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trumpkinhotboy · 3 years

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Hanging upside down

Pairing: Edmund Pevensie x Reader

Genre: A tiny bit angsty, a bit of comedy, and a bit fluffy

Warnings: A little mention of blood here and there, but nothing too intense!

Rating: g

Request: Open

A/n: First Edmund fic !! At first, this was supposed to be about mister Peter Pevensie, but then I got the divine inspiration to make it all about our dear Edmund. I had fun with this! I hope you'll like it. I recommend reading it while listening to a Narnia ambiance playlist with forest sounds or something like that! Also, THERE YOU GO @imjustdreamingig I POSTED IT

** gif is not mine !!

*** ALSO CAN WE TALK ABOUT THAT FACE??? SO HANDSOME OMGGGG

Sometimes, being part of the royal entourage, things just get so intense that you need some time apart, away from all the agitation and emotional banter. Being so included in it, you get deeply hurt and worried when nerve-racking and atrocious situations occur. Then comes in the terrible realization that there is not a thing you can do, that you are completely and utterly helpless. Even if you would like to listen to your sheer instinct, you cannot. There are protocols, political relations, and a whole country that depends on your every action. In those situations, you are stuck with these dark feelings undermining you slowly.

This time it was Edmund; involved again in a bloody affair with the Calormene. For a moment, you all got worried it would end up badly, but he had just gotten back, victorious. You were deeply attached to every member of the Pevensie family, especially the freckled adventurous young man, although that could never be revealed. Alas, with secrets to keep and worry eating your brains out you needed to be alone, take a breath or two and forget a little about the world you lived in.

Hanging upside down, hands and arms swinging down. Hair forming a curtain of various shades around your head. You went into the woods to clear your mind, soak in the freshness of the air. There is this little spot you found with an imposing willow oak and a little river right next to it; maybe you could absorb a bit of the serenity of the woods. Everything is calm and soothing, there is not a sound to be heard.

- “Hey!”

You scream, fall quite hard to the ground, and scene.

- “Aouch.”

Trapped in your hair, you sit down, a little dizzy from falling directly on the head. Rubbing your aching elbow that is going to be badly bruised without a doubt, you hear a bright laugh and see Edmund rolling in the grass.

- “Nobody taught you that it was not ideal to creep on someone while they are hanging upside down on a tree?” you grumble.

He is still trying to catch his breath when he answers you.

- “The… question… would be… why were you hanging upside down a tree without being mindful of your surroundings? Someone with bad intention could have crept up on you!” he tries to defend himself, but you can tell he thinks this is hilarious.

- “Come on, Ed.”

- “Alright, alright, I am sorry, but you must admit it was funny.” He answers while getting up.

- “Yeah, yeah, alright.”

You check your body to see any possible injury; your knees are a little scratched, but nothing too bad, your elbow still hurts, but other than that, you are all in one piece. You try to get up while Edmund is still brushing twigs and clumps of grass off his tunic. You slowly get on your feet, but the world is spinning incredibly fast; you grab the tree beside you for balance, hoping it will calm down the revolving of the world.

- “I cannot wait to tell the oth… Y/n?” he looks up, only to see you looking at the ground, eyes wide open.

- “I don’t feel so well...” You lift your gaze to meet his, seeing triples of him dancing around.

- “You are bleeding!”

- “Mh?”

He takes a step towards you, worries written on his traits. He touches the side of your face, and you cannot help but wince at the sharp pain it triggers in you. He lifts your head, turns it on the side, and examines you quickly before declaring you should get back to the castle and maybe get a stitch or two.

- “Will you be able to walk?”

- “It is just a scratch Ed, I am not deathly injured.” You scoff, taking a shaky step before the world starts spinning again. You reach your arms out, searching for anything that could balance you out, which ends up being his hand. “I just need a little support.”

- “Why, of course.” He smiles affectionately at you.

Together you walk slowly but surely to the grand castle. Luckily, you were not that far out in the woods, so the walk is not that long. From time to time, you feel a spin of dizziness. Especially when you try to look up too fast, but otherwise than that, you are fine.

- “Why were you there alone anyway?”

- “I needed some time to myself.”

You have grown up with him, he has learned to observe you and depict your physical language. Just by the tone of your voice, he knows something is wrong.

- “Something happened?” he asks you after a second of silence.

- “No, yes, I mean no! Nothing actually happened it is just….”

His eyes are piercing right through you; his stare attentively focused on your every move. You look back at him, and all at once, the stress and anxiety you felt while he was away are rushing back into your blood. You can feel your heart tighten in your chest; what if something had happened to him? The thought of losing him, you could not bear it, it physically caused you pain. What if he had been in danger and nobody could have saved him?

- “Y/n?” He interrupts your train of thought, bringing you back to reality.

- “Sorry.”

- “If you do not want to tell me it is okay, you don't have to.”

- “No, it is just that… I was so worried Ed. I hate when you go on your own, I hate when there is no way for us to reach or help you. I hate when you are gone off like that.”

You both stopped walking; you have taken two steps away from him. You cannot hold his gaze as all the terrible scenarios start playing again and again before your own.

- “I cannot help but think about all the things that could go wrong. About the actual panic and unbearable pain, I would feel if something were ever to happen to you. It drives me crazy.” You take a deep breath, trying to block the images assaulting your brain. "I needed to take a step back. This place is where I go when it all gets too much for me.”

A deep silence sets in; you are mad at yourself for telling him about it. Each word that leaves your mouth exposes your feelings a fraction more, and you cannot allow that. You do not want to annoy him with your worries. He is a king; he has many more things to worry about than you and your feelings. It is not like it would ever stop him from doing his royal duties, and you understood that. Your behavior is childish and immature. The more you think about it, shame invades each of your cells; you should have never told him about it.

- “Edmund I…” you spin on your heels to face an Edmund that is much closer than you thought. You do feel pretty dizzy from the sudden movement, but you almost forget about it as you are taken away by the emotion in his brown eyes. Almost. You trip a little, but he is quick to catch you and stabilize you.

- “I am sorry Y/n. I did not know you felt like that.” He looks down on your linked hands. “I must admit I would go crazy too if I knew you were in danger and there was nothing I could do to reach you.” He finally looks up at your surprised face. “Stop looking so surprised. I have feelings too, I am not always the rational and practical person everyone thinks I am.” He adds with a shy smirk. You are even more astonished but dare not to say a word.

He slowly lifts his hand towards your face, his whole attention centralized on your being. Holding your breath; you do not dare to move a millimeter. His hand stops in his track as his gaze slides to the long strike of blood going down your face.

- “We, we should get back to our quarters so that we can take care of you.”

You are frozen in place, not able to grasp what was just about to happen. What would have happened? What was that? You had never noticed such depth of emotions in his eyes, but at that moment, you could have sworn it was infinite.

- “Are you ready?” he slides one hand on your back while the other grasp your hand. You nod, feeling more confused than you have ever been.

Once you get inside and head for the royal quarters you suddenly think about the blood still dripping from your left eyebrow, feeling the warm liquid sliding down your throat. You already hear Susan's reprimands when she will see your ruined dress. You cannot help a smile as you think about the weird face she always makes when she is annoyed with something. Her brows furrows and she twists her mouth in an ungraceful rictus which never fails to make you and the other Pevensies laugh.

- “What are you smiling for?”

- “Susan’s face when she’ll see my ruined dress.” You smirk.

- “What do you mean?”

You lift your head to show him the multiples streaks of blood going down your neck and onto the collar and fabric of your dress.

- “Oh no, I did not think about wiping it up.”

- “No worries, as I said, it will be fun to see Su’s face.”

He lets out a chuckle before opening the door of the room. Inside Lucy is painting by the window while Susan is reading a book near her. The two sisters instantly get on their feet when they see the scenery of Edmund supporting you, blood dripping down your face.

- “What happened?”

- “Lucy, please get some towels and the healer’s pouch. Edmund bring her on the couch.”

- “It’s not that bad Su, it’s barely a scratch, I’m fine.” You try to explain.

- “I will be determining that.” She interrupts sternly.

You sigh, knowing you will not escape this as Lucy returns with the aid kit. She starts looking at you too with concern.

- “I think it will need a stitch or two.”

- “Oh, really, guys I do not…”

The older sister glances at you with an expression that did not need any explanations; you needed to shut it. She starts preparing the supply and is still turning your head from side to side when she finally notices the bloodstains on your dress and sighs.

- “Really Ed? You could not have wiped it off? Now her new dress is totally ruined.” That is when the weird rictus and furrowed brows made their apparition.

You take a look at Edmund who is also trying his best to hold in his laughter but fails miserably when she stands there staring at him, hands on her hips.

- “And you think that is funny? You too Y/n? Lu?” she turns around to look at you and her little sister barely containing your amusement. “Maybe I should not do your stitches and ask Mr.Tumnus to do them.”

You and the two other Pevensies grimace knowing damn well that he hates to do that kind of stuff. It makes him nervous and shaky, hence making the process even more painful for the already injured.

- “Oh, please, Susan.” You shake your head while rolling your eyes which was possibly the worst idea you have ever had. The whole room took a spin and brought back the dizziness.

They all come back to you, concerned that there might be more to this injury than what they initially thought.

- “I think she might have a concussion.” Says Edmund while reaching out to you again to offer you some support.

- “How exactly did you say this happened again?” asked Susan.

- “Well, actually, it is a pretty funny story.”

He is about to tell them about your slightly embarrassing fall when the arrival of his brother in the room interrupts him.

- “What happened ?!”

He walks to you with a confused expression. Edmund is still crouching before you, examining your face. You are not even able to answer Peter’s question as you are staring into his brother’s hypnotizing eyes. All this movement makes you even dizzier but let's be honest, even if you were about to puke, you would not miss the occasion to have Edmund’s warm hands on your face. You savor this moment as best as you can, but even though this feels incredibly good, you cannot ignore the feeling of your mind looping a little and your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

- “Guys, what happened?” asks Peter again.

- “She might have a concussion; I think she fell on her head, and Edmund if you, please, stop holding onto her face, I could finally stitch her up and stop this tragedy.”

- “This tragedy?”

- “The dress Pete..” murmurs Lucy.

The older Pevensie looks at your dress, at his sister, then again at you with a look of disbelief. You lightly shrug your shoulder; he's about to say something but gives up understanding that when it comes to Susan, it is a true tragedy.

All the while, Edmund finally let go of you, his cheek a subtle shade of pink. You keep looking at him with confusion in your eyes. What is going on with this boy?

It takes a minute or two for Susan to stitch you up since the wound is small. The eyebrow arch being a place where there is a lot of blood circulation, it is typical you bled a lot. As for the concussion, there is nothing to do but wait and rest, which you absolutely despise, since everyone looks at you like a minotaur had impaled you.

You now lay on the pillowy sofa in a brand-new outfit; Susan forced you out of the dress to try to wash the blood off. Lucy went back to painting, Peter watching over her, and Edmund is sitting on the end of your couch with a book in hand. As for Susan, she is about to leave the room when she suddenly turns back.

- “You never told us what happened.”

You grin and look at Edmund who's already looking at you with a beaming smile on his face.

- “Come on, tell em.”

He does with much excitement, emphasizing the comedy of your fall, but he looks so proud, and everyone is laughing, even Susan, so you do not mind and let him have his moment.

- “Alright, alright funny guy. You told your story, now leave me alone.”

You nudge him with your foot, acting falsely angry. He swiftly grabs it, adjusting it so that both of your feet lay on his lap. He keeps a smile while going back to reading his book drawing small circles on your ankles. A swarm of butterflies is assaulting your stomach, and once again, the world starts spinning; although this time it is for a totally different reason.

...

A/n: I truly hope you liked this!!💛 Once again, just a word to tell you my requests are open. Feel free to send me anything Narnia related, I would love to make your idea come to life:))

#ilya writes ❤#edmund pevensie #narnia fic #fluff #angsty #a bit of a comedy #narnia #edmund x reader #edmund pevensie x reader #edmund pevensie x you #I hope you will like this !!!#i swear reading this while listening to a narnia ambiance playlist #makes it so much better !!

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myheelsdontmatchmysweatpants · 3 years

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This is my first collab fic and I could not be more excited! I'm so thankful that I can be part of the group!

The AU for this month was Sex Work. The Masterlist for this collab can be found here. Please take some time to check out everyone's contributions! There are other fics and amazing art!

That being said here is my fic, big BIG shout out to @doinmybesthere for being an amazing beta reader and sweet angel bb. ily Emme!

Please please please read the warnings. They are there for a reason!

Warnings: consensual noncon, mentions of being burnt, stabbing and blood; no prep penetration, disrespectful use of the word "whore", blackmail, psychological abuse?, Mineta (nuff said) he gets what's comin to him

You’re in the doctor’s office getting a regular checkup when you overhear the nurses in the station next to you talking.

“Look! They posted the new hero rankings today.”

“I forgot those were today, too bad they can’t have the conference during the pandemic. I miss seeing Deku all cute and blushing.”

“FUCK” In your brief moment of panic you forgot where you were. You cringe and look at the nurses, trying your best not to look like you were gonna be sick. “Sorry ladies, didn’t mean to yell.” No point in offering an explanation. You wouldn’t be able to tell them anything anyway.

As you very impatiently wait for your blood results to come back you check the tacky red cell phone you have to keep with you at all times. You had put it on silent since you were in the doctor’s office and you were glad you did. Taking a quick look at your screen had your stomach dropping into your ass.

M.M: Gonna move my appointment up to today.

M.M: You better get ready. I’m not happy.

M.M: I’m sure you saw the postings. Number 36.

M.M: I made sure to pay for any accidents in advance.

M.M: I’ll see you tonight.

Why does he have to be so fucking horrible? Accidents my ass.

The messages make your skin crawl, you should have figured the hero rankings would piss him off but honestly you never paid enough attention. With a heavy sigh you opened up your web browser and pull up the list.

“Number 36...number 36…. Number 36…” When you finally reached the hero you were looking for, you let out a sigh.

Hero Ranking Number 36: The Rainy Season Hero Froppy

Well at least you had her outfit already, for some reason she was one your client asked for a lot. Not that you wanted to ask him why, not with the way his black eyes looked whenever he saw you dressed up like her.

I don’t know if I should feel glad that he isn’t actually taking this out on her. Or upset that I’ve had to deal with this for months.

“L/N, Y/N?” The doctor walks up holding their clipboard and closing the privacy screen. Your file almost too much for the metal clip at the top. “Your test results came back negative and your burns seem to have healed very well. I would tell you that any strenuous activity should be avoided but we both know you can’t do that.”

Their poor attempt at humor had your stomach rolling. “Haha anyways Doc, I think I’m gonna need another medkit to take home today. I can schedule my next appointment online, right?”

You can’t handle the thinly veiled pity in their eyes and look down, reaching over to your side to grab your purse. You hear them moving around and a dark blue plastic box is put on your lap.

“If I remember correctly this is your favorite color, right? You are able schedule an appointment online but if you would like I can schedule it for you. How about in two days? Afternoon work for you?”

You look up after clutching the kit to your chest, you know they are just trying to be nice. All of the nurses are especially nice to you and as endearing as it might be to some people, to you it just feels dirty.

“Afternoon is perfect, thanks Doc.” You get up and walk towards the privacy screen. Before leaving you stop for a moment “Blue ismy favorite color.”

As you make your way back to your living quarters you scroll through the internet looking at every picture of the Pro-Hero Froppy you can find. Your quirk can project a person’s desires onto your body by reading them in their eyes. It’s easier when the person has a clear view of what or who they want. However, your client’s desires are such a jumbled mess that it’s easier if you know what it is beforehand.

Hopefully, I can act like her enough that I don’t have to look at his desires this time. I can’t stand how disgusting they make me feel.

You pass by a few familiar faces on your way back to your rooms but don’t pay them any mind. They in turn leave you alone, most of them knowing that when you have that look on your face you were in a mood.When you first were offered a position at the brothel you thought it would be easy money. You had been stripping for several years, known for how you looked different to everyone who saw your dancing. The beautiful, enchanting, flexible Erised. You had built up your quirks ability to be able to project almost a full clubs worth of desires. Sure, it caused extreme fatigue and chronic migraines but the money you raked in was well worth it.

A few months ago

After an especially successful night a patron walks up to you after you leave the stage.

“I have a job opportunity for you, courtesy of my employer.” He hands you a card you read “Heroes Consulting Agency” in bold silver letters.

“I’m a stripper hun, not sure I can do the type of consulting you’re looking for.” You go to hand it back, but they put their hand up.

“I’m afraid I must insist, why don’t we treat you to lunch and you can listen to our proposal?”

You put your hand back down and study them. They are dressed in a white button up with a vest, definitely out of place in a strip club. You would look in their eyes, but they didn’t really have any, their whole body seemed to be made of dark smoke. You don’t work in the nicest of places so someone with their kind of full body quirk isn’t unusual.

“Alright, I give. I’m not really one to pass up free food.” The rational side of your brain is telling you that you have more than enough money to buy your own food but the stingy part telling you to take it while you can is a little louder.

“Excellent choice Miss Erised. Someone will meet you at the address on that card tomorrow at around 5pm? Should give you enough time to recover from the side effects of your quirk.” They give a slight bow and walk off towards the exit, a large something getting up from a seat and following closely behind.

Sam, one of the waitresses walks up to you with a tray filled with drinks. Her normally short stature elevated with high heeled leather boots. “Did you know that person Y/N?”

Oh man, I do not have the energy for this.

You turn to her and survey the tray before grabbing something that looked like a fruity cocktail. “No, but they offered me a job. Gonna go have lunch with them tomorrow.” Sipping from the glass you tuck the card into your bra, making sure to not show it to the girl.

“That’s weird, don’t they know you’re a stripper? What is someone dressed that nicely want to hire you for? Also did that person look familiar to you or is that just me?” Any normal person wouldn’t be able to keep up with her unending questions, but you had known her for years. The tray in her hands tips dangerously to the left but she balances it out without a second thought.

Guess she does have to be quick on her toes to be a waitress at a strip club.

“They were here for my dance so yes they do know, either way I’m getting free food so…”

She huffs, aware of your attitude for anything “free”.

You finish the drink and place the empty glass back taking a couple bills from your bag and tucking them into her apron.

“Thanks for the drink Sam, but I gotta leave before my headache hits.” You walk off before she can say anything further. You really wanna be nice to her but her endless energy really gets on your nerves sometimes.

By the time you make it to your modest apartment, you can feel the pain starting behind your eyes. You drop your stuff by the door without turning on any lights and walk to the box safe hidden in the kitchen. After you make sure all the money is secure you grab a glass of water and head to the bedroom. The bottle of pain killers already set out on your nightstand. You should really take a shower but for now, you strip down, take a few pills, drink the whole glass of water, and lay down. It takes a while for the pills to kick in but once they do you finally fall asleep.

When you finally wake up the next morning your headache is gone, and you have to piss like no one’s business. You grumble as you stretch your tight sore muscles and get up to go to the bathroom. After taking care of business, you get into some light clothes and walk into the kitchen to make some food. Thankfully, you had some leftover rice and spam in the fridge, so you pop that in the microwave. You put the kettle on for some green tea and down another glass of water as it heats up.

Remembering the offer from yesterday and the promise of free food you pad over to your pile of things by the door and grab their card. It’s sleek looking with a plain black background and silver lettering. The address isn’t something you recognize right away so you look it up on your phone.

“What the fuck?” Why is this place in a business park?

You scroll down and check the street view; the building is a high rise surrounded by a mostly empty parking lot. The entrance of the building is blurred, probably to keep the privacy of anyone entering or exiting.

“Well, I guess it’s a nice gig. Better dress the part.” Or maybe you’re gonna get murdered.

“Wow, I really have to stop watching all those true crime shows.” You put the card in your wallet and head back to the kitchen. The microwave beeps and the kettle whistles shortly after. When you’re done eating you put the dishes in the sink to soak and head to the bathroom to finally take a shower.

By the time you have finished showering the whole bathroom is filled with steam and your body has a pink flush to it. You open the door to air it out and finish cleaning up for the day. Your outfit consists of your nicest jeans with ankle boots, a long sleeve blouse and a dark cardigan. You grab one of your smaller over the shoulder purses and leave your apartment.

One of the things you allowed yourself to really splurge on was a car. Public transportation was not as reliable as it could be and with your hours not the safest either.

By the time you make it to the building the sun is starting to set, giving the sky beautiful pink to blue coloring. As you park and get out of your car a young woman walks up to you.

“Welcome Miss Erised! Please follow me and I will escort you through the building.” The woman’s blonde hair is in two messy buns, her face childlike. Her voice was high pitched enough to grate on your nerves a bit, but you ignored it.

As you follow the person through the lobby you take a glance around. Looks like a high-end hotel lobby. There is a front desk area with a marble counter top, women that are dressed in matching button ups with their hair up in buns or ponytails. Random potted plants and small trees dot the area, and a nice chandelier hangs in the middle of the ceiling. No one besides the women at the front desk are in the area.

“Doesn’t seem to be busy right now.” You didn’t even really mean for her to hear you, but she did, and you sounded like an asshole.

They turn their head slightly with a knowing smirk. “It would seem that way wouldn’t it?”

Conversation halts while you stand in the elevator which you were thankful for. They had chosen a floor close to the middle of the building, which gave you just enough time to rethink your life choices.

By the time you got to your floor you are tired of the silence. Normally you hate small talk, but you figured you would give it a shot. “Do you like your job?”

The woman turns to you and smiles, here canines peeking out a bit while shrugging her shoulders. “It keeps me busy, plus I get to make so many friends.” The gleam in her eyes flashes menacingly for a quick second, you decide to pretend you didn’t see it.

As you get to the end of the hall, she opens a door and gestures you inside, closing it behind you. There is a nice desk to the left of the door, other than that the room is sparce. The person sitting in the chair has quite an eclectic look about him. Grey hair parted to the side, shrew eyes behind circular wire rimmed glasses, a gold chain peeks out from the slightly open white button up with a purple blazer. He reeks of cigarette smoke the evidence of his habit tossed into the half-filled ash tray on the desk.

“So nice of you to join me Miss Y/N. Why don’t you have a seat, we can talk about your new position.” He gestures to the only other chair a smirk on his face that shows of his missing tooth.

“I haven’t accepted the job yet Giran, and I thought I told you I don’t want to work for you.” You aren’t used to seeing him in this type of place. But you do know him so there is no need to put on a show. You lean back in the chair and cross your arms.

“How rude of me, you won’t be working for me, but I have been given authority to hire for this company.”

You don’t bat an eye; most large companies use outside help for hiring. “What is this position you would like offer me?”

“This company provides heroes with a way to alleviate their… desires in a safe and discrete way.”

“So, you hire prostitutes for heroes to have sex without worrying about anyone telling the press about it.”

“That is correct.”

“I don’t know if your just stupid or if you forgot but I’m a stripper not a hooker.” You sit up in your chair fully ready to leave the room.

“They would provide you with a fully furnished apartment, medical coverage with 24/7 access to their fully trained medical staff. Any cash given to you by your clients you can keep, however they would take a percentage out of the money they initially pay for your services.”

“Let’s say I’m a little interested, how much is the initial pay for my services?” You want to deny the offer, nothing wrong with having sex for money but it isn’t really your thing.

Giran doesn’t answer right away, instead putting out what is left of his cigarette only to pull another one out of his blazer and lighting it up. “The starting hourly rate is $2,500 an hour, they would take 30 percent from that.”

Holy shit, that’s as much as I make in a day and I would be making it an hour? You keep your face neutral but something in your eyes must have tipped him off.

“You would start tomorrow; most clients keep a contract with their favorite employee and we actually have someone lined up for you already. He has extremely specific tastes and you are the perfect person to fill in.”

“I’ll have to talk to the club owner; would it be possible to start later?” You don’t want to seem to eager, especially not in front of him.

“I don’t see that as a problem, they can give you one week but that’s it.”

You stay silent, making it look like you’re thinking about it. After a moment you lean forward in your chair and stick your hand out. “Sounds like a deal to me.”

Giran grabs you hand and gives it a firm shake. “If you ever need help or have any questions call the number on the card. Now I believe you were offered dinner, let me take you to one of my favorite places.”

You let his hand go and rise from the chair. As Giran comes around the desk and walks towards the door, he stops for a moment and turns to you. “Welcome to the team.”

Dinner was actually genuinely nice; the food was good, and you were able to have a comfortable conversation with Giran. Of course, he didn’t tell you anything about himself, but you had no problems with that, you didn’t wanna share anything to personal about yourself either. He dropped you back off at your car after dinner and shook your hand again before driving off.

By the time you got home you had decided what you were gonna tell the club owner and mentally packed your apartment. Not wanting to take all of your things you moved most of it to a secure storage facility. Having had it for a few years already in order to store the overabundance of clothes you owned.

After the week was up you had quit your job and packed all of your belongings. You realize you don’t know where you are supposed to go so you pull out the card and call the number.

“Hello, how can I assist you?”

“Giran never told me where I would be moving my stuff to. Could you give me the address?” You pick at your nails while waiting for him to answer.

“Of course, Miss Erised. Will you be needing any assistance for your move?”

He sounds so polite; I wonder if he is always like this.

“No, I’ll be fine on my own thank you.”

He gives you the address and let you know that you can call if you need any additional information.

“Good luck Miss Erised.”

When you get back to your apartment you immediately go into the shower and wash up, using the tea tree oil that Froppy had said she uses in an interview.

I don’t understand how people can like this stuff, but he gets easier to handle if I smell like those women.

When you are done you towel dry your hair and make sure to lotion your whole body. When your hair is dry enough you straighten it and leave it down. He likes it better when its down.

You go to your closet and rifle through until finding the very skimpy version of Froppys hero costume. All it really has in common with the original is the tan harness and the green with black and yellow stripes. Otherwise, it is a one-piece bikini without a crotch. You grab your black leather over the knee boots and get dressed. After checking the time, you give yourself a moment to mentally prepare.

I hate this, I hate him. Disgusting filthy little bug. A false hero, a plague. I can’t wait to leave this place.

Standing in the middle of your room you close your eyes and take deep breaths, allowing your consciousness to drift. You have found that the best way to endure these sessions is to detach yourself from the situation. Only focusing on the absolute necessary and maintaining the effects of your quirk. Giving yourself another minute to get into character you walk to the door joining your apartment to the “service room”.

Thankfully, he hasn’t shown up yet, you shut the door hearing the lock click into place, the door seamlessly vanishing into the wall. Sitting on the edge of the bed you face the door that Mineta will walk through and wait.

No matter how many times we do this I never lose the feeling of wanting to vomit while bathing in bleach.

When he walks in you see that he is wearing his hero costume, as atrocious as it is. He never really deviated from the original design. You immediately start your performance.

“Mineta? What am I doing here? kero” You clasp your hands together in front of your chest and look around frightfully.

“Hello Tsu, what a pleasant surprise to see you here.” He walks up, taking off his gloves and throwing them to the side.

“I don’t understand, do you know where- “Your sentence is cut off, pain in your cheek sharp and hot.

“I don’t believe I gave you permission to talk Miss thirty sixth hero.” He stands there with his hand still up as you cup your cheek and look up at him, the tears in your eyes real. He pulls his hand back again as if to slap you and you flinch.

“Good girl, now finish taking off my outfit for me.” Mineta walks back a few steps and holds his arms out. Your fingers are clumsy as you take it of piece by piece.

Mineta abruptly grabs a fist full of your hair and yanks your head back. You grab his hand with both of yours trying to ease his grip.

“Do you think if you do it slow enough, I’ll get bored and go away?” He pulls harder. “Huh? You really think you’re gonna get out of this don’t you.” He tosses you towards the bed and you scramble to get back on your feet.

The tears in your eyes have started to spill over and you start babbling. “Please let me go Mineta, I don’t know what I did but please pleasejust forgive me kero. I won’t tell anyone about this just please don’t hurt me kero.”

He doesn’t answer you, just finishes taking off his outfit before he is walking towards you again, a vicious gleam in his beady eyes.

You back up until the back of your legs hits the bed. You open your mouth to speak but before you can utter a single word, he slaps you again.

“I told you not to speak unless I told you to once already. Now I’m gonna have to punish you, aren’t I?” He shoves you onto the bed and follows, using his knees to push your legs open he sits up and gives himself a few pumps.” No need to prep you, I want this to hurt.”

You are sobbing at this point, your hands covering your face when you feel him push into you. A scream rips out of your throat and you reach forward to push him away.

“You know Tsu, these meetups have been the best. I’m thinking next time I will find the REAL you and have even more fun.” He closes his eyes a leans his head back, fully immersed in only getting himself off.

To engrossed in his own world, he doesn’t realize that you have gone still. Your tears have stopped, and you have pulled your hands back from him.

DISGUSTING

“Find the real me?”

VILE

You break character, bringing your full consciousness back. You voice is just a whisper at first, so he doesn’t hear you, doesn’t stop thrusting.

FALSE HERO

“Find the REAL me?!” You are screaming at him now.

He finally stops, hearing you the second time. For a second you see fear in his eyes before they fill with rage.

MONSTER

“Hey! You better start doing the job I paid you for, I don’t come here for you to question me.” He lifts his hand up, as if to slap you again. Before his hand comes down you grab it, squeezing until he yelps in pain.

This job is over, he isn’t worth keeping around anymore.

“You think I give a shit about a little piss ant like you?!” As you sit up, he yanks his arm away and pulls out of you. Stumbling back, he starts shaking a finger in your direction.

“You can’t talk to me like that! You’re just a whore!”

You dart forward before he can put more distance between you and grab him by the neck. As you pick him up you snarl and let your quirk fade away.

“I may be a whore but I not a monster like you. You are just a fake hero, a plague on this world and I will get rid of every single one of you.” You throw him onto the ground still holding on to his neck and squeeze.

“In other news, Minoru Mineta also known as the pro hero Grape Juice has gone missing after several videos of him have gone viral. He was last seen leaving a brothel that has requested to remain nameless. The videos contain triggering scenes of the pro hero having relations with a prostitute while she is dressed in various hero suits the resemble his old female classmates. He even refers to them by name. The videos contain triggering images, and it is recommended to not seek them out. The original videos have since been taken down but are reuploaded onto the internet on several other sites. The prostitute shown in the videos has also gone missing. Any information on the whereabouts- “

The T.V. turns off, the voice of the news anchor no longer filling the dimly lit bar. The people present remain silent for a moment before a man with burns all over his body starts to laugh.

“You could have really fucked that up Doll. Good thing we got enough evidence.” You sneer at him, making sure you change your appearance to match your own desire. He flinches when he sees his own face.

“I wish you had cut him! There wasn’t enough blood to keep his appearance up for awfully long!” The young woman with two messy blond buns in her hair twirls a knife around.

“I’m terribly sorry Toga, but I didn’t have anything sharp with me.” You pick at your nails and look over at Kurogiri, who is busy pouring a glass of whiskey for Dabi. “Do I get a break after this one or do you and boss man have another gig for me?”

#lillith masterlist #lillith writes #lilliths writing

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sourwolphs · 3 years

Text

Like an Animal - Bucky x Reader (6/8)

Read on Ao3 (for better interface + formatting)

Summary: Reader is an enhanced Omega kidnapped by Hydra and trapped in a cell with Alpha Bucky Barnes. Tags: A/B/O, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending Warnings: Rated M, Self-hating inner dialogue A/N: I ended up writing this chapter from both Reader's and Bucky's perspective because I couldn't choose between them, and had to puzzle piece my favorite parts together.

A few hours after Steve left, Bucky found himself dozing slightly on the couch in his dark living room. He’d long abandoned his book on the side table, leaving an old black and white rerun of The Lone Ranger on mute on the TV, flashing light across his stretched out form.

When he’d first come back to the compound, before Shuri had removed the words from his brain in Wakanda, he’d spend many nights outside of his body, doing nothing just like this— the sound of the TV too overstimulating, words on the page swimming away from comprehension, unable to focus on anyone or anything for long. Instead, he’d just sit and drift, letting his mind go blank. Sam had called it “disassociating”— whatever the fuck that means. He hadn’t been like this in a few years— this out of himself— not after Wakandan’s powerful therapies helped him escape some of the more acute terrors of his brain.

He was startled out of his state by a soft knock on the door. He felt a flash of irritation at Steve’s overprotectiveness, before his hackles raised as he scented Y/N of all people faintly through the door. He jumped up in a panic from the couch, his socked feet silent on the floor as his eyes took a rapid inventory of his apartment. There was a sweaty pile of gym clothes on the other side of the couch that he first hurled into his closet. Then, he flicked on the lamp and the soft kitchen light, quickly looped his fingers through a few mugs cluttering the coffee table, and dropped them in the sink before he approached the door.

Without allowing himself to think too hard about why she was here— Did she figure out the gifts? — or take a deep breath— he opened the door.

Despite his held breath, her scent hit him all at once— a rush of spicy-sweet peppermint, the crisp, clean smell of snowfall— strong enough with its source right in front of him that it burned his nose a bit on the inhale. Bucky swore his heart skipped several beats.

She was dressed in a cozy-looking, quarter zip pullover and a comfortable pair of black joggers, just like the kind that Nat wears— functional, clean lines, hugging her form in all the right places. Her hair was slightly mussed, as if she’d just gotten up from the couch after a nap. It was so cozy, so domestic, it made his heart ache with renewed want. But underneath her sweet peppermint smell lay the warm and familiar newspaper-ink scent of Steve. Paired with her cozy, slightly disheveled state, it was as if she had just extricated herself from his arms to show up at Bucky’s door.

Bucky’s inner Alpha fought between roaring in possessive rage and wilting in cowed rejection, but he forced his expression into careful neutrality.

They stared at each other for a moment, neither speaking. Her facial expression looked stricken, and Bucky realized how weird he was being. He’d puffed out his chest without noticing— all Alpha instinct and posturing at the whiff of Steve’s scent— and he quickly readjusted, folding his form into a more relaxed lean against the door.

What do you say to the gorgeous Omega you violated, avoided for a month, and then left creepy gifts to when she shows up at your door at 10pm? Before he could mumble out something to break the awkward silence, she interrupted the panicked swirl of his thoughts.

“Hi,” she said. Her voice was high and tight, like she was trying not to inhale. Even Steve had said his apartment smelled. He felt shame curl tight in his gut, and he had to stop himself from closing the door to shut himself and his depressing stench away. “I’m sorry, I came here to talk to you about something, but I’m feeling kind of— dizzy?” Y/N’s expression looked dazed, and she started to sway a little on her feet.

Bucky’s Alpha instincts immediately kicked into overdrive, urging him to scoop her into his arms, hold her tight, snuggle her into his den until she was healthy and clear-headed. But now that she was here, the rational part of his brain was much more terrified at the possibility of scaring her off. Act. Normal.

“Do you want to sit down?” he said, swallowing hard as he opened his door further. Inviting an unbonded Omega into an Alpha’s den was toeing the line of socially acceptable— at least when he was growing up in the 30s— but she didn’t seem fazed by the invitation, nodding and slipping inside. He gestured towards the couch, giving her a wide enough berth that she wouldn’t feel caged in— surrounded by his scent as she was— and she chose to sit in the same, still-warm spot where he’d just been lying, sinking back into the couch cushions. Bucky felt equally satisfied and pained at the thought that her smell would cling to his favorite spot for weeks. He plopped across from her in the armchair where Steve had been just hours before, aiming for nonchalance.

“Sorry,” she said again, waving her hand next to her head. “I think I’m just… overtired or something.” She yawned, kitten-like. His Alpha roared inside him, fingers twitching with the urge to reach out, to touch, but he held himself perfectly still.

“It’s okay,” he said. “So…” He trailed off, clearing his throat awkwardly. Bucky Barnes, ladies and gentleman. God, he was a fucking loser.

Y/N took a deep, steadying breath, bracing her hands on her thighs. “I came here to apologize.”

——-

After the movie ended and Sam finished showing us 6 deleted scenes and 10 YouTube interviews, I finally slipped quietly out of my new blanket nest and away from the steadying comfort of the Alpha-Omega sandwich. I paced for a bit in the hallway outside Bucky’s room, gearing myself up for what would likely be an awkward confrontation with a man I knew well intimately but hardly personally. As much as I’d like for him to sweep me off my feet and into the safety and comfort of his den, he’d probably tell me I was delusional and that he was avoiding me because he wanted to be left alone. That’s why I figured it was probably best to start with an apology.

What I did not prepare for during my anxious pacing was the overwhelming Alpha scent that washed over me the minute he opened the door. It was like getting hit in the face by a truck full off pheromones designed specifically to reduce me to a shivering, keening puddle on the floor. Every clever thing I planned to say flew right out the window as I swayed under the strength of his gaze and the delicious cedar wood and bonfire scent that curled around me.

Inside his apartment wasn’t any better. I should have asked to meet on neutral ground, I thought immediately after stepping through the door. Everywhere smelled like him. Even the couch underneath me was still warm from where he was probably curled up before I’d interrupted. It took all my strength to quiet the dizzying rush of hormones in my head, breathe in deeply through my mouth, and spit out what I came here to say.

“I came here to apologize,” I said, gulping down the ridiculous, submissive words my hindbrain wanted to follow up with. I’m so sorry, Alpha. It wasn’t my fault. I can be better for you.

Bucky looked… confused. “Apologize?”

“Yes. Apologize,” I said, feeling my cheeks heat up with embarrassment. “I know we… did what we had to do. When we were trapped. And I’m sorry that I… reacted the way I did. I know heats are really intense. For everyone. I know I made you uncomfortable, and you probably don’t want anything to do with me.” I paused again, biting hard on my lower lip as my stomach roiled with embarrassment. I looked down at my lap, where I was digging my fingers hard into my thighs, and forced out the last few words. “But I couldn’t help it. And I’m sorry I went into heat. I think it was the purring. I’ve… never felt that. Before.”

I didn’t look up from my lap at first, wincing internally. Bucky’s silence after my lousy attempt at an apology hurt worse than anything so far. The least he could do is acknowledge that it wasn’t my fault.

I took a shaky inhale, and felt a lump build up in my throat. Goddamnit. Don’t fucking cry. Not now.

“I— This was a mistake,” I said, sniffling hard and willing the tears rapidly welling up in my eyes not to fall. I finally looked up from my lap, bracing myself to stand and backtrack the hell out of here, when I simultaneously saw the look on Bucky’s face and caught the scent of absolutely devastatedAlpha.

“Don’t leave,” he said, voice deep and rough, on the edge of an Alpha command. I froze instantly, though it wasn’t because he’d compelled me to. Alpha commands only worked on their bonded Omegas and their offspring.

No, I froze because Bucky looked… heartbroken. It was the only time I’d seen an ounce of vulnerability on his face, besides that moment in the cell when he’d first realized he was falling into a chemically-induced rut. My eyes flicked down to where his metal hand was fisted so hard in the arm of his chair that the seams were starting to rip.

Before I could blink it away, I felt one unruly tear slip down my cheek, though my own shame and embarrassment had taken a backseat once I’d recognized Bucky’s distress.

“I— Fuck,” he said. Faster than I could register, Bucky heaved himself forward, sinking down onto his knees on the floor in front of me, hands clutching at the couch cushions on either side of my thighs. Our eyes locked, and I lost myself in twin pools of grey-blue. His scent burned on my next inhale, sharp and distressed, the sour stench of guilt that lingered in the corners of his apartment.

“Why are you apologizing?” Bucky’s voice was a breathy, raspy growl. It sent a thrill up my spine, and for a moment, I didn’t register that he’d asked me a question. This close, I could feel the heat of his skin, see the stubble on his jaw, scent that delicious smell of him— like snowmelt, like the wind on your face, like a deep inhale at the summit of a mountain…

Bucky broke his gaze first, growling low and dark in his chest. “I should be the one apologizing. I should have already. But I—“ He cut himself off, lip curling in disgust as he leaned away from me. I felt a sharp, stabbing pain in my chest. Alpha doesn’t want you.

I inhaled hard, suppressing a sob, feeling more hot tears run down my cheeks.

I needed to leave. Now. I wasn’t in control of my emotions. This was embarrassing. “Clingy Omega sobs in disinterested Alpha’s apartment.” What would the pack think of me?

I moved to stand up again, but the low-grade growl in Bucky’s chest sharpened, and he lurched forward, crowding me back against the couch cushions.

Before I could even register the aggression in his action, or even think to be fearful of him, Bucky had already leaned back out of my space and silenced his growl.

“Fuck! Sorry— I’m. Sorry. Don’t leave yet. I won’t—“ He cut himself off again, shaking his head in frustration, before standing up to put more distance between us again, moving to lean on the back of the armchair across from me with his head in his hands. He took a deep, steadying breath before speaking again. “I should be the one apologizing. Because I… hurt you. I told you that you were safe. And you weren’t. Not from me.”

When he looked up to meet my gaze, his expression looked tortured, but his scent was worse— ashy and acidic, hatred and guilt. Guilt? Why was he…

I swiped hurriedly at the tears on my cheeks, feeling the lump in my throat clear as confusion and exasperation took over.

“What are you talking about? I’m perfectly fine,” I huffed. Well, as fine as one can be when they’re pining over an Alpha who can’t stand to be in the same room as them. Maybe he feels guilty about Hydra restraining me? That’s the only logical explanation I could think of.

“Tony got the cuffs off right when I got back here, it’s not like you could have removed them. They were Terrigen crystal.” I shook my head, and once again moved to stand and leave as the futility of this conversation dawned on me. “Whatever. I’ll just go.”

This time, I got in a few steps towards the door before that low growl started up again and he caught my wrist in his right hand.

I should have been terrified. I should have been running for my life. I should have frozen him into the floor. I was an unbonded Omega in a growling Alpha’s den, soaked in a combination of our distressed pheromones, held in his grasp and unable to leave.

But despite all the reasons I had to roll over and bare my throat in fearful submission, absolutely no part of me felt scared or unsafe.

Bucky’s hand on my wrist was gentle. Not holding me back, but pleading for me to stay. And the feel of his skin on mine made something hot, desperate and dark curl within me.

His voice was rough when he spoke again, my back still turned half away from him. “In that cell. I… forced myself on you. You trusted me enough to fall into a heat, and I took advantage. You shouldn’t be apologizing, because you should hate me.”

When I turned back around, the raw expression on his face made my stomach lurch. He looked… devastated. Ashamed. Vulnerable. Afraid.

Feeling hysterical, I couldn’t help a little nervous giggle from bubbling up in my throat.

All this time, this big, dumb, handsome, superhero Alpha had really thought he’d violated me in some way. Me. The Omega who had practically rubbed her entire body in his scent, who had stayed up for hours yearning for his Alpha purr, who’d had sex dreams about him dirty enough to make a pornstar shudder.

“Are you fucking with me?” I said.

Bucky frowned earnestly. “No… I—“

“So you’ve been leaving me secret gifts because you felt… guilty?” I said, knowing I was putting him on the spot. Something about being in his presence, in his den, was making me bold— finally giving in after a month of exasperation, of chest-aching pain.

Bucky’s eyes widened, and he had the sense to look a bit sheepish, dropping my wrist from where his hand still encircled it. “Uh. It wasn’t—I was just— I’ll stop if you—“ he said, stumbling over his words.

His nervousness, I noted absurdly, was charming.

That’s when I suddenly realized that here, surrounded by Bucky’s scent, close enough to touch, I felt lighter than I had in over a month. The dull ache in my chest had lifted, and in its place, all I felt was an incredible sense of rightness.

Comfort Alpha, my Omega murmured, crawling back up from the recesses of my brain where I’d shoved her away earlier.

And, well, I was tired of fighting her. Fuck it.

“Bucky,” I laughed, cutting off his sputtering. “You— You didn’t force anything on me. We were both out of our minds. Hell— I’m still out of my mind! I’ve been pining over you for a month. My fucking chest,” I said, reaching up to worry at my sternum where the pain had been centered.

“You— What?”

————

As soon as Y/N had settled into the couch, and Bucky’s inner Alpha had registered that she was within reach, soaked in his scent and looking gorgeous and vulnerable, he’d lost it a little.

First— confusingly— she had started apologizing. Then in just a few, rapidly devolving moments, he’d (1) made her scent spike with anger and sadness, (2) watched helplessly as tears clumped in her eyelashes and tracked down her smooth cheeks, and (3) acted like a territorial knotheadwhen she’d tried to leave— as if he hadn’t fucked things up enough.

And now she was… confessing her feelings for him?

That couldn’t be right.

“You— What?”

Bucky recognized that absolutely no part of this conversation had demonstrated his intelligence. He was actually starting to think maybe the serum had given him early onset dementia.

He took a step closer to her, knowing he was pushing it by crowding the Omega in his own territory, but too overwhelmed to care. “But… What about Steve?” he asked. Just being within feet of her, he could smell the newspaper ink scent of his best friend still lingering on her clothes.

Y/N quirked her head. “What about him?” She lifted her arm to take a sniff at her shoulder, seeming to scent what remained of him on her pullover.

Bucky bit hard on the inside of his cheek, fighting a scowl. He wasn’t that dumb. “You two are… you know,” he started, shrugging to hide the hurt. “Together.”

An amused smirk tugged at her lips. “What, did you think I was canoodling with Wanda and Sam as well? The whole pack? Because I smell like all of them, too.”

And, well, yes. This close, Bucky could pick up Wanda’s muted cinnamon smell, Sam’s citrus scent, and even a splash of rosewater from Nat.

Then, Bucky noticed that Y/N’s hand was still worrying at her sternum. In the very same spot where he’d practically rubbed holes in his own shirts over the past month. He matched the motion dazedly, reaching up to place his palm over his own chest. That same nagging thought that had dogged him for weeks in the Brooklyn apartment fought back to the forefront of his mind. Bond withdrawal.

“You feel it too?” he said, his words coming out softer than he’d intended, disbelief coloring his tone.

Bucky watched as her snarky expression melted away, eyes turning serious and contemplative. She took a step forward, now so close that they were breathing the same air, and nodded resolutely.“All day. Every day. Aching. And—” She paused, a fierce blush rising on her cheeks. “Your… purr. I feel like I nee—“

Before his higher functions could process the words coming from her lips, Bucky’s hindbrain took control of his body. He crowded Y/N back into the wall behind them, his arms on either side of her head as he leaned in to take a deep, desperate lungful right at the scent glands on her neck. She tipped her head back instantly, baring her throat to him and letting out a breathy moan that sent his head spinning, her sweet peppermint scent coursing through his veins like the best drug.

In the morning, maybe, he’d regret this.

But right here, right now? Omega really wants him. Fucking finally.

The sight of her bared throat made his Alpha wild with need— the same trusting submission he thought he had abused before, now presented to him without abandon. He replaced his nose on her neck with his lips and tongue, and her body arched against his, their hips lining up. She keened softly, and his cock thickened in his pants, forcing him to bite back a gratified growl as he ran his nose up and down the column of her throat. Her scent was changing, taking on an earthy, musky note, like fallen leaves and wet moss. Arousal. He felt his mouth water, and he could scent his own aroused pheromones filling the air, mixing with hers.

Was he dreaming? This couldn’t be real. He didn’t deserve this— her trust, her want, her body beneath him.

But Bucky’s inner Alpha was crowing. The feel of her against him, her scent lighting his body on fire from the inside out— it stirred up the deepest, darkest, most possessive Alpha instincts buried deep within. Not Steve’s. Mine. My Omega.

Y/N snaked a hand up his chest, pressing her cool palm to the side of his face and nudging his gaze up to meet hers. Her pupils were blown wide, plush lower lip pulled between her teeth— almost shy. The look shook Bucky out of his mindless Alpha stupor. He had to be sure. Because once he was…

He pulled back slightly so she could breathe. “Is this— Do you want this?” he asked, voice rough with need.

“Yes.”

———

The moment the word slipped from my lips, Bucky finally let go of the tight restraint holding himself back. I knew he was desperate before, when he had his nose buried in my neck. And I could smell the musky, warm flannel scent of his arousal in the air— feel the hard evidence of it against my hip.

But as soon as I’d finally, finally convinced this stupid, perfect, frustratingly dense Alpha that this was what I wanted— what I had wanted from the start— he let out a mind-numbing growl that made my knees go weak and shaky.

Though I was at first anticipating a rough and frenzied claiming— especially after a month of needless separation— I supposed that with Bucky’s extreme handle on his inner Alpha, it would be anything but. And I was right.

His lips were surprisingly gentle where they met mine, but insistent, commanding as he opened my mouth against his, stubble scraping at my cheek. I did my best to match his intensity, kissing back with everything I had, trying hard to communicate with more than words what he hadn’t let himself believe. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer to him, and before I could prepare myself, he scooped me up into his arms like I weighed nothing and headed towards the couch.

“No, bed,” I gasped, tearing my lips away from his for a moment. Bucky honest-to-god whined, changing course immediately to carry me further into his den, kicking his bedroom door closed behind him as we entered the space where his scent was thickest. In the low light, I could make out dark furniture and a large bed, which he settled me gently in the middle of, sheets and blankets a delicious, cedar-scented tangle around me. I could feel my heartbeat pick up, arousal thrumming through every nerve ending in my body, slick between my legs coming embarrassingly fast as my Omega prepared for the Alpha my body desperately craved.

He hesitated for a moment once I was settled, hovering his body above mine, and I could see the glint of his steely eyes tracing down my form. I knew I didn’t look the sexiest in my cozy clothes, and I squirmed uncomfortably underneath his scrutiny, letting out my own indignant whine.

He chuckled— a dark, Alpha sound, then sat back a bit on his haunches to free his hands so that he could trace them down the curve of my sides. He stopped at the hem of my pullover, eyes flicking to meet mine. I nodded, sitting up a bit to let him pull it over my head, taking my bra with it. Once it was off, he hurled it dramatically into the furthest corner of the room, taking the pack’s scent with it. I couldn’t help but laugh at his possessive posturing, before I caught the intense look on his face as his eyes roved over my bare chest and stomach, drinking me in like he was afraid to break the spell by touching.

Goosebumps pebbled the skin of my arms, though not from cold. I reached up to pull him down closer to me, and I could feel him trembling— still holding himself back.

“Bucky,” I pleaded, arching up my lower half to press my core against his leg. He remained still, flesh and metal hands holding my waist firmly in his grasp. “Alpha,” I tried.

That worked.

With a choked-out growl, Bucky surged up against me, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses from my mouth, down my neck, across my scent glands and to my chest, where he sucked and laved at my sensitive nipples.

“Fucking perfect, Omega,” he breathed, sounding pained. “Smell so good. Like you were made for me. Unbelievable.”

I whined in response, each inhale taking in more of his heady scent, making my head swim. He kissed a hot path from my chest down my belly, nosing at my hip and the waistband of my pants. “Didn’t think you wanted this, doll. Not with me,” he said, flesh hand gripping my side hard enough to bruise. My Omega thrilled at the idea of a mark left behind. Down, girl.

He hesitated at the drawstring of my joggers, his eyes flicking up to meet mine. “Can I make you feel good, Omega?” he panted, mouth slack and plush lips wet. I hitched in a breath at the sight of him, feeling punch-drunk and so overwhelmingly turned on I had to fight the urge to close my eyes. I nodded my consent, but reached out to tug at the shoulder of his shirt first, which he ripped over his head with one hand to reveal the sculpted, shadowy planes of chest. The hard lines of him looked like they were cut from steel. Jesus Christ.

“Please,” I pleaded again, canting up my hips, and he rumbled in response, dragging down my pants and underwear in one smooth glide down my legs. I tightened my thighs together reflexively— still wanting, but momentarily shy at being completely bare for him, and the the thought of the amount of slick he’d find between my legs.

“Perfect,” he practically purred, leaning in to kiss me softly, reassuringly, slotting his hips between my legs until I was spread wide beneath him. He kissed back down my body once my breathing slowed, his cold metal hand leaving goosebumps behind as it trailed down my side to behind my knee, where he lifted my leg to throw it over his shoulder. He paused at my navel, looking up at me one more time. “Okay, doll?”

I took in a shuddering breath, the need for him to touch me overpowering my nerves, before nodding. The corner of Bucky’s mouth turned up in a smirk, making my breath catch in my throat, before he dove between my legs with what could only be described as super soldier-like intensity. He sucked slowly, teasingly at the scent glands on my inner thighs before dragging his nose through my slick folds, lapping up my slick like a man starved. He found my bundle of nerves instantly, beginning a relentless tease with his tongue.

I’d never felt anything like it. A litany of uncontrollable whimpers and moans fell from my mouth as pleasure washed over me in waves.

“Taste so good, Omega,” he growled, throwing his metal arm across my hips to hold me down as I bucked up in need against his face. “Never tasted anything like you.”

My eyes rolled back in my head as I felt his flesh hand drag along the inside of my thigh before he pressed one thick finger slowly inside me. The sounds coming out of my mouth were sinful, and I pushed my face into the pillow beside my head to muffle them as I tightened around the digit.

“Alpha, please,” I begged, squirming as I teetered on the razor sharp edge of release. He carried on, increasing the intense assault with his tongue, before adding another finger next to his first, canting them both up towards my navel in a slow drag inside me. The fullness is what pushed me over the edge with a cry. He loosened his hold on my hips to let me ride it out against his mouth until I pulled away sharply with the sting of oversensitivity. He slipped his fingers from me drenched in slick, bringing heat to my cheeks, before licking his fingers clean with his gaze trained on mine.

“God,” I gasped out as my heart rate started to come down, feeling lightheaded and tingly all over from the best orgasm I’d ever had in my fucking life.

“Thanks, but you can call me Bucky.”

Did he— I barked out a disbelieving laugh at the absolute, shit-eating grin on his face— a carefree, pleased look I hadn’t seen before in the short time I’d known the Alpha.

He laughed with me, before moving back up the bed, pressing his burning hot chest to mine, and leaning in for a slow, lingering kiss. The waistband of his pants dug into my hip, along with the shockingly hard length of him.

“Oh, I didn’t—“ I broke away from his mouth, moving my fingers down to scrabble at the button of his pants, but he gently moved my hand away with one of his own.

“You don’t need to,” he said, his voice deep and rough— sounding just as fucked out as me, though I hadn’t even touched him.

I frowned. “But I want to. Do you not want me to—“

He cut me off with a kiss, before dropping his forehead to my chest. I could feel his breath fanning out across my skin, my nipples peaking in interest even though I felt thoroughly sated already.

“Jesus, doll. Of course I do.” He lifted his head up, meeting my gaze, and I could see his jaw clenching as he fought for the right words. When I’d first met him I’d chalked up his taciturn mannerism as a side effect of the rut, but now, I realized it was just another endearing facet of his personality. He liked to make every word he spoke count. Makes sense when you spent seventy years in a muzzle.

“I don’t want you to feel… pressured,” he finished.

This again? I leaned down, pulling a blanket up and over my frame to cover my naked lower half, and Bucky moved off me slightly.We probably should have talked more before Bucky decided to take me to the astral plane— but I certainly wasn’t complaining about the way things had progressed, and by the scent of proud Alpha that still lingered in the air, he hadn’t minded either.

“Bucky, I don’t blame you for anything that happened in that cell. Not even a little bit,” I began. He sighed, breaking eye contact to look down at his flesh hand, which he’d fanned out across my belly. I wasn’t a petite woman, but underneath his massive hand, I felt… small and safe in the best way. A way that made my Omega sing with pleasure at having found a match that could both provide and protect in the ways I needed him to. “It didn't even occur to me that I should blame you. If anything, I was grateful. You protected me and comforted me in a way that very few Alphas would have been able to while in rut.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, but his scent hadn’t sunk back into the sour distress of our earlier confrontation, so I knew he had heard me. He shifted to lie down on his back, lifting his flesh arm over my head to scoop me against his chest. I snuggled up to meet him, curling up against his side with my head pillowed on his massive bicep.

It felt… right— like two puzzle pieces finally joining— and I was suddenly reminded of the ache, or rather, the lack of it.

“You asked me earlier if I felt it too,” I whispered, the moment quiet and sacred in the muted light of Bucky’s den. I lifted my eyes to look at him to find he was already gazing down at me. “I know this is crazy for me to say, but this just feels so—“

“Right,” he said, finishing my sentence for me. “It feels right. And my chest doesn’t hurt anymore, now that you’re here.”

“It’s gone for me too. Bucky— god— I thought I was going crazy. I thought you hated me. I thought I was going to have to leave the pack,” I whined, feeling the low-level anxiety of the past few weeks rush back in one big wave. Bucky must have scented the intensity of my distress, because he shushed me softly, running a soothing hand up and down my back, before nudging my head onto his chest and starting up that painfully familiar rumble that I’d yearned for for weeks. His purr.

I instantly melted against him, feeling anxiety make way for comfort and bliss as every muscle in my body let go of the tension it was holding. I let out an involuntary moan of relief as I drowned in his purr and the cedar scent that surrounded me like a cocoon.

“’S fucking good,” I slurred, and I could feel Bucky’s laugh cut through the vibrations.

Reluctantly, I pulled my head away from his chest so that I could meet his eyes again. He was still staring, like I was a puzzle he couldn’t decipher. I shivered.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said. I immediately opened my mouth to protest, but he stopped me. “No, listen. I should have apologized to you as soon as we got back. But I was afraid.” He said it resolutely, unfalteringly. An Alpha admitting their fear was rare. But Bucky wasn’t a typical Alpha. “I was afraid of what I was feeling— of what you might be feeling. And when I saw you with Steve, I just thought—“ he paused, closing his eyes. “I thought I could move on. That you had made the right choice.”

Though my heart hurt to think of the turmoil that Bucky had put himself through over the past month, I had to smirk. Bucky might be different in other ways, but his jealousy over my imagined relationship with Steve was stereotypical Alpha.

“Is that why you started leaving me secret gifts?” I asked teasingly, feeling a smile curling across my lips. “Saw another Alpha swoop in and had to prove you could provide?”

Bucky flopped his head back against the pillow with a groan, scrunching up his eyes in embarrassment, and I laughed at his chagrin.

“I knew it was weird,” he said. “But it made it hurt less. To know I could… provide for you in some way. Sorry. I know I sound like a knothead.”

“Don’t apologize. That blanket will be perfect for our nest,” I said innocently, fluttering my eyelashes. Bucky stiffened under me immediately at the thought. I giggled, and the Alpha rolled back on top of me in a flash, letting out a teasing growl as his arms caged me in.

I squirmed underneath him as he pressed gentle kisses down my neck, tongue laving across my scent glands, sending a jolt of arousal through my thoroughly relaxed body.

“How do you smell so incredible?” he grumbled against my skin, inhaling deeply. I took the opportunity to move my hand down across his bare chest again, sneaking towards his waistband, but Bucky caught my hand again gently, lacing our fingers together. He stopped his ministrations against my glands, and lifted his face up to meet mine again.

“Not tonight,” he murmured. “But will you stay?”

I nodded then, feeling suddenly shy and exposed underneath him. I wiggled down off the bed to pull on my soft pants and pullover, leaving my bra and slick-soaked underwear on the floor, while Bucky tugged off his pants, leaving him in black boxer briefs that showed off the rippling muscles of his thighs. God. Damn.

As I curled up again next to him, pulling the blankets up and over the tangle of our legs, a bone-deep tiredness settled over me, my body finally feeling relaxed and safe enough to slip into sleep after weeks of insomnia. He pressed a lingering kiss to my forehead, before looping his arms around me firmly and starting up his Alpha purr once again.

Tomorrow, we’d finish talking. Tomorrow, we’d figure out what was up with our strange connection. And tomorrow, it was my turn to make Bucky feel just as good as I had.

But right now? I nuzzled my face into his chest, savoring the cent of cedar and bonfire, and knew—irrevocably— that I was finally home.

#my fic #like an animal #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky reader #bucky barnes reader #bucky reader insert #bucky smut #marvel fic #marvel smut

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kyndaris · 3 years

Text

Shadows of the Mind

Red-rimmed eyes stared back at me. Disgusted to see how low I had fallen, I splashed cold water onto my face – hoping against hope that it would also wash away my addiction. No such luck.

Studying my reflection, I ran a tired hand over the stubble that I should have shaved off yesterday morning…or had it been the day before last? Time blurred when sleep was taken out of the equation. And it had been a long while since I had rested my head on a pillow.

Yet though I craved the comforts of a warm bed, the only beating thought in my head was the same refrain I had heard a million times before: just one more. After all, what could it hurt? I was already late. Even if they didn’t fire me today, I would not be long for the chopping block when the next review came up.

A better man would have done more when his wife and their two children had threatened to leave because of the nights spent in the casino. A better man would probably have talked it out and made steps for self-improvement. When the accident happened, a better man might have used the opportunity to finally turn over a new leaf. Or, perhaps, a better man would have poured all their energy into digging into the truth of the situation.

But I was not a better man.

When I could not afford to continue gambling away my money at the slot machines, I turned to drink to drown out the pain. Kicked out of the house that had cost me two decades of labour and bleeding money from the debts that had gone unpaid, I was at the end of my rope.

The yellow eye in the centre of my left palm looked up at me. Judgement writ clear.

I blinked and the image disappeared. My hand was pink flesh once again. No sign of an eye anywhere. Had I just dreamed it? Or was there something more sinister? Linked, perhaps, to the work I was doing? How else could I explain the cadavers that were brought in with ridges of scales and webbed toes.

It should not have come as a surprise. There had always been rumours of a curse being laid on the small seaside town since time immemorial. Folk tales, mostly, to scare kids into behaving.

But what if it was all true? It would explain the accident. There was no way that Morgan would have missed the turn. She had always been a careful driver, particularly when there was heavy fog. And the kids were in the back…

The police had stopped by the house and had asked plenty of questions. Did I have any suspicions that she might have had suicidal thoughts or that she was not coping in any way? The idea was ludicrous. I told the officers as such. ‘Morgan would never have done it on purpose. Our kids meant the world to her. Hell, she had been heading to her parents – nowhere near the promontory…’

A sharp slap to the face brought me out of my spiralling thoughts. God. I was losing my mind and there was nothing I could do about it. One of the side effects, probably, from the antidepressants and anxiety tablets I had been prescribed.

I reached for the bottle. Twisted the lid. Two small capsules popped out into my cupped hand. Within seconds, I had swallowed them dry.

As I felt them slide down my throat, I risked one more glance at the mirror. My clothes were crinkled, dark bags rested under my eyes and the tuft of hair I still had would do little to cover my encroaching baldness. In one word I looked like shit.

Still, I had seen worse. And I found that I didn’t much care whether I lost my job today or in the near future.

I was tired of fighting. Easier to submit to the inevitable once it came. Whether that was the drugs I had taken, I couldn’t say. The fog that descended over my mind made it hard to think about it too much. Maybe that was good. At the very least I would not have to combat the crippling anxiety that would have come with it.

Gambling had taken away my family. It had taken away the roof over my head and the food to line my stomach. Soon, it would take my life. One way or another.

Within minutes I left the small cramped flat and took the rickety lift down to the rundown carpark. A tan overcoat was tastefully slung over my right arm in the hope that it would give me a modicum of respectability. I only prayed that no-one looked too closely at the frayed sleeves and the weathered scuff marks. In my other hand, I carried a battered leather briefcase that I had dug out of the closet. As I reached in for the keys to the bucket of bolts that I called a car, I realised that I had forgotten my security pass.

Cursing under my breath, I dumped most of my belongings into the passenger side seat and raced up the stairs rather than wait for the lift. Legs burning and puffing hard, I stopped at the second floor to catch my breath. Just as an errant chastisement was once again about to regale me with all my failures up to that absolute second, I mustered up what remained of my strength and staggered up the remaining flight of stairs to my two-bedroom unit.

It was then a simple matter of busting open the door and nabbing the pass sat on what could not reasonably be considered a proper dining table – an elevated plastic chair with three stools around it. Oh, how far the mighty had fallen. If only my old friends could see me now…

But I had lost most anyone that would have cared to offer any sort of aid for my self-inflicted plight.

By the time I pulled up at the security gate, I was ten minutes late. The guard took his time checking my pass and confirming my name in the system. He reminded me of a raven with his sharp beak-like nose and the shifty glint in his small beady black eyes as he looked at my face and then the computer screen with needless scrutiny.

‘Everything appears to be in order, Mister Hinds,’ he said. His voice was unusually nasally, almost high-pitched, for a man of his size and girth. ‘Be sure to clock in on time tomorrow. I’ve had journalists sniffing up here the last few days, trying to sneak in. You know how it is when it comes to the work that goes on. Probably know it better than I do.’

I nodded and made to retrieve my security pass. ‘No need to tell me twice. I’ll be doubly sure to set the alarm to a quarter to seven,’ I replied with a polite smile. ‘Thank you for your exemplary work, Horace. Doing us all proud.’

Once the gate was up, I pushed my car into gear. It trundled through, picking up speed as soon as I reached the main building and the carpark resting underneath. Built forty years ago, it was an impressive creation of concrete. Passing under the awning as I entered the carpark, I could barely make out any windows on the exterior. Appropriate, considering the secrets that we kept hidden away from prying eyes.

When I finally arrived at the laboratory, after changing into my white lab coat in one of the only sterile areas of the facility, it was ten minutes to eleven. Already a migraine had formed behind my eyes, throbbing with each beat of my heart. All I wanted to do was to take a sip of smooth whiskey to ease away the pain. Except, of course, I didn’t even have enough money to buy a pint at the local pub, let alone anything stronger.

Before I could entertain my fantasy further, Gladstone strode in from the far door. “Good to see you actually make it out of bed, Hinds,’ he said, barely looking up from his notes on the clipboard. ‘We need you downstairs. One of the,’ he hesitated slightly as he looked for a word to describe the subjects that were kept in less than humane holding cells, ‘creatures had a little incident last night. Look into it.’

Just like that, I was dismissed.

Orders given, Gladstone sat at a free desk, his eyes never leaving whatever was on his clipboard as he tapped his pen arrhythmically against it. Maybe it was my overactive imagination or perhaps it was my sleep deprived brain, but I could not help but compare Gladstone to a big cat, just waiting to pounce upon the unwary. Surely, the elongated teeth and sharp curling fingernails were due to the fact that I had been awake for the last thirty-six hours.

With a great shake of my head, I picked up my belongings and made for the far door from whence Gladstone had come through.

As I made my way down, my footsteps on the metal steps echoed through the concrete well. There was naught in this passageway to dampen sound. Austere and spartan had been the design choices when it came to top-secret laboratories nestled a few miles away from town.

Deeper and deeper and deeper I went. It was as if I was descending into the bowels of the Earth.

My only companion was a small wispish ball of bluish light, shaped into an amalgamation of an eyeball and wings. I knew I should have been disturbed by the sudden evolution in my hallucinations. Yet, I could not find the strength inside me to care. After all, what were a few demons and devils from myths and legends, when I had seen men who had sprouted bat wings and women with large bulbous eyes with gills beginning to form on their necks?

Besides, it seemed harmless anyways. Staying always three feet behind me. For a brief moment, I came to a stop at a landing and eyed it for a few seconds, daring it to attack, before shrugging my shoulders when it remained docile, impossibly hovering in place.

How exceedingly odd.

Knowing that it was not real, I did not reach for it. Even as I tried to rationally explain the phenomena floating beside me with science. In the end, I simply chalked it up to the drugs and thought no more on the matter.

Something strange was happening and it was my job to find the answers. It mattered not that I was wracked with guilt and grief. Gladstone, for one, couldn’t care less. All that mattered was that I did what I was paid for. Nothing more. Nothing less.

As I stepped through the pressurised doors and into the decontamination unit, I turned my addled mind to the task at hand. With great effort, I managed to rouse it from its stupor. By the time I emerged into the top-secret containment area, I was as focused and sharp as I was ever going to be with soporific drugs pumping through my veins. Which, to be fair, wasn’t much. It was all I could do to keep my eyes open as I stumbled forward, one hand blindly reaching for a wall to steady myself as I adjusted to the change in temperature and lighting.

‘Hinds! Thank God you’re here. I’ve tried my best to stabilise it but this is beyond my skills.’ Pritchard rushed towards me, her hands covered in a deep shade of blue and a frantic look in her eyes. ‘You know what’ll happen if we were to lose it. And I’d rather not have my head on a pike.’

‘Show me.’

We headed deeper, passing by huge containment units filled with all manner of strange creatures and monsters. Many had been found washed up on the beaches dotted along the western coast. Some had been hostile, attacking anyone or anything nearby. Others had been positively docile, more curious than dangerous.

Even their appearances varied. I had seen several that looked like they had stepped out from my worst nightmare. There was no word to describe the monstrosities. Videos I had glimpsed showed unspeakable terrors – a mix of tentacles and shapeless horrors. Bringing them back to the facility was never an option. The casualty numbers had been astronomical. We were fortunate when the retrieval team returned with footage.

Should the retrieval team manage to subdue one of these creatures, which they did on a rare occasion, they were almost always dead upon delivery. And utterly useless for our research.

Imagine what we could learn if we actually had a living breathing monster before us! The knowledge that we would have at our fingertips!

Most of what my team and I had been able to study were specimens that were mostly humanoid in appearance. One had stood out in my memory had looked like a man that I had seen on a Missing Persons poster that had been hanging outside one of the telegraph poles near my flat. The only difference had been the ridges of scales that had lined his jaw and knuckles as well as the yellowish tint to his eyes.

It had been clear that he had been in the midst of metamorphosis. How or why had remained a mystery. We had kept him in isolation, unsure how best to classify him.

Unfortunately, he had not survived long in captivity. I had been the one to discover his body one rare morning when I was actually sober a few days before Morgan’s ill-fated attempt to leave me. Suffice it to say, there was naught we could do to revive the man. The autopsy, too, had failed to pinpoint the exact cause of death. Those thoughts had consumed me prior to my gambling binge. And all I had wanted was a distraction to escape the realities of my job.

Pritchard led me to a small enclosed room. It was filled with a variety of medical equipment. At the centre of the room was a cot. Two nurses were crowded around it, their eyes fixed on the heart monitor as it beeped erratically. They looked up as we entered.

‘How’s it looking?’ said Pritchard.

‘Not good, Laura,’ answered Lopez as he rose to his feet and made some space. He was a tall burly fellow and sported long hair that was tied into a neat ponytail. If I did not know him, I would have said he looked out of place, dressed in green scrubs and a white lab coat. Despite his appearance (which would better fit a wrestling ring), he was one of the best nurses I had worked with. Professional and exacting, I could always count on Lopez on following my instructions to the letter.

‘Do you know what happened?’

Lopez shook his head. ‘Escape gone wrong? The security team found it in the early hours of the morning. It was already bleeding. Then it tried to attack one of the men. In a panic, one of the junior officers shot it. The rest is what you can see.’

Head pounding with the onset of a hangover, I pressed my thumbs into my temples. Things were rapidly going wrong and I needed to make a decision. Time was of the essence. I could not afford to second guess myself or watch as a life slipped from my fingers just because the only thing I could think about, given the emergency, was how good whisky on the rocks would taste on my parched tongue.

Time passed. I could not say how long we worked until we managed to stabilise the creature until I glanced at my wristwatch and saw the time. Over the course of minutes that had seemed like hours, and hours that had seemed like days, we struggled to keep it alive. It fought us tooth and nail. I suffered two scratches on my right arm and Pritchard was sporting a cut lip. It was as if it would rather death than another moment in captivity in a holding cell. A part of my sympathised with it. What was a life confined to four walls and where strange men dressed all in white came to poke and prod you?

Sweat dotting my brow, I managed to inject tranquiliser into the creature, as the rest of the team – Pritchard and the two nurses held it down. Once it took effect, we all exchanged exhausted smiles. Standing back up, I glanced at the machines recording its vitals.

‘Keep it sedated. The sutures should hold but better not risk it,’ I said to Pritchard as I dabbed at my forehead with the back of my sleeve.

‘Hinds, you’re a lifesaver.’

I shook my head. ‘We aren’t out of the woods yet. Keep an eye on the equipment. Message me if anything changes.’ Pulling off my gloves, I added, ‘I’m going to grab something to eat. Oh, and Pritchard, tell Gladstone that I can’t keep doing this. I’m a scientist. Not a bloody surgeon.’

With that, I stepped out of the cramped tiny room that we had been in for the four hours. As I did so, my stomach grumbled. A reminder that I had not eaten anything substantial for a good long while. It was a torturous trek back up the stairs. By the time I reached the top, my knees were aching and it hurt to breathe.

Why didn’t anyone think to build a bloody lift? What if an incident happened down in containment and we needed to flee for our lives? The monsters would get us all before we even made it up one flight. Except, maybe, Lopez. He looked like someone that ran marathons on the weekends. Working as a nurse in a top-secret facility was wasted on him.

Once I was able to inhale without an accompanying twinge of pain, I gingerly passed into the main laboratory. Gladstone was still seated at his desk. His eyes barely flickered as I walked by. ‘Would it be a safe assumption that the situation has been rectified, Hinds?’

I stopped at the exit, my stomach twisting itself into a knot as it sought any type of sustenance. ‘For the time being. Sir, if I may, how long must we continue to prolong their torment? These experiments are not humane. And who’s to say when the next incident may occur. Lives will be lost.’

‘You grow bold, Hinds. However, it is not your place to question the orders you are given. You need money, yes? What would your wife and children think if you came back home with no job to support their ever-growing needs? The solution here is simple. You do as you’re told.’

‘Sir, they’re—’ I closed my mouth, thinking better of it. Of course, Gladstone had forgotten the funeral. He was a man focused on results, never mind the means. The people he worked with were not colleagues or humans with lives that varied from the complex to the very simple. They were tools. Nothing more. Even now he was still intently reading through the data that had been collated over several months. On occasion, he would stop and make a brief annotation.

Were it not for the drugs, I might have strangled the indifferent bastard. As it was, I could barely summon the energy to remain on my feet. My entire body seemed to shake terribly and I desperately hoped Gladstone would not notice. God forbid what would happen if he, for once in his life, was actually aware of those around him.

‘Is there a reason that you are still here, Hinds?’ The dismissal was clear in his voice. And I gladly welcomed it with both arms.

‘No, sir. Apologies, sir.’ I left quickly, hardly daring to look over my shoulder as I made my exit.

The corridors of the facility were a dull grey. Given the nature of the research conducted within its walls, there had been no need for bombastic decorations. No potted plants lined the atrium. No colour broke up the endless shades of concrete. If there was one word I would use to describe my place of employment it would be utilitarian.

Though it was past the normal lunch hour, the cafeteria was still bustling with staff. Grabbing up a tray, I joined the queue, grabbed the first thing that would fill my stomach and headed to a table near the back of the hall where I could remain, hopefully unobserved, for as long as I desired. After all, I had told Pritchard to message me if anything changed. Beyond that, I needed time for myself.

Perhaps it was the fact that this was the first time that I had a full stomach in days, or that I was thoroughly exhausted after a sleepless night, or that the afternoon sun shining through the frosted glass made the spot I had claimed my own so warm and cosy. My eyes closed. Before I knew it, I was adrift on the seas of sleep and darkness consumed me.

At first, I did not realise that I was dreaming. Once more, I was back in the house that we had first bought when we moved to the town. It was not a mansion I had promised the kids, but it did have an excellent view of the sea. One that I usually tended to enjoy on the rare Sunday afternoons that I was actually at home. Unfortunately, the sky was overcast and from my vantage point, I could see the waves crashing onto the beach with a vicious ferocity.

‘Tom, you’re going to catch a cold standing out there in this weather. Why don’t you come in?’

I turned around. Standing near the glass sliding door was Morgan, a concerned look on her face. She was all rugged up, a shawl draped over her shoulders. In her hands, she cradled a mug of hot steaming coffee. I joined her. With a smile on my lips as I leaned down to kiss her on the cheek as I took the offered mug.

‘Thank you for always looking out for me, darling,’ I whispered into her ear before cheekily nibbling on her lower lobe and trailed a finger down her neck.

‘Stop that, Tom,’ said Morgan, though her body language belied her words as she pressed up against my chest. ‘Not in front of the June and Jasper.’

‘And why ever not? They’re old enough to know about these things.’

She twirled around in my arms and lightly pressed her lips against mine. Before I could deepen it, Morgan pulled away, and flashed me an enigmatic smile. ‘That may be true, but there are some things, Tom, that are better left in the bedroom.’

I chased after her. Morgan had always been such a tease, even back when we had first dated in university. She squealed when I picked her up by her legs just before she managed to slip inside. The impulse to ravish her there and then thrummed through me. Grinning from ear to ear, I marched across the threshold. My destination: the bedroom.

As I stepped through, the scene before me changed. Morgan vanished from my arms. Blinking, it took me several moments to realise that I was now in the kitchen. The lights were off. Tableware had been smashed to a thousand tiny pieces and crockery was strewn across the floor.

Somewhere in the distance, I could hear crying. Immediately, I recognised the memory for what it was. And though I wanted to find Morgan and comfort her for all the pain I had caused her, I found myself rooted to the spot, breathing heavily as if I had just run a marathon. My hands were clenched tight into fists and I resisted the urge to punch the marble countertop.

It was then that I realised that I was still holding onto a bottle of whiskey. Carefully, I placed it back on the kitchen countertop. There was no point in wasting good alcohol. Even in anger.

What I really needed was space and time to clear my head.

Glancing down at the mess that Morgan and I had made, I made a mental note to clean it all up when I came back. Then, once tempers had cooled, we would sit down and hash things out. I dared not think about the inevitable fight we would have once she learned that I had left to gamble away more money on the slot machines in the local pub. What she did not know would not hurt her.

Besides, I deserved it. What did it matter if I spent a few hundred dollars? This was the money I earned from my labours up at the lab. How it was used was up to me.

I grabbed the keys from where they hung on hooks next to the door. It would only be a short drive down into the town centre. Then, it would be only a few hours of watching the slots spin. In my bones, I knew that luck would be on my side. Today would be when I won the jackpot. Lucky 7s all the way through. And then I could leave my job and everything that it entailed.

With a resounding slam, the front door shut behind me.

As it did, the world once more swirled around me. It took several moments to realise that I was facing the front door rather than the street. A sudden feeling of dread filled my stomach. At that moment, I knew what memory had been pulled to the fore.

Despite my attempts to fight the course of destiny, my body was not my own. My hands fumbled for the house keys. In the pre-dawn light, I struggled to identify the right key. Each one I used never quite seemed to fit. Why was it so hard to open my own goddamn front door? There were only two locks for fuck’s sake.

Had I really drunk that much? Frustrated, I gave the door a kick, expecting that I’d break a toe for my efforts.

The door crashed open. It had been unlocked. Surprised, I chanced a glance inside. Everything was a mess. Clothes and books and papers lay on the ground. I knew what had happened and I wanted desperately to leave. To turn tail and get back into my car that was parked on the street rather than the garage. Or to chase after them, praying that, somehow, I’d be able to save them before they met their inevitable demise at the bottom of a cliff.

But the inexorable march of fate would not allow me to make the smart choice. It was like I was in a horror film and trapped in the body of the characters. How many times had I screamed at the screen, telling the blonde cheerleader to run instead of investigating further?

Just like those that came before, I cautiously entered the house. ‘Hello?’

My first stop was the living room. Turning the corner, I spotted upended furniture and streaks of red along the walls. There was not a soul to be seen. No sign that anyone was in the house that we had lived in for the last three years. What terrified me the most was the fact that neither the kids nor Morgan answered my entreaties.

A chill went down my spine as the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

Behind me, the creaking of floorboards warned me of someone’s approach. Immediately, I whirled around, arms up. I didn’t know if I could fight off my assailant. After all, I was a researcher. Ever since I was young, the best words to describe me were tall and gangly. I had never been much for sport, preferring to stay indoors than being out in the sun where I would be more likely to suffer injury.

The thing before me could hardly be described as human. As my gaze alighted on its hideous form, I recoiled – both mentally and physically. I knew then that my trip down memory lane was ended and the nightmare begun.

It looked like it had three misshapen heads. Three pairs of discoloured eyes blinked up at me. Instead of hands, it sported crooked claws, the nails of which were chipped and terrifyingly long.

‘Tom,’ it croaked in a broken chorus of voices. ‘Tom. Tom. Tom. Tom!’ Morgan. June. Jasper. Three melded into one.

I backed away. Until my back hit wall. It came closer, claws outstretched. No. No. No. No. This could not be happening. This wasn’t real. It was a dream. A nightmare. I closed my eyes and willed myself to just wake up. All I needed to do was just wake up. WAKE THE BLOODY FUCK UP!

‘Help me,’ moaned the abomination. After all, that was what it was. Something so twisted that it ought not to exist in the waking world. ‘Heeeeeelp us!’

Cracking open one eyelid, I discovered that nothing had changed. Only that the creature now had me pinned to the wall of the living room. It was so close, the smell of it so exceedingly rank that the urge to gag was overwhelming. I was trapped with nowhere to run.

It slunk ever closer on unsteady legs. One foot scraped along the floor. Or was it a tail? Scaly, twisted, I dared not risk another glance. Instead, I screwed my eyes up tight again, wishing and praying in equal measure that I would wake up.

Something slimy alighted on my cheek. I batted it away, choking back the scream that threatened to escape. None of it was real, I reminded myself. I only needed to wake up. Slowly, but surely, it became a mantra. My one lifeline in a world gone mad.

As something gripped my shoulder, I flinched from the touch.

Breathe, Tom, breathe. It’s just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream…

‘Hinds! Hinds! Wake up!’

It was the sting from the slap that finally tore apart the complex tapestry that my subconscious mind had woven. I blearily blinked up at Pritchard, confused and scared in equal measure. The last tendrils of the nightmare still clung to my thoughts. I couldn’t tell what was real and what was not.

A moment passed. Then two. As I took in the empty cafeteria and the late afternoon sun fading into the horizon, I realised that I had been asleep for far too long. Unsteadily, I rose to my feet and mumbled an apology.

‘Has something happened?’ I asked, running a weary hand over my face. My eyes felt like they had been gummed together and my head was pounding. What was worse was the sudden dryness and stickiness that pervaded my mouth. It was as if I had eaten taffy. My tongue darted out to moisten my chapped lips but it little to soothe my discomfort.

What I wouldn’t give for eight hours of undisturbed slumber.

Pritchard opened her mouth, then closed it. A few moments passed in silence. Unable to stifle it, I let out a particularly leonine yawn. When next she spoke, her gaze fixed a few inches above my shoulder, I knew it wasn’t what she had initially intended to say. ‘You don’t look well, Hinds. P-perhaps I can go tell Gladstone? I’m sure he’ll understand.’

‘What do you mean?’

She wrung her hands and forced a smile to her face. ‘It’s really not much, Hinds. Gladstone was just looking for any and all volunteers for something. We are at the stage where we’re on the cusp of discovering something new. And honestly, while your expertise would be welcome should things go awry, it’s fine if you wish to decline. That’s not to say, of course, that your presence wouldn’t be appreciated. I know that this is something that you’ve been wanting to be witness to for a long time coming. I just thought that you looked tired and a little pale in the face, is all.’

Her remarks had hit far closer to the truth than I would have liked. It was as if Pritchard saw through the thin façade I had erected at work. I didn’t like it. Nobody had cared before. Why now?

I realised too late that the quiet had stretched too long between us. ‘I’m fine. Really,’ I said, hoping to fill the void with idle chatter. ‘You saw me. A little nap was all I needed. Now, where are we expected?’

The look Pritchard threw my way said that I had done little to persuade her. And though I could her innate curiosity wishing to dig further into my personal affairs, she had the wisdom to hold back. For that, I was thankful.

In silence, we headed back to the laboratory and the containment area. When we arrived, the presentation had already begun. Sneaking in, I felt the weight of Gladstone’s gaze on the back of my head as it bored a hole right into my skull. Gladstone never much liked interruptions. Nor did he suffer individuals that were late to one of his meetings. It meant unnecessary repetition.

I kept my head low as I took my seat near the back and glanced at the whiteboard. On it was a picture that had been blown up almost a thousand times. It did not look like much – a mess of pixelated flesh. A new acquisition, perhaps?

‘As I was saying, the next few days will be crucial. We will need to act fast if we wish to secure the specimen and bring it back here for observation and research. This may be our one chance to show the world that our work has not been in vain,’ said Gladstone. He looked down at his palm cards and pushed his glasses further up his nose. ‘Remember: this mission is top-secret. If we manage to pull this off, we will be making history. Now, are there any questions?’

My hand shot straight up. There were a thousand things I wanted to ask. Why weren’t the retrieval team being sent out? What had I missed that the strict procedures that we were meant to follow were being tossed out the window?

A flash of frustration flitted across Gladstone’s face as he spotted my waving hand before he managed to school his expression into one of disdain and disinterest. ‘Yes, Hinds? What is it?’

‘Why are you sending us? We’re scientists. Don’t we have trained men to handle situations like this?’

He pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘If you had been here for the briefing earlier instead of who knows where, you would know that the situation is delicate. Timing is of the essence. Our current teams are unavailable. As such, the powers that be made the decision to have any willing staff join in this mission. Now, if there is nothing else, I must leave. There are preparations that I need to see to before departure.’

Gladstone straightened his lab coat and then stalked out of the room. I chased after him, a thousand different enquiries in mind. Before I had even rose halfway off my chair, I felt someone tug at my sleeves. I turned around, ready to snap the head off anyone stupid enough to stop me.

Couldn’t they see that I was trying my very best to make sure that we weren’t all walking into a death trap? That I was looking out for everyone involved? A sudden spear of pain shot through my head and my hands were clammy. In my chest, my heart felt like it was going to burst from my chest.

Shit. How long had it been since I last took my pills? Was it already time for another dose?

Pritchard had a look in her eyes as she mutely shook her head. Was it a sign not to aggravate Gladstone any further? I couldn’t tell. Why couldn’t humans just explicitly say what they wanted instead of dancing around the subject? If Morgan had—

No. Best not go there.

I lowered back on the chair. ‘What?’ My tone came out a little brisker than I had anticipated.

‘There’s no need to be like that, Hinds,’ hissed Pritchard. ‘I warned you, didn’t I? Told you explicitly that you didn’t need to come. But you, of course, being all macho, said that “you were fine.”’

My cheeks flushed red and I looked away. Words sprang to the tip of my tongue but I choked them down. I knew when I had been properly chastised. Pritchard was right. It had been my own stubbornness not to ask further. And when Gladstone had sprung, I had been caught off-guard. Stupid, really. I should have known something was wrong from the start.

This had been no normal meeting amongst scientists. It had been a war council.

As I brooded over everything that I knew, silence filled the gap. ‘You can’t really be serious about participating in this madness, Pritchard,’ I said finally. With some effort, I forced my gaze to meet hers.

She shrugged. ‘I don’t see any way out of this, Hinds. A lot of the others are in the same boat. If Gladstone says “jump” we respond with “how high?”’

I swore under my breath. ‘We know nothing about this…thing. How can he be so sure that it’ll be docile?” I asked, motioning to the picture that sat centre stage on the whiteboard. Looking at it, I could not repress the shudder that went through my entire body at the sight of the horror. This was no creature of the Earth. Neither human or part of the animal kingdom. It was an abomination, plain and simple – something wholly alien and terrible and unspeakable.

Years of research, completing my doctorate thesis on bioengineering and eugenics, and here I was chasing monsters. I was meant to find a way to elongate the human lifespan. This was not it.

True, the possibilities of the research had been enticing at first. I had been ecstatic when I first joined, believing that the sea creatures could be the key to unlocking the final mysteries of what I had sought for so long. But the more I saw and learned, the less it seemed my dream would come to fruition. Gladstone’s goal had diverged. We were no longer pursuing science for the betterment of society. Instead, we were trying to unearth something that should have remained closed.

‘We don’t,’ said Pritchard as she flashed me an ironic and sad smile before she rose to her feet.

As she made her way across the room with her fellow scientists, her hand lingered a while on my shoulder. I watched her round the corner and disappear from view. Another person I had failed to save. Glancing back at the whiteboard and the aberrant creature displayed on it, I made the only decision I could given the circumstances.

For hours I had tossed and turned, but sleep continued to elude me. The cot beneath me creaking with every movement. Frustrated, I finally settled on my back and stared up at the dimly lit steel roof of the truck I now found myself in. Around me, I heard the other volunteers shift in their sleep. Some were snoring, somehow falling asleep though the truck shook and rattled. But I knew a good number were probably lying awake just as I was.

Perhaps they were pondering their life choices, wondering where they had gone wrong and regretting their decision to volunteer. Or maybe they were fretting on what the future might bring.

Had I not volunteered, I would have been in my small cramped apartment and downing can after can of beer. Elsewise, I might have spent an evening at the pub, nursing one good drink until the early hours of the morning as I ruminated on why I had not gone with the others in my team. And if the bartender pitied me enough, they might have slipped me another.

It would have been another round of bad choices, culminating in me stumbling to my bed and falling into it head-first and still fully-clothed – unable to shake off the ghosts that haunted me still.

At least, by choosing this, I was doing something and making a difference. Whether it helped or not, I couldn’t say.

The only kick I had got was seeing the shock on Pritchard’s face when she saw me board with one of the tan duffel bags, that had been stuffed with amenities that had been handed out, slung over one shoulder for the overnight trip. I had flashed her a weary grin before I made my way over to the cot that I’d been assigned.

Tomorrow was an early start. If I wanted to be any help to the team, I needed rest.

But as soon as I closed my eyes, Morgan and June and Jasper appeared before me. Their faces as pale as the moon, their mouths open wide in a soundless scream as they beat against the windows of the car.

I jolted straight up, my breathing harsh and loud in my ears. One hand flew to my chest, hoping to calm my heart that was thundering a wild tattoo. Shit. Fucking goddammit. Where was a bottle of vodka when you needed it? Why hadn’t he thought to return to his apartment to pick up his pills before coming here? Two angry fists thumped against the too-soft cot.

‘Hinds?’ The whispery voice was filled with concern. Had I woken her up? A mixture of guilt and frustration bubbled through me. I didn’t dare turn towards her, knowing that my face was an open book.

‘It’s nothing,’ I said tersely. ‘Go back to sleep, Pritchard.’

‘You can talk to me, you know,’ she persisted. ‘Like we used to. Back when Morgan was ali—'

‘I said I’m fine.’ In the silence that fell across the entirety of the truck, I hated how loud I sounded. God, why couldn’t people just leave me alone?

Behind me, I heard Pritchard settle back into her cot. Minutes passed. Slowly, but surely, the snores resumed. I lay back down, the cot creaking as I adjusted my weight, and stared up at the roof. Finally, when exhaustion tugged at my bones, I closed my eyes and let the movement of the truck lull me into a fitful slumber, haunted by images of the restless dead.

As the six of us disembarked, we were greeted by a grey overcast sky on a grey pebble beach. Two tents had been set up on the sand. Not too far away were stacks of metal crates. Our supplies had been offloaded first – water, food and weapons. The thought of wielding a gun had my stomach doing somersaults and I hoped there would be something more substantial than cheese and crackers, though I didn’t feel particularly hungry.

What I really wanted, more than anything else, was a can of something cool on my tongue. Preferably a pint of lager, but anything would do.

Something brusquely brushed against my arm. I whirled around, a harsh condescending reprimand on the tip of my tongue, when I caught sight of Pritchard. It was obvious from one glance that she had not slept well. Like mine, her eyes had dark bags underneath. And there was something jittery in the way she moved. She did not smile at me. Instead, she gave me an incidental nod of acknowledgement as a greeting.

A few moments passed before I had the foresight to close my mouth, lest anything fly in. Pritchard said nothing before she joined the rest of the team near the tents. It was like a huge pit yawned between us. One that was both shared history and the pain that we had endured. But I knew that the distance between us was mostly my own creation. Over the past year, it had seemed like she had been above it all. Unshakeable. Ever-loyal to Gladstone. Whereas I had been bitter about my loss and thrown myself into whatever self-destructive behaviours that I could.

But what if she had been just as hurt and in pain as I had been?

Pritchard and Morgan had been quite close, though they came from two different worlds. There had been family picnics and barbeques and a host of various activities that had slowly petered out when my addictions had taken hold. And though Pritchard did not know the exact nature of the rift between my family and I, she had been intuitive enough to know that something was wrong.

Maybe if she had intervened earlier, things would have been different. A part of me resented that she had never reached out. How much would have changed by just one act of kindness?

Stop it, Tom. There’s no point in going over old ground. You’ve a job to do, I chided myself. Find the specimen. Take it in. Go home. Easy as pie.

Gladstone had only just begun his well-rehearsed spiel when I joined them. His eyes narrowed when they alighted on me. I flashed him a grin and gave him a jaunty wave, knowing that it would irk him. He pushed up his glasses and turned away, refusing to rise to the bait. It was a rare moment of wisdom from the man. Or perhaps Gladstone was more concerned about the success of the mission than exchanging petty barbs.

It certainly seemed that way as he droned on in his officious voice, once again going over the extraction procedures and the likely dangers that might be encountered. Perhaps there was more going on behind closed doors if the sweat on his brow and the frantic patter to his words were anything to go by.

As I lowered my hand, I startled at the lidless reptilian eye that stared up at me. A spear of cold fear shot through my heart. Gingerly, I reached out and poked it with the index finger. It didn’t even flinch at the touch. Yet, the moment I made contact, it seemed as if my finger went straight through. I poked it again, feeling only warm flesh as well as a light pain as I scraped skin. Another hallucination. And yet it looked so real.

The world seemed to spin around me.

I staggered over to one side, leaning against the metal crates for support. A moment to breathe. That was all that I needed.

Breathe in…two…three…four…

Out…two…three…four…

Okay. I could do this. Just because I hadn’t taken anything in the last twelve hours didn’t feel I wouldn’t feel any lingering side effects. Maybe it was a sign of withdrawal. What had the doctor said? I wracked my brain, trying to recall the conversation that we had shared nearly a month or two ago.

The memory was piecemeal. Nothing seemed connected.

Frustrated, I shook my head to clear my thoughts and cracked open an eye. This was going nowhere. And if Gladstone knew what was happening, he would see me as a liability. Not that I cared, of course, what the man thought. It was merely my pride on the line.

As I steadied myself for the day ahead, I saw movement at the periphery of my vision. I turned towards the tents and the supply crates. At first, I couldn’t make out anything beyond the norm. And then, I saw them. On the boxes were translucent worm-like creatures. Hundreds. Everywhere. They stretched out towards me, as if sensing my warmth and the life pumping through my veins.

Something slimy and disgusting touched my leg. Then, before I could do anything, it seemed to slither up it.

I jumped, yelping at the top of my voice. It felt like they were all over me and I needed to get them off. I brushed at my arms and slapped at my trouser pants, panic overriding nearly everything.

Shit. Shit. Shit! Had I got them all? Were any still crawling on me?

Eyes turned towards me, taking in the spectacle that I represented. I barely noticed. Consumed by the immediate threat to my person. What would they do? Burrow into my skin? Destroy me from the inside out? I did not want to go out like that. No. My death should be my own choosing.

I did not hear the screams until it was too late.

By the time that I heard the warning, I had almost no time to react. Before I knew it, I found myself face-down in the dirt and there was a piercing pain in my head. For several heartbeats, I lay on the ground stunned as I tried to make sense of what was happening. Were we under attack? Who would fire upon us? And why?

That was when the sound of gunfire filled the air. A shrill screech answered in kind, filled with pain and fear. Head throbbing, I clasped my hands over my ears, unable to bear it. It seemed to go on for hours. Until finally, it stopped.

Blessed relief swept through my body. Slowly, I rose to my feet, dizzy and disorientated. I scanned the beach, my gaze alighting on the tents, somehow untouched, and the body that lay across the pebbles. Heart in my throat, I raced towards it. The short brown locks a familiar sight.

No. No. No. No.

Pritchard was still breathing, albeit shallowly when I reached her. Eyes closed, she looked like she was asleep. I shook her as gently as I could, hoping to awaken her. She did not stir. ‘Come on, Pritchard. Wake up!’

No response. I brushed away her hair and caught a sight of iridescent scales along her brow. They had formed a ridge and were cold to the touch. I recoiled even as I tried to squash the disgust that welled up. The implications supported one of the many theories that had been floated around the laboratory. Had she always been one from the start or had this been a recent transformation?

Could it be contagious?

I dared not think too long on it. Pritchard was hurt. There weren’t any obvious wounds but for what reason would she be lying here insensate when moments before she had been alert, fit and healthy. Unlike me, she had readily volunteered to be a part of Gladstone’s mission.

It was then that I thought to stop and ponder. Where were the others? Glancing around the ruins of the makeshift camp, I could see no sign of the other scientists. Thankfully, I could not make out any immediate dangers either. Pritchard would be safe. For now.

With some effort, I scooped her into my arms. It would not do to have her out in the open and on the hard stones. I nearly tripped on one of the tent pegs when I finally put her down. She did not stir.

Nearby, one of the metal crates sat open, the lid askew. Inside were three or four rifles. I would have liked to have believed that Gladstone would not have provided live rounds. We were a motley crew of scientists and nurses – prone to sitting at desks and conducting experiments, not battlefields. If the ‘specimen’ we sought was not as docile as initially reported, it was entirely possible they would have provided tranquilisers.

But that was not what I had heard earlier. Nor did it seem that the creature that we were after would go quietly.

Behind me, I heard another round of gunfire. Without thinking, I grabbed the first gun I could reach. It almost slipped from my hands. Nothing felt right in my grip. The butt bit into my shoulder. The trigger seemed too far away for my finger. How did someone use these things? It felt unwieldy and far too heavy.

Still, if it meant that I could put a stop to whatever was happening, I would take the opportunity offered to me.

From the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of colour and movement to my left. I hurried towards it, weapon up. Though I did not know squat about sight-lines, the basic concept of using a gun was simple. Point and shoot. It would have to do. After all, someone needed to bring this whole thing to a close. Once and for all. Whether that was putting down the specimen or cutting down Gladstone – I couldn’t say. But the insanity that had gripped the laboratory – that had infiltrated my family and the town – needed to reach its final conclusion.

Up ahead, I caught a glimpse of one of the scientists. His name eluded me. It didn’t matter. At the sound of my approach from behind, he whirled around, gun at the ready. There was a crazed look in his eyes, one that implied alarm or panic or both. His face was deathly pale. From just a casual glance, I could see that some injury had caused his nose to bleed.

‘Name!’ he demanded. ‘Don’t lie. I’ll know. All the others…they lied because they weren’t real. Please. I need someone to be real!’ The desperation in his voice sent a chill down my spine. It niggled a part of my brain that said something wasn’t quite right.

‘Hinds! Tom Hinds. I’m one of you. Us. And I’m real. As real as can be,’ I said, taking a cautious step forward and trying to appear as friendly as was possible. ‘Can you tell me what’s going on?’

It was as if he did not hear me. As if he were lost in his own world. That was when realisation struck me.

As soon as his finger twitched, I immediately fell prone on the ground. Bullets whizzed over my head. Fuck! I grappled to swing my gun around. Time seemed to slow. Every wasted movement seemed to bring my impending doom ever closer. The man stomped forward. He snarled at the air above me, his lips stretched over his teeth. It was animalistic and territorial.

‘You can’t run from me now. You’re one of them, aren’t you? Well, say something!’

I kept silent – unsure if any answer I provided would placate the man. It was as if he had taken some form of hallucinogenic. The symptoms were all there. He was talking and interacting with something that wasn’t real. That he was carrying a weapon made it all the more complicated.

Desperately, I tried to crawl away. Something had happened to him. I couldn’t say what. Minutes ago, he had been listening patiently to Gladstone, the next…

There was a pregnant pause and then the man cried out in alarm and something dropped to the ground. I risked a glance over my shoulder. He was cradling his arm. Blood dripped from a new gash. And then, before he could reach for his weapon, he was thrown thirty feet away. He landed with a crunch and remained still.

I scanned the deserted beach, trying to make sense of what I had witnessed. There was no sign of his assailant. A terrible idea gripped me. What if the—No. I quickly shoved the thought to the back of my mind as I scrambled up to my feet, a sudden pounding behind my eyes.

There was no sense in trying to make sense of the impossible. It would only serve to pull me down an endless spiral – straight into the abyss. I needed to find the ‘specimen’ and put a stop to all this madness.

As I scoured the beach for Gladstone, I stumbled upon two harrowing encounters. One was Lopez. Just like the nameless scientist before him, he seemed unaware of my presence. Lost in his own world, gun cast aside, it almost looked like he was trying to settle into a domesticated life atop the rocks even as the waves threatened to knock him down. When I tried to talk to him, he knocked me aside as if I as just the buzzing of a fly in his ear.

Stunned and confused, I watched as he continued to speak in Tagalog to people that were not there. From the distress on his face, it appeared as if he was embroiled in a domestic argument. It was uncanny and disturbing.

Yet, no matter how many times I tried, I could not wake him from the delusions that gripped him. It was on my last attempt that I was pushed aside that I saw the rogue wave building up. Too late, I shouted my warning. But it was as if he did not hear a word. I watched, in mute horror, as the wave crashed into him and dragged him out to sea.

Another soul I had failed to save.

The second person I met on that lonely beach was Patricia Hastings. Though we had not worked together in the past, I knew Patricia from the work she had done on genetic modification. Her reputation proceeded her in academic circles, mired though it was in controversy. In the last few years, the media had portrayed her as an overly ambitious woman driven only by the thirst of knowledge and what could be done, ethics be damned.

With her back facing me, I had, at first, thought that she had escaped whatever ailment that had afflicted the others. But as I cautiously approached, I realised that something was wrong. Patricia stood as still as a statue. Her eyes moved from left to right and back again as if she was tracking something. In fact, she barely seemed to blink. When I waved my arm in front of her face, she did not respond.

Just as I turned to leave, Patricia uttered a low guttural moan. She took one step forward before collapsing to the ground. When I reached her, her eyes were still open – endlessly tracking whatever it was she was seeing. A cursory examination revealed that her heartbeat was slower than average and she felt a tad bit colder.

For several terrifying minutes, I debated my next actions. I could not, in good conscience, leave her unattended. What if she was suffering from a stroke or a seizure? How could I leave her here?

The other part of my brain, however, whispered that the only way to solve the problem was to track down the ‘specimen’ and kill it. There had been numerous reports from the retrieval team that many of the men had experienced both auditory and visual hallucinations. Some had even killed themselves.

While the creatures that we had experimented on in the lab had demonstrated any such abilities, it was clear that we were facing a much greater threat than Gladstone had advised us in the briefings.

In the end, cold ruthless logic won through. There was naught I could do for Patricia. For all I knew, killing the monstrosity would free the others from whatever power had ensnared their senses.

What I dared not consider was why I had not been affected.

For twenty odd minutes, I searched high and low for where Gladstone might have disappeared to. But the beach was empty of all save a few of the volunteer task force.

As I rounded the headland, the sea roaring beside me, I spotted spatters of blue on the rocks. Some of it was still wet. Bending down, I touched it with a finger. Many of the creatures that we had experimented upon had blood rich in iron. Perhaps, because, many were still humanoid in appearance. The one Gladstone had sent us to chase, however, was different. It was possible that it might share more similarities with cephalopods or certain species of fish.

For the first time in a long while, excitement thrummed through me. If this was true, then we might have stumbled upon something ground-breaking. This discovery was sure to push our understanding of the human genome. Diseases might be cured. Cancer would just be a footnote in medical history! We would finally show the naysayers the power of science. Finally, we could refine what God had created and fix the flaws in our own design!

The possibilities were endless! Gladstone was too small in his focus. If we could only uncover the secrets behind these creatures, the secrets we could uncover…

At what cost, though? If these creatures were sentient, what right did I have to take experiment on them? At what point would it be okay to cross that line? The thought gave me pause and sobered me from the grandiose ideals that gripped me. Was it worth the lives of everyone dear to me? What about my ever-slipping sanity? I could not keep doing these things. Cutting into their bodies, trying to figure out their physiology…what had any of that accomplished over the last four years?

Murderer. Butcher.

I took a deep breath and rose to my feet. Find Gladstone. Find the specimen.

The sun had begun to set, the chill wind biting into my bones, when I spotted the cave cut into the side of the cliff. Just outside the entrance, on the huge plateau, was a huge spray of blue. Mixed in was one set of boot prints. If I was right, that meant Gladstone had followed after the specimen. I hurried into the cave, gun at the ready. There was no telling what I would encounter inside. For all I knew, Gladstone might have killed the abomination. Or, perhaps, the reverse was true.

I told myself it didn’t matter.

One way or another, this would end.

Gravel crunched beneath my feet as I stalked into the gloom. Far ahead, I heard the drip drop of water hitting rock. As for Gladstone or the monster, there was no sign.

I continued forward, my eyes adjusting to the dim light that filtered through. A part of me worried what would happen if I did not find Gladstone or the specimen before nightfall. Foremost in my thoughts were Patria Hasting and Laura Pritchard. With a concerted effort, I shook my head to clear it of my fears. I would cross that bridge when I got there.

Distracted, I did not see that the passageway sloped downwards. I stepped into air and felt my heart lurch as I tipped forward. A frightened cry left my lips, arms pinwheeling.

As the ground rushed up towards me, I managed to catch myself on the slippery rocks. The heels of my palm barked with pain, along with my knees. I took a shuddering breath in to steady myself. Felt it leave. And then took another breath even as I began to play a familiar refrain within the confines of my brain. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. God. I had been so stupid!

If that hadn’t tipped Gladstone or the creature off…

I scrambled back to my feet and dusted myself off before taking a look at my new surroundings. The cavern was huge. Ahead, I saw the path branch into three separate openings. Centred above the crossroads a narrow shaft allowed the fading light of the afternoon in. It did little against the darkness.

Which way to go?

There was no sign or clue as to which way they had gone. But instead of trusting to luck, I waited. Closing my eyes, I strained my ears for the slightest sound. I’d look like a fool but it was my one recourse. If they had thought I had fallen, perhaps they would drop their guard and make a mistake that I could capitalise on.

Seconds bled into minutes. It was as if the entire world was holdings its breath.

Somewhere in the darkness, I heard a strange scuffling sound. A feral grin stretched across my face as I dashed towards the opening on my right. Within moments, whoever was in front realised their mistake. They broke into a run, the pitter-patter of their footsteps echoing through the cavern.

I raced after them, lungs burning and legs threatening to buckle out from beneath me. Still, I pressed on. I could not afford to lose the opportunity before me.

Movement ahead lent a burst of speed and suddenly, we emerged into another open area. The last vestiges of sunlight filtered through, casting the large lake in a rainbow of colour. At the centre of the subterranean waterway was a small platform, on which sat a forgotten shrine made of driftwood and refuse.

Ensnared by the beauty of the scene before me, I forgot, for the briefest of moments, what had led me there. Until, an elbow flew straight for my nose. There was a loud crunch and a sudden intense pain. Blood spurted. The world seemed to shift in and out of focus as I tried to stem the flow.

And then Gladstone was running down towards the lake and the shrine at the centre. He looked over his shoulder, the expression on his face was a mixture of fear and spite. The thin strands of hair on his head were dull and greasy, plastered to his scalp. His clothes were tattered. In his hands, he held a strange box-like object.

Fuelled by rage, I grabbed hold of my rifle. I aimed down the sights. I pulled the trigger and a burst of gunfire exploded from the other end. The shots went wild, missing by a wide margin. Gladstone risked another glance over his shoulder, a smirk on his smarmy face. God. How I wanted to wipe it off. Pritchard did not deserve the hell he had put her through. Nor had any of the others.

Cursing under my breath, I gave chase.

I cornered him in front of the shrine, weapon at the ready. At this range, there was no way I would miss. A stitch was forming in my side but I refused to acknowledge it as I wheezed – desperately trying to get air in my lungs.

‘It’s over, Gladstone!’ I panted, dying for a drink or a smoke or something that would take the edge off the pain. ‘I don’t know what you intended to do, but it ends now.’

Gladstone turned around. ‘Hinds,’ he sneered, slicking back his hair with one hand. ‘Why am I not surprised? You’ve been a thorn in my side since the moment you joined the team.’

‘This isn’t a negotiation. I have the gun.’ I made a show of tightening my finger on the trigger. ‘Put down the box, Gladstone. Surrender. Once we put down the creature, everything can go back to normal and—’

It began as a chuckle. Before I knew it, Gladstone was doubled over with laughter. His free hand, slapping his knee.

‘What’s so funny?’ I demanded. ‘Stop fucking laughing!’ God, I wanted to hurt him so bad. If only I could march up to him, hit him in the stomach with the butt of the rifle…

Gladstone straightened and wiped the tears from the corner of his eye. ‘Ah, Hinds. Always dreaming too small.’

‘Cut the cryptic shit, Gladstone. You were never a proper scientist. Instead, you were a small insignificant man with delusions of grandeur. A middle-management pencil pusher. That’s what you’ve always been. And what you’ll always be. The life of an academic too hard and difficult for you, eh?’

I watched as his face went red and his posture go rigid. ‘You know nothing about me,’ he snarled. ‘All the years that I poured into my research and the price I’ve paid to keep my project…this project afloat. So, don’t try and get up on that high horse of yours and preach to me.’

‘Yeah, well, this project is being shut down.’

‘You’re too late. You can’t stop what’s already in motion. The Elder Gods are coming. When they step through the veil and into our world, I’ll be waiting. Ever loyal. Along with the Herald. To be rewarded for my service and dedication to the cause.’ Madness gleamed from his eyes as he let out a low chuckle. ‘Even though you tried to pull me down, I rose. Triumphant.’

Before I could stop him, he turned and slammed the box-like object down onto a small pedestal in front of the shrine. A dark glow began to emanate from the shrine, pulsing with power and evil intent.

The air grew heavy. Oppressive. There was a sudden ringing in my ears. It was sharp and insistent, bringing me to my knees.

My finger tugged at the trigger. Before I could cut Gladstone down, the world around me warped and fell away. Suddenly, I was surrounded by four white padded walls. Orderlies banged against the sealed metal door. They wanted to get in. To stop me from what I had to do. My heart thudded in my chest. I couldn’t let them stop me. To sedate me. To drug me.

I screwed my eyes up tight, grit my teeth and forced myself to calm. It was the same old nightmare that I had experienced again and again after Morgan, June and Jasper had taken that ill-fated drive up towards the cliff. I focused on the dirt beneath my boots, the weight of the rifle in my hands, the ebb and flow of the water…

Hesitantly, I cracked open one eye. I was back in the cavern. Good. Still standing a few metres away was Gladstone. He was crouched over the box, mumbling under his breath. The glow had faded and his body language screamed thwarted ambition. I caught only a few words. Something about ancient texts and a prophecy. I gave it no heed as I squeezed the trigger and felt the impact of the stock thumping into my shoulder.

Gladstone fell.

For a single moment, it felt as if a weight was lifted from my shoulders and everything was right again with the world. But then the box began to throb once more. I watched in horror as it slowly began to float in the air and spin and spin and spin. A rip formed in the air just above the shrine. It was dark and cold and menacing. Something reached through and the mere sight of it sent a shiver down my spine.

I turned. And ran.

To stay would have only sealed my doom.

Breathless, I emerged from the cave and into a tempest. The winds raged and the sea roiled as if in answer to what Gladstone had unleashed.

There was nowhere to hide. No place that was safe from their wrath. I could not say how I knew that fact. Only that I did. Still, there was Hastings to think of. And Pritchard too. None of them had asked for this. If I could save them then perhaps there was still hope for me still.

Something struck me from behind and I was flung to the ground, the rifle flying into the water. Pain thrummed through every part of my body except for my right arm, which seemed to be non-responsive. I staggered to my feet and kept going. Death waited but I would not go into that sweet oblivion without a fight.

Each step sapped what little of my strength remained. The distance from where I was and the tents seemed to grow. I fell to my knees, exhaustion weighing down my limbs. Though I shouted at myself to move, my body refused to acknowledge my commands. I lay on the pebbles and stared up at the storm as lightning flashed and rain peppered my face.

I could not say how long I stayed there as oblivion tempted me with sweet release. It would be so easy to simply let go. After all, I had tried to do good in the world. My intentions had been for the noblest of reasons. Surely, whoever manned the pearly gates would see that and consider me worthy of entering Elysium.

A siren song pulled me from my thoughts. I craned my neck towards the rising waves and saw what must have been a final gift. Morgan, June and Jasper – whole and without blemish. With the last remaining ounce of strength that I had, I crawled towards them. It couldn’t be. And yet, it was. Right before my very eyes.

The unshed tears that I had refused to let fall burned as I made my way into the surf.

Finally, I could be reunited with them. With that thought in mind, I allowed myself to sink into the soft embrace of the water and let it carry me away.

#short story #shadows of the mind #writing

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Best Part of Me - Chapter 3

WARNINGS: NONE

TAGGING: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @alievans007, @alievans007

The clock reads 5:07 am when he snaps awake. Torn from a comfortable, almost pain free sleep by a nightmare. He hasn’t had one in three months; since the images of his wife’s brutalized and violated body in place of Erin Ferguson’s had finally subsided. That one had haunted him every night since returning from New Zealand; having him bolting awake, drenched in sweat, chest impossibly tight and making it difficult to breathe, tears streaming down his face. Those dreams had thankfully stopped just as fast as they began, and from that night on he’d been able to sleep reasonably well when paid didn’t wake him.

Tonight, he’d dreamt about Austin; the exact same images that he’d seen while dying on the Sultana Kamal Bridge. His tousled blond hair and his steel blue eyes and his sweet, innocent smile. Only this time he hadn’t been alone. Millie was with him and they’d been holding hand as they waded through the surf; talking and laughing as if they’d always known one another. Both smiling as they looked over their shoulders at him, holding their hands out towards them. But when he’d reached out for them, they’d simply faded away, leaving him despondent and heartbroken and calling out for them. It was then that he’d woke; eyes snapping open, feeling the sweat that beads on his brow and gathers at the nape of his neck and the small of his back, his lung fighting to draw a steady breath.

It takes several minutes for his brain to register his surroundings; the smell and the sound of the ocean trickling through the screens of the wall to wall windows, his wife’s gentle, rhythmic breathing behind him, the feel of her smooth leg pressed against his. She lays on her stomach, comforter pulled up to the back of her head, her bare feet sticking out at the bottom; the same sleeping position she’s had in the six years that they’ve shared a bed. And he rolls over onto his side, fingertips gentle as they pull the comforter down to her shoulders and then brush her hair to the side; lips placing feathery kisses along smooth, warm skin, his palms sliding down her arms.

She gives a long, content sigh and her hands come up to rest over his; lacing their fingers together and then placing them against her stomach as she wriggles back into him. “What time is it?” she inquires sleepily.

“Early,” he presses a kiss to her shoulder, then her ear.

“How early is early?”

“Quarter after five early.”

She groans. “What is wrong with you? Why do you insist on waking up at ungodly hours? You’re supposed to be retired.”

He’s been waking up at the crack of dawn for as long as he can remember, since his military days, and is able to function on little to no sleep. A trait that’s come in handy since having kids. Often the one that gets up in the middle of the night to change diapers and fetch bottles.

“I told you,” his lips are on the side of her neck now. “I’ve got shit to do with Ovi today. And we have to go into Port Douglas. To my dad’s place.”

The anxiety nags at him the second he mentions his old man. He’d reached out as soon as they’d moved back to Australia, but his father hadn’t requested to see him in person until a week ago. Sending him a text message in the middle of the night, rambling about things he needed done around the house and how he couldn’t handle them on his own. From what Tyler understood, the dementia was rapidly progressing; he had his good days and his bad days, and required a live-in personal support worker and a nurse that came every second day. He wanted to feel bad about it; that his old man was struggling. But the bitterness is still so raw; all the anger he’s been holding onto since he was a kid, the years he had to listen and watch his father abuse his mother. Abuse that was turned on him when he turned nine and his mum passed away. He can’t get past it; that rage that he hangs onto. The desire to teach the old man a lesson whether he remembers half the shit he’s done or not.

But he promised Esme he’d give it a shot, that he’d be the bigger man and try to put the past behind him, at least for the sake of his children. The kids deserved to spend time with their grandfather before it was too late, she felt. After all, her entire family -aside from Kyle- considered them dead. Tyler could care less whether the kids ever saw his father, let alone spent time with him. Why expose them to someone that had caused so much agony in the first place?

“Oh yeah…” she yawns noisily and rubs the side of her face against her pillow. “…and you’re okay with that?”

“How bad could it go? If things are as bad as his nurse says they are, he probably won’t even remember me. Maybe that’s a good thing; he won’t have a lot of shitty things to say about me or my mum.”

“Even if they aren’t that bad, don’t let him get to you. He’s a bitter old man who’s so miserable that he wants to make everyone else that way. I thought maybe he was turning over a new leaf when he’d contact me all the time, but…” she shrugs. “Don’t let him get to you, Tyler. Just let it go in one ear and out the other.”

“We’ve been here six months and he’s called how many times? Twice? And never asked about the kids once? His only grandchildren?”

“I know it’s easy to take it personally, but if he has dementia, he likely doesn’t even remember even having grandchildren. He might remember you, but he probably doesn’t remember you have kids. I mean, Millie was two months old the first and only time he saw her. And she’s almost six now.”

A little more than a month away. Until she hits that milestone. And he wonders if that is the reason behind the dream involving her and Austin. That she’ll be turning the exact age he’d been when he’d passed away. Part of him is even scared; that she’ll wake up that morning and be sick and it will turn out to be something horrible she will never recover from. It’s irrational and he knows it; the chances of that happening. But his brain doesn’t exactly recognize the difference between rational and irrational these days.

“Did the baby wake up?” she asks. “I thought you got out of bed earlier, but I didn’t know if it was for her or if you had pain or…”

“Around two thirty. I just got her a bottle instead of waking you up.”

“Baby, you’re the best. You spoil me. You let me sleep through the night, you let me take naps, you help me get off.”

He smirks. “Three times.”

“Yes…” she sighs happily. “…a very nice three times.”

“You almost woke the entire house the third time.”

She giggles into her pillow. “I can’t help it. You have that effect on me. If you weren’t so good at the things you do, there wouldn’t be a problem.”

“If I wasn’t so good at them, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“It’s true. I would have had my five days of fun and that would have been it. If you hadn’t known what you were doing, it would have ‘boy, bye’.”

He chuckles into her hair. “That’s fucking harsh.”

“Well you had nothing to worry about obviously because it’s six years and five kids later and I’m still keeping you around. You’ve got some skills.”

“Yeah? You’re decent, I guess.”

“Fuck you, Tyler,” she huffs, and directs an elbow at his stomach.

“I wish you could, actually.”

“Do you even have that in your cell phone? When the dry spy officially ends?”

“Maybe…”

“You have absolutely no shame,” she declares, and then rolls over to face him, pecking his lips. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being you. For being the way you are. With me. With your kids. You put the work in. Without complaining about. You don’t piss and moan when the baby wakes up in the middle of the night or when you have to do dishes or laundry or take the garbage out.”

“Any man who complains about all that is a little bitch.”

“You’d be surprised. There’s a lot of little bitches out there. I’m lucky,” she kisses him again. “Very lucky. You help out, and you’re eye candy. What more could a woman want?”

“A big dick? Oh wait…”

“See? You’ve got it all,” she laughs and tucks her head under his chin, an arm curling around his neck, fingertips gliding back and forth at the bottom of his hairline.

He wraps his arm around her, drawing her tight against him, hand rubbing her back in slow, smooth circles. She feels so good; the thin fabric of her tank top against his bare chest, the warmth that radiates from her, the feel of her lips and her breath against his throat. He closes his eyes, finding himself easily lulled back to sleep; the sensation of her fingers against the back of his head and pain in his shoulder and back settling down to a dull manageable ache. Until it’s interrupted by the alarm on his cell phone.

“Really?” Esme grumbles, as he rolls over onto his back and reaches for the phone.

“Really,” Tyler sighs, turning off the alarm and then staring up at the ceiling; mentally trying to prepare himself for the day.

Even with the pain, it isn’t the physically challenges that hold him back. He’s learned to live with it and work through it. It’s all the bullshit that does on inside of his brain. The anxiety, the illogical fears, the hypervigilance. All working together to make it extremely difficult to function as a normal human being. He can’t believe what he’s been reduce to; not even half the man he was six years ago. When he got stare down the barrel of a gun and not even blink. Now there’s moments where he can’t even go into a store without something triggering him and bringing back all the memories and the trauma.

“Do you really have to get up this early?” Esme asks, as she moves closer to him, resting the side of her head against his chest, her hand on his stomach.

“I do.”

“Like you can’t stay in bed for like ten more minutes?” she drags a finger down to the waist band of his boxers. In the beginning stages of things, they’d both preferred to sleep naked; loving the feel of skin pressed against skin. But back then they didn’t have little ones that could sneak up and burst into a room unannounced. Making some clothes a must.

“Not even ten more minutes,” his hand captures hers, moving it back up to his chest.

“Fine,” she huffs, and reaches up to comb her fingers through his hair.

“Go back to sleep,” he presses a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll get the baby if she wakes up. I’ll bring her to you before you leave.”

“You’re a keeper,” she says with a smile. “You’ve even learned to put the toilet seat down and put your dirty laundry in the hamper. You can teach an old dog new tricks.”

He grins and slips out of bed, grabbing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt as she moves back over to her side of the bed; tucking one of his pillows underneath her head and then pulling the comforter back up past her eyes, kicking and wriggling her feet until they’re once again poking out from the bottom of the blanket.

“Be safe,” she says when he reaches the bedroom door.

An old habit, he supposes, used to saying it every time he left for a job in the middle of the night or the wee hours of the morning. And it hurts his heart; that she’d become so accustomed to him leaving that those words are now second nature.

****

Ovi saunters up onto the back patio at quarter to six; hair still messy from sleep, eyes heavy. He’s grown considerably since the move, packing on the weight and the muscle: less stress, more eating right and a consistent work out schedule, and hard, manual labour. It isn’t a full time job by any stretch of the imagination, but their clients pay well and Tyler pays even better. Ovi and Chloe can live comfortably, pay all their bills, and never worry about finding themselves in financial trouble.

It’s become their routine. Sitting out back, drinking coffee and eating breakfast before setting out on the road. This morning neither of them offer a verbal greeting, instead exchanging smiles and nods before Ovi drops into the chair across from him. Both staying silent as they watch the sunrise, the rippling ocean painted in a brilliant, breathtaking golden hue.

Tyler doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of the sunrises and sunsets, the smell of the salt that hangs in the air, the breeze that rolls in off the water. The mountains had been beautiful; it had been one hell of a view from the back deck at their place in Telluride. But nothing compares to this. Maybe he’s biased; he’d spent almost thirty-six years in Australia. It’s home. He’s admittedly much happier here, far more relaxed. The privacy and the seclusion not enough to solve all of his problems, but helping the healing process tremendously. He feels grounded. Secure. As if he’s finally able to put down real roots. Able to raise a family somewhere that feels totally safe.

Ovi watches the final moments of the sunrise with the rim of his coffee mug pressed against his lips. There’s pure wonder in his eyes; as if it’s the first time he’s witnessed the scene playing out in front of him. Wide eyed and amazed, like a child on Christmas morning that’s rushed downstairs to find the living room covered in presents and treats.

It reminds Tyler of the first time the kid had ever seen snow. He’d glanced up from the dinner table and had given a loud gasp, eyes impossibly wide, and dropped his fork onto his plate with a loud clatter as he sprung up from the table and out the sliding door. For a half an hour he’d stayed out there on the deck; clad in nothing but a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Tears streaming down his face, unable to even form a proper sentence as he let the soft, white flakes fall onto his upturned palms, laughing when they got stuck in his lashes and his hair. Millie joining him and teaching him to catch the them on his tongue.

After that he became fascinated with anything to do with winter. Throwing himself into helping the kids make snow angels and snow men, even building forts and having snowball fights. He and Tyler would go ice fishing on the weekends, their main bonding time. And he loved Christmas. Not necessarily getting gifts, but giving them. Enjoying the decorating of the tree and putting lights up on the house, and all the delicious food that he’d never been able to experience in India. He was a child again; filled with wonder and excitement, able to forget all about what happened in Dhaka and the trauma he still struggled with.

“That was an awesome one,” Ovi breathes, shaking his head in disbelief before turning to the plate of food in front of him. Nothing extravagant; some scrambled eggs, toast and a selection of various fresh fruit.

Tyler nods in agreement, pushing food around his plate with his fork. The meds fuck with his stomach first thing in the morning; often not able to actually eat a meal but resorting to smoothies and supplements to get the calories into him. He likes the weight he’s at now; a little extra around the middle, but larger through the chest and shoulders, biceps and forearms bigger, as well as his thighs. He feels healthier than he has in years, maybe even since before Dhaka. He’d been running on nothing but booze and pain meds back then. And a death wish. Now he concentrates on what he’s putting into his body and how hard he works it.

Addie stirs in the car seat carrier that sits on the ground beside his chair; the soother tumbling out of her mouth, prompting that tiny whine that comes shortly before an epic meltdown. Two weeks old and she has a temper already; small and feisty, just like her mom. When putting the soother back in doesn’t work, he picks her up; laying her across his forearm, stomach down, her face rubbing against his skin as she settles into him.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Ovi comments. “Make it look so easy.”

“It’s far from easy, mate. Trust me. Being a parent is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

“You don’t make it seem that way, though. You make it seem like you’ve been doing it forever. It’s only been six years.”

“I just learn as I go along. Pray I don’t screw it up. Or screw them up.”

“I think you’re doing a good job. A great job, actually. It’s still funny seeing you like this though. As daddy Tyler and not Tyler, Tyler. Do you ever miss it? Miss him?”

“Not often. But yeah, sometimes I do.”

He feels guilty for even saying it; as if he’s somehow disrespecting his wife and his kids. But he’d been Ovi’s age when he had joined the army and began building and honing his skills; the ones that he’d taken with him into the job. He'd spent years on the move; being deployed while in the military and then bouncing from job to job, never settling down, never having to worry or think about anything other than his work. Now everything had ended abruptly and with it came a much slower pace, consistency and routine, more responsibility. Not just for himself. But with six people that depend on him.

“Do you ever want to go back?” Ovi asks.

“Once or twice I’ve thought about it. But I’d never actually do it. I don’t have it in me anymore. Not mentally. I need to work on myself. Not worry about helping other people. And I kind of love my wife and the life we have together, and I want my marriage to work, so...” he sips his coffee. “I’d never do it. I lose everything. And no job is worth that.”

“So if something came up, you’d just say no?”

“Unless it’s a threat to my wife or my kids or you. Nothing will make me go back. What’s going on? Why are you asking me about all of this?”

“No reason,” Ovi shrugs. “Just curious.”

“You’re a shitty liar. You always have been. Who’ve you been talking to? Nik? Yaz?”

“No one!” he insists. “I’ve just been thinking about things.”

“What kind of things?”

“Things that I can do with my life. On top of what I do now. I thought maybe if you ever got back into it, I could too.”

“That’s never fucking happening,” Tyler scowls, and Addie begins to fuss again. Maybe even hearing the change in his tone of voice or feeling the tension that takes root in his body. And he lifts her to his chest, a hand on the back of her head, fingertips gently rubbing in her dark hair. “Not for me. Not for you.”

“We could build our own business,” Ovi suggests. “We could get the word out, take on clients.”

“I said no. We’re not doing that. We’re not even going to talk about it. Get that shit out of your head. All it’s going to lead you to is a really fucking dark place. Trust me.”

“The money is good! You used to say that all the time.”

“No amount of money is worth not coming home to my family. You’re the last person that should want to get into this. After everything you went through...everything you saw...why the fuck would you want to get involved in that crap?”

“It was exciting. When you had me take the kids. Being on the run like that. Being responsible for the lives of others. I finally got over being scared of everyone and everything. I want to help people. Just like you helped me.”

“I didn’t help you, mate. I fucked everything up. I fucked you up.”

“It wasn’t your fault that things went bad,” Ovi argues. “It was my father’s fault. Not yours. You got me out of there alive. Even when you knew there was no money. And you almost died doing it.”

“And I don’t want you almost dying...or dying...trying to solve other peoples’ problems. We can’t save everyone. No matter how much we want to.”

“I just want to give back all the good I’ve been given.”

“Find something else to do then. Feed the homeless. Work at an animal shelter. Volunteer somewhere. Do anything that would make you feel good. But fuck the job. Don’t even think about it. You want to mess things up with Chloe? Because that’s how you’ll mess things up with her.”

“It didn’t mess things up with you and Esme.”

“Like hell it didn’t. We split up for six months. You know how close it came to her filing for divorce? You know how close I came to barely seeing my kids? It was a goddamn miracle she took me back. And I still kept doing the job and I still kept making promises I never kept and I still keep abandoning her and my kids. You don’t think that hasn’t caused problems? That I don’t pay for my shitty decisions every day? We see a marriage counsellor, for fuck sakes.”

“Chloe said she’s fine with it. That if that’s what I want to do...”

“You actually talked to her about this? About becoming a mercenary. Are you fucking serious right now? Why the hell would you do that?”

“She’s part of my life. I can’t make a decision like that without talking to her about it.”

Tyler frowns. “You’ve actually been thinking about this? For how long?”

“I don’t know,” Ovi shrugs. “Couple months, I guess.”

“A couple months?! And you’re just bringing this up to me now?”

Addie begins to cry in earnest now; startled by him raising his voice. And he pushes his chair away from the table and stands up, a palm against the back of her head, the other patting her back as he sways his body back and forth in an effort to calm her.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he whispers harshly to Ovi. “Why would you even think about doing the job?”

“The excitement. The danger. The...”

“The danger is exactly why you shouldn’t want to do it. You saw what happened in Dhaka. You were right there the entire time. Why would you want to put yourself through that? And never mind that, why would you want to put Chloe through that?”

“You and Esme...”

“Don’t even bring Esme into this. I’ve screwed up. A lot. I’ve made a lot of mistakes that could have ended my marriage. We have to see a goddamn therapist to try and fix things. Is that you want? You want to screw up someone else’s life? Because that’s exactly what you’d be doing.”

“But if she’s okay with it...”

Ovi is interrupted by the sliding glass door opening; Esme holding it so Declan...in just a diaper and a t-shirt and his hair sticking up in all different directions...can toddle through.

“Sorry to interrupt, guys,” she gives a tired, sheepish smile. “But someone woke up wanting daddy.”

Little arms wrap around his leg and Declan rubs his forehead against Tyler’s jeans before looking up at him with a huge pout on his face and those blue eyes rimmed with red and filled with tears.

“What’s a matter mate?” Tyler asked. “What did the mean lady do to you?”

“He was pissed because I had to change his diaper before I would bring him down here to see you. If one of them could not have your temper that would be great,” Esme helps herself to a sip of his smoothie. “Is she okay? Want me to take her? Just so this one...” she lays a hand on Declan’s head. “...doesn’t pitch a fit because he’s jealous?”

“She was just a little unsettled,” he says, handing his daughter off and then scooping Declan up onto his hip. Running a hand over his strawberry blond hair, pressing kisses to his cheeks; letting him grab at his ears and his beard and anything else he can get those little hands on before sitting down and settling him on his lap and helping Declan feed himself the leftover food on his plate.

“Oh typical,” Esme grumbles, and sits down beside Ovi, settling Addie against her chest and laying the side of her head against her daughter’s. “He knows daddy will give him ‘big people’ food. And you wonder why he’s going to be six six and two hundred and fifty pounds when he’s sixteen.”

“Don’t listen to the mean lady,” Tyler says to his son. “You’re going grow up and be big and strong and kick some major ass.”

“Ass,’ Declan repeats, and shoves scrambled egg into his mouth.

“Oh, way to go Tyler,” his wife sighs. “You couldn’t leave one all innocent and sweet. Don’t you dare think you’re going to be teaching my last one any of your potty words.”

He grins. “She’s going to be the worst one of them all. It’s always the small ones you’ve have to worry about.”

“Your dad talks a lot of nonsense,” Esme says to the baby, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. “Don’t listen to him. He’s a bad influence. He already has your sister beating up kids on the playground and using the F word.”

“She’s got a hell of a right hook,” Tyler says, and Ovi nods in agreement. “She messes up her brothers.”

“We don’t want people messing anyone up this house. Don’t pay attention, Addie. You’re going to grow up sweet and kind and never hurt a fly.”

Tyler snorts. “Not if she’s your daughter she won’t.”

“Can you believe I put up with him? That I willingly do this every day? Listen to that mouth?”

“It’s the other things that I do with my mouth you like,” Tyler says, and shoots her a wink across the table.

Ovi nearly spits out a mouthful of coffee.

“Oh god...innocent ears...” she places a hand over one of Addie’s ears, and then a hand over one of Ovi’s.

“Yeah, he’s not so innocent. He’s probably getting it more than I am.”

Ovi bites down on his bottom lip and shakes his head in embarrassment.

“You’re not used to this yet?” Esme laughs. “You know what he’s like. You’ve lived with him for five years now. You know the crap he talks about. Only the strong survive in this house.”

Ovi wipes his hands on the thighs of his jeans and holds his hands out in a request to hold the baby. He’s always been a natural; taking on the role of a big brother the moment he’d first laid eyes on Millie when they’d travelled to Mumbai and stayed at the Mahajan house. Lending a helping hand in taking care of the kids whenever Tyler was out of the country on a job, never shying away from dirty diapers or spit up. He is a calming presence. Never raising his voice or showing any signs of nervousness of anger. And Addie snuggles right into him, one of her hands gripping his shirt, her head against his shoulder.

“This is nice,” he smiles. “Babies are nice.”

“Remember that they’re always nicer when their someone else’s,” Esme says. “So you don’t end up with one of your own way before you’re ready for it. Because they’re sweet and they’re cute but they’re a lot of work.”

Tyler nods in agreement.

“So no kids, okay?” Esme tousles Ovi’s hair. “I’m not old enough to be a grandma. Give it a few years. At least. Okay?”

He nods in agreement.

“So what were you guys talking about? Things looked kind of intense when I came in.”

“Just stuff,” Ovi shrugs. “Nothing important, really.”

“For something that wasn’t important, you two looked like you were going to get into it about something. Everything alright?”

Both Ovi and Tyler nod.

Her eyes narrow. “What aren’t you guys telling me?”

“It was no big deal,” Tyler gives her a reassuring smile. “Just normal talk. Guy talk. Nothing serious.”

“Well I’ll let you guys get back to your guy stuff,” she says, ruffling Ovi’s hair once more before standing up. “I’ve got school lunches to make and bags to pack. Ughhhh. Is it the weekend yet?” She places her hands on Tyler’s shoulders and presses a kiss to his cheek before heading inside.

“Whew...” Ovi breathes a sigh of relief. “...that was close. I thought she’d hear for sure.”

“Don’t ever bring the job up again,” Tyler’s voice is calm and even, his attention fully on the toddler in his lap. “I don’t ever want to hear it come out of your mouth. That’s not something you want to get involved in. And it’s not something I’m letting you drag me back into.”

“I wasn’t saying I was going to do it,” Ovi attempts to reason. “Just that I thought about it.”

“Well don’t think about. You’re too good for that. Way too good for it. Go back to school if you want. I’ll pay for it. I’ll support you no matter what you do. But not if you do that. You go into the job, I can’t have your back. I just can’t. I can’t just sit on the sidelines and watch you kill yourself. Understand?”

Ovi nods.

“You deserve so much better than that life. So does Chloe. And I wish every day I never got back into it. That I’d just walked away for good. It would have saved me a whole lot of hurt. It wasn’t fair to Esme. Or my kids. And that’s something I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life. Trust me, kid. You do not want that guilt on your shoulders.”

It will always be there. He knows it will. He’ll spend his entire life looking for absolution that will never come.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #extraction #best part of me #chris hemsworth character

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whump-the-caretaker · 4 years

Text

Shifter pt. 3

previous / about the characters / next

Avery woke, head pounding with whatever had put him out, and squinted up to see where he was.

A cot. Small room sealed by a glass wall. A lab.

He jolted up off the cot and searched for… there. Beck. His stomach twisted, his eyes sticking when they landed on the table and the box holding his husband.

“No,” he breathed.

Beck was watching him from across the room, human this time and sitting with his knees drawn to his chest. The glass case was just as horrifying in the morning as it had been the night before, size and shape more akin to a dog kennel than anything that should be holding a person. His clothes were in shreds around him, apparently torn in a shift.

“Are you okay? What’s happeni--”

Beck shook his head shortly, eyes flicking sideways to something just out of sight. Avery frowned, moving to the glass wall separating them, and craned to see.

The man who'd caught him, who'd stopped him from breaking through to Beck, was adjusting some sort of camera setup, pointed at Beck. Another sweep of fury flushed through him.

The man nodded, pressing a button on the recorder and then scooped up a box that looked like an MRE. He watched him cross to Beck, slide it into the case through a quickly sealed slot and wait.

Beck glanced at him and then picked up the box, flipping it open and wrinkling his nose in disgust. “What the fuck is this?”

“You were the one demanding food. That’s what you’re going to get for today. I’m sure you can think of something that can eat that.”

“Go to hell,” he growled, shoving it away and putting a hand under his nose to block out the smell.

The man shrugged and turned away, heading for Avery’s holding room instead.

“I really do apologize for this,” he said as he approached the cell wall. His entire demeanor had changed, and something about the shift made Avery deeply uncomfortable. “I hope you’ll understand, I can’t let you interfere. Whether you agree or not, we’ve already begun the process and stopping now would jeopardize the results.”

“What results?” Avery demanded. “What process?”

“Understanding of the shifter biology is very limited. The extremes of their capabilities have never truly been tested. I’ve begun the work with several others of the type, but never long term and never outside of… shall we say a more supervised study.”

“This is the first time you’ve kidnapped someone, you’re saying.”

“Now, that’s rather harsh. I’m only borrowing it from you for a short time. I’ll give it back when I’m finished.”

The hair on the back of Avery’s neck stood on end. “Did you just call my husband an it?”

“It’s a shifter.”

“He’s a person.”

“Mm. Interesting." He just looked at Avery for a moment, like he was curious about the idea. The idea that Avery thought Beck was a person. "Now, I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to keep you here a little while. Can’t have you breaking in every time I turn my back. I’ll do my utmost to keep you comfortable.”

The man glanced back at Beck, who appeared to be focused on trying not to gag at the smell coming off of whatever was in the box. “I’ll be back tomorrow to see if we can’t get you into a few new shapes."

Beck flipped him off and waited for him to leave the room.

“What the fuck?” Avery breathed when they were alone again.

“He’s a piece of shit,” Beck muttered, cutting off with a dry heave.

“What did he give you?”

“Rotten meat.”

“Shit.” Avery smacked the glass wall. “Has he hurt you? What has he been doing?”

“Just making me shift. I’m fine.”

Avery doubted it.

“Goddamn it,” Beck growled, kicking his legs out against the side of the case in frustration. If he didn’t do something, he was going to puke, empty stomach or not, and it would only smell worse. “This is disgusting.”

He pressed his eyes closed and reached for shapes he didn’t usually call on. Vulture, hyena, corvid… He ended up a coyote, the most familiar carrion eater he had, and was grateful for the moment that animals didn’t feel embarrassed the way humans did. The shame was still in his mind as he set his muzzle down and consumed the revolting contents of the box, but it didn’t have the same bite to it. He cleaned the scraps until even his sensitive nose couldn’t detect any traces.

Finished, he went to shift back and froze. It wasn’t the eating part that was dangerous as a human. It was the digesting.

He was stuck.

Fuck.

Unable to stop a low whine escaping his throat, he backed up until he was pressed into the corner, instincts driving him to put a wall at his back and lay down with his head on his paws. He was just going to have to wait it out.

***

He startled awake and back to human form at a clatter near his cage.

The man was there, setting up various instruments on the table beside the glass. Beck shivered with alarm that he’d gotten so close without waking him. Was it just the exhaustion settling in?

“Now,” he said, seeing Beck sitting up and eyeing him warily. “We really do need to get down to business.”

“Leave me alone,” he protested. Despite his best efforts, it came out weak more than defiant. His mouth tasted foul from his meal as a coyote, and the dull ache of too much shifting was only settling deeper into his bones despite the rest.

The man ignored him. “Your clothes obviously didn’t shift with you, but your tattoos do. At what point does a foreign object start to shift with your body?”

Beck shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Of course you don’t. That’s why we’re finding out. Now, you don’t have any piercings. Strange for someone with tattoos.”

“The holes stay but not the studs,” Beck answered, eager to skip the trial of that.

“Hmm. You demonstrated last night that stomach contents remain in their foreign body state until digested.”

Beck flinched, eyes snapping to the camera. He hadn’t known he was giving the man anything when he did that.

The man nodded, seeming to reach a conclusion. He selected one of the marbles and readied the airhole plugs.

“Wait, no,” Beck sat up straight. “Keep that shit away from me. I won’t--” The marble dropped in beside him and he grabbed for it, wanting to push it back out. But the holes were already plugged and the glass shattered under his fingers.

The gas smelled sweet this time, coiling up and coating his nostrils. He pressed away from it and braced himself, waiting, but a shift didn’t come. When he went to look up at the man, ask what had happened, he found he couldn’t move.

He heard the sensor chime and the top of the case open.

Panic was enough to trigger a groan and roll of his head, but that was all the movement he could manage.

“I don’t know how I’m expected to keep sanitary conditions...” he grumbled to himself, gathering the empty ration boxes, broken spheres, scraps of soiled clothing.

A cold, damp cloth wiped over Beck’s skin, spot cleaning. He heard Avery swearing, but it only made the violation strike deeper. The alcohol swab felt the same as the other cleaning, and he couldn’t see to prepare himself, so the first incision in his shoulder came as a shock.

No, no, no.

“N--” His tongue was heavy, refused to choke out the word. He felt a series of prods and scrapes, a set of stitches, and then the stick of medical tape. “No.”

The lid closed, locked again, and the man stepped away, cleaning up the mess now on the table beside him. He put the tools away, spoke calmly in the face of Avery’s fuming demands, and arrived back at the case as Beck was getting control enough to push himself up.

“What have you done to me?” he slurred.

“It’s a small implant. Just to see. Now, I need your cooperation for this next part, so listen to me very closely.“

Beck shuddered.

“Shift down. A mouse will do. Stay for at least ten seconds.”

Beck was afraid.

He’d been angry in this place, he’d been violated, but this time he was afraid. He shook his head, though, obstinately sure he couldn’t bring himself to cooperate.

“How about I pick for you?” he asked, holding up one of the spheres.

“How about you shove it up your ass?”

“If something goes wrong, you’re not going to want to be stuck. Now. Shift.”

"Leave him alone," Avery snapped from across the room.

Avery. He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath.

Just one shape.

It was better than Avery seeing him screaming if he was forced into something and suffering.

He shifted.

Fear was not a good place to begin when slipping into a rodent’s mind. They were fearful creatures and, combined with the searing pain in his flank, his heart was set racing out of control.

He held, tried to count, panicked, tried to count, three, four--he couldn’t hold it. The mouse fled and he was dumped back on the floor a human, twisting to get a hand to his shoulder with a strangled cry.

He heard Avery shouting from across the room, but the words didn’t register to his pain shocked brain.

“Fuck,” he gasped. “Jesus. What the fuck did you do to me?”

“Mm.” the man said, displeased. “It’s come out,” he pointed out.

Beck’s hand came away dripping in blood and holding a solid chunk of something. A metal device the size of a quarter, rounded on the back like a half sphere. He dropped it to bring his hand to stop the flow of blood. The man had taken all the scraps of fabric from his clothes, so there was nothing to use to stem the blood.

“Subcutaneous metal is rejected…” The man was talking to himself. Beck ground his teeth. “I’ll go see what we have in development. Clean yourself up.”

Only the last part was said to Beck. He dropped gauze, a few antiseptic wipes, and a roll of tape onto a tray and slid it in to Beck.

Beck waited until he was gone to move, to take any of the items he’d been given.

“Beck?” Avery’s voice broke.

He flinched at the reminder that his husband was watching him get tortured. “I’m sorry you have to see this.”

Avery kicked the wall between them. “I’m getting us out of here. I swear to you, okay?”

Beck smiled tightly and nodded.

#whump #shapeshifter #cw: medical #cw: experimentation #cw: forced nakedness #avery carter #beckett ohare #story: shifter #cw: dehumanization

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imdoingthismspaintadventure · 5 years

Text

Worm 1.4 - In which a Worm fights a Wyrm

I felt a chill. A part of me really wished that I had thought to get my hands on a disposable cell phone. I didn’t have a utility belt, but the spade shaped section of armor that hung over my spine hid a set of EpiPens, a pen and notepad, a tube of pepper spray meant to hang off a key chain and a zippered pouch of chalk dust. I could have fit a cell phone back there. With a cell phone, I could have alerted the real heroes about the fact that Lung was planning to take a score of his flunkies to go and shoot kids.

Damn, she really went unprepared didn’t she? All of the objects mentioned there would probably be useless in a real fight, and with a phone she could alert authorities and not have to worry about biting off more than she can chew.

But as she doesn’t have it now she faces a moral dilemma: do I just ignore it and go back from where I came from and leave the kids to die, or do I jump in and try to disrupt the plans of a dangerous and famous crime boss.

That is less of a trolley problem and more like if there was only one track and you could throw yourself in front of it to derail its course. Cause damn. I guess she could blitz them and then run away?

At least, that’s what I had heard. I was in a state of disbelief, turning the words around in my head to think of a different context that would make sense of it. It wasn’t so much the fact that he would do something like that. I just had a hard time wrapping my head around the idea that anyone would.

Oh. Taylor if something is true in the world, is that people are fucked up. Well some of them. There are also shining examples out there. Humanity as a whole is grand, but there are a lot of individuals that defy imagination with their bad deeds

Lung answered a question for one of his gang members, lapsing briefly into another language. He grabbed one of his minion’s arms and twisted it to an angle where he could get a look at the guy’s watch, so I guessed it had something to do with their timing or when they were leaving. The gang member who’d had his arm twisted winced as Lung let it go, but didn’t complain.

Look at this perfect way to see the time! Twist the arm of the person nearest you to see the clock. It’s so petty, I love it. Guess it is also a way to assert his influence and power, if he values those.

What was I supposed to do? I doubted I could find any place in the Docks that would be willing to let me inside to use their phone. If I headed to the Boardwalk, I wasn’t sure I would find any places that were still open, and I didn’t have change for a payphone. That was another oversight I would have to correct for the next time I went out. Cell phone, spare change.

Yeah, I was thinking about that. Her house phone is obviously out of the question, and any other method would probably take too much time, not too mention they would change places and would maybe be impossible to find when security arrives

A car pulled up, and another three guys dressed in gang colors got out and and joined the crowd. Shortly after, the group – twenty or twenty five in total – started walking north, passing below me as they walked down the street.

Oh great, as if things weren’t loopsided enough, reinforcements

I was out of time to consider my options. As much as I didn’t want to face it, there was really only one option that I could have no regrets about. I shut my eyes and focused on every bug on the neighborhood, including the sizable swarm I had gathered on the way into the Docks. I took control of each of them.

Attack.

Oh damn, we are actually going to do it! Best strategy is probably:

1)Take down as much of the goons as possible while also attacking Lung

2)When he starts counterattacking run the fuck away.

I mean, you still would be in danger but his raid would probably be ruined.

It was dark enough that I could only tell where the swarm was with my power. That meant I couldn’t even tune out the swarm if I wanted to have any idea about what was going on. My brain was filled with horrendous amounts of information, as I sensed each bite, each sting. As the thousands of insects and arachnids swarmed over and around the group, I could almost see the outlines of each person, just by sensing the shapes of the surfaces the bugs were crawling on, or the areas the vermin wasn’t occupying. I focused on keeping the more venomous types at bay for the time being – I didn’t need any allergic thugs going into anaphylactic shock from a bee sting or getting serious complications from the bite of a brown recluse spider.

The sensory overload of her power is seriously daunting. Also one of the most powerful aspects of her power if used correctly.

She’s swarming the group, biting and stinging with the softcore bugs. Doesn’t the brown recluse rot the tissue around the bite? A fully monstrous Taylor would be an utter nightmare

I sensed the fire through the swarm before I realized what I was looking at with my eyes. My power told me of the bugs’ recognition of the heat, but I didn’t even have time to devote conscious thought to block out the instincts the fire set in motion before the damage was done. The primitive thought processes of my bugs were reduced to confused impulses to alternately flee and to pursue the heat and the light they so often used for navigation. Many bugs died or were crippled by the heat. From my vantage point, I could see Lung lashing out with streams of fire from his hands, directing them at the sky.

Flamethrower hands! That’s awesome! And also highly lethal to Taylor’s bugs, which seems to not only burn them but also reverts the bugs back to their instincts in the presence of such danger

I suppressed a laugh, feeling heady with adrenaline. Was that all he could do? I directed the swarm to gather, so those who weren’t already biting and stinging were in the midst of the gang. If he wanted to turn his flames on the swarm, he would have to set his own people on fire.

Fuck yes, Taylor thinks smart in a fight! (and for those of you that have watched Code Geass, doesn’t that almost-laugh and feeling of “I can do it!” after testing powers for the first time just scream Lelouch? )

The heated air and the smells gave me enough information, by way of my insects, to tell where Lung was in the crowd. I took a deep breath, and then sent in the reserves. I took a share of the venomous types I’d held at bay and directed them to Lung. A handful of bees, wasps, a number of the more poisonous spiders, like black widows and brown recluses, and dozens of fire ants.

Damn, Taylor is more powerful here than I thought! Black widows and brown recluses, fireants.... that is a powerful army right there. The goons are fucked, but I get the impression Lung won’t be so easy

He healed fast when his power was working. Everything I’d read online said that people with healing abilities would shrug off the effects of poisons or drugs, so I knew I’d have to pump him full of enough venom to overwhelm that aspect of his power. Besides, he was a big guy. I judged he could take it.

Fuck I forgot he had a healing factor! Taylor’s reaction to this seems to be more of a “Let’s up the DPS and override his healing” more than “oh fuck it’s not working”

Full-on with the venom then! That’s the problem with fighting with a power such as this, you have to get a little monstruous

From the information that I could glean from my bugs, Lung already had maybe a quarter of his body covered in armor. Triangular sections of metallic plating were piercing through his skin, where they would continue to grow and overlap until he was nigh impenetrable. If they weren’t already, his fingertips and toes would become like blades or metal claws.

He is really becoming a metal dragon holy shit. I have a really awesome mental image of the grey metal scales draped and surrounded in orange/red flame.

I felt a sadistic glee as I organized the attack on Lung. I directed the flying insects to attack his face. With distaste, I focused the crawling ants and spiders on… other vulnerable areas. I did my best to ignore the feedback that I got from that particular attack, as I most definitely did not want the same kind of topographical map that the swarm had provided just a minute ago. Lung was bad news, and I needed him out of action as soon as possible. That meant delivering the hurt.

Holy hell it must suck being Lung right now. Taylor can be brutal when she needs to be. The problem with fighting with a spoon instead of a knife, you have to go for the soft areas.

Taylor has some blood knight tendencies I see. Getting caught up in the fun of combat are you?

Rationale aside, I did feel a stab of guilt about taking pleasure in someone else’s pain. I quieted that moment’s remorse by reminding myself that Lung had spread tragedy, addiction and death to innumerable families. He had been planning to kill kids.

Taylor seems pretty good in rationalizing and justifying her actions. That is both good and possibly troubling for the future

Lung exploded. No metaphor there. He detonated in a blast of rolling fire that set his clothes, several pieces of litter and one of his gang members alight. Almost every bug in his immediate vicinity died or was crippled by the wave of extreme heat. From my vantage point on the roof, I watched as he turned himself into a human bomb a second time. The second explosion turned his clothes to rags and sent his people fleeing for cover. He stepped out of the smoke with his hands burning like torches, the silvery scales that covered nearly a third of his body reflecting the flame.

He just went fuck it, omnidirectional blazing inferno, scorched earth, and wiped out alll the insects he had on him.

I think you should run, this is a baaad matchup for your abilities

Damn, damn, damn. He was fireproof? Or skilled enough at using fire to superheat the air around him without burning himself? The meager scraps of clothing that covered him were burning away, and fire licked and danced around his hands without him seeming to care.

I think he probably has a power that lets him generate fire very close to his body but without it ever touching it. Either that or he becomes fire wherever he generates it, like a devil fruit elemental power.

He roared. It wasn’t the monstrous roar one might expect, but a very human sound of rage and frustration. As human as it sounded, though, it was loud. All the way down the street neighborhood, lights and flashlights flickered on in response to the explosions and the roar. I even saw a few faces peering through windows to see the action. Idiots. If Lung’s next attack shattered any glass, they could get hurt.

Lung: fucking bugs! what in the fuck?? I go out to do my attack and a goddamn plague falls on top of me. Whoever is responsible for this is already cinders!!

From where I was crouched on the side of the roof, I directed some of the more harmless insects to attack Lung. He lashed out with fire the moment they started crawling on him, which I had more or less expected. He was managing to kill the majority of the bugs with each burst of flame, and knowing what I did about his powers, I knew his flames would only get bigger, hotter and more dangerous.

Are there upper limits to his power? Or does he just, get stronger. Cause that would eventually be both aboslutely OP and a spectacle to behold.

In a typical fight, you figure someone would get weaker as the fight dragged on. They would take their lumps, get tired, exhaust their bag of tricks. With Lung, it was the opposite. I found myself regretting that I had used only a relatively small number of the more venomous bugs, because it was becoming clear that what I’d used wasn’t having much effect. He had no idea where I was, so I figured I still had the upper hand, but my options and the number of bugs in my swarm were running out. Despite my earlier glee, I wasn’t sure I could win this anymore.

Lung thrives in a fight of attrition. As his enemies gets weaker he keeps getting stronger, until you give up and flee

You have probably lost your chance of beating him, or at least you will when he gets completely covered in the scales.

I hissed through my teeth, all too aware that time was running out. Before long, Lung would set fire to the city block, become immune to bites and stings in general, or destroy my entire swarm. I had to get creative. I had to get meaner.

Ooor you just could go 2000% offensive to all his tender bits before he gets the chance to completely transform. Holy shit.

I focused my attention on a lone wasp, and piloted it around Lung’s back, up behind his head and then had it circle around to his face and straight at his eyeball. The wasp touched his eyelash, and he blinked before it could hit the target. As a consequence, the stinger only sank into his eyelid, prompting yet another explosion of fire and a scream of rage.

Again. I thought. A honeybee this time. I wasn’t sure if he eventually got armor plated eyelids, but maybe I could use the stings to make his eyes swell shut? He wouldn’t be able to fight if he couldn’t see.

Go for the fucking eyes. No fucking mercy over here

Maybe I won’t have to hypothesize about ruthless Taylor, she already seems to be there

and it’s great

The bee struck home this time, sinking his stinger into the ball of Lung’s eye. It surprised me in that it didn’t stick or kill the bee, so I had the bee sting again, and this time the barbs let it stick in the skin at the corner of his eye, at the side of his nose. The bee died that time, leaving some tiny organs and a venom sac hanging from the stinger.

Lung could probably regenerate this damage, but still ow ow ow it must suuuck to be him

I expected him to explode again. He didn’t. Instead, he set himself on fire, head to toe. I waited a moment, poised to attack with the next wasp to attack the moment he dropped his guard, but as the seconds passed, I realized he wasn’t planning on extinguishing himself. My heart sank.

Surely he was burning up all of the oxygen in his vicinity. Didn’t he need to breathe? What the hell was the fuel source for his fire?

Oh shit now he’s like a walking demon covered in flame. No need to wait for the scales to fully cover him. He’s already invulnerable

Run

Standing in the street, he turned around, searching for me, with the flames that licked and rolled over his body casting light where there had been only gloom. Abruptly, he hunched over. I wondered if – I hoped – the various toxins and venoms in his system had done the trick. Then his back separated into two. A meaty looking gap appeared along his spine, followed by an eruption of long metallic scales all down the gap. After bristling for a few moments, the scales lay flat like dominoes falling. He stood and stretched, and I could swear he was a foot taller, now with an armor plated spine.

Still on fire, head to toe.

He’s reaching perfect form

Will he be an actual demon/dragon at 100%?

Already he is becoming less human

Aah I wish someone like Murata could draw this, it would be a fucking spectacle

If the ‘constantly on fire’ thing had tipped the balance of the fight to futile, watching Lung grow and look stronger than ever had pushed me to the point of being spooked. I started thinking about an exit strategy. Rationally, I figured, Lung’s men were scattered to the four winds and they were probably in pretty rough shape. Whatever Lung had been planning for tonight, chances were he wasn’t going to be able to carry out whatever plans he’d had after this debacle. I had more or less accomplished what I needed to, and I figured I could run and find a way to contact the PHQ just in case.

Yeaaah time to get the fuck out

His plan is probably fucked, now let’s just pray he doesn’t kill you

That was the rational perspective. Justifications aside, I just wanted to leave, right then. If things dragged on and I stayed put, there was a very real chance that Lung would give evidence to the rumor that he could grow wings, at which point I would be spotted for sure. I wouldn’t be able to beat Lung at this point, anyway, which left only a graceless retreat as the remaining option.

Ooh if he grew wings, you would have nowhere left to escape to anymore. Good thing is he would probably attrack the attention of some hero at least. A flying Wyvern of flame tends to stand out

Lung had his back turned to me, so I lifted myself up, slowly. Crouching, I backed up to retreat to the fire escape, watching Lung carefully as I set foot on the gravel of the roof.

As if a gunshot had gone off, Lung whirled around to stare at me. One of his eyes was just a glowing line behind his mask, but the other was like an orb of molten metal.

A victorious roar filled the air, less human than the outcry he had made earlier, and I felt a kind of resignation. Enhanced hearing. The package of powers the bastard got from his transformation included superhuman hearing.

.....

well fuck

f u u u c k

Lung is OP, he now has super senses and has found you. You better pray someone noticed, cause I don’t think you can do anything right now

Aaaa, and I got cliffhangered! I’ll see you guys on the next part!

I don’t have time to do the homestuck update today, will do it tomorrow!

#parahumans #wildbow #worm parahumans #worm liveblog #parahumans liveblog #worm #arc 1 #Worm 1.4

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lokisgame · 6 years

Text

Good Things Come...

[part 1-4] [part 5] [part 6]

October 13th, 1994

They kissed hello, arms around each other for two seconds too long. Her new wedding band didn't stop him nor did she say a word, instead she kissed his cheek once more before letting go. "Happy birthday" Scully smiled, more comfortable in his space space than most married people. "Congratulations" he replied sounding only a little forced, having a few months to get used to the thought of her marrying yet another man, when all he got was a phone call. "Thank you, and thanks for the toaster" she giggled linking her arm through his, pulling him outside and across the street towards tall windows hidden beneath striped awnings.

The bar wasn't crowded, a jazz band played some lazy number for a barely awake audience. Scully caught a passing waitress and whispered a few words, the girl smiled and nodded leaving them to take their seats in a booth in the far corner. She sat by the window and patted the couch beside her. The waitress came back, took their order, disappeared again. "You cut your hair" she smiled, brushing his temple "I like it" "It's been a while" he didn't try to fight the warmth, but let it push the case and the weariness aside "You love this don't you" "It does kind of make me laugh" she admitted, withdrawing her hand "me at a conference, same hotel, I'd like to know the odds on that" "Long, very long" he smiled taking her hand "almost as long as finding a gift I actually like" "Well then, we're both very lucky tonight" leaning into his side, she laced her fingers through his "who goes first, me or you?" "You go first" he made himself comfortable, a fraction of an inch to one side and his lips brushed her temple. "Dad hates my new husband" she admitted. "Your dad probably never liked any guy you dated. Take me for example" he chuckled "Emily isn't even five yet but I begin to understand why he felt that way." "Isn't it a little early to worry about that?" "It changes the perspective you know, today I look at boys and cringe, what if my girl likes a brat like that, was I anything like him?" feeling her warm and as comfortable around him as ever soothed him better than anything he might think of as a distraction an hour earlier. "Mulder, any father would eventually give you his daughter's hand" "Why?" "Because any mom would love to have you as a son" she laughed and sat up, kissing his cheek and smiling wide. Only then he noticed the waitress come back with their order and a huge slice of cake, two small forks on the side. "To long odds" Scully raised her glass, clinking it against his as he joined her toast. They tossed back the shots and before he knew, her lips were on his, burning hotter than scotch, killing brain cells faster than pure ethanol, fast enough to make him chase after her when she pulled back. Realizing what he'd done, head hung low, he laughed at himself, shaking the moment off before looking up. He met her her smile, expecting warm but sad, but instead saw half a promise, quarter of a challenge, eighth of come on, sixteenth of hope and a few drops of why not. On the street outside, twinkle lights draped around the trees made the yellowing leaves shine bright against the city night, shimmering with gold as the wind picked up. They shared the cake, dragging things out, talking about everything and nothing, laughing and drinking until they were, very politely, kicked out.

On their way up, both leaning against the back wall of the elevator, she found his hand, held on when doors opened. He followed.

Scully straddled his lap, knees digging into the mattress, keeping his face in her hands and kissing deeply. Mulder devoured her mouth, each sweep of her tongue matched, as if she was his first and last meal, full lips pressed against hers, breathing loud in his ears. He didn't waste time, large hands firm over the curve of her back, drawing her in without resistance. His shape still familiar despite years that passed, made her give in and relax. However the silk of her blouse wasn't enough, Mulder made quick work of tugging the hem free. Single draw string that kept the sides in place surrendered to his long fingers and once touching bare skin, he closed his arms around her and held on tight, his kisses slowing, finally convinced she wasn't going anywhere without him. Hips grinding shamelessly, grip loosened just enough for him to unhook the bra, push it out of the away, squeeze breasts, flick nipples until hard. He remembered what she liked and the thought made her smile, breaking the kiss into smaller parts, letting them breathe, savor the touch. Short hair felt like silky smooth wires slipping beneath her fingers, when he trailed kisses down her neck, following a path she showed him by leaning back. Letting go one hand at a time, the featherlight silk fell to the floor, sheer lace not far behind. Mulder finally reached her nipple with the tip of his tongue. One arm around her waist other across her back, she felt herself lifted and swung sideways, yelping as she hit the bed, the cool comforter, the bounce made them laugh. His shirt gone in one fluid motion that she always loved to watch, they paused, gazing at each other for a silent moment, searching for a reason to stop. She reached for him the second he leaned in. They hid in each other's arms, as if there was no tomorrow.

Nine months later, she held a secret in her heart and a beautiful green-eyed boy in her arms.

#Good Things Come...#msr fanfic #x files fanfic

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reys-fanfiction-archive · 7 years

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Boba Fett and Cad Bane arc, pt.2

Hey guys! I live, I promise! And I also promised that I would pos the next section of the Boba Fett story; I’ve had tons of people asking about that and if there would be a continuation. @stickytablet , your story has become incredibly popular!

A huge thanks to everyone who has been patient!

Boba Fett made it his life’s goal to minimize negative emotions in his life as much as possible. Growing up in a military facility that grew armies in the space a few days, he had been raised not to let emotions like pain, fear, or despair affect him. And he made a solemn promise the day his father died that he would never be so affected by the loss of another ever again. Which meant that everyone was kept at arm’s length, preferably with a gun’s length added onto the arm length. No one got to get close to him.

Except for you. Somehow, you had gotten past his arms and close enough to touch his heart, a heart he thought was long dead from lack of love and an overabundance of pain in life. Your smiles, your laughter, your snarky comments and the way you filled the silence of the ship...at first, it had irritated him to the point that he considered using your head as a target practice almost every day. But as time went on and you stuck around through everything, he started to be less irritated and be more interested in you. The way you squinted at him like you were trying to see through his helmet, the way your leg would fidget against the captain’s seat when you were bored or nervous...everything you did, it caught his attention. And it honestly infuriated him sometimes.

He couldn’t focus with you around. His whole attention was no longer focused on beating the odds and surviving an impossible situation. It was now focused on you, and your safety. Any cry of fear, pain or elation during a fight caught his attention immediately. And it had almost cost him his life a few times. He was getting stupid and careless with you around.

Boba had honestly considered leaving you on a planet and returning (if he was honest, which he wasn’t, it was more like fleeing) to the stars on his own. But every time he has seriously considered it, his heart ached until he finally let go of the plan. And so, the two of you kept going on together, getting into more adventures and more chaos.

Until now.

Now, your adventures with him had come to an abrupt end when a ghost from his past had snatched you straight from the ship. He had been careless, and hadn’t checked as well as he should have for any trackers or ways for a hunter to hide in the ship. And now Cad Bane had you somewhere in this forsaken universe, and he had no idea where to look.

Nothing in his sparse quarters bore the brunt of his rage; he was too controlled from too many mentors to not take his rage out senselessly. Someone who raged uncontrollably was someone who was sloppy, who left behind clues and who could get killed. So Boba’s rage had been focused into an icy rage that sunk into his bones, driving his actions day and night until his goal was completed.

He hadn’t felt this angry since his father had been slaughtered by the Jedi. It was startling how angry he felt, how single minded he was in tracking Cad down. He needed to exercise caution; Cad knew how to push his buttons and get his attention, but the rage was making it difficult to think properly.

No one hurt him like this. He had made a promise. And he would make sure that he would never be hurt like this again.

It was a lot less climactic than you had expected, being used as bait to draw someone out. From the cheesy holovids you had watched secretly at work, you expected more taunting, a cold miserable cell with space rats to share moldy food with, and possibly torture as you cried for help. But Cad hadn’t done any of those. You were in a decent cell, if not completely sparse and boring, but no rations to eat. And Cad hadn’t touched or talked to you since the initial capture, even when you had spent hours yelling and threatening him until your voice went hoarse. It was kind of boring, just sitting in a cell and staring at the walls. Too much time to think and psych yourself out.

No matter how much you thought about it, you couldn’t figure out how you ended up here. Cad hadn’t been on the ship when you had left, and when you had passed out in your room after boredom set in, everything went black. There was no memories from that time to when you woke up in Cad Bane’s ship.

You had a few ideas of how it might have happened, and all of them gave you a bad feeling just thinking about them. It meant that Cad was better than you had thought, or Boba was slipping up on his game.

You sincerely hoped it wasn’t the latter.

“Rise and shine, little one.” Cad said suddenly, his strange voice startling you from your thoughts. “We’re almost home.”

“Now you’re talking to me?” You rasped. You needed water; your voice sounded like it had taken a stroll through the Jakku deserts at midday. “I’m so honored. I thought you had forgotten I existed.”

“Good to see your fire still hasn’t died yet. You’ll need it here.” Cad chuckled, your barbs rolling easily off of him. “Although your protector is going to need it more once he finds us.”

The way he said protector made you wary. There were undertones you couldn’t understand, like he was insinuating more than him being your protector.

“What’s your beef with Boba, anyway?” You asked, deliberately ignoring his comments. “We never bothered you.”

“He’s caused me some problems in the past. And someone decided to tip the Empire off to my location. I don’t take kindly to a fellow hunter trying to get me killed.” Was his response, his voice going slightly cold at the end.

Boba had tipped the Empire off? When? You desperately racked your brain for any times when the two of you had contact with the Empire or someone who was friendly with the Empire. Boba worked with people from the Empire, but he tended to keep them at a distance and do what he absolutely had to before terminating contact. Why would he tip someone in the Empire off?

It didn’t make any sense.

“We’re here.” Cad said and your thoughts snapped back to the present. “Welcome to your new home.”

“Great,” you sighed as you stared at the screen and the giant gray...box on the screen, far ahead of them in space. It was massive, you could already tell that. “Out of one box and into another. I’m supposed to be scared of that?”

Cad chuckled again, and the hairs on the back of your neck rose. You really wished he would stop doing that. “First appearances can be deceiving.”

#boba fett #boba fett x reader #star wars #star wars reader insert #star wars the original trilogy #the original trilogy #reader insert #cad bane #jango fett #mod rey #boba fett arc #i was really surprised at how fast this one came out of my brain #you guys are all amazing #i hope you know that #lots of love!!

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minxiebutt · 7 years

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hymn and the damned (1/3)

I wanted to show @survey-corps-rookie my love and write a galactic AU based on her own. It was supposed to be a oneshot but somehow I’ve ended up planning out a couple more parts.

A/N: heavy inspiration from knights of sidonia and I jumbled together the ranking system of the different branches of military shhhhhh

;;;

“This is the one, sir.” The soldier stops in front of a cell block. In the corner is a small person, huddled with his knees to his chest and his arms wrapped around himself. He’s dirty and unshaven, though the patchiness in his facial hair tells Admiral Erwin Smith that this prisoner is hardly a man yet.

“Thank you, Sergeant, that will be all,” Erwin says in dismissal. That piques the prisoner’s interest, and when they’re alone, the prisoner uncurls and comes to stand on the other side of the cell perimeter from Erwin. There’s open air between them– the ankle monitor will zap him if he moves outside of his designated space.

“Levi Ackerman,” Erwin addresses him. “I’m here to take you to the Survey Corps.”

Levi sneers and turns back around to go sit in his corner again. “No, thanks.”

“You’ve been found guilty of murder. You have only two choices– Corps or android commission. With the latter, your skull will be opened and an obedience modifier will be inserted–”

“I know how android commission works,” Levi spits.

Erwin continues talking right over him. “–into your frontal lobe, taking away your objections and making you a slave. You will remain fully conscious of yourself and your actions. You will become a prisoner in your own mind and body. Or, you can seek freedom and come with me.”

“Why would I bother to do that?” Levi mocks from his corner. “Why would I give a shit? We’re a thousand years into this voyage. There’s a thousand more. I will live and die on this fucking ship.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. The HYMN System is only a few years away.”

Levi looks at Erwin with narrow, distrusting eyes. “Public Information estimates–”

“Seven-hundred ninety-three years, nine months,” Erwin finishes. “Yes, but it keeps the population in order. One lie for the guarantee of peace.”

Levi is quiet while he thinks. Erwin offers, “I can give you time to consider it and come back tonight, but it would be after your siblings’ things are put back into circulation–”

“No,” Levi interrupts and stands again, straighter this time, with purpose. “No: I’ll do it. I’ll join you.”

Erwin does not hide his smile. “Excellent.”

;;;

There was an urban legend from First Earth days that recommended a wayward sheep have one of its four legs broken and that for the duration of its healing, the animal was to be carried around the shoulders of its shepherd, so that it would learn the sound of the shepherd’s voice and never stray.

Digging through historical record finds this method to be fictitious, but it is, figuratively, what Admiral Erwin Smith plans to do for Levi Ackerman.

Erwin stands by patiently as the brig staff locate Levi’s personal belongings and those of his brother and sister, altogether still just a small satchel’s worth.

Levi follows as Erwin leads him into the officer’s quarters aboard the warship that will be home for a year, where he is given ownership of the tiny, secondary bedroom in Erwin’s apartment.

;;;

These days, even a murderer must be drafted for the sake of the Survey Corp, one more body to be thrown away in the pursuit of the HYMN Star System. Usually, it’s not an officer’s duty to concern themselves with the individual enlisted soldiers, much less the criminal conscripts. This particular criminal’s compulsory service is truly unstandard: the Admiral goes on a walk, a simple stroll around the brig, not an unordinary activity for the day before a Cruiser voyage; however, when he comes back, he is toting along a greasy, mangy, newly declared Private Ackerman, fresh from the Sina Worldship’s unsavoury, unsupervised underbelly.

Admiral Smith keeps the private at his side until after the Cruiser detaches from the Worldship, until there are no opportunities for escape in the vacuum of unadulterated space. To further cripple Ackerman’s independence, the Admiral does not have him issued a pass card. Without one, Ackerman has no privileges, no access to the chow hall or the lavatories, not even the ability to leave rooms or corridors or move between airlock zones. This way, like a broken-legged little lamb thrown carefully over Erwin’s shoulders; this way, in experience, Levi learns the daily schedule of the the Survey Corp. Admiral Smith does not shuck the lowest of his men for the luxuries his rank affords him: he trains alongside them, eats alongside them, never too rushed to turn away a question or to give reassurance.

Never too rushed, but still a very busy man. Erwin Smith retires to his room for a handful of hours every night, but the lack of sleep doesn’t seem unusual for Levi Ackerman.

Private Ackerman learns how to walk like a soldier, prance like an officer, and stride like an admiral in this way. He learns the various stances– ease, parade rest, attention– all things taught in the Basic Training Corp, through example. He learns procedure and expectations and the ways of military life with ease, so after a few weeks, Erwin mends Levi’s independence, issuing him a pass card and a bunk in the barracks.

;;;

Nudity is not the taboo that it was on First Earth. The rationing of resources means that communal bathing is a way of life. However, Erwin finds that Levi struggles with it, even after nearly six months. In fact, while Levi excels in all manner of fighting soldier, he falls short in the social and camaraderie aspects.

Many nights, Erwin sleepily stumbled back to his apartment to find Levi sitting outside of the door, knees tucked to his chest, waiting like a left-behind child. After it became an expected sight, Erwin relented and had Levi’s pass card authorised to enter his dwelling. Erwin has a small private bath afforded by his rank, and while he rather joins in with his soldiers in the lavatories, Levi makes good use of it in his place.

It starts a vicious rumour, of course, but Erwin is quick to dispel it believably. Being an orphan from the underbelly, it’s easy to say that Levi feels a kinship to him, that Erwin is but a father figure, that it’s a matter of hero worship. It quiets the gossip among the crew, but the civilians back home on the Worldship buzz with it.

Erwin lets his righteousness speak for itself, but Levi battles rumours with his fists. For the many disciplinary counsellings that are written, Erwin decides and creates a new rank: Corporal. It puts Levi outside of the enlisted jurisdiction and makes him accountable, effectively, only to the Admiral.

By the end of the year-long voyage, Levi is unofficially sharing the living space alongside Erwin. Levi is gone from Erwin’s side so little that Erwin can count the hours. He had thought that perhaps Levi would get bored of dragging on the heels of one person for long, but truly, Levi becomes an invaluable extension of himself.

;;;

“This is a no-return voyage,” Erwin says, three years after he picks Levi out of the brig and makes a soldier of him. “We’re on the doorstep on the HYMN system.”

Levi hums from his place on the study sofa. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest and his chin tucked in, as if he were sleeping. Erwin is not so easily deceived.

“I fear that my name will become a curse in our people.”

Another hum.

“Levi, you’re aware that Public Information claims that the second planet is uninhabited?”

The corporal cracks open an eyes and glances over. “Claims?”

“In the twelve hundred years since we set out from First Earth, we’ve been gathering new information. It appears that HYMN-2 is indeed populated by sentient beings.”

Levi shrugs. “Just don’t colonise that one.”

“This is my dilemma. To terraform the remaining planets of the system will tear too large a hole the atmosphere of HYMN-2 and kill everything. Repairing it isn’t an issue, but it takes approximately a day.”

“Yeah? And what brain dead scientist fed you that bullshit?”

“We’ve known this whole time.”

Levi finally opens his eyes and turns to face the admiral. “So this whole journey was based on hoping one perfect planet for sustaining life didn’t do just that?”

“We cannot go back. We cannot colonise HYMN-2, nor can we terraform the sister planets. No matter what choice I make, people will die, and I carry the responsibility of those deaths.”

Erwin hangs his head and rubs his temples, stilling when he feels Levi at his back, laying his cheek against the nape of Erwin’s neck. Slowly, softly, he says, “This is quite the dilemma, but I trust you.” Levi brings his hand around Erwin’s chest and forms a fist over Erwin’s heart, mimicking a salute.

“I will follow your every order.”

#eruri #penned

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nyxysabyss · 7 years

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LEVEL HORIZON; YEAR THREE 7/9; Unravel

Chapter 24!

Leaders become great, not because of power, but because of their ability to empower others. ~John Maxwell

Hajime Iwaizumi picks his way through the makeshift camp they’ve haphazardly set up in the dark, his mind in circling knots.

Everything has pretty much died down now, and he’s been seeking a place just to try and sort through his head, but everywhere is noisy. The sentries around him celebrate on a successful mission and he will have nothing but good remarks to bring back to the Grand King, but he can’t keep the nervous agitation from spurring his feet to find that one quiet place.

Finally giving up on success inside the rings of torchlight, he steps just outside of it, and is instantly relieved to find an ancient fallen tree, it’s roots having pulled up a large crater of earth. It hasn’t toppled completely and Hajime agilely springs up on the massive trunk, quietly awed at its size. It is wider than his wingspan, and ignoring the way it brings him farther from the safety of the camp, his steps take him up bare and weather bleached wood that glows lightly in the moonlight.

As he finds a place against a protruding branch perhaps ten or fifteen meters off the ground, he turns and settles against it facing the camp. He can still hear the occasional bustling movement or conversation floating up to him from the glowing fires he can see through the branches. He draws in a deep breath and leans his head back, his eyes drifting closed.

His limbs burn with exhaustion, and he’s spent from the day’s exertion and nerve wracking tension. He’d been woken an hour earlier than necessary by a messenger this morning; the sun hadn’t even begun to chase the gray of early morning out yet.

“Iwaizumi, Sir, you have an urgent raven that just came in at the aviary!”

He’d drug himself out of his bunk with a grunt and quickly tugged on clothes before following the kid out still half asleep.

But his mind had quickly picked up; there were five sentry units out on a snake raid for the last week… so far, updates had been steady and normal. But even if he had warned the beach crew, the sentries were still in that area.

Had something gone wrong?

Had the raven not reached Ukai in time and they’d caught the avian prince’s group? Had it been intercepted? Had someone in Sheru Bay let it slip? Or had they just found another snake cell? Maybe thirty different scenarios had run through his head by the time he’d reached the aviary, each as nerve wracking as the last.

The actual message had nearly sent him to his knees in shock.

He’d stared at it for several seconds until the messenger kid had asked him what it said. He’d blinked at the boy stupidly before turning and sprinting his way to the Grand King’s private quarters as fast as he could.

“Sir! Permission to mobilize units, sir.” He’d said, out of breath. The Grand King had looked up at him from a bit of parchment with a brow raised in surprise.

“You’re awfully chipper so early in the morning, Iwa. You look like you just rolled out of bed, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this awake before.” Hajime had clenched his teeth to keep from rolling his eyes.

“Sir. Permission to—”

“Mobilize units, yes. Whatever for, Iwa?”

Hajime had debated for all of two seconds before handing the message to the grand king. Hajime didn’t need to hear it when the Grand King read it out loud; the words were already seared into his head.

“Massive snake nest five leagues west of Ivoya. Four to five hundred. Bring the house, Iwa, party is at sundown on Moku. Feathers is about to do something stupid.” The Grand King had looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s not signed.”

“It’s my informant.” He’d said haltingly.

“The one you told me about who keeps tipping you off?”

“Yes.”

“Iwa.” Hajime had tensed slightly at the direct address.

“Yes, sir.”

“Why does he use the name I call you by?” The Grand King had asked with an arched brow and a deceptively pacifistic voice. Hajime had gone rigid.

“That’s the alias I gave him. It’s how I know it’s from him.” He’d lied.

“Is there a reason for that? I don’t bestow such things on just anyone.” Tooru had asked, leaning forward, and a snap of irritation had sent Hajime’s rational thoughts running, likely easing him from the Grand King’s critical eye at the same time.

“Because he’s insufferable.” He’d groused. A slight smirk had tipped the rookery leader’s mouth.

“That was uncalled for, Iwa. Who is Feathers?”

Your idiot kid.

“My contact.” Another lie… sort of. Kageyama was a contact… just not the one who’d sent the message. The Grand King had fixed him with a skeptical look.

“This guy seems pretty odd, Iwa.”

“His information has never been wrong and he’s been invaluable to our cause so far. I would like to help him.” He’d said, not sure if he’d completely been able to hide the scowl.

Actually, no, he didn’t really want to help the avian heir, but he couldn’t in good conscience, leave him to fend for himself when the cat of all people, was asking.

“You are unusually motivated today, Iwa.” The Grand King had remarked, his eyes a touch more serious than the bantering words. The sentry leader had known the rookery king was assessing him.Hajime had walked up to him and dropped the other piece of paper that had come with the raven next to his breakfast.

“He handed me the keys to the nest and not only told me how many snakes are in it, but how to take it as well. We aren’t usually gifted with such information and I think it would be foolish not to use it. Rescuing my idiotic contact is just a bonus.” He’d murmured. The Grand King had frowned down at the paper.

“Is this…?”

“The nest layout, complete with nearly half the buildings marked along with notes on entry points and tactics. There are strategies on here that we’ve never thought to use against snakes; if we can take down a nest this size, they might send more information like this.” He’d said and the Grand King’s dark eyes had cut up to him.

“They?” Hajime had nodded.

“This isn’t— Feathers’ handwriting.” He’d said, pointing to the graceful scratches on the blueprint and nearly slipping over the name. “I think he’s drawing on his network of people to get us more information.”

The Grand King had studied the mapped-out nest for several moments, his gaze flickering across it in calculating thought before he’d sat back and looked at him balefully.

“In order to take on four or five hundred snakes, you’d need a force that could rival that. How many units are we talking here, Iwa.” He’d said.

“Half of them.” He’d tried, knowing the answer before it was given.

“Denied.”

“We wouldn’t pull them all from here, sir. We need a reasonable number to stay back to protect the rookery.” He’d argued all the same. He’d needed as many as he could get; he’d known that if he’d gotten the rookery leader to agree, he’d only get a portion of what he’d asked for, so he’d aimed unrealistically high in the hope to maximize that number when the Grand King returned with a counter.

“That is an awful lot of lives to gamble on one informant.” He’d said with a frown, and Hajime’d felt like he might lose the chance altogether. He’d straightened, adopting a sterile expression and tone.

“Permission to speak freely.” He’d said and the Grand King’s eyebrow had risen once more.

“Granted.”

“Your substantial personality flaws aside, you are, for whatever reason, an exceptional king, sir—”

“Did you just call me a crappy person?”

“— and I will always do as you command. You ask my thoughts and I will always voice them—”

“You do that when I don’t ask.”

“— but I will always leave the final decision to you. I don’t believe I have ever lodged a formal request, but I would like to do so now. Please take half the units to Ivoya.” He’d finished, ignoring the Grand King’s interjections.

“You are determined today, Iwa. What has lit a fire under your feathers?” He’d asked curiously and Hajime had stared him down.

“Do you trust me sir?” He’d asked instead of answering the rookery leader.

“That depends. Are you commanding my units or designing my wardrobe? Because if it’s the latter—”

“Do you trust me?” Hajime had cut him off with a deep frown, because, dammit, he was serious.

The Grand King had looked up at him with contemplation, his light features leveling into sincerity. Seeing the direct expression when he was so used to Tooru’s fabricated geniality had made the look seem almost cold.

“More than anyone else, Iwa.” He’d said quietly, nearly stunning Hajime off his feet. After swallowing hard twice he’d finally found his voice.

“Take them to Ivoya.” He’d said, sounding somehow scratchy even to himself.

He’d had to get them there somehow. If it had taken breaking and telling the rookery leader everything in order to do it… Hajime knew he would have, because Tobio needed to live. The Grand King had drawn a large breath and let it out in a tired sigh.

“Alright, Iwa.” He’d finally said, sounding somehow defeated. Hajime had blinked.

“Seriously?” The rookery leader had flashed him a sarcastic smile that somehow looked forced.

“Seriously.” He’d said with a smirk, parroting the word Hajime had used. “But...”

… Of course, there was a ‘but’.

The air had left Hajime’s chest and his brow had drawn down into a scowl.

“And here come the terms. What ridiculous thing do I have to promise to get this?” He’d grumbled and the Grand King had grinned true.

“Why, since you are offering, I will have to think of something.” He’d said with a laugh before fixing him with a firm look. “But I will not be going, Iwa. And you can’t have half.” Hajime’s brow had creased in confusion.

“Not going?” He’d echoed.

“No.”

“Then who is going to lead them?” He’d asked uncertainly.

“You will. This is your brain child, Iwa, I shall have no part in it.” Hajime would probably have needed a shovel to pick his jaw up off the floor, and he’d swallowed hard.

“I don’t think—”

“You may have forty percent, and fully half must stay here. Ivoya is a good ten-hour hard flight and this is supposed to go down tonight. You will be hard pressed to get things together and make it there on time. You might want to get on that, Iwa.”

Hajime had stared at him for several moments, trying to process what he’d just said. And as his mind had started turning again, he’d rapidly begun calculating distances and time.

“The rest of the units were supposed to stop over about four hours out last night on their way back. If I get a messenger out to them in the next half hour, they should meet up and have enough time to get there. If we can congregate a few leagues shy of Ivoya, we should be able to keep our presence fairly well masked for the interim before an offensive. They’ve been prone to using crossbow bolts, so I think at least base armor would be wise. I would like to take the veterans who’ve had experience with them sir. Each of them is seasoned enough to take out more than one snake, so that would help with our disadvantage in numbers.”

“It sounds like you have everything all mapped out already, Iwa.” He’d said with a smirk, but Hajime had shaken his head.

“It’s not… I don’t think we’d have any problem overrunning a nest like this during the day, but I think it’s going to be far more challenging in the dark. Snakes don’t need light to see— we do.” The Grand King’s head had tilted slightly in amusement.

“If it really is a surprise for them, I don’t think that will have as great an impact. If you are really worried about visibility, start setting buildings on fire— give yourself more light. They might also have a much harder time finding you if they have a blinding inferno to contend with as well. Just know that once you raze a building, it tends to alert everyone.”

Hajime had realized then, exactly how inexperienced he was with serious warfare. The Grand King was exceptional at avoiding confrontation if possible, but when the need arose, he could be ruthless and methodical to maximize the chances for his side. Really, he had such a well of strategic knowledge to call upon—a well that Hajime woefully lacked.

“You really think it wise to leave this in my hands? I don’t even know if the other units will listen to me.” He’d said.

“The very fact that you hesitate means you consider their lives in high regard and will not throw them away on a whim. It means you will do everything in your power to see them safe. Take my seal for the missive you send with your messenger, if you are concerned. I don’t think it will be as difficult as you fear. I believe in you Iwaizumi… and so will they.” He’d said, holding out the small metal die. Hajime had taken it with numb fingers, completely floored by the power he’d just been handed.

There had been no way he’d been ready for that responsibility. Damn you, Feathers.

“I hope I do not disappoint, sir.” He’d said mechanically with a bow.

“Good Luck, Iwa. And oh! I’ve thought of what ridiculous promise I shall exact from you.” The Grand King had said with one of his cheesiest grins. Hajime had blinked at him owlishly.

“What would that be?” He’d grumbled, almost cringing at the mere idea of how absurd the request would be.

“You must promise to come back.” He’d said, the playful banter sliding from his face, and Hajime had blanked.

“What? Why wouldn’t I—”

“Do not die out there, Iwa. It would be lonelier than I could bear without you around...and I would never find out what secret it is that you are keeping.”

Hajime opens his eyes, his gaze lingering on the bonfire glow that used to be the snake nest.

Everything had gone off without a hitch. The units Hajime had led from the rookery had met up with those returning from the snake raid in the east a couple leagues south of Ivoya; a songbird scout had confirmed the location of the nest as the sun was starting to set. He’d conferred with all unit leaders, showing them the layout of the nest and diplomatically soliciting their thoughts. They’d attacked just after dark, Hajime taking the Grand King’s advice and torching buildings so they had the advantage of sight.

It had been over in a half hour, the nest completely overrun and the surviving snakes scattering into the darkness. He’d scored his first major military command victory against unfavorable numbers, and he’d done it soaringly. And yet…

Damn you, Tobio. Hajime had no desire to lead, either.

“You’re far more approachable when you leave yourself open like this.”

Hajime jars sharply, his entire body flinching. He spins in place to see a mismatched gaze, short wild locks, and the outline of slouching shoulders he knows all too well leaning against the next branch over.

“Well that’s a softer reaction than the first time I showed up in the rookery. Or the second. The second might have been worse, actually.” The black cat says with a smirk.

“Oh, for the love of— it’s a goddamn rookery, cats aren’t supposed to be anywhere in it, not to mention it’ll be my fucking hide if you’re ever caught. Where the hell did you come from, anyway?” He grouses saltily. The black cat smirks and jerks a thumb over his shoulder.

“Further up the tree.” Hajime huffs in annoyance and rubs a temple with his fingers.

“Forget I asked. Is he alive?” Hajime mutters sullenly.

“He is. Next time you see him, he owes you a debt of gratitude. We’d never have made it out without you.”

“Glad to hear it. We never saw any of you.” He says flatly and the cat shrugs.

“That’s because we weren’t here.” Hajime’s jaw drops.

“You weren’t here? You had me come crush a nest with an impossible deadline and you weren’t here?!” He spits, white hot anger zapping his limbs to life.

“Just boosting your military career, Iwa. The correct response would be ‘thank you’.” The cat says blandly and Hajime’s arm whips out and latches onto his shirt, fully intending to punch him. A flicker of irritation slips through Kuroo’s features.

“Relax, Crow. We were a league north at their holding point.” Thoughts of swinging at the cat die.

“Holding point?” He echoes.

“When you get the chance, take a small group and head that way. You will find a compound of like five buildings up against the river gorge. Inside one will be a set of stairs that leads underground. Use caution since there were still a couple snakes there when we left, but you’ll find many people who will be happy to see you.”

Hajime blinks slowly. He had wondered why they hadn’t really found any captives in the nest.

“Which one of you got caught?” He asks with a frown. The cat shakes his head.

“Doesn’t matter, we retrieved them. How did your ranks fare?” He asks and Hajime thinks he might hear a note of sincere contrition in the question. The crow looks away.

“Eight casualties. Another forty-seven injured.” The cat whistles low.

“Impressive. Far better than I’d have thought… but I’m going to assume you anticipate that first number rising.”

Hajime doesn’t answer. Venom does awful things to people; he’s been lucky enough to never have experienced it, but he’s gotten to see it firsthand. The cat clears his throat and glances toward the nest.

“Gotta hand it to you, Bird— I kinda like what you’ve done with the place. Although, it was a bitch going through burning buildings searching for medical supplies.” Hajime’s head tilts in bafflement.

“Medical supplies?” The cat eyes him a little skeptically.

“Ain’t you supposed to be a crow? That’s the second time you’ve mimicked me like a parrot.” He says with a crease of annoyance before reaching into his shirt to pull something out.

“I’ll have you know I nearly lost an eyebrow for these.” He says and Hajime realizes they are small bottles. The cat holds up one.

“Pay careful attention to the symptoms. If their heart is racing and they are seeing double, it’s mamushi. This one is for that.” He says handing him the first one and holding up another. Hajime blinks.

“You found these in a snake nest?” He asks dumbfoundedly and the cat throws him a look of irritation.

“Most of ‘em might be more resistant to poisons but enough are still nonvenomous that they keep these on hand in the event of a brawl or something. Focus, Iwa.

“If the venom entry point is swelling and they are passing out with blue fingertips, it’s habu. These are the two most likely venoms you will see here… but we did see a third that isn’t generally as common.” He continues with a frown, passing Hajime the second bottle.

“Those two look similar, but don’t mix them up. Give the wrong one and it makes things worse.” Hajime blinks and makes sure to reiterate their names in his head and keep them straight.

“If… they are bleeding from the mouth, nose, or eyes for no obvious reason, it’s yamakagashi. This is the antivenom, but use it with care. If there is any other venom besides yamakagashi in the system, this kills the victim. If the bleeding isn’t bad, you can try treating for the others first and see if they will pull through the yamakagashi on their own.” He says with an introspective look that Hajime doesn’t miss as he hands that one over, too. An eyebrow creeps up his forehead.

“Someone got that one.” He says and the cat’s dual eyes flash his way before flickering off again.

“Yeah.”

“Who?” Nervousness curls in his gut as Kuroo frowns, a pained look breaking across his face. It’s surreal seeing the cat lose his easy composure in front of him. It hammers home just how much this man cares about the former unit.

“The thrush.”

“Sugawara?” He asks with surprise and Kuroo nods once.

“Did he…?”

“Everyone was still alive when I left them a little while ago… but Suga... it doesn’t look good.” The black-haired man says heavily. Hajime frowns and looks away. A dying thrush isn’t their only problem.

“Kuroo.” He says, the name feeling strange in his mouth. The cat glances at him with his uneven gaze. “The Grand King knows I’m keeping things from him. Can you guys at least try to control your desire to shorten my life? I might have been able to pull it off this time, but I’m not a miracle worker.”

“No promises, but I’m pretty sure everyone will be happy to swear off adventures like these for a while. But I had better get back and see if I still have the same number of companions I left with. Stay safe, Iwa. And thanks for saving our hides.” He says and pushes off his branch and heads down the tree. He pauses three steps out and turns back.

“Oh. And if you happen to capture a fox somewhere in the middle of this snake mess, he’s critical so don’t kill him if you can help it.”

“A fox.” Hajime deadpans.

“Yep. You’ll know him when you meet him. Good luck, Crow.”

“Good luck, Cat.” Hajime mimics petulantly as he disappears.

He just asked him to control his unruly group of brats, not add another to the mix. He glances down to the bottles in his hands with a scowl. It melts into contemplation as he reiterates which ones are for which venom and repeats the symptoms for each. He draws a deep breath and lets it out with a sigh before heading back down the tree for camp and the infirmary.

The cat probably has no idea what a gift he’s given Hajime. Or maybe he does and has finally decided to trust the sentry leader enough after this crazy stunt to share such an advantage. It’s a blessing in the middle of the crisis that is the Grand King’s suspicion, because the crow now has the power to potentially save even more lives. His gaze sliding toward the north with speculation, he remembers the faces of those he’s already lost and smiles ruefully, wishing he’d had it sooner.

Level Pair ; Chapter 1; Chapter 23; Chapter 25

A/N: So... Iwaizumi's facing challenges from both sides AND he's being forced into a role he's uncomfortable with. Hold out a little longer there Iwa-chan.

It's been great so far guys; just a reminder that there will be no update tomorrow (Thursday) evening. Thank you all for sticking with me and have a marvelous night guys!

#level pair #level horizon #haikyuu!!#iwaizumi hajime #kuroo tetsurou #oikawa tooru #fanfiction #long post

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