chance to get the drop on her, licking every drop.

"Thank you," Jennie said as she retrieved Rose's phone from you, aiming the camera one final time at an exhausted Rosé.

“Wave to the camera, Rosie.”

“Thank you, daddy, for giving me such a good pounding, “ Rosé said as she waved cutely, and Jennie ended the recording.

“Ok, hurry and send him a copy. His number is in there already," Rosé said.

“But which daddy is he saved under?” Jennie teased.

“I only have one you whore."

“For now. There he is.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Shit, I-”

“What?” Rosé asked.

“I might have just sent it to everyone-”

"You better be fucking kidding-”

Jennie smiled. “Of course I am. I only sent it to him, Jisoo, and Lisa.”

“You what?!”

“It’s not like they haven’t seen you getting fucked before. You want them to miss out on the fun?"

Rosé huffed. “Fine, whatever. At least ask me next time, bitch.”

“Fine, you big baby.”

Rosé turned her attention to you. “You’re not tired yet, are you, daddy?” she asked, gripping your still rigid cock and giving slow delicate strokes.

“You’re still hard?” Rosé asked, surprised.

“Guess you’re just that hot, baby.”

“Well, I’m glad, daddy. Because you’re not done with me. I could use a nice relaxing shower. Join me?”

“I’d love to.”

Rosé smiled and led you by your cock to the bathroom.

“You too Jennie. This camera is waterproof, you know? This’ll be the perfect time to test it.”

"Fine, but I'm not getting left out this time."

#blackpink smut #kpop smut #rose #blackpink #male reader #reader insert #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #rose smut

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wkemeup · 4 years

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By Any Other Name (2)

series summary: When Special Agent Bucky Barnes is tasked with infiltrating the notorious gang Hydra and gathering evidence against its leader, Brock Rumlow, Bucky finds himself drawn to the woman who doesn’t seem to belong in this world of violence, the wife of the head of Hydra… you. pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 6.7k warnings: descriptions of a controlling relationship, bucky is undercover as james, a wild peter appears, brock is an asshole 🌹series masterlist 🌹

“I thought I told you to keep these out of sight.”

Brock held up a copy of Jane Eyre, waving it around impatiently as you crossed the room to take it off his hands. You held the book close to your chest, brushing your hands along the fabric of the aged binding and took in the comforting scent of the pressed paper and ink. There was a slight aroma of aged brandy that burned in your nose and you looked down at the book to find a splash of Brock’s drink seeping into the cover of the near two century year old novel.

“Sorry,” you muttered, thumb brushing against the stain, a slight tremor in your voice. You turned to leave the room but Brock’s hand caught on the edge of your dress, grabbing a firm hold of the fabric and you stilled instantly. Your grasp on the book ached in your hands.

“You forgot something, baby.”

Muscles tensing, body clenching, you took a deep breath and pushed out a smile as you turned around to face him, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his lips. He tasted of cigar smoke and liquor despite the clear blue of the morning sky outside. You held onto the book pressed against your heart like it was a lifeline as he caged you with a hand gripped into your hair.

He let you go with a satisfied hum and you exhaled a breath of relief. He turned back to the papers on his lap without another thought to you and you quickly disappeared from the living room to return the book to its home.

Chills pressing bumps into your skin, you rushed down the hall until you found the sanctity of the library and closed the doors shut behind you. Leaning against the frame, you glanced down at the book, running a hand across the blue cover, tracing along silver lettering.

The stain had dried, a slight discoloration in the cover and you clenched your teeth so tightly it ached in the muscle. You set the book back on the shelve, squeezing it in amongst The Tales of Angria and Emma, your favorites in Bronte’s collection.

You stepped back from the shelf, admiring the precision of it, the colorings of the aged fabric of the covers and the intricately designed lettering on the bindings. It was beautiful; hundreds of years’ worth of knowledge and art and most brilliant creative works of humanity all gathered in a single room. Hundreds of thousands of dollars spent on these shelves. It was the only thing you put your time into these days; all that Brock would allow you access to the accounts for, so you didn’t get any… ideas.

You groaned, falling onto the couch and tucking your knees to your chest. A half empty cup of tea from the night before sat on the end table still seeping. There was a light ring forming under the cup, but you didn’t mind. It would add to the collection. Something about this place needed to feel imperfect and homey, unlike how polished and clinical as the rest of the mansion was.

It hadn’t always been this way, your relationship with Brock. You didn’t always feel so trapped in your own home, restricted to putting everything you had into a single outlet and spending your life locked away in a room your husband didn’t bother to ever step inside.

You had met Brock when you were a professor at Columbia in one of the cafes down by your office building. He had a charming kind of smile and was impossibly sweet for his stature and the scars littering his skin. He was easy to fall in love with and you supposed just about anyone would be if they were purposely catering every thought, feeling, and behavior to mold into what you wanted him to be.

He played the part of a loving boyfriend for nearly three years. You’d married quickly, with a short engagement, because he insisted he was just so in love that he couldn’t wait another second. You’d believed him because you were a girl who had grown up with an elusive father who spent more time in his office than at your recitals and scholarships ceremonies and poetry nights.

His disappointment in your love of the arts and literary fiction left a hole in your chest that Brock easily filled. Brock was the one who built the library in your shared home and encouraged you in your work at Columbia. He bragged incessantly about your accomplishments and joined you at every departmental fundraiser. He was perfect in every way, if only on paper.

Everything changed the night your father died and his millions were inherited to you, his only living child. Brock became distant and cold, and you had convinced yourself that he was grieving. He had been close with your father, after all, but the darkness never went away. He convinced you to transfer your inheritance to a joint account so he could take care of you, so you could take a step back and mourn without having to worry about paying bills and funeral costs and mortgages.

You never saw a penny of that money again.

It didn’t take long before you learned of Brock’s connections to Hydra, his apprenticeship under Alexander Pierce, and the crimes he committed in the dark cover of night when he slipped from your bed for nearly five years.

You supposed it was your own ignorance that let it go on for as long as it did or perhaps you were simply too naïve to see it, but Brock had held you down, tied and bound for years before you even felt the ropes.

You confronted him with the pieces you’d put together on his connection to the criminal world and he had threatened to turn you over to the police. It had been your money funneling Hydra and you were complicit, an accessory to every crime he’d committed and the blood money he’d made since.

He had you exactly where he wanted you; trapped, with nowhere to go, no friends or family to turn to. You hadn’t even realized how isolated you’d become until you were desperate to leave. He’d found a way to separate you from the last remaining friendships you’d had before you even knew they were gone.

So, you played the part of the doting wife. You did as he asked and kept up appearances when necessary. You went to his black tie events in expensive dresses and heels because it was what he demanded. You watched as he turned your father’s wealth into hundreds of millions of dollars through drug trafficking and weapons manufacturing, all while fighting off turf wars and ordering the executions of dozens of men.

He wanted you to conform to his life. He asked it of you every once in a while, for you to take your rightful place by his side and rule the city of New York together, but you told him to shove it. You wanted no part in the world he dragged you into, kept you locked away in by threat of extortion. He was a monster by your standards.

Your relationship with him was surface level. It was a political move to marry you, seeking out your father’s money. He’d forced you to step down from your position at Columbia, isolating you from the last remaining ties you had. He controlled every aspect of your life.

So, you kissed him when he asked, slept with him when he came onto you, because you were going through the motions. You kept yourself secluded to the one place that still managed to bring you joy; your library.

You were content. Numb, but content.

But something was different now. You couldn’t place what it was, but the unsettled need for more was returning to the surface and you were desperate to crawl your way out again.

A cool breeze swept in through the window, startling you out of your memories, and you shivered, turning to quickly close the draft as to not disturb the delicate temperatures needed to preserve the books. Locking the window shut, you turned and leaned against the wall, gazing out at the walled lined with countless novels, though your eyes kept falling back to a certain Bradbury novel with red flames intricately designed on the cover.

You sighed, grabbing your bag from the table and quickly made your way out to the car before Brock could notice you were gone.

***

You had the driver drop you off in Brooklyn, a few blocks off from the Queens border. It was part of your Sunday routine as much as you could manage to sneak away, to come into the softer side of the city and visit the shops and storefronts you’d frequented in your time before Brock.

You reveled in the feeling of the cold breeze against your every step, hands pressed into your pockets and nose tucking into a scarf when the chill started to bite.

You stopped in at your favorite bagel shop, the one with a few of the letters missing from the sign, and ordered your usual from the kind, middle-aged woman at the register. She smiled as she saw you, giving you a quick wave, as she finished up with the customer across the counter.

Stepping up to the counter, you took in a heavy breath of the fresh baked bread and the bacon sizzling on the table fryers. It was heaven in a shop.

“Hey, Mrs. Marselli,” you greeted, eyeing the order board though you had no intentions to change your mind, “I’ll take a—"

“Oh, don’t you worry, dear, I know it by heart,” she grinned, calling your order down to the last detail to her husband in the kitchen. You hadn’t changed your order in nearly three years and she winked at you. The bagel came only a few moments later wrapped up tight in tin foil.

“It smells amazing, as usual,” you grinned and slid a few extra dollars over the counter.

Mrs. Marselli picked up the cash and narrowed her eyes on it suspiciously. It wasn’t the first time you gave her more than what the bagel was worth. “This is too much, dear. I might need to send you back to school with my grandson!”

“Hmm, guess so,” you shrugged as you backed away, giving her no chance to hand you back the change and excess dollars. “Have a good day Mrs. Marselli! Tell Jim thanks for the bagel!”

“Will do, honey! Stay warm!

The next stop was down at the coffee joint on the corner of the block. It sat next to a Starbucks that usually had a line out the door, but you liked the family who ran Café Ramos and wanted to hear about whether Neftali’s son made the school musical.

The bell rang as you walked inside, a short blast of warm air pushing through the frame and you let out a sigh of relief and pulled the scarf down from your mouth. A messy mop of brown curls jumped up from the register where it looked like Mateo was trying to take a mid-morning nap.

“Y/n’s here!” Mateo shouted back to the kitchen, waving you over and quickly preparing your cup of hot warm. “What can I get you this time? We just got a gingerbread tea in time for the holidays? What about a chocolate lavender? Could always go apple caramel, too…”

“Whatever you think, Mateo,” you laughed, handing him the usual cost of the drink and told him to keep the change. He turned to grab a tea bag from the tin box with a small gingerbread drawing in brown crayon on the front label. “So, did you get the part of Bernardo or what? Don’t hold out on me, kid!”

“Who knows?” he sang with a huge grin, right in tune with the classic song ‘Something’s Coming’ straight from the West Side Story score. You squealed and gave him a high five, though he tried to play it cool. Most high school juniors did.

“That’s amazing, kid! I’m so happy for you,” you bit on your lip, trying to keep in your excitement. You’d known him since he was in elementary school and he talked nonstop of wanting to nab a lead in the high school play. This was his dream. “I want a ticket when you open, you hear me?”

Mateo’s cheeks flushed pink as he pressed the lid to your tea. “Bernardo doesn’t really sing a lot but I’ve got a lot of dance numbers and we all know the Sharks are way cooler than the Jets.”

“Well, count me in as team Shark,” you laughed, taking the tea as he handed it to you. It was piping hot but the smell was intoxicating. “Don’t forget to tell your mom I said thank you for the flowers she delivered to my aunt’s house last week. They were lovely.”

“Sure thing, Y/n!” Mateo called after you as you made your way to the door. He was a sweet kid.

There was as reason you looked forward to Sundays.

Most of the stops you made on your trips alone were filled with interactions like the sweet couple at the bagel joint and the Ramos family at the café, smiles and quick questions of how their day was going, but sometimes, you’d run into people on the street who recognized you for another reason, who knew of your connection to Rumlow and Hydra and they’d take one look at you before crossing the street or disappearing into an alleyway for an escape.

You clenched your jaw as it happened for the third time in only fifteen times.

This time, it was a young man, maybe in his college years with a dark purple bruise on his eye. He was walking with his head down, he almost didn’t notice you until he bumped hard enough into your shoulder to send you spiraling to the ground, trying to escape an oncoming biker who shouldn’t have been on the sidewalk in the first place.

The rest of your tea spilled to the sidewalk and the last bite of bagel was lost to the road. You only had a few sips of the tea anyway and it would give you a decent excuse to grab another on your way home, so it was no loss to you. Though, your tailbone would beg to differ.

“Oh shit! Sorry about tha–” The kid froze dead in his tracks when he finally got a look at you. He reached out quickly and pulled you to your feet, stepping away to give you distance.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” you said, trying to laugh it off but you recognized that petrified look in his eye. He almost certainly knew your husband you wondered what he part of Brock’s world he could possibly be involved in at an age so young. He didn’t seem to be hearing a word you said, so you tried again. “No harm done, kid. Really. I’m perfectly fi–”

“Please, ma’am, I wasn’t lookin’ where I was going,” he begged suddenly, hands shaking now as he glanced around the street nervously, like he was waiting for an attack. “Please, don’t tell Mr. Rumlow. I didn’t– I didn’t mean to–”

He didn’t even give you a chance to convince him that you’d never tell Brock something so trivial and that he had no reason to be afraid, but he bolted off before you could.

“Wait!” you called after him, but it was no use. He was already down the block, glancing back at you over his shoulder like he was running from enemy fire. A frown pushed at your lips, aching in your cheeks as you picked up the empty cup and the foil from the bagel.

Murmurs of bystanders hung in the air around you and you noticed an elderly couple whispering amongst themselves and pointing in your direction. They knew who you were and gossiped amongst themselves. You just hoped word didn’t get back to Brock, but still, these sorts of things always did.

***

When you finally made it to the bodega in Queens, you spotted your cousin sitting on the edge of the sidewalk, mindlessly scrolling through his phone, though his mess of brown hair popped up at every horn that blared in the streets, which was pretty often.

“Parker!”

Peter’s head snapped up in your direction, smiling bright in relief, and he jumped up from the sidewalk, rushing the rest of the way and crashing into you at the center of the crosswalk. His grip around you was tight and he nuzzled the cold of his nose into your shoulder.

“I was starting to think you weren’t gonna show,” he mumbled. Voice muffled as spoke against the lining of your coat. It was a rough time of year for the Parkers. The anniversary of his uncle’s death had just passed last week. You let him hang onto you longer than usual.

You chuckled, glancing around at the pedestrians as they sent you irritable glares in their efforts to step around the two of you. You ushered Peter back over to the sidewalk, not daring to pry his arms from around you.

“Come on, Pete, you know I’d call if I couldn’t come,” you reminded him. “Besides, someone has to keep an eye on you, huh?”

He laughed a little, pulling himself away from your embrace and nodded.

“What’s on our agenda for today?” you inquired, nudging his shoulder to pull that smile out of him again.

“Aunt May wanted me to deposit some checks,” Peter said, gesturing to the lump in his coat pocket. They must be condolences from the funeral. It was nearly five years ago now, but May had a hard time bringing herself to deposit them. Looked like Peter finally convinced her to let them go. “The banks out in Brooklyn though, and I know you just came from there so it’s okay if you don’t want to walk that f—”

“I don’t mind,” you replied with a shrug, hoping to ease some of his tension. “It’s a nice day and I’ve got time.”

That got him smiling, at least.

As you followed Peter along the sidewalks back to Brooklyn, you were relieved to find that he still had the energy to talk a mile a minute, telling you everything from how school has been, his progress on his latest project for the science fair, his escapades with his buddy Ned, and the kid named Flash who had some kind of vendetta against him.

“How’s Michelle?” you asked him suddenly. He nearly choked on air, coughing to alleviate his surprise and you laughed into your scarf, trying to hold it back for the sake of his ego.

“Oh, she’s—uh—she’s good,” he stuttered, chuckling nervously and running a hand through his hair. “I was thinking I might try and find this necklace for her, actually. She really likes the Black Dalilah. You know, like the murder?”

You raised an eyebrow, listening intently as Peter explained and you couldn’t help but feel grateful you weren’t in high school anymore. All these rules about how to interact with everyone and constant pressure to say the right thing. It was exhausting. Though, if you were honest with yourself, your life wasn’t much different now as it was then.

“What about you? How are things with Brock?”

You blinked a few times, surprised to look up and find you were a few blocks past where you’d last checked. You brushed a hand through your hair, shaking out the knots.

“Oh, you know, same as usual,” you said, not willing to give Peter any more detail than he needed. He knew nothing of the underground world your husband operated in and you planned to keep it that way. As far as Peter knew, Brock was the owner of a dance club in midtown. Nothing more.

There was an ache in your voice though, a slight sort of tremble that Peter usually picked up on though he didn’t force it. You felt his eyes as he glanced over at you, hands tucked into his pockets and shoulders hunched up by his ears to hide from the cold, trying to find evidence of your hurt upon your face. Your eyes were downcast, lips pressed to a frown.

He’d seen the change in you after your father died and he had thought it was grief, even for a man who wasn’t around much to begin with. He had tried to give you space but even you knew you had lost pieces of yourself that never healed again and it wasn’t because of your father.

“Come on, kid,” you huffed, swatting at his arm enough to trip him a few steps and get him laughing again, “I’ll race you to the bank.”

It was only two blocks away and you were on back alleys with minimal traffic anyway. It was something you used to do when you were younger and you’d be the one watching him after school. It was all you could do to get the energy out of the little pest.

“What do I get if I beat you?”

“Pride, Peter.”

“How about donuts from McQueen’s?” he pressed, grabbing tight to your elbow and bringing you to an abrupt stop. Alright – so he was serious now.

You narrowed your eyes. “Fine. When I win, I want churros from the street vender across the block.”

“Done.”

***

An hour later you dropped Peter off back at Aunt May’s there was sweet sticky residue of cinnamon sugar on your fingers as you waved goodbye. You pulled the second churro from your bag, half eaten, and bit down on it with a triumphant smile.

Peter laughed, shaking his head as he brushed past Aunt May and slipped inside the house. She waved at you, leaning against the frame, reminding you to not be such a stranger, before you made your way home.

It had been a while since you’d spent time with Aunt May, especially after Uncle Ben passed. Hell, it had been a while since you’d spent time with anyone, really. You worked hard to keep Peter and Aunt May out of Brock’s world.

You never told him when you met up with Peter on the Sundays you were able to slip out of the house, giving excuses of your errands in Brooklyn and spending time reading in the park. He never questioned you, never thought that you would lie to him because he thought you to be feeble and submissive.

He confused you for the character in which you played for him. You weren’t the only one who could be fooled by someone who was supposed to love them.

You sighed as you pushed your way into the front door of the home, the chill of the inside no warmer than the flutter of snow falling outside. You reluctantly unwrapped your scarf, hung your coat, and eyed the emptiness of the living room. There was a loneliness in this home you were never quite able to shake, even in the moments Brock was around. It was never his company you craved.

A chill swept up your spine and you tugged your cardigan across your chest. Hoping there might be something in the kitchen you could throw together to make soup, you kicked off your shoes by the door and scurried your way across the living room. Hell, you’d even settle for a cup of tea and a PB&J if it was all you had.

Humming to yourself, you didn’t notice the murmured voices beyond the door as you pushed your way inside.

You froze in your tracks, nearly stumbling over your feet to find Brock and a few men in suits you didn’t recognize sitting around the table, eyes all trained on you.

James stood in the corner of the room, observing, and if you hadn’t already known what he did for your husband, you would have thought he was out of place.

Even the limited interactions you had with him had been decent, kind almost, and certainly nothing like the rest of the men your husband kept under his payroll. He nodded at you in acknowledgement, hands clasped behind his back. It was subtle, but it was there. It was more than any other Hydra members offered you.

Brock’s jaw was clenched when you finally dared to look in his direction, a silent warning for you to leave the room, but you huffed, letting the door close behind you as you made your way to the stove and turned on the top right burner. You usually had a bit more defiance in you after your time with Peter. He reminded you of who you used to be.

“Gentlemen, this is my wife,” Brock announced, forced smile and tight in his tone. He never offered your name, like withholding it was another lock he kept you under; dehumanized and alone.

You could hear the murmurs of approval from his business associates as you put a pot on the stove. Just as you were reaching for a can of broth from the pantry, Brock cleared his throat. You gritted your teeth and turned to face him.

“Why don’t you let Clara make something for you, baby?”

He wasn’t asking to be kind. He wanted you gone.

Clara quickly stepped in from the adjoining room, a sweet woman in her early seventies who had been working for the Rumlow family for decades and put up with far more than she should. You shook your head at her, offering a small smile as you held up your hand.

“I can manage just fine, thanks,” you replied.

“Baby,” Brock urged, the threatening nature of his voice masked under the pet name you despised, “we’re in the middle of a very important meeting.”

“You’re also in the middle of the kitchen and I’m hungry,” you snapped back, pleased by the flash of shock on his face. “You have a thousand other rooms in this house, you can’t go anywhere else?”

You’d come to regret that jab later, but the satisfaction of the way his forced smile faded down into an aggravated frown was too sweet to resist. As you turned back to the stove, you spotted James in the corner attempting to suppress a smile, though he quickly pushed it aside when Brock called his name.

“Karpov, please escort my wife somewhere she’ll be more comfortable. I’ll have Clara bring her dinner when it’s ready.”

James nodded, stern features replacing the softness of the smile and he stepped forward, gesturing for you to follow.

“You can’t be serious,” you gaped, glancing at James before you turned back to Brock.

You weren’t a child and you didn’t need to be treated as such, but with the look on Brock’s face, the redness burning in patches on his neck and the glare in his eyes as he stared you down, warning you to shut your damn mouth, and you silenced immediately.

You’d seen that look before. It wasn’t one you enjoyed being on the receiving end of.

“Ma’am, please come with me,” James requested, voice low, soft, and he placed a hand on your arm to lead you away but you yanked it from his grasp harsher than you intended.

It wasn’t him you were angry with but he was just as much a part of Hydra’s world as your husband was. He chose this life. You were forced into it. It didn’t matter how sweet and gentle he was, or the fact that he seemed to care about your books or your wellbeing. He was still a man following orders.

Frustration was etching in your skin, leaving you feeling antsy and shaken, but you stood your ground. You met Brock’s eye from across the room, a challenge of wills between you.

“Don’t make me ask again,” Brock growled, slowly standing from his position.

It was then you felt another soft touch on the mid of your shoulder blades. Gentle, guiding, and entirely unlike the hands of his men before who had yanked you from the room with a firm grasp around your wrist that left red marks and aching. You turned to find James watching you carefully, offering a nod in encouragement, and you shivered away from his fingertips.

His hand fell immediately and he made no efforts to touch you again.

You glanced back at your husband, and then to Clara who had already starting preparing the soup with the ingredients you had taken out of the pantry. With a roll of your eyes, you turned on your heels and stormed out of the kitchen, leaving Brock with a satisfied, prideful smirk you’d come to loath.

“Keep an eye on her, Karpov,” Brock called out to James and you turned your shoulder to find him following you into the living room.

There was an apologetic look about him, with his hands stuffed into his pockets and his hair falling down into his face. He offered you a tight-lipped smile despite the hardened frown on your face, and it only seemed to add to the confusion he elicited in you.

“I don’t need a babysitter, just so you know,” you said, arms folded over your chest as you leaned against the back of the couch.

“Oh, I am fully aware,” James nodded, a slight chuckle escaping him. “Think you can do me a favor and let me stick around for a bit though? Just so I don’t piss off the boss?”

You laughed despite yourself. The tension quickly fading from your shoulders and your arms unfolded from your chest. Hands gripping at the suede fabric of the couch, you turned to see James smiling at you. It was bright, leaving dimples on his cheeks and wrinkles by his eyes. He was really quite beautiful if you stopped and let yourself think so, which you did not.

“I suppose I can be fine with that.“

A silence took over for a moment and he shifted in his stance. He didn’t care for the quiet, you noticed, watching the way his eyes glanced down to his watch and he started to tap his toe against the hardwood floors. It took you a few years, but you’d come to savor the silent moment likes these. They meant you were alone, out of Brock and Hydra’s reach. They were a blanket of warmth and safety.

James seemed to find them unsettling.

“I actually have something for you,” he said suddenly, a slight jolt in his body as the realization came back to him and he quickly made his way to a black backpack sitting in the corner of the living room.

You narrowed your eyes on him, wondering what your husband’s enforcer could possibly have in that bag. You watched as he dug around the inside and tried to steal a glance over his shoulder when he stood up abruptly with a sudden nervous energy about him.

He didn’t say anything as he extended his hand to you; in his grasp was a copy of A Farewell to Arms.

You swallowed, stilling immediately, as you stared at it for a moment, giving yourself just a moment to process exactly what this was before your eyes trailed up to his.

He was swaying on his feet and it surprised you to watch a man who had been hired by your husband, to have dozens of pounds of muscle on his frame, and standing at six feet tall to be so nervous. You carefully took the book from his hands, running your fingers along the print of the title before you flipped through the pages.

It was faded on the cover and the binding was near in pieces from over stretching and cracking down the middle with use, but it was still readable, even with the ring of coffee stained on the first page of chapter one. The back cover had a high school library sticker adhered to the page that looked like it had been picked at relentlessly, though it won out in the end.

Worn over the years of being passed from student to student until ultimately James took it home and kept it more than a decade ago. It was a relic. A memory. It was perfect in every way and suddenly there was a lump in your throat you couldn’t quite explain. It had been years since you’d known kindness like this inside this home.

You had Peter and Aunt May, but they were like treasured secrets; ones you kept at the furthest distance from Brock as you could. This – this book in your hands – was something else entirely. You couldn’t remember the last time Brock brought you something simply because it reminded him of you.

James managed to make your heart ache and your stomach twist all at once, and you’d only known him a few weeks. You were at a complete loss.

“I know it’s not a first edition but,” he stumbled nervously, scratching at the back of his neck, “it was one of the few classics I liked back in high school. It’s, uh, seen some things… clearly.”

He chuckled anxiously, gesturing to the worn-down binding, and after a moment of what seemed to be pure shock, you tugged the book to your chest, hugging it close to your heart. A smile lit up your face, sparkling like gold and glitter and magic in your eyes. It was like a rush of heat in your veins and breath of fresh air.

“Do you want to see the library?” you asked suddenly and he seemed surprised by that as he raised an eyebrow, taking a step back. Now it was your turn to shift nervously on your feet as you stole a glance back over to the kitchen. “You know, if you’re stuck with me for a little while?”

James smiled, the corners of his lips curving slowly into his cheeks, and he nodded.

You grinned, turning on your heels and allowing him to follow you. You kept the Hemingway classic close to your chest the entire walk and tried not to think of the implications of it or the fact that Brock never once took any interest in your books or that you’d only known James a few weeks and he already seemed to be more interested in your love of fiction than your husband ever was.

You pushed all those thoughts aside. At least, you tried to. James wasn’t making it exceptionally easy with the way he was stunned into near silence as you pushed open the heavy oak doors and led him inside your sanctuary.

“I know you said you saw it before, but–”

“Not like this,” he said with a heavy sigh, shaking his head in disbelief as he stepped inside.

You knew a forced smile when you saw it and the way James walked around the room, his hand trailing along the shelf and closely examining the titles and the intricate detailing in the woodwork, every ounce of the bewilderment on his face seemed to be entirely genuine. He paused at the end of the first row, chuckling to himself as he pulled out a novel you quickly realized was among your Bradbury collection.

Fahrenheit 451. The book he asked you about the second time you ever spoke to him. There were smiles in between, careful glances and slight nods of acknowledgment in a way none of Brock’s men ever offered to you before, but the first time he talked to you, really talked to you, without the presence of your husband, was the first time you’d laughed in that home in a long time.

“You can borrow it, if you like,” you offered, leaning against the shelf as you watched him flip open the pages, studying the near translucency of the paper and the sculpted gold framing of the font on the cover.

“Think I might be a bit too rough around the edges for something as delicate as this,” he replied and it made your stomach twist in knots with the way he laughed to himself. The feeling was so foreign to you, you almost didn’t recognize it. It had been years since anyone brought those kinds of butteries around.

“I don’t believe that’s true,” you shrugged, stepping closer. “There’s no use in having a library full of books you can’t read. It’s what they’re here for.”

“Not sure that applies to ones worth thousands of dollars,” he mumbled awkwardly, though he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the first page, like he had already started reading. His eyes were scanning the page, a slight curve of his lips as he read, and you swore your heart fluttered, but you shoved the feeling deep down because it wasn’t one you were allowed to have.

“It does, actually,” you countered and he looked up from the page to find you standing just a few feet away.

He sighed, clearly reluctant. His eyes trailed from the pages to your face, and back to the pages again. “Only if you’re sure.”

“I insist.”

You smiled at him and he closed the book, letting his hand fall to the side with the novel pressed to his hip. He nodded in appreciation.

“Guess it’s the least you could do now that I’ve gifted you such a relic,” he grinned, nodding to the novel in your hands nearly torn at the seams, with pages bending in the corners from unwanted moisture and cracks in the cover.

“Hey!” you laughed, swatting his arm playfully, “don’t knock my new favorite book.”

“Favorite, huh?”

Your cheeks hurt. Blushing and heart pounding. It was suddenly five years earlier and you weren’t tied down by rope and duty and bound to a home and husband you wanted nothing to do with. It felt like, for a short impossible moment, that maybe you could start again, maybe want something for yourself.

But James was just as much a part of Hydra as Brock was; maybe even more so because it was his hands carrying out orders. It didn’t matter that the soft hue of bright blue eyes and the sweetness in his smile seemed to contradict everything you knew about him. He was still Hydra.

Realizing you had been staring too long, standing too close, you quickly cleared your throat, stepping back and James let out a heavy sigh, looking just about everywhere around the room but at you.

A sudden knock at the door made you flinch, hand darting to your heart to hold you steady.

“Miss Y/n?” a voice called. Clara. You could smell the homemade soup from across the room.

“Just a moment,” you called back.

You were hidden behind an aisle of books, shielded by the abundance of thick covers and pages, hiding this stolen moment – or whatever it was. You glanced back at James nervously, a silent apology in your eyes and he seemed to understand immediately. It was time for him to leave.

He offered you a short smile, holding up the Bradbury novel in his hand with a slight nod of appreciation, before he quietly slipped from the library. Clara eyed him as he left, keeping a careful distance as she usually did when Brock’s employees were around. When you emerged from behind the row of shelves, she had already set up your tray on the coffee table, folding the napkin into a beautiful design.

“That one’s new around here, isn’t he?” she asked, referring to James, a slight tremor in her voice that came with age. She smiled at you, saying more between the lines, but you knew what she meant.

James didn’t seem to be anything like the other men Rumlow kept company with. He was kind, with bright eyes and a warm smile. He cared about your library and your novels without forcing his way through a conversation for the sake of politeness.

He brought you a book, one from his own home, one he kept since his school days and must have dug through old boxes for, simply because he thought it might make you smile.

He was genuine. It had been a long time since you’d known anything like that within the walls of this home.

And it terrified you.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you

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aliynavenus · 4 years

Text

‘A Little Adjustment’ a damirae fanfic

Prologue

next chapter is out click here to read

“Aw man how much longer till lunch I’m starving.” Jon groaned impatiently, leaning against his chair, acting as if the hunger was going to end him right then and there.

“Relax. We only have half an hour.” Damian didn’t even lift his head away from the textbook he was reading, the study of hidden techniques of the katana, Of course, the academy would never actually have this in their library so he had to take a part in bringing his own interests from home. Even though he knows every little thing there is to know about his sword, it was the only thing that interested him while passing time during his study hall.

“Hey look, that transfer is in our class.” Jon leaned in across the table nudging his head to where a young girl sat on the couch displayed across from them, “I heard her name is Rachel. Some people have been talking about her already. They say she gives off like a bad vibe or a scary one, something like that. I mean she does look rather anti-social” he paused, thinking. “Just like you! You should talk to her.”

Damian didn’t even bother to look up, “You know I have no desire for women.” It was like a reflex when he said it though it was true. Never in his life did he care for women like that, even after all those damn setups his brothers have put him through, yet he always left the girl either crying or shut the door right in their face when they arrived at the manor.

“You’re no fun. Tons of girls swoon if you even speak to them.” Jon glared at him trying to get Damian to understand yet he got nothing but his eyes wandering at the damn book, “You’re hopeless, I can’t wait to meet the girl who actually makes you feel emotions,” pause, “I’ll be back I have to use the bathroom.”

Tsk. It felt like everyone around him was wondering if he had any sensibility. His brothers, Jon, even his own father, were all meddling into his life wanting him to be more “sociable.” Like that would ever happen. He wasn't trained to have empathy, he was trained to assassinate anyone that meant necessary feeling no guilt out of it. He was supposed to be the next heir to the league. Yet that all went away when he turned 14 and came here. Even though it’s been 2 years since then he really hasn’t made that much improvement in the realm of “socializing” as his father would say.

What was the point of it anyway? Everyone at the damn academy were all prids who cared only about their wealth and status having no sense of what actually goes on behind their boring life. They were all the same. Not once has he ever felt like anyone could compare to him. No one could understand the insufferable anguish of destiny to become merely just a weapon to then having to adjust to living ‘normally’, to know that the person he once admired was a demon himself. It all vanished, so what was even the point to get to know someone if they didn't understand.

Damian lifted his head finally releasing his sight from the textbook. He groaned, craning his neck to stretch it. His version began drifting to the scenery of the library until something caught his eye or someone, someone who he’s never seen before.

A girl with dark raven hair with pale skin seated on the cushion brown sofa, alone. Oh, this must’ve been the girl Jon was talking about. Her face was stuck to a book. ‘The Truth of the Realm of the Underworld’

He felt taken aback at that, no average girl around here would ever touch a book like that. It almost intrigued him. He tilted his head slightly trying not to be noticeable that he was looking for the features of her face. Finally she lowered the book.

And that’s when he saw her.

She looked so fascinating and mysterious all at once. Her features were delicate and soft, it was if he could see hidden secrets behind her face, behind those violet eyes if anything. Those eyes, those damn perfect eyes. They were something he’s never seen before. Even at a distance he could see her iris were full of infinite specks like gems. This was the girl people said they feel bad energy from, how in the hell can that even be. She didn’t look scary or anything, she looked pure.

His chest tightened as he stared at her. What has gotten into him? It was as if he could hear his heartbeat quicken pounding against his ears. A lock then fell out of her hair framing her face, simply tucking it behind her ear, he felt his jaw tighten. Fuck she looks cute. Damian never noticed the uniform on the girls in the academy but the way they fit on her, it was mesmerizing.

It hugged her perfectly. The clean white button up blouse with a neat red tie around her neck. The short plaid skirt--extremely short, laid perfectly at her thighs. Her skin even looked velvety like a smooth canvas with no imprints. She was so beautiful.

He then felt his throat being choked by the damn tie. Like that helped his body relax. He never felt more desirous to talk to someone, to know every little thing about them, to touch them. She was something that looked restricted, too good to even lay a finger on, especially with his guilty hands. He needed to know more about her, to understand her, so much that it made him eagered.

“Everyone! Please evacuate to the main room! I just got word that the city is under attack!” The librarian spoke loudly, alarming everyone to quickly rush towards the exit in panic.

Rumbling was heard from outside the room, making the floor vibrate within their feet. Sirens of ambulances were blaring outside echoing through the glass windows. Damian needed to get away from these people so he could change. Damn it why did there have to be so many snobs in this damn study. Pushing past everyone to leave the crowd to run to the empty hall to find his locker for his uniform. “Damian! Here!” Jon shouted who was already disguised, throwing Damian’s duffle bag that he kept his uniform in, “Hurry. Bane is throwing grenades everywhere outside the school and having his minions raid the bank.”

“Thanks Jon. Everyone should be in the main room, make sure they're safe. Don’t let anyone leave the building! Contact Wally and Donna while you’re at it” Damian hollered rushing towards an empty classroom to change.

“You got it, boss!”

Changing quickly Damian launched the grappling hook gun to extend out the nearest window to swiftly take him outside to see Bane’s minions robbing the bank across the street from the academy, like that was such a coincidence. Landing perfectly on the ground annihilating himself to his enemies as if they were no more than punching bags. “Your combat could use an increase in reaction.” flipping another minion onto an agonizing pile of them.

“Robin! Someone is stuck under rubble on the corner, they need help!” Wonder girl yelled in the air with a woman in her arms retrieving her to safety

Damian nodded, running towards the place Donna was referring to. There was someone, someone from the academy. It was Rachel.

What the hell was she doing out of the academy it was a lockdown. He didn’t expect their first meeting to be introduced to her as Robin but hell with it, he needed to get her to safety.

Rachel’s ankle was stuck under a piece of construction, from one of the grenades that wrecked the concrete. Placing his hand at the small of her back for comfort, “We’ll get you out, stay calm” and she was. He found it rather strange at first normally people would panic and cling to him wanting to get out in harm's way but she was perfectly fine when he rushed to her. Does she normally get trapped under rumble?

“Robin, watch out!” looking above to see enormous pieces of construction falling right to their direction, instantly taking a hold of her head bringing it close to the crook of his neck, shielding her body with his, waiting for the rumble to crash into them. But it didn’t. When he opened his eyes Raven’s hand were up in the air, dark magic appearing out of it connecting to a force field surrounding them in a bubble protecting them.

His eyes widen, holy shit. No wonder, she didn’t just seem different to him before, it was because she was. She was a sorcerer.Sure he’s seen tons of shocking things in his life that never appealed to him but this one, it was a whole different story. It was unreal.

Rachel sighed hopeless when she used her powers to lift up the construction under her to release her ankle. “I guess the cat’s out of the bag.” she chuckled dryly against his shoulder, at her charade was now over.

Damian pulled her head gently away from his shoulder, “Is your ankle injur-Argh!” A sudden hit from a baton was swung against the side of his head. One of those damn criminals managed to get a hit on him by surprise. Damian gritted his teeth ignoring the blood rushing down his head turning to the enemy to torture him. Although that didn’t even need to happen when he saw the masked man being lifted from the ground and flung to the other side of the street.

“Are you okay?” her worried voice came behind him leaning her body up towards him to touch the damage of his head. It was the first time he’s ever heard her speak, her voice was soft yet filed with emotion when she saw his wound. He felt the touch of her fingers gently being dozed in his blood against his skin. Even though he had farther worse injuries than this it felt like her touch burned him, yearning for her.

He felt his throat dry up, “Yea, it doesn’t hurt.” she looked at him with worry “I’ll be fine.” he assured her. “Isn’t your ankle hurting.”

“I didn’t want people to see I had powers, it didn’t hurt me. But I can heal you. Let me heal you please it won’t take long.” concern was filled in her expression. He felt his stomach twist with her touches on his arm and head. It was almost like he surrendered in her grasp.

“Okay. Do it fast.”

She nodded rolling up her sleeves, placing both her palms on the side of his head. Amethyst. That was the color of her eyes up close. They were big and gazing and full of mystery that he wanted to seek. Seeing her face up close, she was naturally beautiful. He felt his chest tighten once again but this time he felt like his whole body felt tense having her in his reach. Shortly he felt the slow stings takeover the wound, yet it wasn’t painful. It felt bitter but a pleasurable sensation overriding his damaged flesh. It was warm and contagious feeling her powers run through his veins. Sensing his bloody wound reattaching onto clean skin, admittedly it felt enjoyable knowing this came from Rachel. He let out a soft breath from his lips as he felt the tenderness disappear, damn it felt good.

Then something unexpected happened, writing in a form he never recognized appeared on her arm in glowing red ink. What the hell? Is that normal? Something told him it wasn’t seeing her face expression change. It didn’t look like she knew that was going to happen either. He watched as it soon faded away leaving not a mark on her skin.

“What was tha--”

“Robin! We need your help here!” Donna and Wally called out to him who were tangled up in forcing Bane to the ground but having trouble in doing so.

“Right” he nodded, lifting her to her feet “Get back to the academy, it's safer there.” Running towards his teammates he could hear Rachel whisper something, it was distant.

“This can’t be good.”

-----------------------

After a successful mission of taking Bane back to the Asylum and returning the money he had stolen, Damian headed straight to the batcave, still in his Robin uniform, seating himself in front of the main frame.

“What are you looking for?” His father’s voice came from behind him.

To be fair he wasn’t even sure. Right after the mission he came here to do some research on the writing that appeared on Rachel’s arm and her background. He knew his father had to have some relative information about her considering he has information on everyone who are of the abnormal, even his acquaintances. “Just doing some research. Must you monitor everything I do.”

“No but it is my job to keep you on track to fully live your life and your life as Robin separate.”

There his father went on again always speaking of terms of wanting him to socialize more. ‘To fully live it’ whatever that meant. “I am living.”

“Not both. You're living more as Robin than Damian. You haven’t made any new friends except Jon. You only speak to Donna and Wally when you have missions. When are you going to start acting like a teenager your age.” his father’s words were like a blade to his skin. He hated when he acted like this it was an unavoidable irritation.

“I wasn’t trained to make friends, Father. I was trained for the good of humanity.” Damian bit back defensively, turning himself to his eye father to come to full view of him dressed in his business attire.

“You aren’t even a part of it.” Bruce sighed walking towards the main screen tapping keys in “I have a new mission for you, Damian. Think of it as an experiment and experience for you”

“What’s the mission?”

“You’re nemesis, Slade was spotted in Tokyo. Something tells me he’s going to stay there for awhile. There have been also, new leads in a new chemical serum that could be developed into making metas stronger. It’s a drug for them, yet I can’t calculate where the origin is. Which is why I’m sending you.”

Damian felt like something was off about his mission, he knew there was another purpose to this, “What’s the catch Father? Why can’t you simply do it?”

“I chose this for you. I want to send you there to deal with understanding people your age and socializing with them. You’ll be finishing your junior year there and come back before your senior year starts. Everything is already purchased. So we both get what we want. You get to track down Slade as well as any incoming missions sent to you and also, you get to take part in a society meeting people who aren’t abnormal.”

Damian had to say it was a request he couldn’t resist, if it involved Slade. It was like a cat and mouse game that he enjoyed ever since leaving his deceased grandfather’s side. It sounded well but something left him reluctant. He was going to be gone for a year, sure that meant leaving Jon too, it also meant Jon was going to lead Wally and Donna in crisis. Yet the only images that struck his head were her. Rachel. If he left that meant he could no longer seek wanting to see what more she was. Here he was getting the opportunity he’s always wanted, hunting Slade and leaving the meddling voices of his Father and brothers behind yet he felt hesitant. He almost felt pathetic.

“I accept, Father.” Damian leveled his eyes to meet him out of respect. Bruce nodded, “You’re flight leaves tomorrow night. I’ll leave you to it.” he said, walking to the exit of the cave leaving Damian to spin back to the screen dialing as information about Rachel. If he had 22 hours before he left, he might as well gather information on Rachel about her origins so he could inform Jon that a new sorcerer was walking around the academy.

Typing in her name instantly took him to another page that blared at him. Of course he was right, his father did have at least some relative information about her. One of the few benefits about him.

‘Rachel Roth also known as Raven’ so Raven was her real name, it was fitting. He continued on reading everything there was to know, ‘Daughter of Trigon. Left her home Azarath and was spotted a month ago in the city.’ It was quite surprising, he didn’t know Trigon had a daughter.

At least they had something in common, both being raised by demons only to be brought into another way of living. He’d never expect to feel so familiar to someone just by reading pieces of information about her. It felt almost pleasant yet unusual feeling that way. Unfortunately not much was gathered about her considering it’s all new and untraced.

He stretched against the leather chair acknowledging that this research shall be put on pause for the night. Entering the changing room in the cave to peel his uniform off to change into joggers, leaving himself shirtless. He paused to think about her. Should a woman be this much on his mind?. He almost felt disappointed that he wasn’t going to admire her for a year. It pained him. It was like his mind was being ambushed by images of her, her eyes, her touch. It was all too damn good. That he craved it.

A sharp tingly started to form against his foreman. It was writing the same writing that appeared on Raven after she healed him. Why did it appear now? Why did it appear on him? Was this like a mark that was supposed to be left on the body after being healed by her. It was strange but no distress came from him, just comfort. The same kind of comfort that he felt when he was in her grasp. Within a second it vanished, leaving no trace of it left. His body felt no different, it didn’t feel like a threat. Maybe it was just a form of writing after being healed. Like a brandment. For some reason he kind of likes the idea of being marked by her. It made him feel connected to her, he liked it.

But he couldn’t. He was going away for a whole school year. He was going to forget her, these feelings whatever they were, had to be gone And he knew for sure they were, he was Damian fuckin Wayne Al Gual. He could do anything, anything but gain feelings for a girl.

And oh was he so wrong.

------------------------------------

So if you made it to here. This is a multi chapter fanfic and the summary is basically these.

After attending a full year at an off the coast boarding school as well as being involved in an undercover mission, Damian is back to the city for his senior year, after completing his missions. Going back to his subtle ways of living with his father. Attending night patrol around the city. Things of course wouldn’t be any different. Until his best friend, Jon all of a sudden has a new familiar looking step sister -- Raven aka Rachel Roth Kent. The one girl who caught his eye back in the Academy before his departure. Although now having Raven part of the Kent family who also unknowingly knows that her new adoptive family are a bunch of heroes living under her nose. Right nothing much has changed. Just adjustments for the demonbirds

there will be lots of fluff. lots of angst. and smut lol.

#damirae #demonbirds #damian x raven #raven x damian #damian and raven #raven and damian #damian wayne #rachel roth #rachel roth kent #dc fanfiction #justice league dark: apokolips war #teen titans #its finally hereeeee #i did a thing #ahhhhhh another 3 am thing #my babiessss #a little adjustment fanfic

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summerstardust · 4 years

Text

Second Best

Ganger!Doctor x Reader

Summary: The reader feels inadequate compared to The Doctor’s other companions, but does not say anything because of the risk of being asked to leave. Will the risk be doubled when a second Doctor arrives.

Warnings: Character death

Word Count: 1978

Despite being with The Doctor, or maybe because of The Doctor, you got scared quite easily. From the traumatic events of alien invasions to someone dropping a glass, most everything caused you to jump or gasp or have a nightmare about it after the fact. You never told The Doctor, he was clearly more preoccupied with Amy or River or even Rory, at times. Perhaps he would have been more concerned if you brought your fears up in conversation, but you worried that if you mentioned anything The Doctor would consider you too weak to continue traveling. The latter fear could have just been your anxiety, but the fact that The Doctor never even asked if something was bothering you made you believe that it would be better if you ignored your plight.

Those adventures where you were trapped or restricted to a confined area were the worst. Not like a big open planet to run on. So when you encountered the Flesh Gangers on the St. John’s Base, your anxiety ran high. The rebellion, the maze of corridors closing in on you, being chased by form shifting slaves, acid melting through everything, it did not ease your mind.

The Doctor wished for peace and union from the Gangers and the Humans, and you supported him, despite what the others wished.

And then he arrived.

The Ganger!Doctor, you knew something would come about with The Doctor messing with the Flesh Tank thing. Everyone was facing the door of the current hideout that the Human base members dragged you to . You heard something moaning and whimpering in pain behind you. You approached slowly, scared of what you might find. To your shock it was The Doctor, but almost moldable or playable looking. He said that he was The Doctor, he surely acted like The Doctor. The same nervous hand wringing, the way he danced on the balls of his feet, the way he would constantly straighten his bow tie, it was all so very Doctor. Even his entrance of “Hello, I’m The Doctor,” was perfectly pitched and delivered in the way you had become accustomed to. He looked at you foundly, more fondly then your Doctor ever had. Part of you wished that The Doctor hadn't interrupted to examine his Flesh Ganger.

As both The Doctor and The Ganger suspected, Amy wasn't exactly perspective to The Ganger!Doctor. She openly ridiculed him while praising The Doctor, even though they were both tinkering with the engineering and plotting successful ways to save everyone. She didn't care, for some reason she saw such an extreme difference between them that it was, apparently, worth belittling The Ganger!Doctor. You didn’t understand her bombastic reactions to The Ganger!Doctor, you thought that they were both people and deserved understanding and compassion.

Amy clung to The Doctor, and you were happy to keep The Ganger!Doctor company and learn more about him, but he tended to keep his eyes trained on Amy. This, though saddening, did add evidence to The Doctor and his Ganger being more similar than the others wished. You tapped The Ganger!Doctor’s shoulder lightly, who, once their attention was diverted from Amy, smiled sweetly at you, even though he looked distracted.

“Hello,” you were a bit apprehensive, but when he gave you a cheerful ‘Hello’ back you were less worried, “May I ask, how different are you to The Doctor?” The Ganger!Doctor tilled his head, giving a sad yet curious smile and asked ‘why’, he looked exactly like The Doctor when he made that face.

“Well, you don’t seem to be that different. The Doctor said that after you were created you had to cope with the memories and trauma of The Doctor’s previous regenerations and the toll that had on each of his lives. You have the same memories as him, you talk and act like him. So are you two really that different? I know that Amy thinks you are, but are you actually?”

“I guess we will just have to wait and see.” You both smiled and giggled at his lasefare attitude. You saw how Amy glared at the two of you, but also how The Doctor smiled, he seemed genuinely happy witnessing your open minded gesture.

“You are clearly just as cryptic as The Doctor!” You smiled and giggled until you saw that the Ganger!Doctor, once again, was obsessively observing Amy, who was claiming to see the woman with the eyepatch again. She ended up venturing out of your hideout after the Ganger!Doctor ran off.

You were left alone again, and even though you were used to being left behind in conversations between Amy and The Doctor, part of you hoped that The Ganger!Doctor would be different and actually care for you.

You stared at the door your fellow companion had just run out of, tears brimming and threatening to fall from your eyes, you just wished to be enough for someone. When you turned back around, The Doctor was looking at you with that curious glance with a hint of sadness that The Ganger!Doctor had given you a few minutes ago. He began smiling from ear to ear, like a child on a sugar rush, until his eyes met yours. He saw your sadness and your tears and motioned you over to him, offering you the seat Amy once occupied. You did as he wished, but slowly filled with shock. The Doctor never stopped in the middle of an adventure to talk to you privately, that privilege was reserved for others, not you. The Doctor barely even talked to you in his own TARDIS.

“Are you … okay?” The Doctor asked, folding his interlocked fingers into his lap, attention solely on you. You scoffed and looked down, you weren’t okay, you were never okay. You just never brought it up because you wanted to, desperately, to keep traveling and see the Universe.

“Of course I’m okay!” you ended up saying, “I'm the queen of okay!” The Doctor looked down at his feet, moved his own chair closer and softly took your hands in his before speaking, looking in your eyes. Sometimes it was strange seeing his very young face possess such old, emotional eyes.

“Please, dont lie to me, Y/N. You don't seem to be as okay as you claim, and I want you to feel safe with me. To feel like you can trust me, and come to me whenever you may need.” Afew tears slipped from your eyes before you could stop them, and The Doctor reassuringly squeezed your hands before wiping your tears away.

“You've never talked like this to me before.” You eventually said, shocking The Doctor.

“Haven't I?” His voice raised an octave, and you shook your head. The Doctor quickly sat back in his chair, tapping his hands on his knees disgruntledly, “Well, I’m going to have to start doing that! From now on, Y/N, you are my number one priority!” He spun your chair around to make you laugh, but you didn’t.

“Doctor, you really don’t need to do that. I’m not important, and you prefer Am-” The Doctor placed his hand over your mouth to stop you from finishing your statement.

“You are the most important person in this room, Y/N,” he pointed his finger in your face to highlight his point, “don't you forget that.” He booped your nose, causing you to giggle. But your happiness was cut short by Amy running back into the room, scared. The Ganger!Doctor ran in quickly after her, arms raised in an apology.

The rest of the team members forced the two Doctors apart in order to track which one was which, and to keep Amy safe, because that was always The Doctor’s main priority. The groups continued to roam around the maze and encountered each other a couple of times before the final battle and when Jen’s plan was revealed.

It was that moment on the run from Jen that The Doctor and The Ganger!Doctor informed the rest of the remaining workers that they were lying for the sake of an experiment, of the prejudices instilled implicitly in the Human race. The ‘Us vs. Them’ mentality.

Everyone was confused about the reveal, Amy clearly felt betrayed, just as Rory had when Jen lied to him. Though equally confused at first, it did make sense, The Ganger!Doctor who was really The Doctor only looked to Amy. Where The Doctor who was really a Ganger looked to you. Maybe it had to do with that first face thing The Doctor mentioned once. He looked to you once the truth was revealed, hopeful, but sad because he thought that you would look at him differently. You just looked at him in awe, but your looks of longing were interrupted by the mutated Jen trying to break in.

The Doctor and his Ganger seemed to uphold a conversation about what was about to occur, their sentences were incomplete, but they still understood each other. You couldn’t follow the entire conversation, but you understood one part of it, probably the most important part. He was going to sacrifice himself, The Ganger!Doctor, of course he was. You ran up to him, saying that he couldn’t sacrifice himself, that you wanted him there with you.

The Ganger!Doctor pulled you into a deep hug and kissed the top of your forehead. You did not see The Doctor staring at this scene, unaware that the two of you had gotten close, but his Ganger smiled sweetly to his twin, informing him of no ill intent. The Ganger!Doctor broke apart first, and knelt slightly downwards to look you in the eye, searching for any tears. He wiped the few he saw away, and whispered softly, so only you might hear, “We will see each other again, I know it, Y/N. It might be awhile, but I will find you. And if you will have me, we can go away together, but right now you need to leave. I’m not going to allow you to perish with me when I know that I could have saved you.” You tried to plead with him to return with all of you, that you needed him, but he pushed you into The Doctor’s arm, he had to carry you away, kicking and screaming.

The Doctor threw you inside, the TARDIS doors locking in place behind you. You tried everything, every knob and button, but the door would not open, so you resorted to banging on it. This brought the Ganger!Doctor’s attention back on you. He was shocked that you were still here, more distracted by Jen, but he blew a kiss to you and waved one final goodbye before preparing to face Jen. The Doctor finally managed to dematerialize the TARDIS out of there, leaving before you saw The Ganger!Doctor die.

You couldnt breath, of all the anxieties and fears, running from monsters and exploding planets, you had never been this breathless. You ran to your room before the big happy ending. Selfishly you thought that because you didn’t get your happy ending, you didn’t want or deserve to be around others when they got theirs. You finally broke down when you realized that the person who you showed you the most kindness, you might never see again, even though he claimed that the both of you would. Now him saying that seemed to only be a lie to make you feel better in the moment and to get you out of danger. The Doctor said something about the Ganger’s molecular memory surviving after being decommissioned, but didn’t know if The Doctor would actually do this for you. So you sat, and cried in your room, alone, thinking about what your life could have become.

#doctor who x reader #doctor who imagine #doctor who #ganger!doctor #ganger!doctor x reader #eleventh doctor #fanfiction #personal post

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lovesickkidifficial · 4 years

Text

Injured- A Yandere!Asahi story

CW: So uh, just in case reader discretion is advised.

A/N: Okay so this was supposed to be a x Reader fic of sorts but I don't know if it still counts because of the style I wrote it in. But please note when I say "I or Me". I'm not referring to myself, it's supposed to be like the reader is telling the story. Anyways let me know what you guys think.

What was I thinking? Yeah, what was I thinking? I could have tried the door or maybe the old tie the bed sheets to make a rope trick but nope. Instead I thought of the brilliant idea of jumping out of the second story window. Didn’t someone write a song lyric talking about this?

Yeah, except that person broke their foot; I, however, sprained my knee. It was so bad they had to put a splint on. The medication they gave me was beginning to wear off and I was starting to feel the extent of my injury. Jumping out of a second story window on to a flimsy tree branch, my best idea yet. However, even in my current state; it still beats being stuck in that apartment with him. The fact I was out of there gave me a bit of relief.

It had been so long since I saw anything else other than those drab apartment walls and the little window I used to escape. I truly took being outside and my freedom for granted. Like they say “you never know a good thing until it’s gone”. Ever since I moved in with Asahi, things started going downhill. I felt trapped in that stupid apartment. It started off with little things. Just him wanting to be around me at every waking moment. Didn’t help that he worked from home 90% of the time. But then he started distancing me from my friends, then my family. He convinced me to quit my job saying “I can take care of the both of us, so you don’t have to worry”. Sounded like a good idea on paper but now I regret that decision. He started restricting my time outside more and more to the point where I was stuck inside all day. I tried to sneak out a few times in the past but he always seemed to find me. No matter how careful I was; he was always there to drag me back to that hell hole. Maybe I had a tracker on me or something, then again that’s a bit extreme… and illegal. Things got really bad when he changed the locks. He set it up, so that outside has additional locks and he had keys to all of them. Not the safest idea if you asked me. Then again, since he was with me most of the time he really didn't have to worry, I guess. Either way being around him felt so… so suffocating. I hated it. I hated being in his arms. I hated being around him in general. But every time I tried to escape… All of the good memories I had with him come flooding in. He took me in when I had nowhere else to go. He took care of me when I was at my lowest. Hell, he treated me better than other people I met in my life. But then the logical part of me kicks in and tells me, This is wrong. Keeping someone you love locked away like this isn’t love. It was more like he was obsessed with me.

I had to get out of there, I don’t care how I would do it but I had to be free.Thankfully on that day he had to leave the apartment for a job. There was my chance. I did my usual routine. I got up before him to make him breakfast and got washed up. I told him I loved and kissed him goodbye (while suppressing the urge to vomit because even uttering the words “I love you” to him made me sick). But that day was going to be very different. I waited an hour to make sure he was gone. I shoved open the window and removed the screen. I position myself to jump. My plan was simple, jump from the window to the tree and land safely and book it out of there. It’s weird, right when I jumped everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. Like the universe was giving me just enough time to execute my plan. If only it had shown me the aftermath. It almost worked. Until that branch I decided to use broke. I managed to land but not properly. The minute my feet touched the ground I felt I knee give out. Thankfully a good samaritan saw me struggle and swooped in to help me.

I may be down a knee but at least I was out of that god forsaken apartment. I laid back in the hospital bed and smiled to myself. I felt at peace for once.

“Oh my goodness, are you okay?!”

My heart stopped. I could recognize that voice anywhere. Damn it… I thought, How? How did he find me? Asahi came running up to the hospital bed with concern written all over his face. He looked a mess. Like the doctors told him I was paralyzed or that I was going to die. I felt a little bad for the guy. Just a little bad though.

“Did something happen while I was gone? How did you hurt yourself?” he stammered.

I stayed quiet, it was obvious I was trying to escape but I rather not say. I felt like a child doing something I wasn’t supposed to and got hurt because of it. However, something felt off about his demeanor. Asahi was a worry wart but he seemed too panicked. Like he was playing the part of an over-concerned boyfriend because of all of the doctors around. They explain to him that I sprained my knee and how to take care of the injury. They left to get some paperwork done and my prescriptions ready. The tension in that room was so thick I could cut it with a knife. I looked over at Asahi. His panicked look turned into a sinister smile.

“You were trying to run away weren’t you?” he asked. His voice was so cold and calm that it sent a chill down my spine. I was so scared. His expression was calm but his eyes were full of anger. I never seen him that angry before. He never seemed like the type. It was the one time his personality matched his appearance. My heart began to race. Almost like it was going to burst out of my chest.

“Why? Why would you try something like that?” he continued, “Did I do something wrong”?

I can sit here and go through a list of things he’s done wrong, but instead I held my tongue.

“Or maybe… Maybe you just really missed me that you couldn't wait for me to get home”?

I looked at him in shock. How the hell did he get that conclusion? Is he losing it?

“With that expression, it looks like I’m right,” he said with a big goofy smile. “But you don’t have to worry, because now I’ll be home to take good care of you”.

He reached over and gave me a hug. All I could do is silently cry into his shoulder.

Someone, anyone, please help me...

#yandere x reader #well kinda #yandere haikyuu #yandere writing #yandere #i tried #i hope it's okay #asahi azumane #hq asahi #azumane asahi

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19mrs-barnes17 · 5 years

Note

Can you do one for camping with Clint? Something sweet? Pretty please

Warmth of the Fire

Summary: You recall back to when you met your boyfriend long ago on a camping trip.

Part:1/1

Pairing: Clint x reader

Warnings: injuries? none?

Word count: 1,102

A/N: Hello anon! Thank you for the ask and I hope this is sweet enough for you!

Stars shine in the sky and the glow of the fire sent flickers of light all around in an orange hue. He sat inches from you, eyes gazing into the flame with such intensity. You nudge his shoulder with yours, a small smile dancing on his lips.

Clint needed some time off from all the non stop missions and you recommended he completely unplug from it all. So, here you both sat making s’mores over a crackling fire and telling stories. As per tradition. He was so grateful to have you here, to listen and make him laugh. It was what he had needed.

“I’m serious. You should have seen Steve’s face.” You were absolutely laughing out of control as the image resurfaced and Clint couldn’t help but laugh along.

“How did you manage it?” He had been carving a chunk of wood throughout the night and you were constantly being distracted by the intricate markings.

“I’ll tell you how, if…” You nod your head toward the piece of wood in his hands and he simply shakes his head. “Aw, c’mon. At least tell me what it is.”

“No can do beautiful.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek before turning back to his work. You had a feeling it was for you, but he wouldn’t admit it. Even despite your history.

The next morning you woke to find a beautifully carved ballerina with swirls all over her tutu and down her legs. It was absolutely breathtaking. And it would be added to your collection at home.

Every single time you went camping he made you some figurine, never painted, but always incredible. Last time it was a wolf with an intricate pattern etched into its sides, that was his trademark. Never would you have guessed that he had possessed such a skill until that first night you had met him.

~flashback~

Birds were chirping and the sun shined brightly in rays through the branches of the evergreens, leaving little patches of light throughout the trail. The park took your breath away, in the best sense of the phrase. You were out here alone, but never felt uneasy during your trip. This was your yearly vacation from work and it worked perfectly to destress the tension in your muscles and mind.

Lost in thought you accidentally bumped into a man who was trying to read a map that spanned quite far. He and you tumble down a hill off the side of the path, groaning in pain as you struggled to move. You had landed right on top of him.

“Ow. Are your alright?” The stranger glanced up at you, concern evident in his eyes. You nodded, wincing at the throbbing in your wrist.

“What about you? You cushioned my fall. Are you okay?” He chuckles which results in a pinched up face as he hisses at the pain. “Exactly my point.”

“How about we settle on the fact that both of us took some damage.” You nodded, doing your best to push yourself off of the man. He was quite handsome, in a rugged sort of way. You found yourself distracted the moment you were off him, staring at first to assess injuries, but soon getting wrapped up in him.

“Uh, I have a first aid supplies back in my tent. Think you can make it that far?” He chuckles, wincing once more before nodding. You extend your uninjured hand and help him to his feet, holding the likely sprained wrist to your chest.

When in your tent you grab the bag and search for bandages and peroxide. He helps you to wrap your right wrist, set it in a splint, and gives you some pain killers from the bag. You assessed the rest of your body only to find a few bruises forming and some small cuts that you clean and place bandaids over.

“Your turn… uhm…”

“Clint.” He smiles softly up at you from your cot, not daring to argue with you. “What do you need from me?”

“Well, the rest of you looks okay. Definitely some major bruising, but no serious cuts.” He nods, waiting for the rest of the diagnosis. “But, I think most of the damage seems to be coming from your torso, so I’ll need a look.”

He is so quick to slide off his shirt that you blush, turning your gaze away for a moment to gather your bearings.

“You could have just lifted it. Show off.” He chuckles, shrugging it off and wincing at the pain that follows. His torso is littered with scars, bruises, and a deep gash in his side. “Oh god. I’m not skilled enough for this, I’m calling you an ambulance.”

“No, please, I can tell you what to do.” You are frozen in place, fingers ready to dial as you gaze into his panicked eyes.

“Why not?”

“I hate hospitals.”

“You need medical attention.”

“I’ve been through worse and I know what to do.”

“Fine.” You sigh, dropping your phone into your bag. “Tell me how to help you.”

He walks you through the motions and you begin to wonder what it is that he does for a living that he obtains such lasting reminders. As you wrap the bandages around his abdomen you come awfully close to his face when reaching for the roll behind his back. You tie off the bandage, still fairly close to him and acutely aware of the fact.

Your gaze is trapped in his. He leans closer and soon enough his lips softly meet yours in a tender and sweet kiss. Placing your left hand on the nape of his neck you pull him into a deeper kiss, one that leaves you both aching for air.

When you woke the next morning he was cooking over the fire and a little dragon figurine sat on top of your bag.

~end of flashback~

A whistle returns you to the present, well, a whistle and Clint shoving your shoulder gently. His eyes watching you with a certain curiosity as he sits beside you on the cot.

“What’s on your mind beautiful?”

“Just remembering when we first met.” He hummed softly as he recalled the day, a small smile forming on his lips.

“I remember how hard it was to restrain myself, though the gash on my side and your sprained wrist certainly helped.” You chuckle at the thought of what might have happened had you not been… restricted.

“And… what would you have done?” He smirks before picking you up bridal style and carrying you into the tent as you giggled into his shoulder.

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belphegor1982 · 4 years

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Y’know, maybe it’s because I sometimes watched the A-Team as a kid or because the “stuff blowing up” trope is a lot of fun to play with, but I’m going to go with it and say “when in doubt, blow something up” :P

FAIRY TALES AND HOKUM

Summary: 1937: Two years after the events of Ahm Shere, the O’Connells are “required” by the British Government to bring the Diamond taken there from Egypt to England. In Cairo, while Evelyn deals with the negotiations and Rick waits for doom to strike again, Jonathan bumps into an old friend of his from university, Tom Ferguson. Things start to go awry when the Diamond is stolen from the Museum and old loyalties are tested… (story on AO3; on FFnet)

(Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13)

Chapter 14: The Value of Initiatives (on AO3 here)

Night set fast on the Egyptian desert. The sundown had been long, colourful and warm, with just the right amount of slight breeze to cool the air down to pleasant before the long cold of the night. The ground beneath Rick’s feet was still hot, but it was gradually getting cooler, too, enough for him to feel it even through the soles of his thick shoes. For the moment, though, only his heels were on the ground as he lay flat on his back with his hands under his head, watching the sky grow darker.

Even with nothing but the immensity of clear night sky in front of him, Rick had rarely felt so trapped. He had his back to the wall, and each time he tried to think up a way to get himself out of this mess, he came up against yet another wall. His range of choices was certainly restricted, and being able to do nothing but lie there and wait for the sun to rise again was a situation he did not like one bit.

The breeze threw his hair into his eyes, and he brushed it away absent-mindedly. It immediately conjured up the way Evy’s dark locks of hair got into her own eyes with the slightest breath of wind, their way of curling around her lovely face, and her utter failure each time she tried to tie all of them up into a bun or a plait. Even for the first years he’d known her, when she wore her hair up almost all the time, messy tendrils always framed her face no matter what. To an outsider, it was in direct contradiction with the image of the prim and proper English Rose, especially when her lips parted into a smile, and her eyes began to sparkle. Rick had never seen anyone’s eyes sparkle like Evy’s. It made her look truly mischievous, and, fortunately or unfortunately for him, utterly irresistible.

And he missed her. Boy, had he had time to reflect on how much he missed her. He missed her laugh, he missed the touch of her light hand, the scent of her hair, the way she sounded adorable even when she sang off-key, the dangerous glint that lit up in her bright eyes whenever she had an idea that could, in Rick’s opinion anyway, lead to disaster, the warmth of her skin, the way her lips felt so soft in the morning…

He shifted slightly on his spot on the sand, breaking off a line of thought that was getting uncomfortable. His gaze left the sky for one of the fires a few feet to his right. Beside it was the broad figure of Ferguson, sitting with a cup of coffee or tea in his hands, looking deep in thought and unhappy. It occurred to Rick that he, too, must be missing his wife, and worrying about her like mad. At least Evy was free, and Rick was pretty damn sure that she was probably moving heaven and earth right now to find him and Jonathan. He was just glad that she hadn’t taken part in the scuffle the evening before; she wouldn’t have considered such a venture very stealthy, but she likely might have joined in anyway. Waltzing in with all guns blazing was more Rick’s style. Then again, he had been a very bad influence on her in that matter.

From where he lay on the ground, Rick saw Jonathan walk to the fire a little stiffly and sit beside it, warming his hands by the flames. The Englishman made no sign that he had seen him at all, and Rick made no move to get up and come closer to the fire either. His anger had abated reasonably – as reasonably as it could have in twenty-four hours – but he still didn’t get it. He had had the whole day to think about it, but he still just didn’t get it. Jonathan had proved before that he was no bad hand at shooting, far from it. He had a sharp eye and a good aim. Hamilton was a perfect target, there was no way in hell he could have missed. So why hadn’t taken the shot when he had the occasion?

The cut on his forehead twinged, reminding him of the other reason he’d spent the entire day stewing in softly boiled fury. He’d been so damn stupid. Taking a hit in the middle of a melee, yeah, that happened. But getting blindsided like that was a rookie’s mistake. Or an old man’s. Frankly, none of those two options looked good.

The wind shifted, and Rick became aware that the two Englishmen were talking in low voices.

“…now I understand Baine’s black eye and why he’s been glaring at you all day. And when did you finally find your camel?” he heard Ferguson ask quietly.

“Just before dawn, hiding under the cloth of a collapsed tent, completely unscathed. Scurried away to save its neck, it had. Can’t say I blame it, though… That’s what any sane beast or bloke should do in circumstances like that.”

“So now he’s not a ‘stupid, filthy useless bugger’ anymore?”

“He’s still a filthy, useless bugger. But he’s not stupid, I’ll grant you that.”

Rick heard a low chuckle from Ferguson, then Jonathan’s quiet voice again, following a short silence.

“So, perhaps now you’ll tell me exactly who you went to see to ‘pass the word’?”

“Yeah, now that there isn’t anyone around close enough to hear…” Ferguson looked about cautiously. Rick reflected that, three or four days ago, he would have thought the guy was being paranoid. And doing a bad job of it. “All right, but you must promise me not to tell anybody – this is serious business.”

“Right, I forgot this is all just a big cricket game here.”

“Jon…”

“All right, all right, I promise, and I’ll shut up and listen then.”

“The High Priest of Osiris.”

There was a beat. When Rick risked an almost open glance at the two Englishmen, he saw that Jonathan was sitting very still, a suspicious sort of ‘Uh?’ expression on his face. Ferguson sipped a bit from his cup.

This was getting interesting. Rick strained his ears to understand everything he could from his spot.

“Would you care to elaborate?” Jonathan finally uttered, his voice thankfully no louder than it had been. Ferguson shrugged.

“I’ve done some… research, asked some people, and I picked up the trail the afternoon before we left Giza. Strange old bloke, very imposing – made stuff I still can’t explain, like a little chat with a ghost on the wall… His coffee was the best I’d ever drunk, by the way, hands down.”

“Are you playing the bloody fool on purpose?”

“You’re not very patient.” There was wry humour in Ferguson’s voice. “Well, I asked him to warn your sister – tell her that O’Connell and you are fine and all that – so that she would go to the Medjai, because they could give a bit of a hand in this kind of situation, I’d been told.”

So that’s why Ardeth and his buddies had been so quick to find them. They simply knew where to look. Good initiative of Ferguson’s, that.

“Well,” came Jonathan’s voice after another short silence, “at least they know as much as we do now.”

Rick saw Ferguson shake his head. The flickering light of the fire in front of him cast shadows on his face, making him look grim.

“No, Jon, they know a bit more than us – than Hamilton, anyway. Remember what he said about the army of Anubis?”

“What, that any mortal who wakes up this army can control it as long as he claims before the day after tomorrow?”

“Seems that he was a bit wrong concerning the ‘any mortal can control it’ part.”

It seemed to Rick that he sank a little deeper in sand that felt definitely cooler. Just what we need. Not only we got a mad megalomaniac who wants to wipe a whole country off the map, but his plan is based on fairy tales and hokum – half-false fairy tales and hokum, at that. Just great.

“Let me guess.” Jonathan’s voice was lower. He sounded very tired. “If he tries to wake up the army of Anubis, it will wipe out the world.”

“How did you know?”

That’s always the story. I guess we’re just lucky that way.

“Third time, remember? I’m starting to know how it goes.”

Rick went back to staring at the darkening sky. Except for the now familiar sinking feeling in his stomach that meant the end of the world in a few days, he felt oddly normal. The beat of his heart hadn’t even changed.

He continued to listen, albeit idly, as Ferguson detailed his interview with the High Priest. If, somehow, they could get Hamilton tied up and gagged and just wait for the moon – or lack thereof – to set, it would be just perfect. Then again, perhaps it might take more persuasion for agents whom their boss scared out of their wits to commit such a rebellion. Maybe if they managed to convince them that they were all going to die if Hamilton succeeded. It wouldn’t even be a lie, after all…

“What the hell do you mean, ‘claiming Ahm Shere’?”

The edge in Jonathan’s low voice brought Rick’s attention to the conversation around the campfire a few feet away.

“Just that. The day after tomorrow at dawn, the pyramid will be destroyed.”

“How?”

“No idea. I suppose it’ll sink into the ground, or cave in or something.”

Rick closed his eyes, and, to his own great surprise, found himself fighting a rising dry, mirthless laugh. It wasn’t enough that what Hamilton was planning to do in the pyramid would probably end all of humanity. He had to have it planned for the exact moment nobody should be inside the damn pyramid in the first place.

Ridiculous as the idea sounded, tying up Hamilton until danger had passed seemed damn tempting. But it was also completely useless with all those cronies around the guy – he would be freed in no time. The most it could do would be slowing things down a bit.

Without raising his voice much, Rick said, without really looking at the two Englishmen near the fire, “How long before we’re at Ahm Shere, do you think?”

Ferguson jumped, and Jonathan’s head swivelled round in his direction. “How much have you heard?” Ferguson whispered, sounding half scared and half angry.

“Pretty much everything from Anubis’ army up to now. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna shoot off at the mouth about your High Priest of Whatever. So,” Rick said, sitting up on his elbows to face the two of them, “how long?”

The Liverpudlian gulped, then paused to think. Rick noticed that, while Jonathan wasn’t quite avoiding his eyes, he wasn’t exactly meeting them, either.

“I’ve heard Collins say we can be there by teatime tomorrow, but considering the directions we’ve been given, I’d say rather tomorrow by nightfall. Camels don’t go that fast, and there’s quite a lot of things to carry ‘round. Why, what are you thinking about?”

“Well,” Rick said slowly, “we’d just need to stall things a bit, right?”

“And how do you suggest we do that?” asked Jonathan, more quietly than Ferguson. Rick got up from the ground and went to sit down next to the fire. The sky had reached its night-black hue, and darkness had truly fallen around them.

“Actually,” he said in a low voice once he was settled, “I was thinking about jumping Hamilton and storing him someplace till tomorrow, but I guess blowing something up would do the trick just as well. Any kind of diversion might work, really, as long as it slows them down.” The truck, for instance, would be a good target. That was where they stored all the tents for the day and half the ammo for the night. With enough gas to light the fuse, it could make a nice big bonfire.

There was a beat, during which the two others’ eyes went very round and slightly bulging. While Ferguson still stared at him wordlessly, Jonathan shook his head. “You’re mental. They’d never let us try something like that.”

“Because you think I’m gonna ask their permission?” Rick retorted. “At least I can grab an opportunity when I see it!”

“All right, I see your point,” Ferguson said quickly, before Jonathan, whose eyes flashed angrily for a second, could say anything. “But what kind of diversion? How do you suppose we could get hold of Hamilton without anybody seeing us?”

Rick thought for a minute, then nodded.

“Okay, forget Hamilton, but we have to do something. We gotta slow them down.”

“I second that,” muttered Ferguson. “I’d hate to be in that bloody pyramid when it crumbles.” Rick saw his eyes dart to the truck parked some way off from the campfires. Apparently he had more or less the same idea. It was also true that there weren’t that many things that could blow up in the camp.

Question is, how the hell are we going to get there at all?

“If I may venture a suggestion…”

Jonathan’s low voice startled Rick out of his musings. The American glanced at his brother-in-law from the corner of his eye with a frown.

“Look, if you don’t wanna be a part of it, don’t both—”

“It’s not that,” Jonathan snapped, sounding miffed. He wasn’t looking at them. Rick followed his gaze to the camels who were tethered nearby. “I might have an idea.”

.⅋.

Never, in Jonathan’s admittedly ample experience with plans that were bound to fail dismally, had he laid the foundations of a plan that was so obviously bound to fail dismally.

First, camels. There was the fact that camels were involved, and the fact that they had to behave according to plan, when he knew all too well that the bloody beasts never behaved according to any plan but their own.

Second, the idea of Tom coming up with something to distract whoever would be guarding the lorry was preposterous. If the bloke was anything, it was honest. Truthfully, painfully honest. He was just completely incapable of telling a decent lie without blowing it up out of proportion. Then again, Jonathan conceded, Tom had succeeded in almost fooling Evy, hands down the most suspicious person he knew, into believing everything he’d said, and had definitely succeeded as far as Jonathan himself was concerned. It definitely seemed that life as a spy had changed some things he knew for sure about his old friend. So yes, maybe this particular point was not as worrying as the others.

The worst – the tiny part in the plan that made Jonathan cringe and curse himself for suggesting it in the first place – was that he was going to set the blasted thing on fire. All by himself. And wasn’t that a daunting prospect. While he certainly knew a thing or two about the inner workings of an automobile – enough to make one run without really needing the appropriate keys, for example – the idea of an ‘internal combustion engine’ with explosives in the back blowing to pieces didn’t exactly strike him as a particularly clever thing to stand near to. Especially when he was the one who would see to it that the thing blew up, since Rick – bloody Americans always have to blow something up, don’t they! – would be busy with the camels.

Which brought him back to the first problem. How on earth do you make camels understand that orders are urgent and vital to a plan? Beastly cretins couldn’t even follow a lead decently, anyway.

This particular point was the reason for his presence a few yards from the lorry. So far, Rick had been the only one in their group of three with any sort of authority over his camel. He was thus altogether suited for the mission of herding the camels out of the makeshift paddock, and then scattering them to make the biggest mess possible. As for Tom, well, somebody had to distract whoever was doing the guarding and not look especially suspicious in the process.

That left Jonathan with nothing but the truck thing. Fan-bloody-tastic.

Agents had taken the food for the evening out of the lorry and were currently, for the most part, sitting around campfires in groups of six or seven to eat. Most of the tents and gear and some boxes of explosives had been stored in the lorry, and three agents were standing between it and the car, talking in low voices and looking like unnaturally stiff-backed guard dogs. Jonathan couldn’t help being somewhat uncharitably satisfied that he was not the only one not to enjoy camel-back trekking.

There was a nip in the air, and Jonathan found himself glancing longingly at the nearest fire. It was sparkling merrily a few feet away, drawing some agents to it like moths to a lamp, looking very welcoming indeed. Neither Rick nor Tom was anywhere to be seen; each was probably at his own appointed post, waiting for his time to act. Which, as Jonathan realised by peering at his watch in what little light he could get, was drawing near.

The sound of footfall and low voices brought his attention back to the three men standing nearby, and he saw that a fourth had just joined them. The outline of Tom’s sandy hair had an odd reddish look about it with the light of the fire behind him.

“Good evening.”

“Evening, Ferguson.”

The third agent said nothing, but gave a slight nod. His sharp-featured face, hidden in shadows, was visible only for a second as he struck a match to light his cigarette.

“What are you up to, then?” asked the first, a burly-looking fellow who stood easily a head or two taller than Tom.

“Oh, nothing in particular, Norton,” Tom answered, and Jonathan rolled his eyes at the would-be offhand tone. At least he didn’t look too conspicuous. In fact, he just looked tired. “Just wondering what I’m doing here, that’s all. I’m stiff, I’m cold, and I miss my wife.”

“Ah, come on, Ferguson,” said the second man. He had a low-pitched, gravely sort of voice that was surprising coming from a bloke so short. “We’re all suffering here – collectively. Now personally, I wouldn’t say no to a shower and a pint, but we can’t always get what we want, can we?”

“Yeah, Collins, I suppose you’re right. But still, Hamilton had no right to kidnap me wife and use her as bloody leverage. No right at all.”

“I don’t say what he did wasn’t dirty, mate – it was, I’ll grant you that,” the burly one, Norton, piped up. “But it was orders.”

“No, it wasn’t!” Tom protested, louder. Jonathan’s ears pricked up in spite of himself. He was supposed to focus his attention on the camel paddock Rick would unlock any minute now – as soon as he made sure Tom’s little diversion was working – but diversion or not, this was getting really interesting. “Hamilton told me just that, when I went to see the prisoners last Sunday. He acted on nobody’s orders but his own.”

“What are you suggesting, then, Ferguson?” the third asked in a hissing sort of voice, speaking for the first time. “That Hamilton is using us for his own interest instead of the King’s? Are you sure you want to call your superior a traitor to his country?”

There was a heavy silence, then Tom said, rather coldly, “I don’t know. He intends to raise the fabled Army of Anubis to wipe out Germany – its leader and its population. What do you think? Is that enough to make him a traitor?”

Jonathan was finding it very hard to keep his eyes on the paddock and his ears on the ongoing conversation. What on earth was Tom trying to do? Surely not turn them over? Hamilton would probably get him arrested in no time if words reached his ears about Tom revealing the flaws in his little plan, let alone advocating mutiny. And then things would get really complicated. If not downright nasty.

He watched the three agents stare at Tom, looking dumbstruck. That’s right, he thought, peering at them, almost willing this particular thought into their minds, you’re not believing him. You’re goody-goody secret bloody agents who do what they’re told and that’s it. Bloke just misses his wife, he’s just making up stories… please don’t believe him…

What was taking Rick so long?

And then everything happened very fast. The short man named Collins opened his mouth, said, “Well –” and a merry chorus of roars, bleats and occasional yelps interrupted him. From his place on the ground, Jonathan allowed himself two seconds of glee as he watched the whole disbanding herd of camels gallop past the four agents.

The trio plus Tom stood there for a short moment, mouths hanging open, before taking off to try to catch the stray camels. People were already running after the animals, others shouted for anyone who could lend a hand, and one man hollered expletives at a camel that had stomped on his foot. Wondering if the camel who had done the stomping had been his own stroppy animal – and he had a hunch it was – Jonathan scrambled up and slipped under the lorry.

There was almost no light at all under that great big mass, and Jonathan spent a little while blinking in the dark and trying to get his bearings. When he could finally make out enough to know where he was and spot his target, he crawled in the sand, silently cursing the cold, sticky grains already filling his collar, his sleeves and his pockets and wincing at the sickening smell of petrol right above him that meant he was at his own appointed post: right under the petrol tank of the lorry. Biting his lip in some apprehension, he took out of his pocket the small knife Tom had unearthed for this purpose and began to drill the tank.

It seemed to take hours, and his arms were growing lifeless in the end, but it worked, somehow.

Jonathan did not really know how much petrol it would take to make the whole thing catch on fire, and, frankly, he really wasn’t contemplating striking a match under that lorry to check. When the hole was just large enough, he stuck his handkerchief in it to make a fuse and dug a hole under it. As petrol filled it at an alarming speed, he crawled back and dug a narrow trench on the way out.

Emerging from under a lorry covered in soot and sand was not, of course, the most inconspicuous Jonathan had ever looked. Incredibly, nobody seemed to notice him as he bent quickly to strike the match and set fire to the trench of thick, stinking dark liquid at his feet. He scampered off without further ado, grinning like an idiot from relief and, admittedly, from having perfectly succeeded in something for once.

What could go wrong at that point?

Well, something could, it appeared, as nothing happened and the lorry still stood there. There wasn’t even a single spark.

Jonathan felt his blood drain from his face as his eyes met Rick’s, who was coming back from the paddock and looked – surprised? Suspicious? Jonathan couldn’t really tell from afar. He spun on the spot and headed back toward the lorry, frowning. Surely something must have got in the way… It was probably the –

He didn’t even have time to finish his thought. The intense light hit his eyes before the enormous bang of the explosion reached his ears, and the blast caught him head on.

.⅋.

Tom had finally recaptured his own camel and was quite happy to have recognised the animal before Baine, who was dangerously close, could get his hands on him. Most of his fellow agents were still struggling with the straying camels. Tom did not know what O’Connell had done to frighten them so badly, but it had worked – unless the beasts were unnaturally good actors, and Tom, while not really disliking camels as much as Jon did, was realistic enough to know they weren’t.

His camel gave a small roar toward the left, and looking over his shoulder Tom saw O’Connell finishing tying up his own camel a few feet away. When the American spotted him, he jerked his chin toward the lorry – from which he stood at reasonable distance – with a slight grin that revealed some of his remarkably sharp-looking teeth. It was something Tom had noticed the first time he’d seen O’Connell grin. The man seemed to have an impossible number of teeth in his jaw.

The Liverpudlian looked up from tying up his camel to see Jonathan step from behind the lorry and take cover, dusting himself off energetically but looking overall pleased with himself. When nothing happened, however, he stopped, frowned, and strode back to the lorry. Tom was on the verge of asking O’Connell something about combustion engines when everything exploded and he dove into the sand as a pure knee-jerk reflex.

The night seemed even darker for a second with the stark contrast of the glare, neither yellow nor red, that filled Tom’s horizon for a second or two before he squeezed his eyes shut and put his hands on his head for protection. There was a snap and a strangled camel’s roar drifting away behind him, meaning that his faithful mount had broken free out of sheer terror. And then complete silence.

Tom lifted his face from the sand and opened bemused eyes to discover a thick, heavy-looking black cloud of smoke hanging in mid-air where the lorry had stood a moment before. There was a ringing silence, and an overwhelming smell of petrol, steel and plastic burning – it was so heavy that Tom’s head swam for a second as he wobbled back to his feet, coughing and waving the smoke away.

Sound began to trickle in, and Tom realised that he had been almost completely deaf to everything for a few seconds. Agents, some still clutching camels’ reins, were running to the remains of the lorry, or rather the cloud of smoke that still blocked the remains of the lorry from view. And, incidentally, the amateur arsonist who had set the whole thing on fire.

Tom’s insides gave an ugly sort of lurch as he realised he had not seen Jon come out from behind the lorry yet.

Beside him, O’Connell’s eyes were wide open and, Tom noticed, held something like approval as the American took in the mayhem the explosion had left in its wake. Then the same nasty thought appeared to cross his mind as the half-grin slipped abruptly from his face and he turned to Tom with a funny look in his eyes.

They scrambled up as one and ran up to the still glowing remains of the lorry, scattered over the black and burnt sand. The carcass gleamed a sinister orange colour that looked ugly set against the deep blue of the impossibly huge sky. Tom almost reeled on the spot from the acrid stench of molten metal and plastic. He swallowed hard, trying not to think about what he might find among the remnants in question.

Hamilton’s razor-sharp voice made him jump right out of his skin.

“What happened? Who did this?”

Tom tore his gaze from the wreck of the lorry to his superior, who was striding up between the campfires with a couple of agents in tow, cold fury etched across his usually solemn face. He walked right up to Tom and O’Connell and stopped just in front of them, grey eyes glaring. O’Connell stared back. His expression might have been carved on his face with a hammer and chisel.

“You…” Hamilton snarled, and Tom almost recoiled, relieved not to be on the receiving end of that snarl. “You have something to do with this, I just know it. Don’t even try to deny it.”

“I don’t know what you’re ranting about,” O’Connell retorted quietly, not looking away. “I didn’t go anywhere near that truck since your goons gave me the thing they call ‘stew’. You can ask ‘em.”

“Where were you, then, when the lorry exploded?” the Englishman all but spat, and Tom couldn’t help gaping slightly at his dispassionate boss almost losing control. In contrast, O’Connell looked remarkably calm – and remarkably cold, too.

“I was helping the others with the camels. They looked like they could do with some help and I didn’t want to have to walk tomorrow.”

Hamilton glowered silently at O’Connell for a couple of seconds, then leaned in for a conspiratorial harsh whisper. “I will get you for this, believe you me. I just know you’re behind all this… mayhem. I will get you for this.”

O’Connell’s teeth gleamed in the low glow of the wreck. “Can’t wait to see you try.”

Hamilton must have sensed the dangerous quality of O’Connell’s grim, mirthless smile. He stepped back and his cold, aloof persona snapped back into place as he turned to the other agents awaiting instructions behind him.

“If you would be so kind as to retrieve the Stan Laurel half of your comedy duo act, Mr O’Connell, we will leave all that can be spared behind and ride through the night. Gentlemen, I give you twenty minutes to get ready. If luck is on our side, we should reach the Pyramid of Ahm Shere by tomorrow evening.”

He straightened his jacket, and his ice-cold eyes fell on Tom, who fervently hoped the shudder that went through him was not too obvious. “If I were you, Ferguson,” he breathed, and Tom’s heart skipped a beat at his tone, “I would show more care as to the company I keep. This could cause trouble in the end – to you and to your lovely wife.”

Tom gulped, and straightened his back as he nodded. A wave of cold went through him at the thought of what this man was implying, as well as – not for the first time – a helpless sort of fury. He squeezed his jaw shut before he could blurt out something that would threaten Liz’s safety even more, and Hamilton walked away, giving him a nasty parting look. Tom felt hollow and sick, and as he turned back to what was left of the lorry his heart bobbed up in his throat. If on top of all that Jon was somewhere in there…

O’Connell had turned as well, and was scanning the wreck with a hard look on his face Tom hadn’t seen him wear before. His eyes hardened with each passing second as nothing moved amidst the ruined bits and pieces of the lorry.

Suddenly there was an odd noise right next to them, like a strangled throat clearing, and both men turned around sharply. Whatever had been wringing and twisting Tom’s stomach since the explosion released its grip, his heart slid down to its usual place in his chest, and he could see O’Connell’s shoulders sag almost imperceptibly. Then he felt his eyes go very round.

Jonathan was standing there, very much alive but wild-eyed, shaking, covered in soot and sand from head to toe, curly hair standing on end. His blue eyes gleamed out of his sooty face with a heartfelt fury that was almost as bad as Tom remembered flinching at just before he got punched in the face in the basement of the British Consulate.

“You,” he eventually articulated in a tone not so different from Hamilton’s, pointing a badly shaking finger at O’Connell, who stood his ground stonily, his arms folded across his chest, “you… you absolute, utter – that was so completely – you really have no idea –”

His jumbled words seemed to tumble out of his mouth as though speech failed to describe the apparent monumental stupidity of O’Connell’s idea of a diversion. After a moment he seemed to give up trying to speak and just stood there open-mouthed, accusing finger still pointed at the American.

Tom’s gaze shifted swiftly from Jon to O’Connell, whose face slowly lit up in a broad, genuine grin.

“Y’know,” he said after a few seconds, “years ago when I first met you, I thought you were a boozy slacker in need of a proper spine.”

The words took some sinking in, but in the end Jon snapped his mouth shut and glared up at O’Connell, looking even more aggravated.

“Charming,” he barked. “Meaning you bloody changed your mind since?”

O’Connell took his time to answer, and Tom, realising he was enjoying it immensely, allowed himself to sag a little bit from the sheer relief of seeing his mate alive and swearing. The American cast his brother-in-law an appraising sort of look, then, finally, gave another huge grin of his. His round blue eyes twinkled.

“Yeah, kinda.”

Then, looking more serious, he asked, “Nothing broken or twisted, no burns?”

On top of the obvious, Jonathan looked like someone with a bad case of brain whiplash. When the question registered, he blinked. Then blinked again.

“…No?”

“Good.”

And O’Connell walked off cheerfully after briefly patting Jon’s shoulder, lifting a small cloud of soot as he did so. Tom watched him bemusedly while Jon’s eyes were still glued to the empty space where O’Connell had stood seconds before; then he whirled round to try to catch his friend when Jon’s knees gave out and he collapsed in a heap on the ground. He just sat there, still staring into space with an odd look that was halfway between fury and a sort of astonishment.

Tom refrained from chuckling and bent to check if Jon had come back to his very own brand of normality.

“Oh, by the way,” O’Connell said as an afterthought, making Tom start and look up. The American turned to them, thus walking backwards. “You might wanna –” there he gestured wiping imaginary dust off his face “– because Hamilton’s not that dense. If you turn up like that, he’s bound to reach some conclusions.” And he left with a grin.

His was a very good point, Tom noted, and he proceeded to search his pockets for a handkerchief that might do the trick. Preferably one that he didn’t care too much about, because there wasn’t a square inch of Jon’s face that wasn’t covered in soot.

In the meantime, Jon seemed to be recovering from the blast of the explosion and the sheer shock of it. His shaking was dying down. He finally shook his head, looking still exasperated but calmer.

“Impossible. Talk about bloody diversion. I’m never pulling a stunt like that again, ever. The man is impossible.” He moved into a more comfortable sitting position, and winced slightly. “Fact is, I’m getting a bit old for this sort of thing, possibly.”

“Possibly, Jon,” Tom said with a grin, handing him the handkerchief. “None of us is getting any younger. It’s been a long time since I didn’t wake up in the morning aching in various places1.”

Jon accepted the proffered bit of cloth with a thanks and began to wipe the soot off his face. Tom’s comment got a small grin.

“Well, I suppose it’s your lot in life if you like sleeping out on the ground – you know, being a secret agent and whatnot. Still, I hope that this ‘delay’ thing worked and I didn’t get all singed like that for nothing.”

The only thing that Tom could offer there was a rather embarrassed silence. While the plan itself had gone on smoothly enough for the most part, the results had clearly not met their expectations. If anything, it had reinforced Hamilton’s determination for all of them to be on their way to Ahm Shere as quickly as possible.

Jon quickly deduced from Tom’s silence that not everything had gone as planned, and his face fell. “Oh, don’t.”

“Sorry, Jon,” said Tom sympathetically. “Hamilton decided to leave all the gear behind and travel by night. He’s expecting to see us on our camels and be off in… ten minutes, I guess.”

Jon groaned. “Fantastic. A whole night on a bloody camel. If someone snores, I’ll kill him.”

Tom snorted. “I needed those hours of sleep too, but I imagine we’ll have to make do without them, won’t we?” He reached down to Jon, who grabbed his hand and staggered up. He swayed a little, but remained in an upright position, to his great relief it seemed.

“Thanks. You know what?” he said, taking off his jacket to shake all the soot he could from it. “When this whole mess is over and done with, I’ll get you a drink at the Sultan’s Casbah. You never got to see the inside of it, did you? It’s always crowded and rather seedy, but the whiskey isn’t bad and the beer is better. As good a place to get plastered as any, and I think both of us need that.”

“And you’ll buy the rounds?”

The idea was appealing – assuming they would see this mess over and done with, of course. Jon made a show of hesitating, but shrugged with a grin. “Yeah, all right.”

Tom felt a similar grin make its way on his face. In the chaos of the past week he had almost forgotten how good it felt to have this normal a conversation with a friend. The shock and fear – brief enough, but violent – that had followed the explosion of the lorry had very much calmed down by now. While the constant dull anxiety that never left him since he had known Liz was held prisoner somewhere was still there, gnawing at his stomach, knowing that Jon and him were back on the same side was an encouraging thought.

“That’s a deal, then. C’mon.”

Plus, when Jon was agreeing to buy the rounds, it was rarely a bad omen.

.⅋.

Re. waking up in the morning “aching in various places”, in the immortal words of the Monty Python’s Dennis, “I’m 37, I’m not old.” These guys are 41 or 42, we’re fairly close in age. But I do often wake up in the morning with little cricks and aches, mainly in the back.

#Fairy Tales and Hokum #fanfiction #my stuff #the mummy films #the mummy

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rose-of-pollux · 5 years

Text

Inktober for Writers, Day 21

Prompt: Treasure Fandom: Perfect Strangers (with a touch of Kid Icarus) Title: In the Lap of the Gods Summary: [Post-series] In which, while on assignment in Athens, Larry gets separated from the others and meets a woman who claims to be the Goddess Athena.

Notes: Takes place post-series; it also takes place directly before Day #9’s entry (“Wrong Place at the Wrong Time”) from earlier in this Inktober collection, as I’d briefly mentioned the squad traveling to Athens for Larry to get a story on the uncovering of a previously undiscovered temple to Athena. My portrayal of Athena in this vignette is meant to be Palutena from the Kid Icarus/Super Smash Bros series, and the artifacts that she shows off to Larry are meant to be the Three Sacred Treasures; I try to have all of my fics across different fandoms in a shared timeline.

Cross-posted to AO3 & FFN.

The discovery of the previously unrecorded temple to Athena Parthenos had garnered a lot of attention indeed. Athens was a veritable maze of people trying to get a look at the uncovered ruins and see if they could uncover some possibly hidden treasures. Jennifer and Mary Anne took one look at the crowd and opted to stay at the hotel with Tucker and Robespierre.

Larry’s press badge had gotten him farther than most of the crowd, with Balki sticking close to him as his interpreter. Still, it wasn’t long before parts of the crowd managed to get past the barriers and into the restricted areas. Larry and Balki found themselves separated by the mad tide of people, and in his attempts to fight against the crowd and find his cousin, Larry found himself further jostled by the swarm of people.

It only ended after Larry, pressed up against one of the temple walls, suddenly felt the wall move. The portion of the wall he was pressed up against spun 180 degrees, depositing him in a dark tunnel. And a search with a flashlight offered no way to activate the wall into spinning him back to the outside.

“Ohhh, no…” he murmured, in the verge of panic. “Oh no, oh no, oh no…” He frantically hammered on the stone wall with his palm. “Balki!? Anyone!? I’m trapped behind the wall!”

The crowd would be too noisy for anyone to hear him, he realized. He would have to take his chances and follow the tunnel, hoping that it would lead to a way out and not into an ancient trap.

He barely paid attention to the carvings and ancient writing on the tunnel walls—the only thing that got his attention was a light at the end of the tunnel.

Larry broke into a run, eager to find a way out, but the tunnel didn’t lead to the outside; he found himself in a room made completely of marble, the light coming from lit torch brackets on the walls. There was a small reflective pool of crystal-clear water in the center of the room that had a large marble column rising from it, and, sitting on the edge of the pool, looking at Larry in curiosity, was a woman in very odd clothes—her dress seemed like something from ancient times, like Larry had seen in carvings and statues, and her hair was bedecked with ornaments and jewelry. And a staff rested in one hand, with a shield in the other.

“Ah, excuse me,” Larry said. “I’m not sure who you are or how you got here—but if you know the way out, I’d appreciate you telling me.”

“Certainly, I know the way out,” she said, with a gentle smile. “This temple was built for me.”

Larry blinked.

“…This temple was built for Athena Parthenos,” he said.

“Yes, that’s one of my names,” she said. “I have had many over the centuries—Athena, Minerva, Parthena, Pallas Athena, Palutena…”

“…You know what? On second thoughts, I think I’ll just try to find the way out myself. Sorry to bother you,” Larry said, moving to make a hasty retreat as he presumed the woman to be out of her mind—why else would she claim to be an ancient Goddess!?

He turned, contemplating going back through the tunnel when she spoke again—

“I really can point you towards the quickest way out, Lawrence.”

He turned back, momentarily wondering how on Earth she could’ve known his name—until he realized she must have seen it on his press badge.

“Oh, that’s good. That’s really good. You really had me going there for a moment,” Larry said. “But I really have to get out of here before my family starts worrying about my disappearance.”

“That isn’t the way out, Lawrence; that tunnel only goes one way—in,” the woman chided, as Larry moved to go back through the tunnel.

He ignored her, and, all of a sudden, Larry walked smack into what felt like a glass wall. Blinking, he saw that a reflective, glass-like material was blocking the way through the tunnel that had not been there only moments before.

He whirled back around, gingerly rubbing his nose and staring as he saw the woman holding her shield up; an unearthly aura surrounded her.

“I told you, you’re going the wrong way!” she chided. She indicated another exit behind her, at the far side of the room. “That is the way out.”

“How… How are you doing that…?” he stammered.

She lowered the shield, and the aura vanished; Larry turned back and waved his hand in front of him, but the barrier had vanished.

“Okay. Okay,” he said, running a hand through his brunet curls as he turned back to face the woman. “That’s also a really great trick—very nice.”

“You truly are a stubborn one, aren’t you, Lawrence?” she asked, amused. “I’m sure Balki would readily believe my identity.”

“Balki would believe almost anything…” He trailed off again and then pointed at her. “Aha, you heard me calling for him back there!”

She responded with a serene smile before speaking again—

“But you didn’t call for Jennifer or Mary Anne—but that makes sense, since they didn’t come to my temple.”

Larry struggled to come up with an explanation for that; even as he did, the woman continued—

“You are Lawrence Appleton—in some ways, a truly ordinary man. You are the modern equivalent of a scribe, seeking to have your words read by others. Yet, you also yearn for comforts of wealth and luxury.”

“…Doesn’t everyone?” Larry defended.

“But in other ways, you are quite extraordinary,” she continued. “By all accounts, you should not even be standing here alive—I understand that, six years ago, a seer predicted your demise at the hands of a Reaper. I must tell you, Thanatos was certainly baffled by your escape from that fate—he thought he had you, quite literally, dead to rights…”

Larry had no retort for that; the only ones who knew about Claire Hayden’s prophecy were himself, Balki, Jennifer, and Mary Anne—not even Claire herself had been able to remember what she had said in the trance.

The woman stood up now.

“You came here for a story, but you also came here for treasure, did you not?” she said.

“…Um…”

“Then gaze upon this!” she finished, raising her glowing staff.

The marble column in the middle of the pool suddenly opened up to reveal that it was hollow—and levitating inside of it was a suit of ancient, winged armor that looked as though it was lined with gold, a reflective shield also edged with gold, and a golden-edged bow with a quiver of brightly gleaming arrows.

“…Oh, my Lord…!” Larry sputtered, his eyes wide.

“I am willing to give all this to you—all I ask a small personal token in exchange,” she said.

“Name it!” Larry exclaimed.

“Hmm, let’s see… Gold for gold? That ring on your left hand?”

Larry’s face fell as he glanced at the ring she was talking about.

“Wha…? But… This is my wedding ring!” he protested. “I haven’t taken it off since Jennifer put it on me…!”

“Hmm, perhaps that is asking too much…” she admitted. “Very well, how about that watch on your wrist? Or that silver tie clasp?”

Larry glanced at the watch and the tie clasp.

“Well… Well… It sounds like a great deal but…” He sighed, wincing. “Balki gave me the tie clasp and Mary Anne gave me the watch. They didn’t even have a special occasion for it, either….”

“Very well; let’s see…” she mused. “Ah, surely you don’t mind parting with that handkerchief in your chest pocket—the one with the tassel tied to it? It looks like a child scribbled on it!”

“…That’s exactly what it is,” Larry said, placing his hand on the handkerchief. “My son got ahold of a Sharpie, and… improved on it, I guess. …The tassel was from Balki and Mary Anne’s son.”

“…So that’s a ‘no,’ as well?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Larry sighed. “I bought the cufflinks myself—I don’t suppose you want those?” He wasn’t surprised when she shook her head. “Yeah. Yeah, I thought as much.” He glanced, wistfully, at the treasures in the marble column. “…You really are Athena Parthenos,” he realized.

“What makes you say that?”

“The Goddess of Wisdom and Light?” Larry said. He indicated the treasures in the column. “I realize the point you were trying to make.”

She smiled again, the column closing back around the treasures as she lowered her staff.

“Then I’m glad you realized it,” she said. “You are loved, Lawrence—so very loved. There is nothing wrong with chasing fortune as long as you never forget that, for you will never find treasures as fulfilling as the ones you carry with you now.”

Larry nodded, slightly overcome.

“I, um… I need to get back to them…”

She waved her staff again, creating a door next to Larry.

“Then go to them,” she encouraged.

He didn’t question how she had made the door; after only a moment’s hesitation, he went through it, suddenly stumbling as he ended up instantly outside the temple walls, nearly crashing into Balki, who was trying to explain what had happened to Jennifer and Mary Anne, who had arrived with the children.

“Cousin Larry!” he exclaimed, hugging him in relief.

“Oh, Larry, are you alright!?” Jennifer asked, placing her free hand on the side of his face.

“Balki called and said you got separated from him in the crowd; we didn’t know where you’d ended up, so we came over here hoping to find some sort of clue as to where you went,” Mary Anne said.

“I’m okay,” he promised them. “But am I ever glad to see you all again…”

He hugged Balki back, and then Mary Anne and Robespierre, before kissing Jennifer and taking Tucker in his arms. Tucker, happy to see his father again, babbled in baby language, apparently telling him about his day.

Larry listened intently, only pausing to turn to the others and silently nod in the direction of the hotel.

“Cousin, are you sure?” Balki asked, knowing that Larry probably hadn’t had much time to talk to the excavation team yet.

Larry responded with a nod; there’d be plenty of time for interviewing later—perhaps after the crowd dissipated.

For now, he would take Athena’s advice and appreciate what he had.

#perfect strangers #Larry Appleton #Balki Bartokomous #Jennifer Lyons #Mary Anne Spencer #inktober for writers

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franklyshipping · 7 years

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Style ~ A Markiplier and Jacksepticeye Ego Fanfic

Requested by the lovely @amazingmsme and here we are going to have our glitchy boy doing a bit of dress up and Dark being immensely unamused by it, prep for le floof and romantic spoopy bois LET’S GO!

Anti was extremely pleased with himself. More specifically, he was extremely pleased with how he looked. Anti wasn’t really one for smart clothing, he always found that kind of attire way too restrictive for his liking. But this….this was different, this was an opportunity he just couldn’t miss. As soon as his eyes had caught it on the online store he knew he had to have it. So there he stood in front of the full length mirror, straightening up and turning at different angles so he could inspect himself properly. Anti had discarded his ripped black jeans and his t-shirt, which were strewn on the floor, since now he donned a suit. This suit was as dark as night and Anti loved how the material sat on his frame….but that wasn’t the only thing Anti loved. The suit may have been pitch black but on top of that, it was covered in a pattern…..of bright orange pumpkins.

Anti giggled a little as he looked over the jacket, pants, tie, all of it was patterned thus and Anti was enamoured. Given the season, it couldn’t have been more appropriate, and Anti loved his pumpkins; you could say that they were his thing. Anti’s grin was wide and gleeful as he did a light spin, before stopping for a moment. Anti peered at himself in the mirror….before deciding to place his hands behind his back, clasping his hands as he slowly tilted his head to one side. Essentially….he was coping Dark’s stance, and my god was it hilarious. Anti was in a giggle fit for nearly a whole five minutes before he managed to calm himself down.

‘Oh gohohod….’

Anti grinned to himself, eyes glinting mischievously as he finally turned away from the mirror and set off in search of a certain gentleman. Anti thought he was going to have a lot of fun with this….oh if he only knew the outcome. He bounded through to the living room, and his eyes lit up when he saw his beautifully monochromatic boyfriend resting in an armchair, fingers steepled neatly upon his lap.

'Hey Darky! What do ya think of my Halloween costume?’

Dark had been resting, but at the sound of Anti’s voice his lips stretched into a light smile as he opened his eyes, curious to see what Anti had chosen. Needless to say….he was surprised. Dark stood, an expression of amusement and slight awe on his face as he looked Anti up and down.

'Where on earth did you find an outfit such as this?’

Anti giggled and shrugged.

'Oh y'know, the internet!’

Dark rolled his eyes, as if there was any other possible source. He paced towards Anti, smiling at his evident glee at the outfit….and Dark couldn’t help but observe how the smart clothing really suited Anti. It was tight, but not uncomfortable, and it accentuated his form beautifully.

'Why am I not surprised….’

Dark trailed off a little as he continued looking over Anti’s appearance. Said man felt himself blush lightly at the feeling of Dark’s eyes roaming over him, but he dismissed it for the moment.

'Ya haven’t guessed who I’m dressed up as yet!’

Dark snapped out of his slight daze, eyebrows furrowing at Anti’ statement. He was supposed to be someone? Hm….Dark couldn’t recall any particular characters that had such a unique style. He thought for a few more moments, but eventually let out a dramatic resigned sigh as he smiled.

'Oh I give up!’

Anti snickered, his eyes glinting more as his grin turned mischievous and cheeky. Dark knew something was coming from his expression alone, but that didn’t stop his face falling and his eyes narrowing beadily at Anti’s next words.

'I’m you!’

Anti let out a light giggle as Dark fell into his own stoic silence, his eyes flicked over Anti’s attire before flicking up to his face, which currently was filled with amusement. Dark hesitated, taking in a breath as he straightened up, speaking his words with measure and calmness.

'Never…..in my entire life, have I even thought about wearing something like that.’

Anti grinned wider at Dark’s tense, and almost warning tone, the green haired man stepped forward more so he and Dark were properly face to face.

'But it’s so accurate, can’t you see it? It’s uptight and brooding, which are the two things that sum you up!’

Dark was frozen. Processing Anti’s words. How dare he be so upfront? And yet Dark couldn’t really have expected anything less, Anti wasn’t scared of him after all….but that never stopped Dark from trying. Said man tilted his head to the side as he clasped his hands at the small of his own back, Dark sneered gently as he leant forward. He and Anti were practically nose to nose, the latter seemed rather excited at that prospect.

'Take back your words….now.’

Dark’s voice left him in the form of a growl, which only made Anti smirk and raise an eyebrow.

'Or what?’

Dark smiled. It was wide, gleeful…..and also slightly feral.

'Or….I shall simply force you.’

Dark suddenly reached forward to wrap his arms round Anti’s waist so he could hoist him up onto his shoulder, and Dark grinned in satisfaction at the surprised yip he drew from Anti which was swiftly followed by his indignant protests.

'HEY! Put me down ya asshole!’

Dark chuckled, purposefully jostling Anti roughly as he walked over to the couch in the room whilst he relished in his noises of annoyance and frustration.

'As you wish darling.’

Anti yelped as Dark threw him and didn’t hesitate to manhandle and pin him to the couch, using his hands to pin Anti wrists either side of his head as he lay on top of him; his smirk at this point was unmatchable, whilst Anti was glaring half-heartedly.

'You’re a colossal dick!’

Dark raised an eyebrow at this boyfriend’s little insults, as a result he leant down so that that his lips brushed the shell of Anti’s ear as he whispered.

'Is that any way to speak to your captor?’

Anti couldn’t stop the gentle shiver sneaking down his spine, and he had to nibble his lip a little to repress any more embarrassing noises, and he thought that he’d be able to do that perfectly easily….but that was before Dark started nuzzling.

’D-daharky d-don’t you d-dahahahare!’

Anti tried to repress his giggling, but it was impossible. The feeling of Dark’s rough stubble brushing and scratching at the side of his neck was torturously tickly, as Dark well knew, and thus caused Anti’s light bubbly giggles to burst from him. All the while Dark smirked and whispered.

'This doesn’t have to get any worse baby, all you need to do is take it baaack…..’

Dark’s words melted in his ears and Anti could honestly see the appeal….except he was Antisepticeye, he wasn’t known for giving in easily. Now was no different.

'Ihihihi’ll nehever dohoho ihit!’

Dark’s smirk widened, oh how he loved Anti’s determined rebelliousness. He growled lowly into Anti’s ear.

'We’ll see darling…..we’ll see….’

Without any further ado, Dark too a deep breath before unleashing a truly monstrous raspberry right into the crook of Anti’s neck, making said man shriek and squeal as he giggled frantically.

'NAHAHahahaha dohon’t doho thahahat!!’

Anti whined amidst his mirth as Dark chuckled into his neck, placing a few soft kisses up and down the sensitive area as he whispered.

'Why ever not? Ohhhh….is it because you happen to be unbearably ticklish?’

Anti let out an embarrassed squeak when Dark nipped his neck sharply before rearing up, an amused and teasing shine resting in his rusted irises as he looked at Anti expectantly. The latter gulped and gritted his teeth gently.

'N-nohoho……’

Dark simply raised an eyebrow which made Anti flush a little darker as he averted his eyes with a lightly defiant glare.

'In denial? I’ll soon remedy that.’

No sooner had he spoken, Dark’s hands had suddenly shot from holding Anti’s wrists to instead start scratching and scribbling in the hollows of his underarms. As you can imagine, this rather took Anti by surprise as his eyes widened.

'AHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHO YOHOHOU DIHIHIHICK!’

Anti immediately tried to bring his arms down, but that only trapped Dark’s devious metatarsals which continued to wriggle ruthlessly. Since Dark had managed to slip his hands beneath the jacket Anti wore, that meant he had nothing to really protect him against the onslaught.

'Awwww, can’t you escape? It must be simply maddening…..’

Dark cooed at his victim who, as well as his wide grin, also sported a beautiful forest green blush on his cheeks as he writhed about and tried to hit out at his teasing tormentor.

'SHUHUHUHUHUT UHUHUHUP!!’

Dark merely chuckled at Anti’s protests, wrenching his hands free so that he could press and massage over Anti’s ribcage, causing a plethora of cackles to erupt.

'Oho yes I almost forgot, how embarrassed you get….especially if someone teases about how awwwfully ticklish you are.'

Dark drawled as he massaged the bones relentlessly, grinning as Anti’s flush darkened and little yips and snorts jumped from his lips sporadically. Anti was now only mildly beginning to regret the decisions he’d made that had led up to this….encounter.

'FUHUHUHUCK YOHOHOHOU!!’

Anti exclaimed as he squirmed wildly, Dark however gasped dramatically with a gentle smirk on his lips.

'Such rude and dirty language, you really ought to be punished my dear….’

Amidst his words Dark had lightened his touch so that Anti was still encased in giggles, but he had a good degree of coherency. Anti made sure to take advantage of this brief opportunity by shaking his head in earnest whilst babbling quickly and nervously.

'Nononoho thehere’s no neheed Ihi’m saharry Daharky!’

Anti had a good reason to be nervous. Being in a romantic relationship with Dark had endless perks and instances of happiness, but one slight disadvantage was that Dark knew every little thing about him. His favourite colour or food were things that Anti was perfectly fine with him knowing…..but information like the ticklish spots on his body that could turn him to a hysterical mess, Anti would maybe have preferred it if Dark didn’t have access to that knowledge. Maybe. Dar smiled down at him, it was a kinder smile due to how Anti had reverted to using his nickname for Dark but he still leant over his boyfriend with a hint of menace.

'All you have to do….is take back what you said. That’s all you need to do….’

Anti jumped as Dark’s fingers started to curl and uncurl, whilst slowly making their way down to Anti’s sides. His eyes began to slowly widen as his mind raced. He had a choice. He could either say what Dark wanted and save himself, but lose some of his pride in the process, or he could resist and end up being tickle tortured. There was no choice, Anti’s pride was just too goddamn big. He grinned a little.

'Cahareful Dark yohou’re gonna crease it! How will you wear it in the future if you mess it up now?’

Dark paused. He should’ve known that Anti would never sacrifice his pride, it was truly admirable to be perfectly honest…..and it was the response that Dark had been secretly hoping for. He took in a deep breath, before letting it out in a long and gentle sigh as he began to shake his head, small tuts leaving his lips as he observed Anti.

'Oh Anti…..my stubborn little Anti…..’

Dark’s hands seemed to wander and roam over Anti’s torso, before they both rested and nestled on top of Anti’s sides. Anti was fucked, and his widening eyes showed Dark that he knew it. Dark leant down to whisper in Anti’s ear, thus meaning said man could no longer see where Dark’s hands were as a result.

'You never learn do you?’

Anti was preparing for a torturous feeling on his sides….but none came. Dark had, in fact, decided to suddenly shoot his hands behind him so that he could effectively pinch and scratch at the flesh of Anti’s thighs. The owner of which let out a beautiful plethora of embarrassing snorts and splutters before descending into squeaky laughter.

'AHAHAHA WHAHAHAHAT THE HEHEHELL?! YOHOHOU AHAHASS!!’

Anti writhed about as Dark chuckled gently, letting his hands do all the work so he could gaze at his stunningly sensitive boyfriend. Dark let his eyes rake over Anti’s beautiful and unique blush, and smiled widely in response to the maniacal and mirth filled grin that Anti wore. He really was a handsome devil.

'God….how are you handsome even when you’re being tickled to hysterics?’

Anti couldn’t really respond effectively, but Dark wasn’t really asking, he was just releasing the incredulousness he felt regarding how Anti could be so perfect in his eyes.

'IHIHIHI AHAHAHAM NAHAHAHAHAT!!’

Dark jumped with a grin and quickly decided to snap out of his enamoured stupor so he could focus on the task at hand, he could feel it coming to a close so he figured he’d make the most of it. Anti was blushing a lot harder now and his eyes were flicking about constantly as he did everything to avoid Dark’s teasing gaze. Dark whispered again.

'Oh yes you are, I don’t think a more handsome image has ever existed…..’

The meaningful compliment certainly took Anti off guard, especially due to how it contrasted with the playful torture Dark was inflicting upon him….but it affected Anti nonetheless as he spluttered and clamped his lips shut to try and prevent his voice from betraying him. Dark chuckled at him as he lightened his tickly touch finally….he did consider moving his hands back to Anti’s torso, to torture his worst spot….but Dark realised that it wasn’t always necessary to end with the worst. Sometimes ending with a nice moment can be just as fun, if a little more profound and exquisite.

'Yohohou’re suhuch a meanie…..’

Dark grinned at Anti’s mumbled words, leaning down with a satisfied hum so he could peck Anti’s cheek softly.

'And you’re a cheeky little handsome shit….’

Anti grinned lightly, giggling at the light affection that Dark gave him.

'Why thahank you….’

Dark sighed but smiled widely, and decided to help Anti sit up as said man straightened up and uncreased the jacket he wore. There was a small moment of silence in which Anti caught his breath fully, but after that he turned to Dark with a small smirk.

'So…..do ya like my costume or not?’

Dark narrowed his eyes, but settled for a light growl-like sigh as he mumbled.

’…..yes.’

Anti giggled as Dark buried his face in the crook of his neck, just so he could casually kiss affectionately. I feel like that’s what it’s like being a part of a couple, it’s an excuse to give and receive all manner of affections without it being questioned. I like that analogy.

OUTFIT REFERENCE IS HERE AAAAaaaand YUP! I hope you lovely people liked this AND I LUV YOOOOUS XX

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captmickey · 7 years

Note

✏ + Elaine is getting Guybrush out of a trap and the two sweet talk and banter like there's no problem.

It was almost comical, Guybrush thought. There he was, standing– or rather, dangling upside down, in the middle of the room, his wrists painfully chained behind him causing a nice cut into the skin as his leg were bound by a tight rope over a maroon color pit surrounded by a hair-sensitive crossbow alarm system and a gag over his mouth and a blind over his eyes. He couldn’t even begin to tell you how he got there… and yet there he was.

“Hey? What are you doing here?” An officer’s voice called out, “This is a restricted– OOF!!”

Guybrush winced as he heard a painful crack and a thud of the guard, feeling his heart beat at the potential stranger who was walking into the room, their heels clicking against the marble floor and echoing through the hall followed by a loud BANG from a flintlock, hitting a lever if he were to guess because he felt himself falling fast. He braced himself for the potential danger when he felt a sudden jerk to a direction and heard that sweet and angelic voice.

“Well well well, Guybrush Threepwood, you do turn up in the strangest places.”

Guybrush winced at the sudden light from the removal of the blind but was positively glowing at the sight of the red whose hands were on her hips looking at him a loving but clearly amused expression. “How do I keep finding you in these strange situations?” Elaine chuckled as she kneeled down to be face to face with him, leaning close to take off the gag from his mouth.

“Hi, Plunder Bunny.” Guybrush greeted. “It’s a bit of a long story…”

“I bet.” Elaine figured as she held onto his rope tightly, acting as his only safety from certain doom with the pit below, “But I bet there’s a grand explanation to this? Because it does feel a bit… well, extra.”

“Of course it’s extra, how else would you tie down Guybrush Threepwood, Mighty Pirate™?” Guybrush showboated with a smirk.

Elaine playfully rolled her eyes as she turned him around to get at the chains behind him.

“Aww… now I don’t get to see you.” Guybrush moaned.

“Such a pity… but I get a wonderful view of a particular booty.” Elaine teased, snickering at hearing Guybrush going tongue tied. With one hand, she pulled out her lock pick tool and went to work picking the cuffs as she gently hummed.

“So… how was your day, honey?” Guybrush asked.

“Oh, you know. The usual. Fought some guards, duped a duke, managed to start and end a bar fight… typical pirate adventure.” Elaine answered as she picked the lock. “What about you, Threepy? Anything exciting?”

“Oh ah… s-same…”

“Really?”

“…Tried robbing a bank.”

“How’d that fair?”

“This is the end result.”

“So smooth.”

“The smoothest.”

Click. The metal chain fell and hit the pit with a loud bang causing Guybrush’s arms to dangle and emit a sigh of relief. “Finally!” He smiled as he pulled his arms close to rub the bruised wrists with Elaine holding the rope that was binding his legs.

“This part is tricky…” Elaine mumbled as she looked at the rope. “Any suggestions?”

“Hmm…” Guybrush eyed the room and noted the crossbows. “We could use myself to swing to the other side to safety and that crossbow to shoot off the rope. You’ll have to run to the other side but if we do it right, we can both reach the other side.”

“That’s horribly convoluted and dangerous.” The redhead bluntly pointed out.

“Well, what did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know… something not as convoluted and dangerous.”

“I like to think of it as romantic.”

Elaine remained quiet before letting out a laugh and pulling out her cutlass. “Of course you would. Stand– erm…”

Guybrush stared at her unamused. “Poor word choice.”

A blush crept her face. “Sorry. Hold still.”

She pulled him closer to the platform she was on and began cutting the rope but saw it barely make a dent, grunting in frustration when they soon both heard a voice down the hallway. “DOWN THIS WAY!” A guard yelled.

“Crap!” Elaine cursed and looked at Guybrush who was already looking at the crossbow.

“Elaine, do you trust me?” Guybrush asked.

“Of course I do!”

“Then shoot that crossbow!” He said as he pointed at one in particular.

“But you’ll fall–”

“Just trust me!”

She winced and pulled out her flintlock, firing the second bullet at it which in turn fired it’s arrow. With a quick push, Guybrush was able to aim the rope to be in the line of fire instead of himself and successfully freed himself from the ceiling, only to begin to fall. With his arm outstretched, he felt a tight grip around his wrist, crying out a bit in pain as he found the one holding him was Elaine.

“I got you…” She grunted through gritted teeth as she pulled him up, panting as she was out of breath. Before she could say anything, the blond grabbed her face and pulled her into a kiss.

“Knew you could do it.” He said as he pulled away smiling.

She blushed and smiled back only to jump at the sudden gun fire that was shot next to them.

“Don’t let them escape!!” The guards yelled.

“That’s our cue!” Guybrush joked as Elaine helped him stand up, “That’ll teach you not to mess with– ooooh boy…” He stumbled back on the floor and blushed. “Ah… Laineykins… I could use a hand… all that blood to the head kinda did a number on me.”

Not needed to be told twice, she scooped him up and the two hopped out of the window to freedom.

(x)

#monkey island #mickey writes #the ship that literally sails itself

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rochellebuckleyhandmade · 5 years

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Trigger Warning: This post may evoke recall of previous traumatic events. If you feel you need to talk to someone please go to Beyond Blue, The Black Dog Institute or Lifeline

Since my last post I’ve received many questions about my accident.

The most common one is asking how can I even look at the photos of the car.

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I don’t recall having any problems looking at it but after I was released from hospital I felt I needed to go to the accident site AND track down the car and see it. Inspect it, look at it all over. Whilst at the accident site, I collected broken, shattered, scorched pieces of the car, including some of the windscreen that I had intended to use to make some art pieces, sculptures to present to the people who saved me. I still have those pieces but I have not as yet been able to create. Time restrictions, not traumatic affects. Why did I do these things? I’m not sure. I just felt it was part of my healing process.

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The above slideshow are some of the photographs I took at the smash repairs. It took me a few days to track down the car and where it was but once I did, my daughter accompanied me to have a look.

The fellow there was fantastic. He was so helpful and took us straight out the back to have a look. He stood with us the whole time, shaking his head and repeating over and over again how he just could not believe I got out of that car and was standing right there in front of him. He gave me paper, pen and clipboard so I could write a list of belongings we could identify from the boot of the car. There were three iPad’s lost in the fire. Two of which were almost brand new. One of those iPad’s belonged to my boss, one to the college I was attending and one was mine that had taken me over two and a half years to save for. There was well over $2,000 of fibre, yarn, needles and dyes in preparation for my class the next day. Nothing within the car was insured. I lost my new spectacles, a brand new pair of Birkenstocks, my $1,600 phone and more. It took me a while to process that these were just things. I am still alive and that is all that matters.

Maybe it wasn’t as hard as it should have been because it wasn’t my car. That right there is the one thing that did trouble me. The car belonged to my former boss and before that it belonged to her beloved Dad who had since passed. That’s what I found the hardest. I thought that maybe, if she was anything like me, that car was one of her last connections to her Dad and that hit me hard. I was so upset for her and I struggled to not blame myself. Even though it was proven that it was just an accident and I was not driving recklessly, irresponsibly or dangerously (which of course I already knew)

That day, I had driven with a colleague to a Red Cross training in Kent St Sydney, some 150kms and over 2 hours drive away in peak hour traffic. My colleague remained in Sydney that night and I returned alone. Thank goodness! It started to rain heavily on the freeway on the way home. It hit hard and bucketed down from about Mt White. Visibility was almost non existent and traffic on the freeway had slowed to about 60kms. The rain didn’t ease until I exited the freeway at Ryhope when it stopped completely. There was no rain but the roads were covered in water. I was driving well below the suggested speed limit, simply because it was so wet and because it wasn’t my car.

I reached a crest in the road where it cambered hard to the left and the back of the car just kept going. I made the mistake of braking hard to try stopping the car from ploughing off the edge of a rather high drop which would have sent me hurtling through a paddock. Once I realised that braking was not the right thing to do, I started pumping the brake in the hope I would gain some control. This must have all happened in seconds. There was nothing more I could do (well that’s what I thought at the time. I just held onto the steering wheel and tried my darnedest to steer the vehicle. ( I know a little more now about how I should have handled a front wheel drive). Before I knew it, I was headed uncontrollably toward that tree. It was so fast and so surreal. I could see the tree focused within a circle of blurriness and literally saw snippets of my life flash before me. I honestly thought I was about to die.

This is my interpretation of what I saw as I hurtled toward that tree

The following is what I posted to my Mothers Facebook two days later.

Spelling and other mistakes have been corrected.

It’s me Rochelle, currently I’m unable to access my fb account since I don’t have access to my phone and security code.

I just want to let my family and friends know that I’m great, I’m still here and I will be discharged from hospital today or tomorrow.

For those who don’t know, I had an horrific car accident at approximately 6pm Wednesday night (25/02/14) on Millar Rd, Wakefield where the car I was driving left the road and wrapped around a gum tree head on. After recognising that I was still alive, I realised I had to get out immediately as the car was on fire. I stopped, took a deep breath and commenced Systema Breathing Techniques as taught to me by my friend Deano Reynolds (thanks Deano :-)) I gained my composure and saw to my right a young girl who had turned the corner in her car and pulled up at the sight of my twisted wreckage. I called out to her to assist me but the poor thing was frozen. I was aware there was broken glass and pieces of shattered gum tree falling onto me through the broken windscreen. There was smoke gently wafting in through the window and it was then that I realised I was trapped. Pinned by my left leg under the dash and steering wheel. I looked to my left and recognised the driveway of Craig and his family, he and his twins are members of the fire brigade that I’m a member of. I started calling out to Craig to help me. After calling out the second time, it dawned on me that he wouldn’t hear me but then, by some miracle he and his boys were standing beside me. “Craig, it’s me”. He didn’t recognise my car as I was driving my bosses car. Craig looked like he went into shock at the realisation it was his colleague trapped in this car. Despite this, he and his boys worked at getting me out of that car and the impending fire. I could see the fire increasing rapidly and I guess, as a firefighter I knew the urgency of needing to be extracted asap. I was in a lot of pain, my neck, chest andback hurt real bad and my hands were not working but it was a case of risking paralysation or burning alive. Craig coached me to get my leg out somehow. I still don’t know how I did. As soon as my leg was released Craig, Josh and Tom extracted me out through the window and carried me across the road. By the time I looked up, the car was involved and the seat I had just been removed from was now alight.

EDIT: I have since found out it was Craig and Jamie who lifted me out whilst the boys did traffic control and helped manage the scene. It was then I remembered the car was on gas. I told Craig there was gas on board and he immediately cleared his boys and other people from the vicinity. From the moment of impact to the time they had me on the side of the road, I reckon would have been no more than 3 minutes. After I was moved in another vehicle, away from the accident, I heard the car explode. (Well that’s what it sounded like, it may have just been the battery).

I need to express my most sincere thanks and highest regard to Craig, Josh and Tom along with Sally. I have absolutely no doubt that if it weren’t for them, I would not be here today to tell my tale. I know they are all incredibly humble and would not like all of the fuss, saying that it’s all part of the job. No it’s not. They looked after me, their colleague and friend, despite the risks and dangers to their own lives and despite themselves going into shock. I owe them my life.

Thank you to all of the onlookers and bystanders for your assistance. Every single person who helped me in some way that day, the paramedics, the police and of course my beautiful Wakefield Rural Fire Service. Thank you for giving me another chance and saving my life.

EDIT: The newspaper article states that Joe from our Brigade arrived in the Cat 1 to help with fire control and vehicle protection. This is what I was told too. I have only recently discovered that it was in fact Killingworth FB. Enormous thanks and gratitude to Killy for your assistance too.

Somehow I remained reasonably calm throughout the entire ordeal. I was just concentrating on my breathing after telling myself I needed to remain calm or I would not get out.

The paramedics arrived and did their thing including taking my blood pressure. They took it again. And again. And again, before reaching for a second sphygmomanometer to take it several more times. The paramedic then asked his colleague to take my blood pressure a couple of times. I remember asking if there was a problem. They told me they didn’t think so and that was the problem. I was asked if I was implementing some sort of relaxation technique and I told them I was. The paramedic told me whatever I was doing, to keep doing it because my blood pressure was perfect and they had never seen anything like it before.

Once I arrived at the hospital, the nurses commenced working on me straight away. They cut my jeans off (and I had wet myself) they refused to cut off my tie dyed jacket because they liked it, they cut off my T-shirt but refused to cut my underware, stating that they understood how hard it was to get good fitting bras. I appreciated that. They too took my blood pressure several times before paging the doctor. He asked if I was implementing any relaxation technique also and could not believe my blood pressure either. It was still giving a perfect reading.

It was short lived though. I broke down when my children and my Mum walked in. They were only informed that I was in hospital but they were not allowed to be informed why or how. That upset me quite a bit.

Not long after I really started to struggle with the pain. The collar I had around my neck was digging in, pulling and hurting terribly. May back was hurting so bad, my neck, my arms, my legs, it just all hurt. I felt like I was going to climb the walls. I could not keep still and I kept getting in trouble for moving around when they still didn’t know if I had any fractures.

X-rays were done, ultra sound and various other tests before I was transported to the ward to commence my recovery. I had much bruising and a huge haematoma that extended from behind my earline, along my jaw, down across my chest, across my rib-cage and wrapped around my back. The x-rays did not show any fractures due to the haematoma covering them it is believed and I did not learn about most of them until almost two weeks later when the pain in my neck, ribs, chest and back were worsening.

I managed to fracture my neck, C5 and C6, my right collarbone, five ribs on my right and a tiny bone in my left ankle, the Talus.

Some of the bruising on my left leg. The haematoma down toward my ankle was showing signs of compartment syndrome.

Pretty bad photo but here I am on the ward, day two, trying to walk again.

If you click on the image below, it will take you to the news article in The Newcastle Herald.

Click HERE to follow the link to the newspaper article

The hardest thing I find now is driving past that spot. I felt I had to drive there the day I was released from hospital. I felt that if I didn’t, I would never drive that road again. That is when I got out, walked the road, walked back through the evidence that was still there and tried to nut out what happened exactly.

It is 15 months since that accident and I still struggle to drive that road, especially in the wet. I have to drive it though, it is the road to our station and the most direct route from home. It is even the most direct route to my sisters home.

If you drive that road now, you can still see the scorched tree and the burnt, melted tarmac on the road. Still to this day, a constant reminder of how very close I came to my last day here on earth.

A friend of mine told me she is beginning to think I am secretly a cat because I seem to have nine lives. It certainly feels like that sometimes.

Was my recovery hard? Damn right it was. Many people commented that I seemed to handle it all so well and heal so fast. In many ways I did not handle it well at all. I cried myself to sleep each night for months. I had nightmares and what they call flash backs and was diagnosed with PTSD. I had this awful, awful sensation every time a car I was travelling in turned a corner. It honestly felt like the car was losing control, the back end was sliding and we were going to lose control again. It didn’t matter who was driving whether it was me, my son, my Parents, my daughter, whoever. I was convinced the car was out of control. Even though it was psychological, it felt so incredibly physical. I would get all sweaty, shaky, my breathing would become rapid and my insides would churn. Sometimes I would even be physically ill and have panic attacks. It was hard. I’m sure I must have stretched the patience of my family. I was so jumpy and edgy around cars. I can’t tell you how I overcame this. I worked with my psychologist regularly and still do. I still struggle to be in a car with someone else driving and I still get anxious when driving in the rain. I’m improving every day and more often than not, I usually forget the whole thing.

The pain was unbearable, even on morphine. More pain on top of my chronic joint pain was just yucky. It hurt to breathe for months, I couldn’t turn over in bed, in fact lying down was incredibly painful. The pain in my neck just did not give up. I begged my doctor to do something. His advice was that it was time to get back on-board the firetruck.

WHAT? Are you serious? How do you think I will be able to climb up into that vehicle?

The very next day, I found myself on-board assisting with storm relief. It would have been about Monday 27th or Tuesday 28th April. Some nine weeks after the accident. It worked. Whether it was the action of pulling myself in and out of that truck all day or whether it was just the fact that I was back out, doing what I love, helping and contributing and gaining my confidence once again. I just don’t know but I have barely had any problems with it since.

I think that is all I have to say.

In all of this, I just want to offer you hope and encouragement to find joy in the small things. I actually had to become more mindful of finding my joy after this event and although it took me months, I find my joy every day.

If you ever find yourself in a sticky situation, remember to remain calm. Utilise whatever technique you can, whether it be relaxation techniques, prayer or Systema Breathing Technique. You can do it!

Please scroll down to the bottom of our page to leave a comment. We would LOVE to hear from you.

The Accident Trigger Warning: This post may evoke recall of previous traumatic events. If you feel you need to talk to someone please go to…

#accident #hope #joy #systema

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