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voiceless-terror · 3 years

Note

Hey! If your still taking prompts I would love one where the season 1 crew finds out about Mr. Spider. Any scenario is awesome, but if you need ideas- Jon having a panic attack over a spider, or maybe one of the others losing it on Jon over his skepticism and Jon just breaks down, maybe he snaps at Martin particularly hard for a lecture on spiders when it’s a Bad Day. Anyway, thanks, and no pressure! Writing is hardTM

Hi there! I actually tried to incorporate as many of the bits from your prompt as I could- you’ll have to tell me if I succeeded. Hope you like! :)

Jon’s never had his own office before. Just a desk or a cubicle, a study carrel where he could bury his head in a book and avoid prying eyes. But now he has an office- surprisingly spacious, cluttered as it is. It’s nice for privacy. But it has its drawbacks- specifically, a very mundane one.

People knock.

It’s common courtesy, of course. It is polite to knock. Martin’s is tentative, three soft raps against the door. Tim’s is a booming ‘Shave and a Haircut,’ irritating and playful.

Sasha’s is a brisk knock knock. No time or gesture wasted. Just knock knock. Simple, unassuming. It shouldn’t bother anyone.

After one week, Jon starts leaving his door open. It’s easier.

Today Martin peers around the doorway, a brief nod in Jon’s direction as he lifts his head from the statement on his desk. No smile, no question of how he’s doing. I deserve that, Jon supposes. Yesterday, he’d caught the tail end of Martin’s mumbling about his ‘ridiculous skepticism’ to Tim and promptly blew up, spitting insults over his research methods and incompetence. It was not his finest hour. By the end of it, Martin looked rightfully hurt and upset, and Tim just shook his head in disappointment as Jon barricaded himself in his office, this time closing the door.

Still, Martin brings him tea. Jon doesn’t know what to do with the feeling that stirs in him.

He moves softly, trying to make as little noise as possible as he sets the steaming mug down on the corner of his desk. Jon turns to him, ready to at least provide a thank you and a half-hearted apology when he sees it out of the corner of his eye.

A spider.

Just sitting there, staring at him from its perch inches away from the mug. The basement’s littered with them, unsurprisingly. Still, he can’t stifle the yelp of fear and disgust that tears its way out of his throat. His hands automatically grab at the nearest weapon - a particularly heavy tome- and his arms rear back, ready to strike. He isn’t expecting a strong hand to wrap around his forearm, stopping him in place.

It’s Martin’s hand. He knows it’s Martin’s hand. But that desperate, childish part of his mind that he tries to keep locked away is screaming black-spindly-leg- spider, it’s a spider, it’s a spider-

“Don’t touch me!” It’s a screech, louder than he meant it to be as he wrenches his arm out of the grip, chair hitting the wall with the force of the motion. Martin’s talking and Jon can barely hear because the spider is there, just sitting and staring and watching-

“I’m sorry! You shouldn’t kill it, though. I’ll bring it outside. C’mere.” Martin’s coaxing the thing into his hand, like it’s not monstrous, like it’s fine. “See? Nothing to worry about!”

Nothing to worry about, Martin says. It’s hard to reconcile that with the tightness in his chest, the quickening breaths that don’t seem to get him much air at all. Martin’s giving him a concerned look, edging closer as if to comfort him but that thing’s still in his hand, why is it still in his hand? He flinches, barely aware of the litany he’s muttering under his breath- please please don’t touch me.

There’s more people in the room, now. When did Sasha and Tim arrive? Why are they looking at him? Martin’s mouth moves but Jon hears nothing, just watches with wild eyes as Sasha ushers him out of the room as soon as she sees the spider. But he can still feel it’s crawling legs all over- light now, not strong. Just a teasing torment. He itches at his skin, fingernails digging into the worn sweater as if trying to reach bone. Tim’s moving forward, hands out as if he means to touch- can’t he hear what Jon’s saying? Why won’t they listen?

“...not going to touch you, I promise. But you have to breathe slower...going to pass out.”

He tries to focus on Tim’s breathing, the exaggerated rise and fall of his chest barely visible through his blackening vision. Tim nods encouragingly and Jon’s heartbeat lowers incrementally as he’s finally able to get a few deep breaths in, labored as they are. He doesn’t know how long they sit there for.

“Good job, boss.” Tim’s smiling but really, there’s nothing to smile about. All Jon feels now is a bone-deep exhaustion; he doesn’t even have the energy to summon embarrassment. He nods at Tim’s hands when they finally approach, letting himself be pulled to his feet though Tim takes most of his weight.

“There’s a cot in the back of document storage,” Martin’s back, worry clear in his voice. The spider’s gone. Maybe Sasha killed it after Martin let it go. She didn’t like them much either. “Might be more comfortable back there.”

“He’s got a cot here, really?” Tim’s voice isn’t directed at him. “We’re going to have a talk about that.” It’s like he’s not in the room. It’s nice, in a detached sort of way. Jon’s not one for talking right now.

“I’m sorry,” Martin’s apologizing to him, or maybe around him. He doesn’t like causing scenes, Jon thinks. “I didn’t realize it was that bad, or I wouldn’t have-”

“It’s fine,” Sasha’s saying from behind him. “It’s not like Jon comes with a user manual. We learned that the hard way.”

“Just maybe let him kill the spiders from now on,” Tim says as he deposits Jon on the cot, frowning at his refusal to lie down. He doesn’t need a nap, just a short rest. He might close his eyes. He hasn’t decided yet.

Martin’s still talking. “...And that fight, yesterday. I shouldn’t have said those things, set him off-”

“They were true, and Jon was being awful to you. You know his moods-”

Jon wants to interrupt. Wants to tell Martin he’s sorry, that he shouldn’t have yelled. That he didn’t mean (most of) those things he said, that being called out on his dismissals makes him feel even smaller. That's how he copes, by lashing out and sniping. What comes out instead is slurred, and altogether more revealing than he would have liked.

“I read a book, once.”

Tim pauses on his way out the door, presumably to get Jon water or a granola bar or something else he didn’t need. “What was that, boss?”

“A book.” His voice gets louder, and Martin and Sasha go silent. It’s nice when they listen. Jon goes on. “I was eight or so, I don’t know. It was a stupid, childish thing, but it was horrible. A-” he stops here, pauses to take another shaky breath “-A Guest for Mr. Spider. From the library of-”

“Jurgen Leitner.” Sasha finishes, staring at him with unblinking, curious eyes. She loves a good story, nosy thing she is. Jon likes that about her when it comes to research, and not other things. He nods.

“It felt wrong. Violent. I hated it. You would’ve too, if you saw it.” If Martin read it, Jon wonders, briefly, maybe he would hate them too. “And it wasn’t just a book. It should have been- should have been just a stupid, scary little story about a spider and a fly. But it wasn’t.” He doesn’t want to say the specific words. Doesn’t want to speak the book back into existence, as if the very mention would make it manifest. “He was real, in the end. Mr. Spider. He was real, but he didn’t get me. He got- he got someone else.”

Jon doesn’t cry. He thinks he should, but he doesn’t. “I’ve forgotten his name, you know? The one he took. I don’t think I could place him in a crowd, not even if I tried. Not that I could. He’s dead, has to be. He wasn’t a nice person- a bully, really. But he was just a kid. A kid who had the unfortunate luck to have met me.”

He feels oddly calm, even as his three assistants stare on in horror (and fascination, in Sasha’s case. There’s a strange tightness in Tim’s face that Jon can’t quite figure out). He turns his gaze to Martin, because he’s not done yet. He needs him to know why. “The statements, the tapes- I-I don’t know where to begin. It’s like I’m not even talking. It’s like living it. And I can’t do anything about it.” Martin’s face softens to something like sympathy, but he still doesn’t understand. “The follow-up- those are my words. They’re the only words I have control over.” Words have meaning. Words have power. Jon read a monster into existence and it devoured someone whole. What else will he do, given the chance? Given the right words? “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled.”

Martin doesn’t say anything. Jon doesn’t blame him- whatever he was expecting, it certainly wasn’t Jon’s childhood trauma. He’s probably revealed too much.

“That’s…” It’s Tim who’s speaking, his tone unreadable as he draws a hand across his face in sudden exhaustion. “Okay. Take a break, boss. A nap or something. You look like you’re going to collapse.” Jon feels it. “We can talk later. About... all of this. It’s uh, good to know, though. Thanks- thanks for telling us.” The words seem genuine, although his face is oddly hard and serious. Jon nods, finally allowing his eyes to close as he leans into the lumpy, uncomfortable mattress. Someone draws a blanket over him, but he doesn’t know who.

“Sorry. I’ll, ah, kill the spiders from now on. Just in case they’re the bad ones, yeah?”

Martin, then.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27700379

#prompts #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #tim stoker #martin blackwood #sasha james #good ol' mr. spider #cw panic attacks #back on my 'what if they all talked' train #Anonymous

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fanficshiddles · 4 years

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Caught in his web, Chapter 11

‘PLEASE! I will pay you back the money I took from the company. Please, don’t hurt me. Please.’ John sobbed, Ethan and Samuel still had a firm grip on his shoulders to keep him down.

Chloe was a bit confused when Loki started removing his tie, but the way he was holding it and flexing it, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what he was going to do.

‘My… my wife will come after you. If you do this, she won’t stop until she gets revenge. She isn’t to be messed with!’ He blurted out quickly, trying a different tactic.

Loki chuckled as he stepped closer to him. ‘Neither am I. And if she does, then you will be seeing her a lot sooner than you think.’ He grinned wickedly.

Chloe started crying as the scene unfolded on front of her. She was absolutely petrified.

Loki wrapped his tie around Johns neck and started to strangle him. John tried to get away, to struggle, but Loki managed to move with him and simply pulled the tie even harder. John tried to grab the tie, but he couldn’t get a good grip of it.

Chloe closed her eyes, she couldn’t bear to see anymore. Just the sound alone was bad enough. She could hear John struggling for breath, then she heard the dreaded thud. And she knew that he was dead…

She slowly opened her eyes and started screaming hysterically through the gag. Loki glanced over at her and smirked. He then turned back to the man, dead on the floor. ‘Sort him out.’ He said to Ethan and Samuel.

The two men dragged John’s body out of the office and into the lift. Normally Loki would wait until after hours to move a body, but he didn’t want the body to remain in the office while he dealt with Chloe. He had a feeling she would be traumatised enough now.

Loki took his time putting his tie back on and he strolled over to Chloe, a calm look about him. She couldn’t believe how easily he had just killed another human being. He was acting like it had been nothing.

She was shaking like a leaf and trying not to make eye contact with him at all. Whilst she had heard rumours about him, she had still been slightly dubious as to how true they were… Until now.

He noticed she wasn’t looking at him when he approached her, almost like she was treating him like he was some viscous dog that you didn’t want to look in the eye for fear of being mauled. But he made her look at him when he gripped her chin and raised her head up. He used his thumbs to wipe her tears off her cheeks.

‘Now now, no need for tears.’ He reached round and unclasped the ball gag, her jaw was aching when it fell from her mouth. But she didn’t say anything, just hung her head down and was glad for her hair covering her face.

Loki untied her from the chair, though she didn’t move. She was too scared to do anything. But Loki had other ideas for her. He grabbed her upper arm and pulled her to her feet, then he walked her to his desk.

‘Take off your clothes.’ He demanded.

She looked up at him through her tears and blinked a few times, trying to focus. Did she really hear him right?

‘I won’t tell you again. Take off your clothes.’ Loki demanded, untying his tie again.

Chloe’s chest felt tight as she started to panic, was he going to kill her now? She started to back away but Loki was quick and grabbed her. She was turned around and bent over his desk, the action reminded her of when he first took her on the dining table.

She felt his tie, the very same tie that had just strangled a man to death, wrap around her wrists and they were securely bound behind her back. He moved her further up onto the desk, so her feet were dangling up off the floor, making her feel even more helpless.

Loki pressed a firm hand to the back of her neck, holding her down over his desk. He flipped up her dress and tore off her rather flimsy knickers.

‘After dealing with some business, it’s always fun to get a release afterwards.’ He groaned and leaned over her body, so his breath was against her neck. ‘And how lucky am I that I have you here with me this morning.’

Chloe was crying and trembling while he assaulted her. She tried to ignore the cool feeling of his leather gloves when they slid up and down her thighs, she didn’t bother trying to struggle because she knew it would only end in her losing anyway.

Her eyes went wide when he started touching her, it was a weird feeling with the gloves. He took his time, massaging her folds and then slowly sliding over her clit. She did her best to ignore it, to try and block it all out. But her damn body started to betray her, she started to become aroused for this murderer.

Loki smirked evilly when he slid his finger down and gathered up a reasonable amount of arousal that he then used to glide across her clit smoothly. He had discovered over the week that her clit was highly sensitive, so he used that to his advantage.

Chloe bit down hard on her tongue, she was going to do her best to keep quiet. As soon as she started making any kind of noise, he would know that he’d won. She was going to do her best to not let that happen. But it became increasingly difficult with every stroke of leather on her clit. And it got so much worse when he then inserted two fingers inside of her.

Oddly, the leather felt far too good against her inner walls. Especially on her g spot. Loki chuckled darkly when she couldn’t hold back a whimper any longer.

‘That’s it, good girl. Let me hear you.’ He purred, leaning down to nibble on her earlobe. Knowing she wasn’t going to try anything, he released her neck from his solid grip.

He worked her up nicely to an orgasm that shook her right through to her bones, her toes curled in the pleasure and she started trembling again but this time because of the orgasm that took over her body.

‘Beautiful.’ Loki slowed down his stroking and pulled his fingers out. His gloves were glistening nicely from her juices. He couldn’t resist sucking them clean before continuing.

He moved in behind her, glad when she kept still and didn’t try to get away. Not that she could easily move, anyway.

After unzipping his trousers and pulling out his cock, he pushed into her with ease. She was more than ready to take him and the delightful moan that he got from her only made him even more pleased with himself.

Chloe was completely conquered, she just lay there like a doll and took the pounding that Loki gave her. It did feel good, her body was accepting him in with great excitement. Even if her mind wasn’t entirely on board.

Loki grunted in her ear, the sound was undeniably erotic and added to her pleasure, much to her dismay. But she let out a squeak when he lifted her up and stood back from the desk, she was impaled on his cock and it felt like he was in her stomach.

‘Oh god!’ She cried out, eyes rolling back in her head.

Loki held her tightly to him as he moved back and sat down on his chair, with her on his lap. He gripped her hips and started moving her up and down on him. He slid one of his hands down her front and couldn’t resist stroking her clit that was easily accessible to him in that position.

Chloe started sobbing because it all felt SO GOOD. But it was so wrong, she did NOT want him to be in there and touching there… But then why was her body squeezing and holding onto him like he was her lifeline… And why was she now moving on her own accord, bouncing up and down on his cock…

Her hands were squashed between her back and his front, but she was able to grab his shirt tightly, just needing something, anything, to hold onto for the ride.

Loki knew he had her with the way she started moving, joining in with the fucking he gave her. And when he felt her walls squeezing around his cock, that was his undoing. He held her hips down tightly, keeping her as deep as he possibly could while he exploded inside her, making them both see stars.

When Samuel and Ethan returned, they found Loki straightening his clothes and Chloe was on the floor by his desk, shaking and looking absolutely terrified. Her make-up was smudged from her crying and her dress was in a bit of a mess, it was quite obvious what had happened.

‘Has he been dealt with?’ Loki asked.

‘Yes, boss. Do you want Nelson to pull up round back?’ Ethan asked.

Loki looked down at Chloe. ‘No. I don’t think she will be giving us any trouble.’ He reached down and stroked his hand down her cheek, then he cupped her chin. ‘Will you, doll?’

Chloe said nothing but she shook her head.

She stayed where she was until Loki was ready a few minutes later, he then grabbed her arm and pulled her up to her feet. He hooked her chin and had her look at him. He could tell by the look in her eyes, he had finally broken her.

‘Let’s go home.’

Chloe’s body felt numb, she didn’t know how her legs were working as she walked to the lift with Loki. He had a hand around her arm, supporting her and making sure she didn’t try to run. Though he knew she wouldn’t now.

No one paid them any attention when they walked out of the building. Nelson was waiting by the car and opened the door for them as always. As soon as Chloe got into the car, she huddled herself into the corner and tried to make herself as small as possible, away from Loki.

She closed her eyes and tried her best to imagine she was somewhere else. Anywhere else but with him.

#Loki #Tom Hiddleston #caught in his web #fan fiction #au!Loki

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imagine-loki · 4 years

Text

Caught in his web, Chapter 11

TITLE: Caught in his web CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 11 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki is a crime lord, a very dangerous man in the city. He is owed money, but the man is unable to pay Loki back, so Loki takes his daughter as payment instead. RATING: M

‘PLEASE! I will pay you back the money I took from the company. Please, don’t hurt me. Please.’ John sobbed, Ethan and Samuel still had a firm grip on his shoulders to keep him down.

Chloe was a bit confused when Loki started removing his tie, but the way he was holding it and flexing it, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what he was going to do.

‘My… my wife will come after you. If you do this, she won’t stop until she gets revenge. She isn’t to be messed with!’ He blurted out quickly, trying a different tactic.

Loki chuckled as he stepped closer to him. ‘Neither am I. And if she does, then you will be seeing her a lot sooner than you think.’ He grinned wickedly.

Chloe started crying as the scene unfolded on front of her. She was absolutely petrified.

She was shaking like a leaf and trying not to make eye contact with him at all. Whilst she had heard rumours about him, she had still been slightly dubious as to how true they were… Until now.

‘Take off your clothes.’ He demanded.

She looked up at him through her tears and blinked a few times, trying to focus. Did she really hear him right?

‘I won’t tell you again. Take off your clothes.’ Loki demanded, untying his tie again.

Loki pressed a firm hand to the back of her neck, holding her down over his desk. He flipped up her dress and tore off her rather flimsy knickers.

Oddly, the leather felt far too good against her inner walls. Especially on her g spot. Loki chuckled darkly when she couldn’t hold back a whimper any longer.

‘That’s it, good girl. Let me hear you.’ He purred, leaning down to nibble on her earlobe. Knowing she wasn’t going to try anything, he released her neck from his solid grip.

‘Beautiful.’ Loki slowed down his stroking and pulled his fingers out. His gloves were glistening nicely from her juices. He couldn’t resist sucking them clean before continuing.

He moved in behind her, glad when she kept still and didn’t try to get away. Not that she could easily move, anyway.

‘Oh god!’ She cried out, eyes rolling back in her head.

Her hands were squashed between her back and his front, but she was able to grab his shirt tightly, just needing something, anything, to hold onto for the ride.

‘Has he been dealt with?’ Loki asked.

‘Yes, boss. Do you want Nelson to pull up round back?’ Ethan asked.

Loki looked down at Chloe. ‘No. I don’t think she will be giving us any trouble.’ He reached down and stroked his hand down her cheek, then he cupped her chin. ‘Will you, doll?’

Chloe said nothing but she shook her head.

‘Let’s go home.’

She closed her eyes and tried her best to imagine she was somewhere else. Anywhere else but with him.

#Loki #Others #Submitted fic #submission #caught in his web #chapter 11 #fanfichiddles

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bamby0304 · 5 years

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With Wolves- Ch.29

Series Masterlist

Bamby’s Masterlist

Summary: Known as The Omen, your reputation puts fear in some of the most dangerous and deadly Alphas. So when you’re caught and sent to the worst maximum security facility unknown to man, no one expected an unclaimed Omega to walk through the gates in shackles and an orange jumpsuit. Word circulates, and before long there’s a price on your head. Who will claim the untamed Omega?

A/N: Thank you @sculptorofbeginnings, @kittenofdoomage and @crispychrissy for looking the chapter over :):) xx

Warnings: Explicit language. A/B/O dynamics. Heat. Violence. Angst. Death. Bit of a time jump. Medical stuff. Fluff.

Bamby

“Now, is that anyway to talk to a lady?”

Both you and Ketch turned to the doorway and froze.

Standing there, in the usual long, dark coat that covered their equally black suit, was your boss. What was a little unusual about the sight of him, was seeing the gun in his hand as he kept it pointed at Ketch.

“Who the fuck are you?” Ketch snarled.

Your boss shrugged. “I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you… more pressing issues at hand and all.” His head tilted in your direction, to remind Ketch that he had bigger fish to fry at the moment.

Ketch shifted on the spot, suddenly unsure. If he tried to attack you, would the new comer shoot? If he tried to run, would they shoot? What could he do that wouldn’t get him shot?

Sighing, your boss checked his watch impatiently. “Y/N, darling, times ticking. Do you need me to deal with this wanker?”

“No.” You shook your head, moving across the room. “He’s mine,” you stated as you reached for Ketch’s gun as it lay on the ground, abandoned.

Ignoring your boss as he shrugged and let you do your thing- while keeping watch to have your back- you started towards Ketch again. His eyes darted from you, to your boss, and then back, clear uncertainty in his eyes. Still, despite the fact his options were dwindling by the second, he was trying to weigh his chances and figure out his next move.

There was only one more move for him.

“On your knees,” you ordered, lifting the gun to aim it at Ketch’s face.

He scoffed and refused to move, but a flicker in his gaze let you know it was all bravado. He was scared.

You cocked the gun. “Get on your fucking knees, before I shoot you in each and make you kneel.”

Swallowing hard, eyes going wide, Ketch did as he was told and dropped to his knees, one at a time. Once he was on the ground, you moved closer to him. Despite the rage burning inside you, your simmering heat, and all the chaos, you remained cool, calm and collected as you stared him down.

“I hate you,” you started. “Do you know how rare that is? I feel nothing for Alphas. Every fucker I’ve killed was out of self-defence, for a job, or because they were a walking knot with no brain. But I didn’t hate any of them. Maybe their species, but never an individual. I never bothered feeling anything for them. But you? I hate you.

“You killed Mick because he helped me. Kevin is dead because you threw me in with Alphas, knowing they wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation. You killed Bobby and Rufus. Then you tossed the rest of us into the Pit, which is where Benny was killed. You hunted us, and killed Gabriel. Dean…” Your eyes darted to your Alpha’s unmoving body. “I swear to fucking Jesus fucking Christ, if he’s dead…” Your voice shook.

Ketch remained on his knees, eyes trained on the gun that was trained on his face. It was a staring match he would not win.

“You ruined everything. You almost killed me, gutted me, humiliated me, tried to rape me.” Tears stung your eyes. “You walk around that place like you’re some kind of god, but you’re nothing more than a weak man. You’re no better than the fuckers I’ve killed. You’re just another one to add to the list.”

As he opened his mouth, no doubt ready to try his hand at begging, you pulled the trigger.

Shooting someone in the face wasn’t something you’d done many times before, but Ketch wasn’t your first. This time was different, however. There was this satisfied feeling that didn’t quite feel like every other kill. This wasn’t just a job, or an Alpha… this was an enemy, a threat, a monster.

Now he was nothing but a corpse on the floor, with a gaping hole in his head.

“Dean!” Sam’s voice boomed outside of the cabin. “Y/N!”

Instead of waiting for him, however, you dropped the gun and rushed to Dean. But as you dropped to your knees by his side, and reached for him, you knew the truth.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no.” Your throat began to ache as you felt your eyes fill with tears. “Dean.” Grabbing his shoulder, you shook him gently. “Dean, please wake up.”

Sam came rushing into the cabin then, passing your boss without a glance. His eyes were glued on you and his brother, as you began to cry, realising you were too late… you were all too late.

“Y/N?” Sam stumbled a little, dropping to his knees beside you.

Choking on a sob, you turned to him. “He’s… he’s…”

“Fine,” your boss cut in. “Or he will be if you let my people help.”

Both you and Sam looked to the cabin entrance then as more people walked in. People you recognised. People you’d missed. People you could almost call friends.

There was Garth, a scrawny guy that was all smiles. Most people assumed he’s Beta because of his seemingly timid attitude, but the guy could be ruthless if the time was right… or the price. You’d seen him do things that left your jaw hanging open.

Meg was there, too, grinning at you like a vulture. Oddly, though, you didn’t mind. The Beta girl was a menace to society, but had saved your ass more times than you cared to admit. In between all the madness and death in your lives the two of you had formed an understanding that resembled something of a friendship.

Charlie was an actual friend, and you were honestly surprised to see her out in the field. She was a computer girl, preferring to stick behind the desk. In earlier years she’d begged to be out there, working like the rest of you. Her first kill had been her last, and had changed her forever. To this day, she reminded you that if it wasn’t for your acceptance and patience, your willingness to be there for her, then she never would have survived the aftermath.

As you looked to the new people your attention was caught by one last person as they stepped through the doors. Cas. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the scene, before they landed on you. There was concern and relief in his gaze… he’d been scared for your safety and was glad you were okay.

Sam’s attention quickly turned away from the newcomers as he instead focused on your boss. “Crowley?”

You weren’t expecting that.

Crowley grinned. “Hello, Moose.”

Looking form one man to the other, you frowned, confused. “Wait… you know each other? How?”

“It’s a long story, darling. Why don’t we wait for explanations once we get your Squirrel fixed up?” Crowley nodded to the other people. “Get him in the chopper, I want him to get the best care. And she needs to be looked over, too.”

Not having a say or choice, you let the people pull you away from Dean as they got to work. Standing there, you watched as Garth and Cas took Dean. At the same time, Meg moved to help Sam while Charlie offered you a hand, but something came over you, and suddenly you snapped.

“Touch him and I’ll gouge your eyes out,” you warned on a snarl as Meg reached out towards Sam.

She paused, hand hovering. It was clear she was tempted to take the chance, to see if you would go through with it. But then the other part of her- the part that was holding her back- didn’t feel like doubting the crazy Omega who was in heat and could possible lose her other Alpha that night.

“Meg,” Crowley called form where he still stood in the same spot, watching. “Help the others.”

With an order given, Meg walked off with a huff.

The second she was gone, you were reaching for Sam. His arms enveloped you, holding you to his chest as he buried his face into your neck to breathe in your scent.

“As beautiful as this moment is… we should all be getting a move on. The guards aren’t finished looking for you three, and Dean really does need proper medical help.”

Reminded of the danger you were in, you and Sam separated enough to follow Crowley out, while remaining hand in hand. No words were spoken as you all hurried through the woods, following your boss as he led you to his chopper, and to your freedom.

***

You sat by his bed, where you’d been for the last two days. An echo rang in your mind, the sound that came when Dean flatlined… when he died, with your hand in his. Dean had died.

But he was back now. Crowley had money, power, influence, it really wasn’t a surprise that he had everything you might need to save someone’s life. The second the chopper landed in the yard of Crowley’s mansion, people were bustling about to save your Alpha.

Sam stuck by your side until he was dragged away. Being Alpha and family, he had genetic material that could held save Dean’s life. So, he was taken away to give blood in the hopes it would save Dean’s life. When that did very little everyone turned to you.

Having been claimed by Dean, your DNA had changed, mutated to match his.

With both your blood and Sam’s, Crowley’s personal nurses and doctor managed to save Dean and bring him back. But even after you were reassured that he would be okay, given time and rest, you still couldn’t get forget that moment where he’d died.

The flatlining machine, the panic in the room, your scream as Sam held you, trying not to break down himself. God, you were crumbling, a mess, practically dying right with Dean, and Sam was still strong, still there for you. He was… he was everything you needed in that moment, despite losing his brother and possibly his Omega, and you were just screaming, falling apart at the seams.

You were still a mess, still distraught. Sitting by Dean’s bed, with his hand in yours as you rested your head on the mattress he lay on. You were half asleep, determined to stay awake until his eyes flutter open. Two days had past and he hadn’t woken, while you’d refused to sleep.

“’Mega…” Sam walked into the room. Lifting your head from the bed, you turned to him as he stood in the doorway. “You should eat something.”

“No.” You shook your head and looked back to Dean. “Not until he wakes.”

Sighing, Sam walked further into the room to stand by your side and grab your free hand. “What would Dean say if he knew you hadn’t eaten? Or rested? You haven’t even changed out of the robe they gave you days ago.”

Eyes wandering back to Sam, you took in his jeans, his buttoned up white and blue faded flannel… his so very mundane look. Sam suited life on the this side of the bars.

“And you’re still in heat, don’t even try to deny it.”

“Wasn’t going to,” you huffed.

“I can feel you fighting your biology. It’s just going to make you sick. The doctors will have to focus on you and leave Dean until you're better,” he noted, playing on your guilt. It worked, too. “Come on.” He tugged on your hand gently. “Let me make you some food.”

With one last glance at Dean, you let your hand slip from his grasp as Sam led you out of the room.

***

You were seated on a leather lounge in one of Crowley’s many sitting rooms. Sam sat behind you, his legs spread, one leaning against the back of the lounge, while you rested between his thighs with your head on his chest. He two of you were nibbling on the sandwiches that had been made for you by the chefs in the kitchen- when Sam had tried to make you food himself, they ushered you back out.

In all honesty, you did feel a little better now that you had food in your stomach. But the worry in your head and heart was still weighing you down. It wasn’t just about Dean, there was so much going on, so much to do…

“Now this is a surprise.” Your head snapped up to look over at the room’s entrance as Crowley walked in. “Y/N and the Winchesters… and here I thought you would be a spinster forever, dear.” He grinned.

Eyeing him carefully, you saw the tell-tale signs of a lie. “Did you set this up?”

“What ever do you mean?”

“Did you send me in there knowing what would happen?”

“Do you mean, did I send you into that hell hole knowing the Winchesters and Castiel would be there? Knowing that you, my most loyal employee, would meet two of my other… friends? And that a bond would grow between the three of you, because honestly no one else in the world could possibly be built for three head strong and violent people?” Crowley smiled slyly. “Of course not.”

You glared at him. “My life isn’t some toy for you to play with.”

“No, but you are valuable, and so are the Winchesters. I needed the Morningstar dead, and I wanted you back out in the world to help me run business like usual.” Crowley shrugged as he walked further into the room. “The only way you were getting out is with help. I knew the brothers would be some kind of assistance, but I can honestly tell you I didn’t expect to see those for at least a few months.” His gaze dropped to your neck.

Bringing your hand up to where his eyes were staring, you brushed one of your marks.

“Did you kill Nick… or Lucifer… or whatever the kids are calling him these days? Did you kill him?”

Attention drawn back to Crowley, you nodded. “He’s dead, but I didn’t kill him, so I don’t deserve the payout. Sam does.”

Crowley looked surprised. “You shared a job? The only person you’ve ever done that with is Castiel, and even then, you always take the kill.”

“Let’s just say… Sam had some unfinished business.” You shrugged.

“Fair enough. I’ll have Garth gather the money for Sam, and get Meg to go out and get you supplies.”

“Supplies? What kind of supplies?”

“Clothes, Y/N. You need clothes.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “And you’re sending Meg?” You scoffed, “No. Send Charlie. I trust her. She won’t come back with everything leather.”

“What’s so bad about leather. You, my dear, look exceptional in-” a low growl from Sam had Crowley cut himself short. “Fine. As you wish. No leather,” he sighed as he started to leave. “Oh, and one last thing.” He turned back to you. “I’m giving you one of my safehouses.”

“A safehouse?” Sam asked.

“Yes, Moose, a safehouse. You’ve claimed an Omega and you’re all fugitives, you do realise you’ll need some form of security,” Crowley noted. “As soon as Dean is well, I’ll have you all escorted to your new home. You’ll be safe there. It can be a place to retire in, or a place to go to between jobs. I don’t expect anything more from any of you, despite hoping you’ll continue to help me and my associates.” His eyes landed on you then. “But I promised you one last job, and a deal is a deal.”

“We’re… we’re done?” You couldn’t believe it… after years of being one of Crowley’s lackeys, you were finally free to live the way you wanted. It felt too good to be true.

“You’re done,” he assured you. This time, when he turned to walk away, Crowley didn’t come back.

Sam’s arms wrapped around you as he buried his face in your neck. “We’re free.”

Bamby

#alpha!dean fanfiction #alpha!dean fic #alpha!dean x omega!reader #alpha!dean x omega!you #alpha!dean x omega!y/n #alpha!sam fanfiction #alpha!sam fic #alpha!sam x omega!reader #alpha!sam x omega!you #abo #abo dynamics #a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics #with wolves

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pinkwatchblueshoes · 6 years

Text

Garvez Fluff

Just a little quick fluff that I desperately need to see but wont. Margaritas and Mix Ups Penelope Garcia told herself not again. After an intense but platonic relationship with her best friend Derek Morgan, she knew she couldnt care so deeply for another person when they could, and eventually would, just up leave her. Penelope often beat herself up for feeling this way because she loved Savannah and little Hank but her heart could only take so much after all the losses the team had gone through. She already had enough worry for her family and team as is. Newbie was trying his hardest to chip away at her "fluffy armor" as he called it. What killed Garcia was that she found everything he tried so endearing but she always stopped herself before she got in over her head. On top of everything SSA Luke Alvez was another gorgeous strong superhero, just like Derek, yet totally different. His smile knocked her off kilter, but a man like that would never look at a woman like her she lamented. After a particularly hard case Garcia was staying late to finish paperwork so she could spend the entire weekend focused on de-stressing and relaxing, NOT thinking about the young women of this case. She was pulled away from her computer screen with a knock on her lair door. "Still here?" A familiar deep voice asked. "Obviously." She snarked back but Luke only smirked at the feisty blonde. "I would ask if I could join you but you'd just say no so I'll just take a seat anyway." Penelope only snorted knowing he was just as stubborn as she was. When she finally finished up and shut down her computer and its many screens she found him intensely studying one side of her office that held pictures of friends and family, even hand drawn pictures from Henry. Garcia could see the sadness behind his dark eyes. Was this case just as bad for him? Or was he missing someone, his family? The offer flew out of her mouth before she could stop herself. "Do you want to go get a drink?" Luke turned to her surprised. "Really? I-I would love that." "Good lets go." Penelope grabbed her purse and Luke followed closely to the elevators. As they descended to the garage level in the elevator Luke's stomach growled loudly. "I'm sorry about that." He said embarrassed. "Do you think we could go somewhere with food also?" "Soo needy Newbie." Penelope groaned but smiled letting him know she was kidding. Little did he know she was starving as well. "Well lucky for you I know a little Mexican joint with the best margaritas and they serve dinner late." When they arrived the hostess recognized Penelope right away. "Oh Miss Penny!! So good to see you. Your table is available." Penelope blushed. "Come here often?" Luke chuckled quietly. Once seated the server arrived right away. "Your usual Miss Penny? Peach Margarita and the veggie fajitas?" Penelope's face got even redder but nodded yes anyway. The server turned to Luke expectantly. "You know what? That sounds delicious. I'll have the same." Luke turned to see Penelope's shocked face. "Hey it must be good if you come here often and have a usual. I trust you." Penelope couldnt stop the warmth that the statement "I trust you" put through her, even if it was just a food choice. Plus she knew Luke ate meat and drank beer so he was going outside his comfort zone for her. "So how is miss Roxy?" Penelope started with a subject she loved. "She's good. I'm leaving her at the sitter's tonight since its so late. She misses you though. I swear she knows who the dog cookies are from when I give them to her." "Well as long as she enjoys them I'll keep making them." Penelope said with a smile. There was a silence but Luke was just smiling at her, then the food arrived breaking the moment. The conversation was surprisingly easy and comfortable for Penelope. She laughed hard when Luke told her about helping out a older neighbor with some chores who then came on to him. Being the nice guy Luke was he was stuck dodging her advances until all the chores were done. "I think I like Mrs. Corgin." "Of course you would. You'd love anyone who gave me a hard time." "True." The teasing was light and fun. Penelope appreciated his sense of humor. But what really touched her was when they accidentally got on the topic of work and this last case, he listened patiently as she described having to go through the victim's lives intimately to only see them dead in the crime scene photos feeling like a failure for not saving them. Luke reached over and held her hand as she wiped her tears with her other hand. "Its never easy when we lose victims but I know those women will be remembered because of you Garcia. You are the most caring person I know and the heart of the team. You keep us going time and time again." Penelope just stared at him with awe. After a few minutes she realized they were still holding hands and oddly she didnt want to let go. As it got later the pair reluctantly parted ways. She left him with a quick hug because if she held on longer she might not let go. Penelope spent the rest of the weekend replaying the night and actually looking forward to Monday morning. When she arrived at work she put down her purse and coat in her office and headed to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. She saw Luke talking to JJ and Spencer but as she approached with a smile Luke's eyes grew wide. Even before Penelope could say good morning Luke mumbled gotta go and quickly left. Penelope visibly deflated but quickly recovered so JJ and Spencer wouldnt ask. The snuff hurt her more than she cared to admit. "How was your guys' weekend?" JJ told her about Henry's soccer game and Spencer rambled on about a new book he read and wrote a paper on for fun. Later that morning JJ visited Penelope in her office, she leaned against Penelope's desk and asked how she was. "Fine." "Uh huh." JJ wasnt convinced. "And how was your weekend? You left before I could ask." "Fine." "Okay spill." "Its nothing." "Its not nothing." "Oh yes it is. Clearly from Luke's reaction this morning, the completely meaningless dinner we had together was nothing." "Oh sweetheart." "Please dont oh sweetheart me JJ. I know. I know that I got my hopes up and I knew it was stupid to do so yet here I am again. A guy like that would never be interested in a girl like me. Dont worry JJ, I'll be fine." "You need to talk to Luke." Before Penelope could respond her computers and her phone chimed indicating a case. Penelope gave the team the details of the case. Prominent local figures were being kidnapped, killed, and left in public areas in Phoenix, Arizona. Penelope managed to ignore Luke, even when he asked a question she answered addressing the group rather than him. Prentiss closed the meeting with the traditional order of 'Wheels up in 30'. Penelope quickly headed back to her lair but with the high heels she was wearing Luke easily tracked her down. "Hey can I talk to you real quick?" "You're on limited time Newbie." She replied not looking him. "Garcia stop. Stop please." Luke gently put his hand on her elbow halting her. "Please listen. I want to apologize for this morning." "Why? Nothing happened." "Penelope look at me." Penelope did but showed no emotion except annoyance. "I, uh, well I just wanted to say." Luke stumbled over his words and rubbed the back of his neck. "Damnit I wanted to do this better." Penelope was now confused. "Luke its fine. You better get to the jet." "No its not fine. Let me explain. I ducked out this morning because you walked in on me talking to JJ and Spencer about our date." "Our date?" "Yeah well, no I mean it wasnt a date per se but I was wondering if we could go on one? Together I mean. A date." Penelope's confusion faded away to giddiness. She'd never seen Luke Alvez so inarticulate and it was because of her! "Are you asking me out, Newbie?" "Yes." Prentiss appeared down the hall. "Alvez, let's go." Luke looked bummed but moved towards the elevators. "Dont answer yet, just think about it." Penelope was sure she looked like a fish with her mouth gaping open. Later in the day after the team landed in Phoenix she got a text from JJ. -Told you. What are you going to say? -I'm so confused. -Why? Dont you like him? -Well yes but what was going on this morning? -Penelope you're a smart girl. He was embarrassed, nervous to talk to you. Now call him and tell him you'll go out with him when we get back. Even though Penelope had trouble believing that Luke Alvez was nervous around her she took JJ's advice, well sort of. She didnt call him, but he called her pertaining to the case. After she finished answering his questions about the victims' backgrounds she stopped him from hanging up. "Wait Luke." "What no newbie?" Luke chuckled nervously. "Were you serious?" "Very serious Penelope. Why do you think I've been trying so hard to get you to like me? I loved spending time with you just us Friday night. I have to admit I wish I wouldve been much more smoother with it all." Penelope finally let out a breath and laughed. "Well that was pretty bad." She teased. "Yes it was, but I'm glad you know now. Anyway I better get back to the team." "Hey Luke." "Yeah?" "I can't wait till you get back." Penelope couldnt contain her smile. "Is that a yes?" "See you soon Luke Alvez." "See you soon Penelope Garcia."

#garvez #criminal minds #penelope garcia #luke alvez #garcia x alvez #penelope garcia x luke alvez #fluff

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royalfoxfics · 7 years

Photo

Art by Twin Doodles

Ao3

FF.net

In which Pollen meets the 21st century, there is a lot of yelling, and repressed homosexuality overrides self-preservation.

“…loe? Chloe? Chloe?”

Chloe woke up with a start. Someone was calling her name and shaking her shoulder. She tried to move but her whole body felt sluggish. Every part of her felt uncomfortably cold and heavy. Her legs felt like they were tied together, and while she wanted to open her eyes, only one of them seemed to be working properly. When she did manage to will it open, she was blinded by a bright light overhead. Squinting, she could just make out a dark shadow looming over her. She clumsily tried to bat it away with her numbed and heavy arms.

“Whoa, calm down its only me,” the shadow said. She blinked a few times and the face of Adrien Agreste swam into view.

“Adrien? What happened? Where am…” She looked around and recognized the school nurse’s office. She looked down and saw the bandages partially mummifying her and holding the now melted icepacks to her shivering body.

“You’ve been in here all morning. It’s already time for lunch,” Adrien explained, helping her to sit up. “I came to check on you and passed the nurse on her way out. She said you were sleeping, and to wake you at my own risk. Looks like you were pretty tired.”

“Get this stuff off me,” Chloe ordered, already trying to rip off the bandages holding the icepack over her eye.

“I don’t know, Chloe. Maybe you should leave that stuff on? I mean if the nurse thought it was necessary-“

He stopped when he saw the one-eyed glare Chloe was giving him and quickly began working on the bandages wound about her legs.

Once Chloe was unwrapped, she began stretching out and rubbing her limbs in an attempt to get the feeling back in them.

“I swear I’m going to sue this whole school if I get frostbite,” she muttered, rubbing her legs furiously and grimacing at the wet patches the ice packs had left. “And if these pants are ruined…”

“I’d think you’d be more concerned with your eye,” Adrien commented. “It still looks pretty bad. What did you do last night? You were fine when I left you.”

Chloe glared at her purse.

“The little gift you gave me got opened early by accident. Turns out our royal majesty thinks they’re too good to be partnered with a mere mayor’s daughter.”

“A corrupt mayor’s daughter,” Pollen called from inside the purse.

A second later they flew out through the white leather lining as if it were made of smoke. Chloe’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor.

“You? How? Since when could you do that!?” she demanded, pointing at the smugly smiling Pollen.

“Oh, we Kwami’s are capable of much you humans would consider ‘impossible.’ When we’re properly fed that is,” Pollen added, under their breath. “Speaking of which, you must be Plagg’s chosen. I can smell that horrible cheese on you from here. You have my deepest sympathies.”

Plagg flew out from Adrien’s shirt a second later.

“Pollen.” He greeted the other Kwami friendly enough, though there was a slight edge to his voice. “Haven’t seen you for a couple of centuries. Were you asleep so long you forgot that were not supposed to hurt our own masters?”

Pollen at least had the grace to look ashamed.

“It was purely in self-defense,” they argued, crossing their little arms and giving that wretched air of superiority Chloe hated so much.

“Oh yeah,” Plagg mockingly agreed, flying up to Chloe and looking her over. “I can see why the Kwami of Leadership would need to defend themself against the mean, scawy teenage girl.”

Chloe smiled as she saw the fluff on Pollens chest begin to swell up with indignation.

“I’ll have you know, We were at a grievous disadvantage against that barbarian!” they exclaimed, gesturing at Chloe. “We awoke without any idea of where We were, or what year it was, and We were extremely weak! We were captured in some insidious trap for hours until We were viciously attacked, completely unprovoked We might add, by that ruffian over there!”

“They got stuck in a box of tissues because they thought it was a bed, and I threw a pillow at it when it started flying around,” Chloe summarized.

Adrien fought to keep down his smile while Plagg openly laughed at Pollen, who’s fluff was threatening to swallow the lower half of their face.

“To be fair,” Adrien said, “Plagg tried eating half my room when he first woke up.”

“Did he also spend five minutes hiding under a tea cup from the TV?” Chloe asked.

“How were We supposed to know that the small man in that window could not see us!?”

Plagg laughed even harder and rolled onto his back in midair, tiny tears forming in his eyes.

“And let’s not forget the little adventure you had with my makeup case this morning…”

“You are most fortunate We discovered how toxic that powder was before you put it on your face! You owe your life to Us!”

Chloe rolled her eyes as Plagg continued to laugh and kicked his feet as he tried to remain hovering. Pollen looked like they were about to explode in a cloud of angry white fluff, so Chloe gave them a smug smile.

“Well, as fascinating as this conversation is, I’m sure you and Plagg have loads to catch up on,” Adrien said quickly. “Why don’t you two go somewhere else for a bit while I have a word with Chloe?”

Pollen scoffed and turned their nose up at Adrien, but Plagg regained some control over himself (eventually,) and led Pollen through the thin sheet separating the beds, wiping his eyes as they went. When they were gone Adrien turned back to Chloe.

“Chloe, I am so sorry. I had no idea he, er, she,”

“They, prefer the royal ‘We,” Chloe said, striking her own regal speaking pose. “Apparently, that little bug thinks they’re the literal embodiment of royalty. Everybody and everything is beneath them. I let them read my history book last night instead of just sealing them back in their box, and the ungrateful brat kept waking me up to ask where some missing pages were! And again to ask if I had the book in Latin, because they liked the shape of the letters more!”

“Huh,” was all Adrien could think to say.

Chloe just groaned and continued.

“I swear, nothing is worth this. I ordered some extra honey with my breakfast this morning, ‘cause I figured ‘hey, bees like honey’ right? You know what they did? They called me a racist and chewed me out for nearly fifteen minutes until I ordered them some tea. Tea, Adrian! How was I supposed to know that thing ran exclusively on tea?”

“Better than smelly cheese,” Adrien muttered.

“I just…”

Chloe picked up a pillow and screamed into it. Adrien cautiously rubbed small circles on her back as she continued to scream for a surprisingly long time. When she was done, she sat back up and handed the pillow to Adrien. Adrien took the pillow uncertainly and set it down next to him. Chloe took a deep breath and checked her hair.

“I’m a bit stressed out, Adrien,” she said finally.

“I… wouldn’t have guessed.”

She shot him an unamused look.

Then she closed her eyes and sighed. She still looked tired, but at least the bags under her eyes had disappeared. Well, from one of them anyway.

She reached up and pulled out the comb, undoing her ponytail and letting her hair fall loose against her back.

“I don’t think I’m supposed to have this,” she confided, looking down at the comb as she held it in her open hand. “Everything went to hell the moment I touched it. I’m not supposed to have a miraculous. Even the kayami of the thing thinks so.”

Adrien reached over and closed her hand around the miraculous. She looked up and saw him smiling softly at her.

“It’s pronounced ‘Kwami,” he said, gently. “And I wouldn’t worry too much. I didn’t really get along with Plagg at first either.”

“Oh? I don’t remember you ever showing up with one of these.”

Chloe pointed to her face and Adrien winced.

“Well… No. And I’m super sorry, Chloe. I had no idea Kwami’s could hurt people like that.”

Chloe scoffed.

“I told you, the black eye is from falling through my closet door. You should have seen the bee stings I was covered in last night, though...”

“Bee stings?” Adrien repeated, completely shocked.

Chloe just waved him away dismissively.

“I’m fine,” she said again. “I’m just sleeping with a flyswatter under my pillow tonight.”

When he didn’t say anything, she glanced back at him and felt her chest lurch at the big watery green eyes looking back at her.

“I didn’t mean for you to… I’m so sorry I… I didn’t mean…”

Chloe sighed and rolled her eyes, pulling him into a hug and patting his back before he started bawling his eyes out with guilt. He held on to her and tried to fight back his tears.

“I told you, it’s all right,” she repeated, patting his back and silently hoping he didn’t get any snot on her shirt. “It’s my fault for opening the box. I should have waited till today like you said too. It’s okay… you big baby.”

“I’m a hero of Paris,” he said back through a stuffy nose. He quickly pulled back and started to wipe his eyes indignantly. Chloe handed him the box of commoner’s tissues next to her and he took a few quickly.

“How did you ever get by without me?” Chloe wondered aloud as Adrian blew his nose.

“Very stoically,” he snapped.

Then he added,

“…and lots of cartoons.”

“Ah,” Chloe acknowledged, nodding her head. “That explains a lot actually.”

Before Adrien could ask what she meant by that, Plagg called to them from the other room.

“Uh, Kids? I think you better come see this.”

Adrien pulled back the curtain and they saw Plagg and Pollen hovering in front of a mounted television near the nurse’s desk. It was tuned in to the local news, which was showing a scene of chaos as a swarm of oddly shaped… somethings were rampaging their way through the nearby park.

“I didn’t do it this time,” Chloe said immediately.

Adrien just rolled his eyes and turned up the volume on the TV.

“This is Reporter Nadja Charmack: TVi, live on the scene at Palace De Vogses where the newest Akuma attack is in progress. Eye witnesses have so far been unable to identify the Akuma’s target, or identity due to-AAAAAAAAA!“

Award winning Reporter Nadja Carmack suddenly screamed and the camera whipped around to show her beating back what must have been some of the Akuma’s minions with her microphone. They didn’t look human. Some of them may have looked vaguely humanlike, but their bodies were far to flat looking, and their maniacal faces and clothes seemed to have been drawn onto them with some sort of thick ink. Most of them were just various shapes with stick figure limbs poking out, and faces pulled out of a demented children’s drawing. One looked like a flat circle wielding a wooden spoon. Another like a gibbering crescent waving a spatula in the air like a sword, and there were several long, rounded beasties running around on all fours that were constantly frothing at the mouth. They almost looked like…

“Are… are those monstrous pastries?” Pollen asked, flying up to closely examine the screen.

“Sure looks like it,” Adrien agreed.

Chloe scoffed.

“A bit out of season for gingerbread men though, don’t you think?” she asked.

No sooner had she spoken, then the cameraman was overpowered by a particularly deranged looking three foot gingerbread man, complete with swirls for eyes drawn on with animatedly spinning icing. The cameraman gave a cry of surprise, and after a very quick zoom in on the gingerbread man’s sugary pointed teeth, the live feed went dead. The screen was filled with static for a moment before the “technical difficulties” sign went up. The screen switched cameras to the news anchor as he was complaining about the coffee in his mug having no cream.

“Well, looks like lunch will have to wait till after we finish off dessert,” Adrien said, switching off the TV as the anchor realized he was on air.

Adrien turned and gave Chloe his best Chat Noir smirk. Chloe rolled her eyes at him.

“Shouldn’t you be doing your little dance already?”

Adrien stepped back and gave Chloe a little bow with a sweep of his hand.

“Ladies first.”

Chloe blinked in surprise.

“Wait you… You want me to go out there and fight those things?”

“What?” Pollen asked, turning back around from their attempts at trying to find where the small man in the window had gone.

“Well, not by yourself,” Adrien assured Chloe. “Ladybug and I will be right there with you. We’ll handle the Akuma, you can focus on dealing with the minions.

“Adrien, do I really look like I’m ready to get into a fight with a bunch of evil edibles?”

Chloe gestured to her black eye again.

“Come on kid, small annoying pests should be your specialty by now,” Plagg countered.

“What was that?” Pollen gave him a dangerous look.

“It’ll be easy, Chloe. Even if you get hit, you’ll hardly feel a thing under your suit. I’ve been thrown into a wall before, and it didn’t leave a scratch on me,” Adrien boasted.

Plagg wilted a bit and added,

“Yeah, I’d recommend you try not to do that though…”

Chloe shook her head in disbelief.

“You can’t seriously expect me to go up against a real Akuma my first time!”

“Why not? I did!” Adrien replied with a smile.

“Yeah, and I remember exactly how well that went!” Chloe argued, rolling her eyes.

Adrien rubbed his neck uncomfortably, but Plagg wasn’t dissuaded so easily.

“Exactly,” he said, flying around to hover close to Chloe’s shoulder. “So maybe this time, you’ll be the one that rescues the pretty girl from certain death.”

Chloe’s eyes lit up like Sapphic little stars.

Seeing this, Pollen immediately flew to her other shoulder and began trying to talk sense into her.

“What? No, no, no. You are much to injured to go fighting the forces of evil today. Besides We… We have not had any sustenance since this morning! We could not possibly hold a transformation for longer than a few seconds at most.”

“Don’t listen to that royal stick in the mud,” Plagg practically purred in her ear. “They’ve got more than enough juice. You should be thinking about what it’ll be like to be in Ladybugs shoes for once. How it’ll feel to sweep your damsel in distress off her feet and fly her away to safety. Feel her snuggled safe in your arms as she looks up at you like you’re her hero. Maybe she’ll even want to show you how appreciative she really is.”

“You… You can’t seriously be listening to this smelly little varmint!?”

But Chloe was listening. In fact, she was staring down a the miraculous she was holding and nearly drooling over it. She turned to Pollen with a doofy smile on her face.

“W-well I mean, I’m sure we can handle a couple of overgrown cupcakes, right?”

Chloe smiled at them while she giggled and played with her hair. Pollen stared at her. Plagg gave them a smug grin and flew back to Adrien. Adrien gave him an impressed, but questioning look.

“What?” Plagg asked with poorly feigned innocence.

Adrien just shook his head and turned back to Chloe. She still looked a little dreamy over the potential possibilities Plagg had laid out for her. Adrien cleared his throat and she snapped out of her daydreaming. She shook her head, and he tried not to notice the deep blush that covered most of her face.

“Right, well. Uh…”

She cleared her own throat and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. Stepping over to a mirror to check how it looked, she stuck the comb back in and turned around to face the group. She took a deep breath, and exhaled quickly.

“Okay, let’s do this.”

She smiled at them. A little nervously, but Adrien and Plagg reassured them with smiles of their own.

Pollen however was still hovering in midair, and still staring at the spot where Chloe’s head had been.

“Um… Pollen? Pollen?”

They gave no sign that they had heard her. Chloe looked from them to the other two who both shrugged unhelpfully. She approached Pollen carefully and waved a hand in front of them. Pollen still gave no sign of awareness, so Chloe tried snapping her fingers directly in front of their face. The Kwami finally seemed to regain their senses, and shook their head as if coming out of a trance. Just like every other time they had become lost in their own world, Pollen looked around the room as though not sure where they were until they saw Chloe. Their eyes narrowed angrily at the sight of her.

“What? Why are you always staring at us like that? We do not like it, it makes us feel very uncomfortable.”

“Are you… feeling okay?” Chloe asked carefully.

Pollen scoffed and turned their nose up at her again.

“We are as fine as We can be with a gangly ape like you as our master.”

“Why you little-”

“Whoa, hey!” Adrien quickly moved himself between the two of them, nearly having to physically hold Chloe back from attacking what was supposed to have been her partner. “How about we all just take it down a notch, okay?”

Chloe fumed and ground her teeth as she looked from Pollen to Adrien.

“You see what they’re like? You see what that thing is like?” she demanded, pointing furiously at Pollen.

Adrien did his best to calm her down, though he shot Pollen an angry look showing he completely agreed with her. Pollen just scoffed and turned their nose up at him too.

“Shouldn’t you be seeing to that Akuma, Chat Noir?”

Adrien didn’t much care for the way Pollen said his name, but they had a point. They couldn’t afford to waste time fighting like this. Ladybug was probably already on her way, and while he was sure she’d be okay on her own for a little while, she couldn’t take down an Akuma with that many minions on her own. He looked desperately at Plagg for help. He shrugged.

“Ehe, I’m sure Ladybug can take care of it.”

Adrien briefly considered just handing Chloe a nearby clipboard and getting one for himself.

“Errr, we don’t have time for this!” Chloe roared.

With a grunt of anger, she pushed Adrien away, causing him to topple safely onto the bed behind him, and stormed over to Pollen. The Kwami seemed momentarily unable to decide between fight or flight, and Chloe took advantage of their indecision to grab them sharply by the fluff on their chest with her index finger and thumb. She locked eyes with her trapped prey, and Pollen was so taken aback by the raw fury that burned in them, they forgot to scoff.

“Start talking,” Chloe growled down at them. “Or I will feed you to an industrial grade food processor.”

Pollen had no idea what an “industrial grade food processor” was, but some threats simply transcended a minor generational gap like two hundred years.

“V-very well!” Pollen conceded, attempting to wriggle free. Though certainly not because they were the least bit intimidated. “Just unhand us already!”

Chloe let go and Pollen flew back several feet into the wall. Chloe put her hands on her hips and tapped her foot impatiently as Pollen muttered to themself and tried to fix the tuft of fluff she had matted together. Adrien remained where he had landed on the bed, not daring to move and looking from Chloe to Plagg, who was nonchalantly drifting behind a curtain to get out of sight.

Chloe’s patience was at its’ end.

“Well?”

“Just a moment!” Pollen snapped back. They finished preening themself to a semi-passable state, then turned to glare back at Chloe.

“As We have no means of preventing you, very well. We shall now begin our lesson on the art that is wielding our miraculous.”

“Come on, make it snappy!” Chloe demanded, snapping her own fingers at Pollen. “We don’t have all day here.”

Pollen looked like they were about to say something, but stopped and only glared at Chloe for a moment instead. Then they continued.

“The first step to using a miraculous, is to wear it,” Pollen emphasized.

Chloe turned her head and indicated the comb holding her ponytail in place.

“Already wearing it, genius. Next?”

Pollen looked momentarily confused before quickly putting their nose in the air again.

“Yes… Well. Indeed you are.” They gave a little cough and continued. “Each miraculous is activated by a particular phrase decided upon by the Kwami. You will need to repeat this phrase in order to let us fuse with the miraculous and grant you your abilities.”

Chloe closed her eyes and waved her hand dismissively.

“Yeah yeah, I do a little dance and strike a dramatic pose at the end. I saw all this last night when Chat Noir did it. Just tell me what my catch phrase is already.”

“Your… Your what?”

“What do I say to transform!?” Chloe yelled.

“Do not rush us!” Pollen screamed back. “Once a Kwami is fused with its’ miraculous they cannot communicate with their barer directly. You will be completely on your own once We have been absorbed, so you had best listen closely and stop interrupting!”

“They actually have a point, Chloe.”

Chloe turned and rounded on Adrien, who froze as he was starting to sit up on the bed. She closed her eyes and let out an aggravated sigh, not wanting to take out her anger on him.

Adrien watched her closely for a second before daring to continue getting up.

“I’m just speaking from experience here. I waisted my first Cataclysm because I transformed before Plagg had explained everything. At least hear what your powers are before we head out.”

“Thank you, young man.” Pollen nodded gratefully towards Adrien.

“Alright fine!”

Chloe threw up her hands and sat down on the edge of the other bed in a huff. Pollen smiled at the sight.

“Now as We were saying, in addition to the more specific abilities We grant you, using a miraculous will also offer you some additional advantages,” they told her, but Chloe cut them off again.

“I’ll have enhanced speed, strength, endurance, and coordination. The suit will protect me from any minor injuries, even on my face where it looks like bare skin. My weapon will have multiple uses and will obey my commands perfectly unless it’s knocked away from me. I activate my superpower by saying its’ name, and once I use it I’ll only have about five minutes left of my transformation. The miraculous will count down to show me how long I have left.”

Everyone stared at Chloe as she finished. When she saw the stunned look Pollen was giving her she smugly added,

“What? I think I’ve been rescued enough times to know how it works.”

“True,” Adrien agreed. “But I also recognize most of that from Alya’s ‘Miraculous Analysis’ post on the Ladyblog.”

Chloe reddened again.

“Cesaire got most of that from her interview with me anyway!”

“Mhmm.”

“Oh what-ever.” Chloe crossed her arms again and focused back on Pollen to avoid looking at the knowing smirk Adrien was giving her. “So what’s my superpower?”

Pollen looked up, startled before they could drift off again.

“What? Oh, your power? Yes. Uhm. Give us a moment…”

Chloe rolled her eyes.

“Come on hurry up already!”

“I told you not to interrupt!” Pollen snapped. “Now you’ve gotten us all flustered.”

Chloe buried her face in her hands and groaned. Adrien rubbed her back and looked pleadingly over to Plagg.

Plagg groaned too and rolled his eyes.

“Come on. The kid’s right, we gotta go.”

“We are aware,” they snapped.

Pollen’s face was contorted with concentration. Plagg straightened up and watched them with new interest.

“Wait… do you… Do you actually not remember how to use your own superpower?”

“Of course We remember, you smelly rat! We just… It has been a while and We….”

Chloe looked up at Pollen, and then back to Adrian and Plagg.

“Pollen?” She asked, impatiently.

“We know…” they grumbled.

“Are you seriously telling me you’ve been so busy stuffing your face with tee, and getting scared by makeup kits you haven’t even tried to remember how to be a superhero!”

“We have been thinking of little else!” they roared back.

Chloe stood up to look the Kwami eye to eye. Adrien tried to get her to sit down again but she shook him off.

“So what have you remembered?”

Pollen went silent and turned to look at a blank wall.”

“Pollen!”

“We are the Kwami of Leadership, and We enjoy tea..”

Chloe rolled her eyes.

“Great. What about how to use your superpower?”

“…We would appear to be having some difficulty recalling the… exact phrasing, at this moment.”

Chloe slapped a hand to her face and groaned. Adrien made to say something but she held up a hand. Chloe took a deep, calming breath and tried to relax.

“Fine. Let’s… work backwards then, maybe it’ll help you remember.”

“Very well,” Pollen said flatly, still keeping their eyes on the wall.

“Okay, well, what does it do?”

“What does what do?” Pollen asked, turning a little further away from Chloe...

“Your superpower,” Chloe repeated, feeling a vain in her head beginning to throb. “What does it do?”

“Something… super. And powerful.”

“…Pollen, look at me.”

The Kwami turned slowly in midair to face her. Their face was a mask of perfect neutrality, though their antenna seemed to be trying to curl in on themselves. Chloe kept her own expression neutral as well.

“Do you remember what your superpower is?”

“Not at all.”

“…”

A pin dropping to the floor would have echoed like a clap of thunder in the silence that followed.

Authors Notes:

Regarding all your feedback: Wow. Just… Wow. The response for this fic so far has been better than I could have hoped. All of you saying how much you love my take on Chloe is just… Amazing is the only word I have for it. I’ve gotten wonderful comments from you all saying how much you laughed at Pollen and Chloe’s antics, and how heartwarming you found Chloe’s relationship with Adrien. I hope I can continue to meet all your expectations in the future. I started writing this fic for myself, and I will continue to do so, but your continued support makes it so much easier to keep pouring myself into this project.

Regarding the transformation phrases: Transformation phrases like “Spots On” and “Claws Out” seem to be found mostly in the English translation of the show. Since that’s the version I watched, that’s the cannon I went off of when writing this fic. Until it became clear it had to become an A.U. anyway. I love the idea that the Kwami’s have to update the phrase every generation or so. I’d also love to have heard Hawkmoth having to argue with Nooroo about changing his to something as edgy as “Dark Wings Rise.”

#Chlolya #Adrien and Chloe sibling love #Pollen #chloe bourgeois #adrien agreste #Useless Lesbian Chloe #Eventual RoyalFox

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lubdubsworld · 7 years

Text

Something’s Gotta give. ( Taehyung / OC) Chapter One

Eight years.

At first thought , it seemed like a long time. Technically it isn’t. People celebrate 25 years and 50 years of being together and eight years is pretty meager by comparison. Love is timeless, after all?

And honestly , some days, i look at Taehyung and it feels like just yesterday, we were standing in the rain and taking our vows. I’d met him for the first time, at a dinner hosted by a mutual friend, the popular idol with the too wide smile and the beautiful face. We had sneaked out to pet the hostess’ dog, in one of the secluded rooms and I’d realized how incredibly down to earth and sweet this man was.

He’d been the same age as me but so innocent and happy and so kind. So beautiful. So beautiful that whenever we walked together in public, people would stop short and stare. His beauty was just so arresting, so dazzling and I didn’t even mind the looks that came my way… the looks that said, “ How did someone like her land someone like him?”

i loved him and he loved me and that’s more than what a lot of people get in their life, so i was grateful .

But still , Eight years meant a lot of things. A lot of changes and arguments and broken promises and forgotten dates. apologies not made right, forgiveness not given . Words spat out in a moment of anger, only to be regretted for months. Hurting, being hurt.

Realizing that it’s not always easy to like someone always, just because you’re in love with them. Realizing that sex isn’t enjoyable when you have to shut your eyes because you’re still mad about the fight you had last week. Realizing that re-heating dinner after waiting for your husband for three hours makes you feel like you failed at life.

Taehyung and I have been married for eight years.

I gently lifted the small framed photograph off his desk, wiping down on the glass surface with the small cleaning rag, spraying some cleaner and then rubbing it again till the suface sparkled. The light from the window bounced off the reflective glass, tossing patterns on the wall and it was bright. But not as bright as our smiles in the photo. We were both young, then : Twenty one.

Young and in love and so confident in our own immortality.

Let’s get married. Have babies. Buy that pretty house with the white picket fence and three dogs and two cats and let’s just make everyone else jealous … Make them years for a love like ours. So much love I have for you , baby girl. i love you so much.

It didn’t really work out that way. You see, sometimes love is enough. Sometimes it isn’t.

And a marriage does not contain love. A marriage only contains what you put into it. If you don’t put love in marriage , and then try to draw love from it, it’s like drawing water from a dried up well. Just because you’re parched, desperate for a sip, doesn’t mean water is going to miraculously materialize.

the same with love, really.

But still,

Eight years.

The next photograph is from our rehearsal dinner, with the rest of his band. There’s Jung Kookie, bunny smile bright as he threads silly string through my hair, there’s Seokjin tugging on Taehyung’s arm and nuzzling his neck , There’s Jimin , arms around his fiancee , Yoojung but smiling fondly at his best buddy. There’s Namjoon bright, happy and so proud of Taehyung. There’s Hoseok, on his knees on the floor, carrying a grinning Taehyung who’s happily astride on his shoulders.

And There’s Taehyung, happy. Smiling. His fingers linked with mine, his smile wide and boxy and uncaring. And There’s me, not gorgeous by their standards but pretty : bright pink skirt and ruffled white blouse, hair dyed a ridiculous burgundy . I looked happy. It was jarring, seeing the warmth in my smile. I hadn’t seen that face in a long time and in her place was a woman with grey tinged eye bags and lank hair.

And the woman in the mirror had long turned into a stranger. A frowning, confused, lost stranger who didn’t know what was wrong with her marriage or how to fix it. A woman who went through the day in a trance, busy without getting anything done and in love with a phantom.

i don’t know exactly when it started : this downward spiral. A year ago, he got a movie with Lalisa Manoban and began to work over time.

Taehyung didn’t come home on most nights and even when he did, it was to awkward silences and cold food. We didn’t talk much, him perpetually tired from working and me perpetually worried about how tired he was. Any time i voiced my concern , he chewed me out .

Someone has to pay the bills!

this is what i do, Raemi !!

You knew about my schedules when you married me!!

i can’t drop years of hardwork, just because you’re feeling lonely, Raemi. why don’t you get a job? Why don’t you keep yourself busy. You can’t expect me to give you all the comfort you need!!

“You should talk to him” Yoojung had said, when one day, I’d felt incredibly saturated with insecurities and fears and then the damning words had just spilled out of me like dirty water from an overflowing sink.

“Yoojung what if he’s tired of me?”

And for a brief moment i considered it.

I had considered, talking to him. Maybe even taking a break. Moving to my parent’s house, maybe. but i couldn’t. what if something awful happened. What if , me leaving , just convinced Taehyung that he could live without me? What if he realized that he didn’t need me after all?

So I stayed. Even though we weren’t us, even though my husband was taking all the love from our marrage and putting nothing back in for me to receive, i stayed.

One day, he asked me to dress for a dinner date. With friends, he said. But just as I got ready , just as we were about to leave, he stared at me, his face oddly calculatiove as he took in my dress and my hair and just me.

“Maybe , we should hire a few maids.” He said softly.

I had been so startled.

“What, why?”

“The house looks like a trash can. What do you do here all day, anyway?”

I had been stunned speechless. He had never talked to me that way. Had never talked to anyone that way. Taehyung had a name for being kind and considerate. He stood there, staring at me, not a hint of playfulness or kindness or even affection on his face.

I couldn’t stop the tears that spilled over and I had turned on my heel and walked back into my work room and slammed the door shut. He didn’t even bother checking up on me, instead leaving for the dinner by himself.

That night, for the first time in a long time, I slept in the guest bedroom. Turns out i didn’t even have to. He never came home.

And then the rumors began.

Star Actor Kim Taehyung affair with Lalisa Manoban?Visual couple dazzle on the ramp but is there something going on behind the scenes and under the sheets?

Tabloids. Sleazy words and sickening rumors. Because that’s what they were : rumors. Taehyung would never cheat on me. Lalisa may have perfect features, a lithe , lissom body and those slanted , gorgeous eyes but i had his name and that ought to mean something, right?

i placed the photograph back and sighed.

Past the framed photograph, there were things that i don’t usually touch. The huge file with all his movie scripts. it’s thick and big and it just served as yet another reminder that to Taehyung, his work would always come first. The past few years, he has been successful, not just in Korea but overseas as well. I was proud of him. Of course i was. Who wouldn’t be? He was handsome, successful and talented and respected : Koreas’s Treasure.

His friends were all successful too, most of them married ( except for Yoongi and jung Kook ) They still have comebacks . They still do music. But they have their own families too. Once a month we meet up at one of our houses for a day of bonding. The kids would run around and play ( they all had kids. Except for me and Taehyung. A familiar pang. A pain that refused to be dulled by time. He loved kids. We both did. We had wanted them so badly but eight years is a long time , when you’re trying to have a kid and failing. Sometime after the sixth year, we had given up. ) and we would all talk about the old times, the new times.

The future.

It was odd, but Taehyung had long since stopped talking about us as in me and him, when we were with our friends.

it was always “ I’m going to take a script with…” or “ I’m going to Jeju Do to film”

Like I was no longer a contributing factor in his future , short term or long term.

I made to go back to our bedroom but suddenly the room looked too huge and empty and the bed looked massive. Too much for just me. Swallowing the dread that rose up inside me , I shut the door and crept back to the living space, past the small hallway and onto the room that I used to paint and write. I grabbed the fluffy white throw before curling on the carpet at the foot of the easel.. i was feeling a bit peaky the past few days. A steady sort of exhaustion that was creeping up on me .

the kind of bone weary tiredness that comes from everyday monotony.

The phone rang and i jumped a bit.

“Hello?”

“Raemi?” His voice had always been unique. Deep and slightly rough. Completely at odds with his face. Familiar as as my deepest secrets.

“Are you back? When are you coming home?” I asked softly.

Silence.

“There are a few scenes i wanted to discuss with the Director. He’s invited me to his place tonight.” Taehyung sounded genuinely apologetic.

What a fantastic actor he was.So much improv, no need for a script.

“ Okay. Will you come home tomorrow?”

“I’ll try. Are you okay? Did you get some rest with me gone ? ” And the concern is not an act, i thought vaguely. Taehyung cared , even if he didn’t care enough.

“Sure … I’m fine. Tae, take good care of yourself. Come home soon, okay.”

“Okay, Rae.See you soon.”

“I Love you. “ It’s almost a reminder , at this point. To him and to me. Don’t forget i love you. Don’t forget you love me too. We act like we don’t, but we do.

A pause.

“I love you too, baby.”

After eight years, Taehyung lies without missing a beat.

Author’s Note : Yup, i don’t know if i should even continue this.. It sounds so bad? Ugh.

#bts taehyung #bts imagines #kim taehyung #bts fanfics #bts v #v

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jungnoir · 7 years

Text

in between the lines;

kim namjoon | "I’m a writer and you’re my character and wtf how the heck did you just literally climb out of my first draft?" | 2.1k words. | supernatural, fluff. requested.

a/n: i literally squealed when i got this request because I never get namjoon requests and this one is literally so up my alley, i can’t tell you how much. this reminded me of “W”. this is the song i listened to as i wrote.

He’s not real, he’s not real, he’s not real, he’s not real-

Fuck, he’s staring right at you.

There’s a question in his inquisitive brown eyes (god, you wrote that didn’t you?) that you cannot answer. At least, not at all logically. Because an hour ago when you had fallen asleep at your laptop, head propped awkwardly on top of your desk as you drooled away into sandman land, you had no idea you’d wake to a rather long finger poking at your shoulder tentatively, almost unsure in their movements. You had originally assumed that your roommate had come home from work early and was checking up on you because you had a tendency to fall asleep while working (blame your hyper imagination keeping you awake at all hours of the night), but when you had opened your eyes to come face to face with... well, him, you had promptly shoved him across the room and grabbed the nearest weapon to you. Unluckily for you, it had been a book, but it was a heavy book. If you aimed just right, you could possibly knock him unconscious and have just enough time to sneak away before-

“I’m... afraid I’m about as clueless as you are about how I got here, so I guess there’s no point in asking you how. But where exactly am I?” His voice is smooth, reminding you so very much of the very man you had been dreaming about before he had awoken you. Every rational part of your mind was telling you that you had gone crazy and that there was no way you could write and dream up a man just like that. There was... there was no way. Of course. Right?

“What’s your name? Tell me your name first and I’ll tell you where you are.” “I fail to see how knowing my name changes anything about where we are,” you wrote him as a bit of a smart-ass too, even if he was a polite one, “but it’s Kim Namjoon. Now can you tell me where we are or am I going to have to go look for myself?” There’s a threat in his voice that he’s willing to walk out of your apartment right now and onto those streets, but if you really weren’t hallucinating and this was the same Kim Namjoon that you had written an extensive character arc for over the last three months, then surely, this same Kim Namjoon would not survive in a world he didn’t exist in. You’d seen “W”, you knew what happened when you showed up in a world you didn’t belong in.

You thrust yourself before the towering man just before he can grab the doorknob, and blurt, “You’re in my house.”

His eyes narrow at you, calculating your next move, just how you’d written him to be. Namjoon was thinker; he made no moves before thinking them over. You wouldn’t be surprised if he’d already thought up an escape plan if you proved difficult or untrustworthy. “Where is your house? Is it in Seoul?”

“Uh... not exactly Seoul but-” “Did you kidnap me?” He interrupts, shock taking over his face before you can even dream to explain yourself.

“No!” You shout, sounding none too inconspicuous. His eyes narrow even more. “I mean... No. I don’t go around kidnapping people. And I’m pretty sure I couldn’t carry you even if I tried. I’m just a writer. See?” You hold up your hands to him as if it would be solid proof of your profession.

“Then how am I... is this a dream again?” He moves back some, a hand flying up to his face. His hands brush the rims of his black glasses and he’s tearing them off the bridge of his nose with a noise of discomfort. The backs of his knees hitting the edge of your bed, he falls down into a seated position and places his elbows on his knees, looking none too comforted by the way you cautiously step forward.

You had also written his character very thoughtful and very prone to existential crises, as if to add more to your plate. Why, if you told him that he was simply a character you’d written in a book and that he didn’t exist anywhere out of your imagination, the poor guy would explode. Or implode. He’d definitely self-destruct in some way.

You made your way over to him, his head bowed and his gaze uneven on the patterned rug beneath his immaculately cleaned loafers. When you kneeled before him, his eyes shot up to yours and something akin to hopelessness swept over his expression. One minute, you were writing Namjoon in the midst of a thriller novel as the main protagonist and withdrawn detective. Now he was in your bedroom, seated on a Hello Kitty throw blanket and clutching at his jeans for dear life. He’d usually be able to deduct situations like these fairly easily but... you were strange. Far stranger than anyone he had ever encountered, and you were currently looking at him like a pitiful mother telling their child Santa wasn’t real.

What exactly were you hiding that made you look so lost and melancholy?

“Namjoon... what is the last thing you remember?” You start your first attempt at ordering your thoughts, hand hesitantly coming to rest over top his knee. He flinches at first and you pull your hand back, and oddly... he feels a little less comforted without your touch all of a sudden.

He clears his throat anyway, “I just remember... I was working on this case I’d been stuck on for weeks,” he begins to recite the opening scene you had been working on before you fell asleep, to make matters creepier, “and I... I received an e-mail of some sort. It said I was the lucky winner of a trip to Cancun. Of course, I didn’t believe it, but the minute I opened it, my computer completely froze. That’s all I remember before blacking out and waking up on your bedroom floor.”

Okay, that, you didn’t write.

What you had written was one of his trusty companions at the police station entering his office and telling him that they had found another dead body similar to the one in the case Namjoon had been working on. That’s how you were writing your story. There was no e-mail or computer freezing nonsense anywhere on your first draft.

Wait. Your draft.

Darting up, much to Namjoon’s surprise, you run over to your desk to click on your laptop, the screen having gone black while you had been asleep. Quietly, Namjoon made his way behind you and looked over your shoulder, curious as to what you were so frantically searching for. You pulled up your documents program, fully expecting the underwhelming one thousand word first draft you had been tirelessly perfecting, only to find a blank document. There was nothing there, as if you had fallen asleep on... nothing.

With lightning fast reflexes, your fingers moved to bring up all the documents and files on your computer, searching for key words, everything. There was currently nothing proving that you had written him, that you had written anything, and it was making your skin crawl.

“What are you looking for?” Namjoon asks, moving in impossibly closer to you. His stunning appearance catches you off guard for just a moment, your eyes locking with his. There’s an undeniable fear in those chocolate irises of his, but they are as concealed as can be. You had written that about him too.

With a shaky breath, you think over how exactly you can explain your predicament now with legitimately no proof whatsoever. There was no trace of your writing of him anywhere; even the outlines that you had slaved over, bled, sweated, and cried over... they were gone. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but I... I created you.”

Just as you expect, Namjoon looks completely unconvinced. “Funny. You look nothing like my mother.”

Ah, and there was the sarcasm again.

But you have no time for that when you’re promptly losing your mind, “Namjoon, listen to me. This is gonna sound wild and unbelievable and if I was in your shoes I’d feel the very same, but I’m telling you the truth through and through. I wrote you. I’ve been writing your traits and your life and your appearance for the last three months and you’re exactly like the Kim Namjoon I made, born September 12th in 1994. You’re a virgo and even though you claim you don’t believe in horoscopes you check yours every morning in the newspaper because your mother believes it and it intrigues you. You build model boats in your spare time and despite what everyone thinks of you, you prefer Kendrick Lamar over Bach and Mozart anyday. I wrote you. Believe me, I made you with my own two hands and every word in my vocabulary.”

He stares. And stares. You can’t even tell if he’s really listening to you because he looks completely out of it.

Then, “So... there is a god. And it’s a girl.”

Well... that was a very Namjoon response.

“I’m no god, I just wrote you. Like a character in a book, I wrote you. And that bit about your computer glitching? Didn’t write that. Whatever is going on... it’s... it’s far beyond me, Namjoon. I can’t explain it, but something strange brought you here and for what purpose, I can’t tell.”

Very unlike Namjoon however, he nods and doesn’t close in on himself like you’d expected him too. His arms fold over his chest, but he looks at you with a decisiveness that is stronger than you anticipated, and you wonder if maybe he’s just playing you long enough to get out of here and find out the “truth” himself, but you have no choice but to tell him all that you know. You’d mourn over all of your hard work being molded into a real person later. Right now, the man you’d written was here, and it didn’t look like he was going anywhere else anytime soon.

“Can I know your name then?” He asks, lip twitching a bit when you give him a wide-eyed look in return. You stutter over the syllables of your name but otherwise get it out to him, and he hums, processing it inwardly. He repeats your name on his tongue a few times like a mantra, and sighs.

Clasping his hands together, he’s about to ask you something else, but the door to your room flies open and-

“(Y/N)! You better not be sleeping- oh...” Your face takes on an expression of pire horror as your roommate and best friend of ten years, Jeon Jungkook, stands in the doorway with a lost puppy look in his eyes upon seeing Namjoon sitting atop your desk, a little too close for Jungkook’s comfort. “A dude.” Is all Jungkook says a moment later.

“Jungkook, what have I told you about knocking?” You growl, pushing yourself up from your seat and nearing him.

Jungkook’s eyes bug a little at your angered glare but his lips turn up into a mischievous smile just as Namjoon raises a brow, “Why? We’ve seen each other naked plenty of times before.”

Your sheer mortification leaves you beating on Jungkook’s chest, desperately trying to get him out of your room, but the extremely tall muscle bunny does nothing but nod his head at Namjoon, “Don’t mean to make the stranger over there jealous, but I and (Y/N) go wayyyy back. You couldn’t possibly understand our bond.” Jungkook’s words get even worse the longer he talks, and you’re very tempted to stuff a sock down his throat and let him choke alone in the hallway.

You look to Namjoon to explain that this is definitely not what he thinks it is, but the older boy is completely unbothered. In fact... he’s even smiling? “You two may go way back, but I’m (Y/N)’s boyfriend, so... I kind of trump you in this little game of yours, don’t I?”

Both yours and Jungkook’s mouths drop in awe, and Jungkook is immediately grinning ear to ear, eyes searching yours with expectancy, “You got a dude?! And you didn’t tell your best friend? How long has this been going on? Are you guys just fuck buddies or is this a relationship for the long haul? Does your mom know about him? Should I tell her-” You manage to shove Jungkook out of the room and slam the door shut and locked, his voice still carrying through the wood but still considerably muffled. When you turn to chance a glance at “your boyfriend”, Namjoon is still all smiles, although he looks a little less smug this time around.

“He’s a cute kid.” “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sounded jealous.” “You don’t know any better, then.” Namjoon finishes, with a very questionably disgruntled look on his face that makes you stifle a giggle.

#bts writing squad #ot7network #namjoon scenarios #namjoon drabble #namjoon au #bts scenarios #bts drabble #bts au #kim namjoon #bts #majwrites

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bidennisreynolds-archive · 7 years

Text

Title: Consequences

Pairing: Victor Zsasz x Reader x Ed Nygma

Summary: Ed told you there would be consequences. He didn’t mention exactly what they were though. (Shout out to @ruffles-the-fluffalo for requesting this glorious idea)

Warnings: I have a thing with calling Ed ‘Sir’ and ‘Mr. Nygma’ so sue me. I also really love when he talks dirty apparently. And Zsasz calling Reader ‘kitten’. All kinks ahoy, matey. There’s biting, blood (mentioned), hair pulling, slapping, anal sex, blowjobs. Everything is consensual though. Mostly. There’s literally no fluff in this at all. Just really rough fucking.

When you agreed to work for Oswald Cobblepot you had no idea that also meant you would be working for Ed Nygma. And with Victor Zsasz. You’d heard so many stories of those three men. So many terrifying, awful stories. If you’re being perfectly honest with yourself- and anyone really- that’s why you accepted the offer so quickly. That part of a person’s brain that tells them “danger, run” never really developed in you. Sure, you would run. But it would always be towards the danger rather than away. The three most powerful and horrible men in Gotham would be your bosses and coworker. How exciting is that?

Apparently the appropriate answer is ‘not at all’ if the glares from your best friend are any indication. You wake up, she glares. Go to work, she glares. Retell a riddle Mr. Nygma made you figure out, she glares. Show her the way Zsasz brushed against you in the hallway, she glares. The only time she isn’t completely disgusted by your job is when you talk about the mayor. She quickly becomes attentive and responsive. It would be adorable if it wasn’t so annoying. Sometimes you wonder if you should hint to Oswald he’s garnered a lot of female attention. A lot of positive female attention. Even if he doesn’t want to pursue any of them romantically he can always find a way to work the predicament to his advantage.

You think about it all day at work, tapping your pencil against your desk while your mind wanders to how exactly you would approach the subject. Mayor Cobblepot is a very… temperamental man. You don’t want to lose your job for suggesting something he takes the wrong way.

A loud thud pulls you from your thoughts. Ed is standing in front of your desk, arms crossed, tired expression on his face. He gestures to the files he lovingly and gently threw down in front of you, saying, “Have all of this reviewed by the end of the day.”

“What? There’s no way!” And there really isn’t. The stack of papers are thicker than your thighs.

“This isn’t an option. Oswald needs it by tomorrow.” Ed starts to walk away, tossing one last comment over his shoulder with what seems like practiced ease. “If you’re unable to perform the task satisfactorily there will be consequences.”

The way the word rolls off his tongue has you pressing your thighs together. As badly as you want to find out what those consequences could be you set to work, reviewing speeches and expense reports and job resumes. It takes six hours and three cups of coffee, but you get it done. Ed takes it, making a noise in the back of his throat. He flips through each sheet while you shift awkwardly in front of him. His office is dark save for one single lamp in the corner and the desk he sits behind is covered in various work related things. A pen here, some paper there, nothing personal except the name plate sitting on the very edge. You stare at it until the letters blur and you’ve memorized how to spell his name forwards and backwards.

Ed sets the papers down finally. “This isn’t finished.” He folds up one single file about as thin as your pinky nail. No wonder you over looked it. It’s barely even there. “I’m sure you remember I said there would be consequences.”

“Yes sir.” You can’t help but notice the way he shifts in his seat when you answer him. A faint blush colors his cheeks. “Please just… don’t fire me.” There’s no way in hell you could ever face your best friend’s inevitable I told you so if you got fired.

“Fire you? Goodness, no. I would never do that.” Ed waves his hand at the door and you hear someone walk inside. The air shifts dangerously. “Would I Zsasz?”

“Nope. Never.”

Before you can completely process what’s happening Ed has a fist full of your hair, yanking sharply so that your head snaps back and your throat is bared. He smiles and traces your neck with his lips. At your pulse point he bites. Hard. You cry out and a hand covers your mouth.

“Shhhh,” Zsasz whispers in your ear. “Pain can be pleasure if you let it.”

“Will you let it?” Ed’s lips move against your skin softly as he presses you closer to the man behind you. Zsasz grabs you by the hips sharply, bruises the shape of his fingerprints almost certainly beginning to form. Meanwhile, Ed keeps working on the overly sensitive skin of your neck. He bites down over and over, lips coming away crimson when he finally looks at you.

Zsasz moves his nose to your hair, taking a deep breath. “I’d answer quickly, kitten. Mr. Nygma doesn’t like to wait.” He grinds into your backside and you can feel his hardened length. “Me? Torture is my skillset after all.”

You groan loudly, eyes closing while you try to even out your breath. Do you really want this? Two sets of hands begin divesting you of your clothes before you can even think of an answer. You’re starting to think they wouldn’t care if you said no… and that’s oddly arousing. It’s a bit startling to realize you want these two men to use you. To fuck you. You’ve always been attracted to them. You’ve often dreamed of having sex with them. But this? This is new and it screams danger.

“Please,” You gasp out when you feel Ed’s lips wrap around one of your nipples.

“You’ll have to be more specific with your request, kitten. Please what?” The fabric of Zsasz’s clothing feels particularly rough against your skin. Each button, each zipper, each line creates an indent on your skin. On the other hand, Ed’s clothes are soft and seem to slide against you with each move he makes. “Tell us what you want.”

“I want to be punished.” The words slip out before you stop them, but the pleased moans you receive from both men is compensation enough.

Ed pulls away from you quickly, shock clear in his lust blown gaze. He’d expected you to comply… eventually. Yet here you are actually asking for it with only minor prompting. Unbelievable. Ed always thought there was something special about you. If anyone could complete the threesome he and Zsasz so desperately craved it would be you. Now he doesn’t have to think anymore. You’re here and you’re willing and Ed can’t get out of his own clothes fast enough. He loves the way your eyes trail over each new bit of skin he exposes. He loves the soft noises you make as Zsasz dips two fingers inside you, moving in time with the rocking of your hips. Most of all he loves how compliant you look while you try to fuck yourself on the assassin’s fingers, desperate for friction. Desperate for more. Ed gives Zsasz a sharp look and he stops touching you immediately.

“Lay on the desk.” When you do nothing but blink slowly in reply Ed grips your jaw harshly. “Didn’t you hear me?”

You swallow thickly and nod. “Yes sir.”

“Then do it.”

You hurry to climb on the desk, almost slipping off a time or two because of the scattered papers. Ed didn’t really specify what position he wanted so you just do as he says and lay down. There’s a long moment of silence. It makes you nervous. You don’t like not knowing what’s about to happen especially when sex is involved. So when Ed holds a tie in front of your eyes you begin to wiggle around. Zsasz grabs you, forces you still as Ed puts the makeshift blindfold on you.

“Open your mouth.” Zsasz demands. You hear the rustle of clothing being shed, feel something hard yet smooth prod at your still closed mouth. The slap shocks you. Ed’s low chuckle at your reaction doesn’t. Your jaw aches but you allow your mouth to fall open anyway. Zsasz doesn’t waste any time with gentleness. He shoves his cock down your throat until you’re gagging, tears wetting the fabric of Ed’s green silk tie. This isn’t a blowjob, you learn quickly. This is Zsasz just simply fucking your mouth.

“You like this, don’t you?” Ed’s voice is slightly hoarse. Like the sight of you choking on Zsasz’s cock is enough to make him cum. It’s almost enough to make you cum. You can feel the wetness between your thighs and you ache for some sort of attention. “You like being our fuck toy.”

Almost reluctantly, Zsasz pulls away from you. “Answer, kitten.” He tells you.

You take a deep, calming breath before saying, “No, I don’t like it.” There’s more to your sentence but Ed doesn’t give you a chance to finish it. He rips off the blindfold and wraps a hand around your throat menacingly. There’s a wild look in his eyes that only increases your arousal.

“You don’t?”

You shake your head. “I… love it… sir.”

Ed smirks and releases his vice grip on your throat. “Zsasz, check that drawer beside you.”

Zsasz does so, letting out a thrilled laugh as he pulls out a bottle of lube. It’s been used before which makes jealousy rise in you like bile. How many other girls had they done this with? You don’t have time to ask. Ed grips you by the hips and flips you onto your front, taking the lube from the assassin. Zsasz grins down at you. There’s eagerness and a twisted type of joy in his smile. He wants you to hurt. Both of them want you to hurt. And you want to give it to them. You return Zsasz’s grin wholeheartedly.

Ed leans down, pressing his chest to your back until you feel suffocated. “If I was a nicer man I would prepare you a little better to take my dick in your ass. But I’m not nice. And you don’t deserve that. Does she Zsasz?”

“Nope.” Zsasz puts extra emphasis on the p, happily watching the scene before him.

You start to protest when Ed moves away and grabs your wrists to hold them at the small of your back. That protest ends quickly. Zsasz is back in your mouth, his hands grabbing your hair. He tugs and pulls until your scalp burns. He isn’t moving though. He stays completely still and you wonder if you’re supposed to do something this time. When you begin to suck on his length Ed growls.

“Don’t.”

You stop immediately.

There’s a moment where nothing happens and your mind starts wandering. Did you leave the stove on? Is your best friend home yet? Then everything happens at once. Ed’s shoved his cock in your ass with no warning causing you to lurch forward. Zsasz’s dick hits the back of your throat and it hurts. You feel completely raw and there’s pain everywhere. But Zsasz is moaning and Ed is actually whining. They work together, finding a punishing rhythm. Ed thrusts into you, snapping his hips quickly while Zsasz pulls you forward, pushing himself further and further down your throat. Ed drops forward slightly. His teeth sink into your arm hard enough to draw blood. The tears fall freely this time without a tie to stop them.

“Don’t cry, kitten. You’re doing so well.” Zsasz allows one hand to leave your hair and wipe away the tears. “Your mouth feels so good.”

“She’s so fucking tight,” Ed agrees. “She’s been the best one yet.” His hips stutter, throwing off the rhythm, but Zsasz quickly remedies it. “I think… I think she was made for us.”

“Here that, kitten? Mr. Nygma thinks you were made for us.”

You shudder at their words. The praise mixed with the pain is confusing but it pushes you over the edge anyway. You cum with a loud wail.

“Oh, fuck.” Ed moans. “She just… we haven’t even touched… you’re perfect.”

Zsasz is the first to finish. He holds your jaw while he spills down your throat with a low moan, forcing you to swallow all of it. You can’t actually see him, but you know without a doubt Ed is watching attentively. He grunts once before pulling out, coming all over your ass. Despite the bone deep ache of your body you feel satisfied. A little dirty. But satisfied. Ed and Zsasz help dress you, yanking you around like a ragdoll until you’re somewhat presentable. Watching each of them get dressed is a joy. They’re both sweaty and look just as well fucked as you.

God, you’re gonna have to do this again.

#ed nygma #victor zsasz #ed nygma imagine #victor zsasz imagine #ed nygma smut #victor zsasz smut

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