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stanknotstark · 3 years

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Easy Aim (Is Only Exciting Once or Twice) Pt. 5 (Loki x Reader)

Loki’s turn to be a woman in every sense. Guys normally react pretty badly to our level of cramping but I don’t make Loki react too badly because he’s a warrior and probably has felt worse pain. If anything it’s more uncomfortable for him but not enough to warrant much reaction!

Finally.

It’s Loki’s turn to suffer.

You hadn’t come up with a way to get back at the god but karma was a bitch.

Loki walked into the kitchen and because of his obvious mood the team became quiet. You’re pretty sure the temperature dropped like five degrees too.

“Who pushed you out the wrong side of bed, seeing as you haven’t had your cereal yet?” Tony asked.

You snorted into your bite of eggs.

Loki scathingly looked at you and Tony.

“I will piss on your mother’s grave, Stark.” Loki bites at the man.

“Loki!” You yelled at the man. Going for Tony’s mother was off limits. Kind of like how the team didn’t ask questions about Loki’s true parentage.

Tony waved you off with a smile.

“Oh, you didn’t get pushed out of bed. You woke up with a big red spot on the sheets, didn’t you?” Tony says with a light voice.

Realization dawns on you. Loki drops the bagel he had picked up and looks to you with squinted eyes.

Loki had obviously never dealt with this when he shapeshifted.

You quickly stand, gather Loki’s breakfast and push him out of the kitchen, with little resistance, and towards the direction of your room. Ignoring the Avengers questions and concerns. You were so worried you left your own breakfast.

When you both reach your floor. You make him set his breakfast down in the living room, then push Loki to your bathroom and have him sit on the toilet.

It’s too silent so you start talking to fill it.

“Usually when I’m about to start I get extremely horny the week before. Then when the actual day hits I’m cramping like crazy, mostly in my lower back.” You explain as you pull out a bunch of pads from under your sink.

Loki looks at you with something akin to fear but it’s not quite fear, when you glance at him.

“That explains the pain...” Loki whispers with realization.

“The second day is the heaviest so you’ll need to check your pad more so than usual and keep a bottle of Midol nearby because the cramping is terrible. Wait, do Earth medicines even work on you?” You ask the god, freezing your looking to look at him but continue when he shrugs at you.

“The second day you’re also going to deal with mood swings, like, bad so maybe stay away from people?” You tell Loki as you realize you didn’t give him night pads so you search under your sink again.

“The third day it lightens up and usually my hormones balance out. The fourth day you’ll still need to wear a pad, it’ll only be spotting but it’ll spot enough to bleed through your clothes. If you feel like randomly crying at the smallest things, or even something as random as someone sneezing that is normal.” You explain to Loki.

“Wait, I have read about periods, to an extent, but why am I having one exactly?” Loki asks.

You leave the room to find a plastic bag for all the stuff you’re giving Loki, when you come back you explain to Loki who sits there patiently. “Your uterus is shedding it’s walls because you’re not pregnant.”

Loki squints at you.

“How many times does this occur in your lifetime?”

“Once a month till you hit menopause.” You tell him flippantly.

You smile as Loki looks bewildered.

“When do you experience menopause and when do periods generally begin?”

“Usually around fifty and they start around twelve but can start as early as eight years old.” You shrug down at him.

Loki closes his eyes, rubs a hand over his face with a sigh. When his hand drops he shakes his head. “And males have the gall to call presenting females weak.”

You actually laugh at that causing Loki to softly smile up at you.

“I uh, suggest buying some panties that you don’t care about, comfortable too, because you’re going to get blood on them whether you like it or not. I would offer you my panties but that is...gross, for some reason, even if you are in my body.” You babble out to Loki who nods at you as he stands.

You throw the pads he holds into the plastic bag you hold, throw the nightly pads in, throw in a new bottle of Midol then hand it to him.

“Eat with me, I’ll answer all your questions after you put a pad on of course.” You tell Loki, leaving the bathroom. You’re pretty sure he can figure out the pad.

You sit waiting in the living room on the big couch.

Loki comes out of your room not long after and sits next to you, pulling his plate from the coffee table and getting comfy.

You’re shocked but Loki decided to sit pushed up against you. You wrap an arm around his shoulders which causes him make a happy noise while he chews and leans into your arm.

“I guess this explains last night.” You say randomly thinking about the way Loki reacted to you yesterday.

Loki chews through his honey bagel and nods.

“It also explains why I’ve been getting wet for the past few days.” He admits without thought.

You look down at him with a raised brow. “Oh?”

“Yes. There was a time where Steve was lifting something heavy and seeing his muscles bulge made me wet.” Loki explains, eating away, not looking at you but speaking as if he has no care about what he’s sharing. Another milestone you figure.

“There was a moment where you were laughing at something Tony said and that made me wet, I could not fathom why.”

You laugh a little shocked Loki is sharing this with you.

“Also, when you were hard that made me wet.” Loki finishes starting to pick at some grapes you had grabbed for him.

“You’ll tell me you got wet but refuse to tell me you have feelings?” You ask teasingly.

Loki glares at you.

You smile.

Loki goes back to his food and you settle further into the couch causing Loki to further settle into your arm.

“I thought periods last for seven days, did I read false information? Why do yours only last four?” Loki asks after he’s chewed through some of his food.

You hum. “Well everyone is different. Some people last three days, some last the usual seven, some people don’t have them monthly, some do.” You explain. “However if they don’t have them monthly that’s because of a disorder or because they’re young and haven’t balanced out yet.” You thoughtlessly explain better.

Loki is quiet for a bit but then asks. “And you did not know this period was coming?”

You laugh lightly as your hand around Loki’s shoulders plays with your hair. It’s soft and silky. “Well, I don’t take birth control, I had a bad reaction to the one’s they gave me so I can’t really predict when they’re going to hit me. I can generalize between a few weeks but that’s it.”

Loki hums, licking honey off his fingers. It’s just as cute as it sounds.

It’s only four hours later when Loki starts.

You had both moved back into the general public of the tower. You had needed to eat more since you didn’t finish your breakfast then settled in the common area.

You were sitting on the couch with Natasha wrapped in your arms and Clint trying to burrow into your side when Loki made an exclamation crossed with a groan, an arm wrapping along his stomach from across the room where he was reading.

You perk up and look at him as he looks at you with wide eyes.

Natasha knowing what’s going on says, “It’s normal if you feel like you’re pissing yourself, you’re fine.”

Loki relaxes and nods.

“That’s nasty, Nat.” Clint huffs.

“It is a natural event for a woman’s body, something they cannot control and you dare call it nasty?” Loki hisses at Clint.

“There’s blood man!”

“You see more blood on missions, is there a difference?” Loki points out.

You’re smiling with Natasha, looking between Loki and Clint like it’s a tennis match.

“Well, it comes out of their vagina.” Clint weakly argues back.

“I have no doubt you’ve put your mouth on a vagina and that failed to gross you out, your arguments are irrelevant.” Loki says going back to his book.

Clint lets a pitiful noise out of his mouth and looks to you and Nat.

“Don’t look at us, we’re on his side.” Nat says with a shrug, settling back into you. You laugh as Clint rolls his eyes.

You watch Loki out of the corner of your eye as you converse with Nat and Clint. Loki has an uncomfortable look on his face and his arm is still wrapped around his stomach.

You tell Nat you need to get up and she groans but allows you to. Then, she climbs onto Clint.

Out of everyone in the tower you did not expect Natasha to be the most affectionate.

You grab Loki’s attention and get him to follow you back to your floor, again. When you have him laying on your bed you search in your bathroom for what you seek.

Coming out of the bathroom a few minutes later you show Loki what you have by holding it up in both hands with a satisfied smile. It’s old fashioned, you probably should just buy a heating pad, but this was given to you by your mother and you can’t let go of it because of sentiment.

“What is that?” Loki asks with confusion etching his face, propped up on his elbow. He stares at the orange, rubber bag you hold. It’s the size of a decorative pillow.

“A water bottle.”

“Are you expecting me to drink it?” He asks slowly.

“No.” You laugh and make your way over to him.

When you’ve climbed into the bed and cuddled up to Loki you place the warm bottle on his lower stomach and Loki actually groans.

“I understand the intended use now.” He says in a grateful voice as the heat of the bottle penetrates his aching stomach.

You smile at him but turn your attention to putting on a movie so Loki may rest here for awhile.

See, thing is, it doesn’t stop. The cuddling, that is.

The next day Loki comes to you and asks if he may use your water bottle. When you tell him yes and go to give it to him he holds it, looking at it like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

“Would you mind.....holding me as I use this?” Loki says in a soft voice, as if afraid he’s going to be rejected.

You can see tears welling up in his eyes when he looks up at you, which you blame on the period. You smile at Loki and nod.

“Of course.”

As you lay there with Loki wrapped in your arms, a movie playing in the background, he says, “While I am trying to keep an open mind about this whole situation, the blood clots are disgusting.”

You laugh, causing Loki to smile up at you.

“Have you bled through yet?” You ask him after awhile, curious.

Loki scoffs. “Yes. I was wearing a nice pair of pants at the time. Natasha promised to get the blood out though.” He says with a frown.

“If anyone here knows how to get blood out of clothes, Natasha would be the expert.” You chuckle out.

“I must apologize to her. I was a bit snappy at the time because of the frustration of ruining a perfectly good pair of pants. She was close and received the brunt of my frustration.” Loki says, his fingers trailing down the side of your chest as he spoke, his eyes trained on the movie though.

Loki must not be ticklish, you absently think as his fingers drag over your sides and you don’t react.

It happens again the next day. The day after that too, you both cuddle with the bottle and watch movies.

When the period ends Loki still comes to your room and cuddles with you. It’s a routine now. Every evening, if there is nothing going on, Loki comes and you both relax into each other and watch movies and tv shows, casually talking or teasing the people in the movies. You refrain from teasing Loki personally until after the period has passed because you’d feel bad if you made him cry.

It’s nice, to say the least.

What you don’t expect is Loki almost kissing you one day.

It was a normal day, you were cuddling and watching Die Hard, teasing the actor when things were way exaggerated. You had been rambling on about how some of the action scenes could have ended had Bruce’s character did something else. You had noticed Loki looking at you with a twinkle in his eye but said nothing about it. You really looked down at him when he grabbed your chin and angled it just enough to where he could reach your lips.

Loki pushes and crawls up, you laying beneath him, frozen. Your eyes roam his face, it’s a little weird looking at your face but you’re too invested in the moment, to invested in the switching bodies thing. His lips come to hover over yours, close enough you could close the distance in a blink but you stay rooted to the bed. You both breath each other in, eyes memorizing everything about this moment.

Then the moment passes and Loki pulls from you. You let out a deep breath and blink.

Surprisingly, Loki did not run, instead he cuddled back into you and continued conversation as if nothing had happened. You replied back casually, if not a little shaky from the anticipation you had just experienced.

Tag list: @a-laufeyson

#loki x reader #easy aim #easy aim pt.5 #loki gif #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #reader insert #my writing #i read over this like 8 times or more because i wanted to put more situations in it where we experience loki and the period #but i couldnt find a way to add them in without disrupting the flow of the sotry #story*#idk imma let this sit in my drafts for a bit and see if i come up with a way to put a new part in it #we'll see #body switching au #i couldnt come up with anything more to add sorry like i just dont find periods that eventful cuz i only experience mood swings and cramps #other than that everything is calm #and i dont want to write something wrong if i did make it to where he gets sick and stuff cuz i dont have anyone i can talk to about this #all my friends are male 😅#and i dont want to message people on here and be like hey what kind of periods do you have?! XDDDD

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edens-breathless-melodies-moved · 4 years

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words: 3.4k

pairing: kageyama t. x f!chubby!reader

prompt: sweat kink

warnings: cursing, oral (female receiving), fucking in a personal gym, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), sweat licking (he’s a freak lmao)

summary: kageyama knew you looked good while working out. the way your soft arms would suddenly flex and he’d see the muscles you were so good at hiding.

he knew he liked to watch you work out, but he never would have known that the sight of you covered in sweat would stir something so primal in him.

a/n: kageyama likes his women chunky you can’t change my mind. just to clarify, reader is an american who came to japan because iwa convinced her she’d go to the olympics if she followed him. she met iwa in her first year of college and quickly became friends. reader is insinuated to be a rather plush woman, but she’s ✨ s t w o n g ✨

“group bonding exercise?”

you repeated dubiously, blinking owlishly at the blonde in front of you as he just sits there and smiles, nodding his head.

you look to the other men in the olympic gymnasium for help, but they either shrug their shoulders in equal confusion or nodded their heads with atsumu.

when you had walked through the gym doors this morning with iwaizumi, ready to start the days training, you didn’t expect to have atsumu come up to you and propose a “bonding experience”, in his words.

hinata came bounding up to you with that ridiculous speed of his, orange hair bouncing in his excitement. he was practically vibrating with energy, hazel eyes glowing under the fluorescent lighting.

“yeah! we overheard you saying how you wanted to get back in shape and slim down a little, so what better group to help you out than us?”

all the men in the gym froze at his oblivious words, shocked that he really just said that to your face. kageyama froze in the middle of his lunges and choked, eyes wide.

‘this idiot really has no class…’ they all thought simultaneously as they watched the scene unfold with bated breath, waiting for the inevitable moment you ripped his head off and stomped on his body.

if there was one thing they all knew, they knew it was to never mention a woman’s weight. especially to you. you weren’t exactly the thinnest around, but that didn’t make you any less attractive.

in all honesty, you were hot, in all your foreign, sexy glory.

to everyone’s obvious surprise however, instead of killing the ginger, you laughed instead and patted him on his floof, thanking him for reminding you.

the team sweat dropped as hinata bounced around, clearly enjoying the head pat as he started spouting off different types of exercises they wanted you to do, bokuto and atsumu quickly joining in.

they all surely expected you to spike his head off or something, but they were pleasantly surprised and grateful you didn’t. they couldn’t afford to replace him so close to the games.

you see, you were no stranger to physical violence or getting physical in general. you had been recruited to manage the japanese men’s olympic volleyball team by none other than iwaizumi hajime, himself.

it was funny how things worked out because you two had already known each other before the offer was even offered.

you had met previously during college where you both graduated with the same degree. having spent the last four years taking the same classes and becoming best friends, it wasn’t a surprise when iwa asked you to come back with him to japan.

though you were pretty adamant in staying in america, despite knowing japanese, you somehow were convinced by him. before you knew it, you were saying goodbye to your hometown of los angeles and saying hello to tokyo.

because of your past with iwaizumi coupled with the fact that you both had the same degree and title, you two were known as the demon trainers from hell.

where iwa was all obvious brute strength and harsh glares, you were much more reserved but still equally as terrifying with your sickly sweet smiles and icy words if the boys were getting out of line.

but just because you preferred to make them cry with your words instead of your fists, that didn’t mean it wasn’t common to see you either hitting one of them upside the head or spiking a ball at them with deadly accuracy.

when the team first met you, however, they could hardly believe that you were a certified athletic trainer, let alone their manager on top of that. it wasn’t anything against you, you just… didn’t look the part.

standing at a whopping 5’4”, all the men on the team easily dwarfed you in height, and your body wasn’t all hard planes and corded muscles. you were soft and squishy looking, running a little heavy for your height.

you just looked so adorable and soft. your cheeks had this permanent blush across them from your constant sunburn (blame the california sun), and they always puffed out when you pouted.

but that was their first mistake; underestimating you. even kageyama, your boyfriend, had underestimated you, though he denies it now.

it was actually how you two had met, though it was under less than ideal circumstances.

he was bold enough to question whether you were even meant to be on their team your first day meeting them, unintentionally offending you and all your hard work to get where you were.

“it’s nothing against you personally, but you just don’t look like you’re meant for the job.”

kageyama had said without looking at you, and everyone, including the coaches, were stunned by his blunt and brash words. even ushijima was rendered speechless.

kageyama looked around confusedly at everyone’s silence and wide eyes. what? did he say something wrong? he didn’t mean to offend you, he was just telling the truth how he saw it.

it was only when iwaizumi snickered and everyone broke out of their shocked reverie that all eyes shifted from kageyama to you.

chills ran down their spines at the eerily calm smile you gave kageyama, eyes closed tightly as you took a deep breath in. “you really fucked up now, kageyama.” iwaizumi chuckled.

everyone’s hearts stopped when you opened your eyes, and even kageyama shivered when your gaze met his. the way the fire in your eyes seemed to run so hot it could freeze over hell, looked eerily similar to the look hinata gives on the court.

“so i “don’t look the part”, hmm?” you muse, smile growing even wider as you watched the setter fumble over his words, trying to save face.

you let out an over dramatic sigh as you tossed your head back, clicking your tongue once as iwaizumi let out another laugh before walking over to stand by your side. apparently this happened often.

kageyama stopped fumbling over his words as he watched his old senpai cross his arms over his chest. you chuckled as you shucked off your trainer jacket, revealing your plain black t-shirt underneath.

the team never took their eyes off of you as you raised your arms above your head and stretched. gasps rang out across the gym as they saw your flex and the muscles that bulged from underneath your fluffy flesh.

“y’know, kageyama-san,” you drawled, lowering your arms as you began methodically stretching your thick legs, sharp eyes never leaving his. “you’re not the first person to say that to me.”

“she’s right,” iwaizumi mused with a smirk. “i’m pretty sure i was, and i still regret it to this day.”

kageyama gulped nervously and the team could only watch in awe as you finished your stretching before bending over slightly to your left.

you lined up your shoulders with iwaizumi’s hips as you placed a firm grip on his knee and around his shoulders.

with wide eyes and jaws dropped to the floor, the entire team and even the coaches watched you lift iwaizumi with ease and settle him into a comfortable fireman’s carry.

atsumu, bokuto, and hinata audibly screeched and even the usually stoic sakusa and ushijima choked on their spit in shock.

without breaking a sweat, in a sheer display of strength and power, you casually walked towards kageyama, and iwaizumi couldn’t repress his snickers because kageyama looked like he’d just seen a ghost.

how are you so strong?!

your smirk never left your lips as you stopped only a couple of feet away from the shocked olympian, and raised an eyebrow at him mockingly. “what’s wrong, kageyama-san? cat got your tongue?”

you grin grows maliciously as he struggles to answer you, obviously flustered. “do i still look too “soft” or “weak” to be able to handle you guys?”

when kageyama still didn’t answer you, still too flustered and shocked by your impressive display of strength, (cause iwaizumi is not light, that man is straight muscle), you sighed before giving the gym a quick scan before settling on one of the team's liberos.

“yaku-san.” yaku jumped at your polite tone when you called his name, but he quickly recovered with a sincere smile. “yes, (l/n)-san?”

you shot him a sweet smile of your own, and chose to ignore the blush across his cheeks to avoid embarrassing him. “can you give me a number between one and twenty?”

yaku stared at you confusedly along with the rest of the team and iwaizumi fully burst out laughing, shaking on your shoulders. you fought back your own grin as you threatened to drop him.

“um, ten?”

you grinned as you widened your stance, feet placed shoulder length apart as you took in a deep breath, preparing your muscles.

“good, i wanted a decent workout today, anyways.”

and when you began to squat your best friend with perfect posture and ease, kageyama didn’t even register the howling screeches of his teammates as they lost their minds over this mini she-hulk they just got as a manager.

instead, kageyama could only focus on the blood rushing through his ears and to his cheeks as he watched you squat his senpai with a smile on your beautiful face, a singular bead of sweat rolling down your temple.

oh, he was in deep now.

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kageyama knew he should be ashamed of the way he was staring at you, but he couldn’t find it within himself to tear his eyes away.

with a harsh gulp and wide eyes, he watched you as you continued on with your leg presses, eyes closed as you took in even breaths.

you didn’t even seem bothered by the amount of weight you were pushing, but then again, 300 lbs was something normal to you.

finishing your reps, pushed your legs out fully before locking the press, taking a deep swig of your water as you lifted yourself up from your reclined sitting position.

blue eyes followed the trail of your sweat as it glided down the side of your neck before being absorbed into the fabric of your sports bra strap, and he gulped again, pants suddenly feeling tight.

that feeling only intensified when you lifted the edge of your shirt to wipe at your soaked brow, exposing your pudgy and soft tummy. you’ve never looked more delicious to kageyama than now.

when your boyfriend of six months and olympian in training had invited you to his home to work out in his personal gym after you finished atsumu’s little “team bonding experience” you didn’t expect him to just stare at you as you went about your reps and sets.

you chose to ignore the hungry way he gazed at your plush body as you moved over to where the squat stand was, bar already loaded with your preferred weight.

not minding the intense stare from across the room, you bit back a smile when you heard the light gasp come from your boyfriend as you ducked under the bar and settled it comfortably on your shoulders.

you stood up straight and relished in the familiar weight against your flesh. stepping back with a deep breath, making sure your posture was correct, you squatted your first rep.

as you came back up, you weren’t surprised when you noticed your boyfriend had disappeared from his seat by the shoulder press.

what did surprise you was the sudden warm presence behind you, and you bit back a startled gasp when you felt his large hands come to gently rest on your waist.

“as a professional trainer, you should know it’s dangerous to squat without a spotter.” kageyama’s deep voice muttered out. he resisted the urge to dig his fingers into your soft skin as you chuckled.

“you’re right, but i think i can handle myself.” you musea. you held back a gasp when he leaned forward to nudge his nose against your jaw, breath cool against your sweaty skin.

kageyama inhaled the musky yet sweet scent of your sweat against your skin and had to bite his lip to repress his groan. why was he getting so worked up over this?

“squatting 320 isn’t something you just cover on your own.” he growled into your ear, and you finally realized how worked up your boyfriend was from watching you work out.

not that you can blame him, however. watching him do his arm reps and the way his back muscles rippled under his plain white tee whenever he lifted himself for pull ups had your yoga pants feeling a little damp.

sensing things were about to get hot and heavy, you stepped towards the squat stand to put up your bar, kageyama’s hands never leaving your waist.

just as the weight left your shoulders and was properly put away, you let out a gasp when you felt his cool tongue slide sensually up your neck, and you blushed at the deep groan that left his lips.

your own moans soon filled the air as kageyama ground his hard cock against your ass through his joggers, groping your soft sides fully with his hands.

you rested your head against his chest as you let him massage your body roughly with his dexterous digits, mewling and panting at the way he teased and pinched your nipples through the fabric of your sports bra.

“you have no idea what you do to me,” he rasped in your ear, maneuvering your bodies to lay on the padded gym floor. you let him spread your thighs as you propped your body up on one elbow.

you panted lightly as kageyama looked down on you from above, kneeling between your legs while gazing over your glistening form.

your baby hairs stuck to your sweaty forehead as your skin seemed to glisten under the fluorescent lights above.

blue eyes zeroed in on a stray drop of sweat that glided from your neck and began its descent down the valley of your breasts.

something in him snapped and he lunged forward, causing you to yelp in surprise before moaning as he tongue followed the sweat drops path, groaning against your heated skin at the salty taste.

he needed more.

“the way you look when you’re working out, the way your sweat makes your skin glow,” a whine escaped your lips as he nipped gently at your collar bone.

he lifted his head to meet your eyes and you gasped at the feral look in his blue orbs, pupils blown wide with lust.

“you make me so hungry, (y/n).” before you had a chance to respond to him, the sudden sound of fabric tearing and your inner thighs exposed to cool air made you balk, and you stared at your boyfriend in shock.

“you did not just rip open my yoga pants!” kageyama gave you a blank look before shrugging, leaning his face down to your exposed core, pleased to find that you were already dripping onto the floor.

“i’ll buy you another pair.” a breathy moan replaced your curse for his causal destruction of your clothing as he licked a fat stripe up your cunt, fingers digging harshly into the plumpness of your thighs as he drank in your flavor.

moans spilled from your parted lips uncontrollably as kageyama ate you out, tongue flicking and suckling against your clit as one of his hands released your thigh in favor of sinking two fingers into your hot core.

“fuck!” you choke out in a whisper as you wind your fingers through his silky locks, gripping them tightly as you roll your hips into his face.

kageyama took your grinding on his face in stride, speeding up the movements of his fingers as he searched your walls for that one spot that made you see stars.

“a-ah!” you cried out, thighs clenching around his head as he smirked into your flesh. found it. tears began pricking your eyes as your body was assaulted with pleasure, kageyama’s fingers slamming right into your g-spot.

kageyama knew you were getting close when he felt your walls flutter around his fingers and your soft moans began growing louder as you neared your release.

with a snarl, kageyama pulled his fingers from you roughly and sat up from in between your legs. your whimper at the sudden emptiness was swallowed by him as he slammed his lips to yours hungrily.

you moaned into the kiss, tasting yourself as you felt him fumble with the tie on his joggers before pulling them down along with his boxers to free his cock.

kageyama pulled away from the kiss, greedily taking in your breathless and flushed expression before slowly pushing his length into you, groaning as he forced your walls to accommodate his girth and impressive length.

tears sprung in your eyes and fell down your soft cheeks as you cried at the stretch, mind going delirious from the pleasure as your boyfriend continued to sink into you.

kageyama leaned down to lick up your tears before roughly snapping his hips into you, sinking the rest of the way in as his pelvis settled flush against you.

you choked as he bottomed out, and your hands instinctively went to grip onto his muscular shoulders, nails digging into his flesh hard enough to leave marks.

kageyama groaned at the feeling of your walls clenching around him, and he pulled back before slamming into you, relishing the way your walls seemed to suck him back in.

“tobio!” you cried out, voice breathless and wobbly as he slammed directly into your g-spot. kageyama smirked at your already fucked out expression, and slammed his cock into you again.

nothing but the sound of skin against skin and your wanton moans filled the stuffy gym air as kageyama pounded into you.

“fuck, (y/n),” kageyama groaned, leaning back on his haunches as he pounded into your sopping cunt, holding your legs up by your knees while biting his lip, watching you lose yourself on his cock.

your soft stomach jiggled with each thrust, shirt having ridden up while you squeezed your breasts through your bra, eyes crossing from the pleasure.

“fuck! you feel too f-fucking good!” you moaned, voice stuttering from the intensity kageyama was fucking into you with. kageyama smiled down at you, cheeks flushed from the compliment. “you’re taking me so well, pretty thing.”

he hissed as you clenched around him. apparently you liked that. so he continued.

“you feel so nice and tight around me, pretty girl.” he moaned out, feeling his high begin to approach him as your soft walls fluttered around him. he let one of your legs drop as he brought a hand to your aching clit.

rubbing tight circles into your sensitive nub, he sped up his hips until you were practically sobbing from the pleasure, coming dangerously close to tipping over the edge.

kageyama groaned at the sight of your flushed cheeks shining with tears and sweat, swollen pink lips caught in your teeth as you stared up at him with furrowed brows.

“i-i’m close!” you stuttered out, body beginning to seize while you could practically taste your orgasm. kageyama wasn’t any better, his hips losing rhythm as he opted to just pounding into you with whatever he’s got left.

“go on, pretty girl.” he huffed out, lazy smile curling his lips as he continued rubbing your clit with precise circles. “make a mess on me.”

a scream ripped through your vocal cords as you spasmed on his cock, eyes clenching shut as you clamped around him so tightly kageyama became lightheaded.

with a choked moan of his own he came deep inside you, filling you up to the brim with his cum as he fell forward, stopping himself from falling onto you as he held himself up with his arms.

you both sat there for a while, desperately trying to catch your breaths as you eventually came down from your highs.

opening your eyes, you find that kageyama was already staring at you, eyes softened and face still flushed from his high. you watched as a singular bead of sweat rolled down his nose before dropping onto the corner of your mouth.

without even thinking, your tongue swiped out to lick it up, and you saw your boyfriend’s eyes harden again, and a gasp escaped you as he rutted his hips into yours, cock twitching back to life.

a devious smirk filled his face, and he raised a singular eyebrow at you in challenge.

“you don’t think we’re done, do you? we still have a lot more sets to finish.”

taglist: @lovelypasteldreams @living-for-drama @arixtsukki @month-seasoning @bakarinnie

#✨.sapphire #e.rotic #e.kageyama #reader insert #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu smut #kinktober 2020 #hq kageyama #kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama tobio #kageyama x y/n #kageyama x reader smut #haikyuu x reader smut #fluff #smut #hq x reader

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lifeofclonewars · 3 years

Text

Voices Long Gone

As always, AO3 link below. Sorry to my want to write for Kix and the next chapter of Beginn, apparently Domino took over the writing brain cells today

Summary:

It shocks him the first time Echo does it after Rishi. Not because it’s new – far from it, actually. In fact, Fives is certain Echo doesn’t even realize he has a habit of mimicking his brothers when he quotes them.

With the others, it’s noticeable, but mainly only if you look for it. But with this particular one… as long as someone understands Basic, they pick up on it. Because Cutup had kriffing decided to speak like that when they were six.

Or, Fives' journey through hearing Echo mimic Cutup's accent following Rishi, and then some.

----

It shocks him the first time Echo does it after Rishi. Not because it’s new — far from it, actually. In fact, Fives is certain Echo doesn’t even realize he has a habit of mimicking his brothers when he quotes them. It’s another reason they call him Echo, though his brother doesn’t know that. They hadn't said so on Kamino and he's only picked up on the fact that they started to call him that for his repeating phrases and commands.

With the others, it’s noticeable, but mainly only if you look for it and know the various inflections the same voice could have. It’s more noticeable to those who knew the full squad, like 99.

But with this particular one… as long as someone understands Basic, they pick up on it. Because Cutup had kriffing decided to speak like that one Military History/Sparring Instructor they had had when they were six he had thought was cooler than the rest. He’d purposely made the accent thicker and himself more and more difficult to understand when they'd protested against it until they gave in.

It always is obvious when Echo mimics something Cutup had said, matching Cutup's ridiculous (but unique) accent almost uncannily for someone who doesn’t speak that way as often as their batchmate. Echo had started doing it when quoting Cutup within weeks of the accent's appearance. Nothing new now, but for some reason…

For some reason, following the disaster on the moon, Fives had assumed Echo wouldn't do it anymore. But of-kriffing-course his twin would, he didn't even know he was doing it. And Fives knew that, yet he had still thought differently.

It shouldn't even be as big of a deal as his mind was making it out to be. They were eating with their new squad in the 501st (the 501st!), talking more. Both of them had been quieter than normal after everything, but their squad didn't know that. Within a few weeks, when everything didn't ache and it was only when he focused on it or was reminded by random things, they would. But not quite yet, even if they were speaking what some squads might call an average amount. (Domino had never been average, in the worst and best ways.)

“After all,” Echo says, “it’s like I’ve been told many times: never wear three sets of blacks at the same time.”

The squad laughs lightly, slightly confused on the accent change, but Fives freezes, fork halfway to his mouth, as the pain that hasn’t gone away yet intensifies. He misses Cutup so much and he didn’t think he’d ever hear his voice again. And while he technically isn’t, Echo does a karking good job of making it sound the exact same way Cutup said those words.

He struggles through the rest of the meal, trying to not drown under the grief that washes over him. Still, he dismisses himself early and leaves to find a quieter, less public place to try to not break down. Echo gives him a worried look as he stands and leaves, oblivious to what was racing through Fives’ mind. The squad lets him go, understanding and knowing to leave him alone, that Echo will find him soon enough. The way it has been with both of them the past few weeks. It’s not like they have anything immediately scheduled for after the meal, anyway.

Later, he doesn’t tell Echo the full story. He’s not sure how telling Echo he sounded just like Cutup would affect his brother’s ability to do it the way he did. So he skips over that and focuses on how hearing that phrase again made him miss Cutup more than he would’ve expected a year ago.

Echo apologizes for causing him grief, but Fives tells him an apology isn’t necessary. It’s not his twin’s fault they both have more trauma than most of their brothers have at their age. It’s certainly not Echo’s fault for trying to keep his memory of Cutup intact by repeating what he’s said. (Especially when it fell under why-Echo-is-named-Echo in both categories.)

The second time it happens, Fives isn’t as shocked. He knows it’s a possibility this time, sees the way the conversation is heading and the variety of answers Echo could give. The grief still twists sharp, but the time that’s passed means it’s slightly easier to bear.

He surprises himself by not frowning or freezing when he hears the mimic. He’s missed hearing his three batchmates speak, and it’s oddly comforting to hear their words the way they said it once more. Though he doesn’t always pick up on Echo mimicking Droidbait and Hevy, especially as they meet more brothers who must’ve had the same trainer or something and say things just similar enough to how those two said them. But Cutup’s isn’t one he’s encountered elsewhere, isn’t one he thinks he’ll ever encounter again, so hearing it from Echo is the closest thing he’ll get to hearing him speak again until he’s marching on, too.

Echo continues to unknowingly mimic Cutup after the first and second time and Fives can’t bring himself to stop him, can’t bring himself to want Echo to stop doing it anymore. Even if he has to explain to a puzzled brother every now and then after the conversation is over.

Through Saleucami, Kamino (99 smiles widely when he notices Echo doing it after they explain what happened), ARC training, and beyond, Echo continues to do it. One day, having just returned from an ARC mission with the 104th and trying to get some rest in the general barracks instead of alone in the ARC ones, Fives overhears some of Torrent talking about it. Eyes closed and across the room, after clearly being exhausted when he’d greeted them, they think he’s asleep.

“Has anyone told Echo he switches accents sometimes? It’s odd, isn’t it?”

Hmm, that sounds like one of the shinier troopers. One who has been around long enough to get more used to calling Fives and Echo by their names and not just “sir” or “ARC Troopers Echo and Fives” but not long enough for anyone to tell him why Echo did that yet.

“He says stuff like his batchmates when he quotes them. The other brothers he’s known for a long time, too,” someone — Jesse, maybe — tells the kid. “If you listen closely enough, you’ll catch when he mimics Fives, Kix, Rex, and so on. Fives said it’s subconscious.”

“So why not tell him? Wouldn’t he want to know he’s saying things like his batchmate? I think I would.”

A silence follows long enough for a shrug. “Well, Fives said he’s sure if telling Echo he did it would affect his ability to do it the way he did. Ya know, if he becomes aware of it he might become overly aware of it and either not mimic it properly or stop doing it.”

“Yeah,” that sounded like Kix. “Plus, it makes Fives smile. I think he even nudges conversations in certain ways because he wants Echo to do it when one of them is missing their batchmates particularly hard. We don’t want to take that away from them.”

Oh. That wasn’t something he’d consciously been doing, either. But now that he knows, he isn't going to stop. In fact, it might actually make him do it more frequently. No, he will do it more frequently. He always misses Domino so much.

Too soon after this revelation, however, it never happens again.

Too soon after Rishi, too soon in his life, too soon too soon too soon. Now he’ll never hear something Cutup used to say the way he used to say. (He never had the same mimic abilities as his twin, after all.) Now he’ll never hear any of his batchmates speak again, whether themselves or through Echo’s insanely accurate subconscious impressions. Now they’re really voices long gone.

Too soon, Echo’s voice becomes another of the long gone.

Fives keeps the memories of Domino and Echo mimicking Domino the best he can. He can’t bring himself to reference things they said as often as he used to. It’s like the Force or fate or whatever decided to play some cruel, ironic trick on him, only and specifically him. Throw in the name of their squad and, well…

When brothers start to take notice of what he’s doing, of the lack of the mimicking, too, they ask questions. Questions Fives avoids, deflects, only really talks about with the members of Torrent he’s known the longest (that number shrinks with every battle).

But Fives will take what he can. Even if he’s the last of Domino Squad, he can still talk to Kix and Jesse about them and reminisce on reminiscing about his batchmates with them and Echo. He can tell Tup about Cutup, Droidbait, Hevy. He can tell Tup about Echo’s mimicking habit and other things he didn’t get to experience himself and what Fives misses.

He takes what he can get, what his conscious and subconscious mind will let him take. Some, in this aspect and part of war, are better than none. The brothers that do learn and listen to him, the ones he can talk to about most (but never all) of it are better than none. They’ll keep memories of Domino going on longer than he could by himself, as long as everything plays out right.

Nothing plays out right. Some of the brothers he talks to die, he doesn’t open up to more. Fives hears Cutup’s voice once again; it’s actually coming from Cutup himself. Rex’s voice fades out and his batchmate’s fades in. It reminds him of just how accurate Echo’s impression was and then it reminds him what exactly hearing Cutup himself implies.

The more time passes, the more 501st members there are that don’t know about Echo’s habit or Fives’ reaction or how they honored their batchmates or anything past the rumors about them. There’s only so much that can be shared when it’s learned second-hand, after all. Those that know try their best, though. Fives and Echo would appreciate it if they knew, they think.

(Things change when Echo returns. Suddenly, Rex is the one reeling when Echo says something the exact same way Fives had said it years and years ago and less than a year ago. A recall of something Cutup said quickly follows it. Torrent remembers conversations both long ago and recently passed.)

(Later than that, Fives isn’t around to explain to the Bad Batch the first time Echo mimics his brothers around them. They don’t know how to ask Echo about it, either.)

Fives was right, in more ways than one.

#b writes #arc trooper fives #arc trooper echo #domino twins #clone trooper cutup #domino squad #writing #fives #echo #cutup #in the bg:#jesse #kix #tup #captain rex #angst

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still-busy-being-mortal · 3 years

Text

the rising of the moon

word count: 4544

rating: G

fandom: the mechanisms

warnings: major character death

summary: They've lived so long together, perhaps it is only fitting they die alone.

story notes: so this came about as a result of wanting to cry MORE about the mechs. don't ask me why.

features raphaella spouting unnecessary science jargon, ivy being emotionally repressed/depressed, drumbot brian holding a conversation with himself, and the toy soldier being actually emotionally intelligent.

——————

JONNY

It’s a quiet day aboard the starship formerly known as The Aurora. Most of the crew is out, and she’s drifting slowly through a dusty asteroid field. Ivy has stayed aboard to read, and Drumbot Brian was designated ship-sitter, so he’s stayed on as well. When enough time has passed (Is it days? Or decades? No one knows anymore, and no one cares. They are all so tired.), Brian hits the alert switch that will tell the Mechanisms to come home.

Ivy feels the gentle vibration in her brain --the pulse of The Aurora’s beacon-- and she puts her book down before walking slowly to the navigation bridge. Marius’ hand starts to buzz, messing up his note-taking; he apologizes to the rather fascinating asteroid-dweller he’s interviewing and takes his leave. Ashes feels their chest hum, and they turn away from their beautiful, fiery meteor shower.

[read more on ao3, or continue below!]

One by one, the Mechs find their way home. It takes some longer than others, but they all return eventually. Or they should; right now, there are only seven crewmates in the navigation bridge.

“I’m sick of waiting--where the hell is Jonny?” Tim whines.

“I guess he decided to stay in the asteroid belt?” Marius says.

“Woulda been nice to let us know,” mutters Ashes, “So we’re not all sittin’ here for ages.”

Brian stands and raises his hand. “All in favour of leaving and returning in a few decades?” They all agree, so he pilots Aurora away from the asteroid field.

Time goes by, and they do not hear from Jonny. Of course, members of the crew sometimes stay away for long periods of time, but that doesn’t mean their absence is not felt. And Jonny hasn’t appeared to try and contact them at all.

After a while, they vote to return to the asteroid belt. When they arrive, they split up, communication devices in hand.

Ivy combs through her memory, trying to summon any knowledge she has on Asteroid Field 01.18.20. The Toy Soldier moves methodically from meteor to meteor, searching for their lost comrade. Raphaella interviews any inhabitants she comes across, axially coding their qualitative responses to identify patterns in the data. Tim goes to a bar for a drink, irritated at Jonny’s latest antic.

He walks into some nameless, backwater joint and sits at the counter, flagging down the bartender with a lazy wave. He orders and waits, mechanical eyes roving the establishment. And then he freezes.

On the far wall hang a few dozen photographs, all dusty and poor quality. Above the photos is a crudely-done banner that simply reads “Cheers to Our Past Patrons.” One of the pictures is of Jonny.

When the bartender returns, Tim asks: “What’s the deal with the wall of fame, then?”

“Oh, that,” they answer tiredly. “Just sum dark joke the old owner thought up. Them’s the folks who kicked it in this here bar, you see.”

Tim was confused. “You mean those people died here? That can’t be right; my friend’s up there, and he can’t d--he’s alive.”

The barkeep shrugged. “Don’t know, pal. We had to bury most of thems out back, if you reckon you want to check.” He chuckled darkly and went back to drink-making.

Tim quickly finished his drink and went out the back door. He debated alerting the other Mechs about this development, but decided he might as well see for himself first.

He found the makeshift graveyard quickly, small rusty mounds amid the equally rusty asteroid outback. Some displayed names on roughly carved wood planks, but obviously none of them said “Jonny d’Ville” (Tim laughed at the idea of Jonny carrying around an ID). Most were unmarked, however, so he started to dig.

He used his hands, too impatient to try and find a shovel. He came across bodies and bones in various stages of decay, but none that had any chance of being Jonny. About fed up with this ridiculous idea of his, he decided to dig up one more grave. He shovelled dirt and rocks out of the way, until his hand hit something hard and cold. Something metallic. He pulled on it, and came away with a belt. Christ , he thought.

He quickly scooped away the rest of the dirt, revealing the corpse of Captain First Mate Jonny d’Ville. Dead. Tim stumbled backward, hand fumbling for his comm. “Um, mates, I-I found him.”

The Mechanisms were different after that. Yes, Nastya had gone Out long ago, but they had never actually come across her dead corpse , so it wasn’t the same. Marius had examined his body and declared him fully, completely, and irrevocably dead. They had held a funeral, but they were all too much in shock to really remember it. All they knew was that they were down a crew member, without a captain first mate, and terribly aware of their own mortality.

ASHES

About half the crew was in Raphaella’s lab, helping her with some complex kind of experiment. Raph was mixing two viciously green liquids together, while Marius was unspooling wire from a large bobbin. The Toy Soldier was holding an ultraviolet light against a motherboard, and Ashes connected the motherboard to the chartreuse concoction using the wires. After pouring all of the chemicals, Raphaella pulled on some rubber gloves and pulled out a small pocketwatch from her shirt. “Are we ready?” she asked gleefully. Without waiting for an answer, she started the countdown. “Five! Four! Three! T--curses!” The pocketwatch slipped from her gloved grasp and fell into the churning beaker. All at once there was a flash and a bang, and the lights went out. They stood in complete silence for a minute, before the backup generators flicked on.

The Toy Soldier clapped its hands, “That Was Jolly Good! Can We Do It Again?”

“No, TS, look, I got goop on my--wait!” Marius shouted, “Where’s Ashes?” They all turned to look at where the quartermaster had been just moments before. The floor where they’d been standing was a scorched, intricate, dark pattern of swirls. “What the hell is that ?”

“I Do Not Know, But I Will Go Get The Archivist!”

TS returned with Ivy, who took one look at the patterns on the floor and asked: “Who is it that has been time travelling?”

“Time travelling?!” Raph exclaimed.

“Yes,” Ivy said, “Those marks are a perfect exemplar of the evidence left behind when one has been forcibly transported forward or backward in the time continuum. Which one of you did it? Did you happen to bring back any books?”

“It wasn’t us: it was Ashes.” Marius said, “And we don’t think they’ve come back yet.”

Ivy grew very pale. “That is highly alarming. There’s a less than 0.1% chance that a time traveller ever comes back if they do not return instantly after the outset of their journey.”

“Y-you mean Ashes might not...” Marius trailed off, “...Wait a second! That doesn’t make sense! We don’t experience time linearly!”

“That may be true, but we are not forcibly moved through it either. We are at the whim of the narrative flow, and any alteration to that usually produces negative results.”

The Toy Soldier flashed through many emotions at once, though its face never changed. “So Quartermaster O’Reilly Is...Gone?”

“We can’t prove that yet!” Raph cried, fluttering around the lab and grabbing various scientific instruments. “Maybe if I can pinpoint when exactly they’ve been transported to, we can...we can bring them back.”

“That’s quite a long shot,” Marius said.

“What is science if not a shot into the ignorant dark?” Raph replied, rigging up a technological monstrosity. She aimed the thing at the charred spot and clicked a button, causing the machine to emit a pulsating, whirring sound. “Oh, you all might want to close your eyes.”

With a burst of green and a harsh dial tone, the thing spit out a strip of paper. Raph grabbed it and read it intently. She dropped it suddenly, eyes distant and empty. “They are gone.”

The room burst into a cacophony. (“What do you mean?!” “Gone How? Gone Forever ?” “It was statistically unlikely that they could have returned.”) Raph picked up the paper and pressed it onto the lab table. Most of it was meaningless words and numbers, but Raph pointed out a string in the center: “RESULT) DATE: %& INFINITE ROUNDING ERROR $! _ LOCATION: SINGULARITY!UNIVERSAL IMPLOSION. ANALYSIS) CHANCE OF TERMINATION: 100.0% +-0.0 R = 1.0”

“They’re gone.”

RAPHAELLA

The crew was far more disorganized after Ashes left. With no one to maintain inventory or keep the crew in line, The Mechanisms started to fall apart. Raphaella tried for a while to build some kind of time-travelling device, some way of defying the inexorable march of the story, but it was in vain. She was left with only one option; one experiment she hadn’t tried yet.

She carefully laser cuts some metal from the starship once known as the Aurora. She sits in Nastya’s former workshop for hours, bending and twisting and fabricating until she is left with wings; wings more breathtaking than any she has possessed before. Once on, they fan out behind her in a starburst of blue and metallic grey.

But her crew will never see them. In the cover of darkness, she steals away to the airlock. The ship is currently sailing past a black hole (Raphaella has the Messier number and NGC identification memorized, but that’s not her concern now). With one final look backward at the place that had been her home for millennia --the place she thought she would call home forever -- she casts herself into the black hole.

Ivy finds the note she left, succinct and unmincing as ever:

“Addressed to whoever finds this first:

After a brief review of prior literature, I have found extensive holes (no pun intended) in the study of singularities, specifically as it relates to a singularity’s effect on a humanoid body and mind. I seek to rectify this, as well as explore the possibility of horological manipulation, though perhaps my methods are not entirely replicable. It is every scientist’s dream to be on the cutting edge of research, and so I initiate this experiment joyfully. Also, black holes are hypothesized to have magnificent magnetic fields!

Yours,

Dr. Raphaella La Cognizi”

TIM

Tim, Marius, the Toy Soldier, Brian, and Ivy wait. They do not wait together, and they do not know what exactly it is they’re waiting for, but they wait nevertheless.

Time passes.

Brian pilots the ship towards various planets, pointless battles, dying stars. One day, the remaining Mechs arrive at a lawless sea-based war occurring on a planet composed entirely of liquid obsidian. They commandeer a ship (which they dub the ‘Dawn’) and spend decades wreaking havoc as the most formidable group of pirates. But Tim knows something is wrong.

“Tim, take out that vessel off the starboard side.” Brian orders from the prow of the Dawn.

Tim smoothly preps, loads, and positions a cannon to aim directly at the enemy ship in question. He lights the fuse, and the cannon fires. The crew watch as the projectile hurls through the air, arcing like a cold meteor into the distance. They watch it come down towards the enemy vessel. And they watch it miss.

The crew turns to stare at Tim. He’s not nearly as mortified as they expected. In fact, he’s perfectly serene.

“Um, Tim…” Marius starts slowly, “D-did you know you, uh...missed?”

“Yep.” he responds, popping the ‘p’.

“Did you mean to?”

“Nope.”

“And...you’re not upset by that?”

“Not especially.”

(“That’s a fascinatingly abnormal psychological response,” Marius mutters under his breath, jotting something down in a notebook he appears to have produced out of nowhere.)

The crew continues to stare as Tim goes below deck to his bunk, humming slightly.

Tim has known something was off for a long time now. His aim started to err by nanometres, then by millimeters, then more, until he was missing entire ships like today. He’d panicked at the beginning, of course, but now? Now, he was ready to be done.

He’d felt the pressure building up in his head, behind his eyes. He got spurts of tunnel vision randomly, and sometimes his vision just went to static. He gradually lost the ability to see some colors, as the electronic rods and cones went out one-by-one and refused to self-repair. But he wasn’t nervous or distressed or alarmed; he was excited.

You see, he’d been saving something for a special occasion. He didn’t know what ‘special occasion’ entailed, since the Mechs never consistently celebrated holidays or birthdays, but permanent death seemed like a pretty good one. He rooted around in his rucksack, and withdrew a set of shiny silver keys; keys he’d stolen a long, long time ago. These were the ignition keys to the largest gunship existence will ever see, and Tim planned to go out with a bang. That evening, he told the crew he wanted them all to return to the starship so he could be dropped off somewhere. They all agreed, since they didn’t have any real cares anymore, and they set off for the planet Tim had etched into his memory.

Tim sits in the cockpit of the gunship, the planet itself already ruined and smoking from fighting his way to get here. The Mechanisms were long gone, as he’d told them to leave without him. He hadn’t exactly said he wasn’t planning on coming back, but he thinks they understood. With one last grin of pure, unadulterated madness, he kicks the gunship into gear and blasts off.

The ship goes too fast to comprehend, and in an instant he’s shooting across the cosmos, shattering stars and razing entire systems of planets. The universe has never before witnessed such complete and utter desolation. Tim doesn’t process much during this rampage...until he starts to die.

He doesn’t know what he hit, but something has jolted the gunship just right, and he’s flung out the front glass. He knows he should die instantly, and he is, but his eyes are moving faster. They’re replaying his life, backwards, and he wants to groan with the cliché-ness of it all. But then it’s over. Or, almost over. At the very end, so fast, so short compared to the millennia he has lived, he catches sight of a young man in a trench. Bertie. A face he will never forget no matter how much longer he could have lived. And in the moments of blackness before he stops forever, he thinks about Bertie, about what comes next.

Faith is a moot point when you’re immortal, since you’ve quite literally come into contact with gods and demons, eldritch horrors and cosmic powers. But here, at the end of his wretchedly long existence, Tim wonders if he will ever see Bertie again. If he will ever see Jonny, or TS, or Ashes, or anyone ever again.

He dies blind, with their names on his lips.

IVY

Exposition: Ivy is quite spectacular at suppressing her emotions. She’s also skilled at identifying patterns, so by the time Raphaella left, she knew what was going on with 98% certainty. Without much fanfare, she packed her bags (5 for books and 1 for everything else), said goodbye to Marius, Brian, and the Toy Soldier, and left.

She rifled through her memory archives for the quaintest library she knew of, and headed there.

Rising Action: And so time passed.

Ivy read, and organized, and wrote, and...existed. Nothing happened, and nothing changed. Carmilla must have made an error in her mechanization because she’d never been the best at processing feelings, but she was happy, she thought.

Climax: A war came, and her library was attacked. With the numbest, most detached sense of purpose imaginable, she loaded an escape pod with random books she thought should be preserved and fired it out into the void. She didn’t even know she’d been hit until she’d fallen to the floor, blood streaming from a massive wound. She knows she is dying; she’d seen the patterns.

Denouement: Her brain whirs slower and slower, until it stops. The end.

MARIUS

They are not a crew any longer. Brian has firmly rooted himself on the bridge, more robot than man now. The Toy Soldier wanders the ship, searching for its friends who are playing the best game of hide-and-seek that the universe has ever seen. Marius putters along, doing some maintenance, writing down his thoughts, and waiting for his death.

He’d always known this life of theirs couldn’t last. Besides the conceptual and moral implications of an eternal existence without consequences, it didn’t even make sense physically . There was no such thing as a perpetual motion machine, and he was surprised his more rational-minded crewmates didn’t question it more. But now his theory had come to fruition, and his crew, his family , had slowly dropped off one-by-one, like leaves from an autumnal tree.

He’s at a bit of a loose end now. With no people left to talk to, no minds to pick, he doesn’t feel any sense of purpose. It’s not depression--he knows that; it’s more of a...cosmic futility.

He feels one last pull, one last tug of the all-pervading narrative, a tide of finality, urging him towards a certain door. He knows this door, knows what it means when he opens it. But he also knows all things come to an end eventually, so why not go out doing what he always did? Providing the comic relief.

“Time this for me, will you, Aurora?” he calls out. He turns the handle and steps inside.

BRIAN

Since Jonny’s death, Brian has been at war with himself. He supposes he’s always been at war with himself though, and his current moral quandary reminds him uncomfortably of his first.

Sitting on the bridge alone, he decides to have a conversation.

“So the crux of the problem is that we can bring people back from the dead, correct?”

He flips his switch. “Correct.”

He flips it back. “But the dilemma is whether we should bring the Mechs back or not.”

“Also correct.”

“Which we shouldn’t, because they wanted to die.”

“No, we should. We want them alive, right? Using magic is definitely the easiest way to achieve that.”

“But we need our family to be happy. God knows how long it’s been.”

“Is the end goal their happiness or our happiness?”

“If I answer that, will I change your mind?”

“Is altering the end goal really the moral way to win this argument?”

“You know what? Damn you.”

Time passes, and each crewmate’s departure only makes Brian’s contempt for his own inner hesitation grow. He spends years staring out into the cosmos, thoughts whirling just as fast as the dust and gases beyond the glass. He wonders if he will ever die and join his family, or if the degree of his artificiality will render him truly immortal. He hates that thought more than most anything else.

He stops smelling the smoke of Ashes’ fires one day, and wonders if his olfactory systems are shutting down.

He stops feeling the rumble of Raphaella’s experimental explosions, and wonders if his nerve endings are rusting.

He stops seeing the flash of Tim’s gunshots bounce around the corridors, and wonders if he’s gone as blind as the gunner himself.

He stops hearing Ivy’s narration, and wonders if his auditory fluids have finally trickled away.

One day, the lone violin that has been echoing throughout the empty starship fades out, and Brian feels his heart stop.

It restarts of course, but Brian knows.

He knows that it’s finally, finally time. Soon, very soon, there will be no more life aboard this ship. No life, where there had been life for eons. No life, where there had been life immortal.

His sense of taste has never come into doubt, because he can still taste the acridness of the Toy Soldier’s cooking wafting on the air. He decides it’s only right to bid goodbye, so he makes his way back to the kitchen. On the way, he passes the Doctor’s old laboratory. He briefly considers destroying it, bringing down the whole ship in a blaze of fire and brimstone, but he knows that isn’t right; it wouldn’t fulfill anything.

In the kitchen, the Toy Soldier is pulling something pink and grey and on fire out of the oven. “Hey, TS,” Brain says gently, leaning against the doorframe as his heart falters again. “I-I’ve got to talk to you.”

The Toy Soldier spins around. “Drumbot Brian!” it shouts joyfully. “How Have You Been, Old Chap! I Have Been Playing Hide-And-Seek With The Rest Of The Crew For A While Now, And They Are Definitely Winning! Have You Seen Them?”

“Oh, TS,” Brian says sadly, “We’re all who’s left now. Don’t you know? The others have gone.”

He sees the Toy Soldier’s wooden eyes soften, betraying an agedness he’s never seen before. “Of Course I Know, Bean. But What Have We Been Doing This Whole Time, If Not Pretending?”

Brian smiles sorrowfully, and TS matches it. “I just wanted to let you know, TS, that now it’s my turn to go.”

“I Know.” It salutes him. “Goodbye, Drumbot.”

Brain gently returns the salute, and leaves.

He stumbles through the ship, heart failing rapidly now, but he makes it to the airlock. He knows deep down that there’s only one way his story could end. His whole existence has been framed by empty solitude, with his family providing the best aberration one could wish for. With his body more an empty metal frame than a robot now, he opens the airlock and casts himself back into the cosmos, from whence he came, and where he would die.

THE TOY SOLDIER

Its friends are all gone away now, and it knows this. There is no more laughter aboard the starship once known as the Aurora. There is no more gunfire or explosions. There is no more music. The cold mass of metal drifts through the void of the uncaring cosmos, with no living being aboard.

But The Toy Soldier has to be sure; it has to guarantee that it is truly all alone now. So it visits its friends’ final resting places.

It spends some years gazing out the front windows of the ship. The thrusters have been broken for a long time now, and the Toy Soldier doesn’t know how to repair them, so it just sits and watches. It wants to see the Drumbot, so it pretends that it does. Soon enough, out the starboard porthole, it spies him. His metal is rusted and warped, frost rendering most of his face unrecognizable. A drum is still looped around his shoulder. The Toy Soldier tethers itself to the ship and goes outside for a moment, drifting towards the robot. It lays a wooden hand on his deformed chest, and feels that his heart beats no longer. It carves off a long curl of wood from its side, and places it in Brian’s frozen hand.

It returns to the ship. It hadn’t known where Marius had disappeared to, but now it feels the force of the narrative driving it towards a certain room. It opens the door, and a handful of mangy octokittens hiss at it and scurry away. There’s nothing in the room besides a pile of crumpled clothes, a broken violin, and a metal hand, but the Toy Soldier could recognize that style anywhere. It gently twists one of its own wooden hands off, and lays it on the mound.

The Toy Soldier knows that Ivy went somewhere far away, so it closes its eyes and pretends that it’s there. When it opens them again, it finds itself in the charred ruins of some great marble building. At its feet lay bones, a metal flute, and a mess of circuitry, untouched by the ash. The Toy Soldier reaches up, removes a piece of wood from the back of its head, and lays it besides the flute.

The Toy Soldier has a harder time finding the gunner. It’s drawn this way and that, chasing an intangible trail through the stars and galaxies. All of the planets it passes are devoid of life. Finally, finally, it stumbles across an enormous, gaping wreck of a starship, all mangled and smashed to pieces. The ship is so large, it’s drawn smaller asteroids into an orbit around it. On one of these rocky satellites, the Toy Soldier spies a body: a skeleton covered in a long brown coat with a guitar slung across it. A pair of mutilated, metal eyes rest in the skull. The Toy Soldier smiles sadly, removes one of its own wooden eyes, and slips it into the pocket of the coat.

It knows it cannot follow the science officer into a black hole. It does manage to find the sketches of the wings Raphaella designed, so it gathers them up, takes two chunks of wood from its back, finds Raph’s keyboard, and casts everything into the nearest singularity.

After pretending to be at the end of space and time, it finds itself there. There is nothing, absolutely nothing. It removes two segments of wood from deep within its chest and places them in the nothingness, along with the strings of an old electric bass it had found. As it winks back to the ship, it catches the faintest scent of gasoline.

It returns to the asteroid Jonny had died on, the start of their ignoble demise. It visits his grave, in the taupe dirt of the desert behind the backwater bar, and sees all of the trinkets and mementos the crew had left behind. It knows none of them left anything during their makeshift funeral, so that means each of them must have slipped away at some point to come here on their own. Ashes has left their best lighter, Tim a pair of dogtags. Marius left behind all of his notes of Jonny’s disaster of a brain, and Brian has deposited some sun-scorched piece of space station. His harmonica has also found its way here, somehow. The Toy Soldier slowly, slowly reaches into its chest and removes its wooden heart, laying it down atop the mound of dirt and memories. It walks away, and knows that it can finally, finally stop pretending.

AURORA

There is no record of where the Toy Soldier went next. It certainly did not return to the empty ship once known as the brilliant Aurora. The lifeless, soulless, music-less ship drifts on alone through the cosmos, rusting and warping until no one could tell it had ever been a ship at all. Eons pass, and whatever memory the universe might have had of The Mechanisms has been utterly lost.

Until the misshapen mass gets stuck in the orbit of a planet. Molded and formed by the planet’s gravity, the ship is reborn as a moon. And all at once, she comes to life.

As dawn washes over her, the young moon hears a voice. “Hello, dear,” a woman coos, “My name is Dr. Carmilla.”

#hi please read my fic #am i posting it yet again? yes #the rising of the moon #the mechanisms #fiction #ao3

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ampleappleamble · 3 years

Text

—

Axa could feel them watching her as they settled into their room at the Goose and Fox that night, could feel them wanting to know her. Not only so they could understand why she had done what she had with Purnisc and Kaenra, but also so they could (no doubt) uncover and examine all the painful, humiliating life experiences behind her every decision, all her successes and failures, and then judge her accordingly. Like kith will, she thought, of course. That’s normal and healthy to think.

Genuine concern mingled with morbid curiosity, hung palpably over the group like a scythe posed to reap as everyone sat in awkward silence and waited for Axa to break the silence. So she drained her goblet, got out her pipe and her whiteleaf, and with a grim sense of determination, she told them about it.

About the career she'd built back in Ixamitl, where she had lucked into a scholarship to one of her hometown's more prestigious lore colleges, bestowed on her by a generous politician acquainted with her father. Because she'd always loved to learn and hear stories about kith from around the world, she had chosen to put her good fortune to good use and study to become a naturalist, concerning herself with the cultures and languages and histories that constituted the kith population of Eora.

While most of her colleagues had decided to specialize in Vailian– a popular choice for the political or business-oriented crowd– Axa fancied herself an intellectual, and so she had challenged herself with mastering Ordhjóma: the exotic, mysterious language of the Glamfellen, separated for 10,000 years from their tropical Sceltrfolc cousins in the far-flung, frozen south, in The White that Wends. She had thrown herself into her studies, blowing through massive tomes and ancient scrolls like a hurricane, outperforming her peers with ease. Within four years, Axa had risen like a Dawnstar to the top of her class.

And then the field work had begun.

"It's one thing to read about a people, learn their language from books and study up on their culture," Axa explained, stuffing her pipe slowly, taking her time. "It's quite another to visit their homeland, speak with them, live among them. I was barely seventeen, I'd never even been out of the city..."

Kana winced, painful recognition in his black eyes. "Culture shock can be particularly difficult for younger scholars. We have certain expectations after all our years of academic study, and to find out that the genuine article doesn't quite measure up after all that work can feel disorienting and disappointing. There's not only the shock, there's anger at the natives, and then the guilt over said anger..."

Axa accepted Aloth's proffered light while Kana trailed off– it always delighted her, using arcane flame for something so trivial as a smoke– and sighed. "That's what was really odd about it. I did experience some culture shock, but ultimately the problem wasn't me. It was them. I know it sounds like I'm just being bitter, but... honestly, for whatever reason, the whole village really was actively freezing me out."

"Nice," Edér chuckled, grinning at the unintentional pun until Aloth's glare chastised him back into solemnity.

"No one wanted to talk to me," Axa continued. "Oh, I tried, incessantly, but they just... kept turning away, or answering with nonsense or... or riddles. My colleagues had little difficulty integrating, but I felt like I was just barely tolerated by the villagers. I tried asking the other students about it, but they either feigned ignorance really well or they honestly couldn't tell what these Glamfellen had against me."

"Some sort of... racial prejudice, perhaps?" Aloth looked as uncomfortable as he sounded, but at least the topic was finally broached. Axa shrugged.

"I don't think so, but I honestly have no idea. The other three scholars with me weren't orlans, but they weren't Glamfellen either. And no one ever specifically said anything about my being an orlan."

Sagani nodded. "In my experience, while most Glamfellen tend to be as standoffish as any elf– no offense, Aloth– they don't usually have specific prejudices like that."

"Right? Ordinarily, unity and hospitality are taken very seriously in the frozen south; to support one another is indispensable to survival. Nevertheless, I couldn't figure out what I was doing wrong by them, and it was driving me out of my gods damned mind. I was supposed to be studying local accents, dialects, and colloquialisms, but that's somewhat difficult when nobody will actually speak with you. So I ended up spending a lot of time eavesdropping on people, mostly outside, by myself."

Sagani shook her head, drawing her whetstone across her hunting knife. "Bad idea to go it alone out there in the White. All kinds of dangers hiding in the snow."

The orlan barked a sharp, sardonic laugh. "You're telling me. That's how I met Vaargys."

As soon as his name was out of her mouth, Axa could feel her entire demeanor transform, and the atmosphere in the room with her. It was the first time she'd said his name since she'd left home, and even though she knew they'd already been listening, her little audience really seemed to be listening now. She felt her face get warm and her eyes sting from the impending tears, so she turned to the window, trying hard to focus on the streets outside and not at her own reflection in the glass.

Come on, girl. You’ve run far enough. It's time you faced this.

"I spotted him from afar one day at dusk: a dark, distant, shaggy figure out there among the rocks, shambling around just beyond the village's borders. It took me a few minutes to even realize he was kith. My colleagues noticed me watching him eventually, warned me away from him: the 'wild man' the locals called the 'Cursed Vagabond,' the 'Exiled Priest.' And he was out there all alone, struggling to survive because nobody wanted him around, and no one could say why..."

"You had a lot in common," Aloth murmured gravely. It wasn't difficult to see where this story was going. And he couldn't help but think it sounded similar, thematically, to one he knew quite well.

"And kith will paint a face on a rock with their own blood if it means they can have someone to talk to," Sagani sighed sadly, sympathy heavy in her chest. She could see where this was going too, and she dug her fingers into the thick fur on the back of Itumaak's neck for comfort. He grunted in appreciation.

"So I introduced myself, like you do. He was... cautious, but receptive. It helped that I'd brought gifts." Axa exhaled, and blue smoke curled up before her, walling her off. "We got to know one another, and over time we became fond of each other. We started sharing meals and stories about ourselves, our lives. He told me he was a priest of Wael, self-taught, and exiled from his clan for venerating the Eyeless Face instead of the Beast of Winter... He let me get close to him, cut his hair, tend to his wounds..." The tears spilled over at last, and she paused for a moment, hid her face.

"And you fell in love," Sagani finished for her. Classic. Tale as old as time.

Axa smiled again even as she brushed her tears away, dragging her little fist across her golden brown cheeks. "And I fell hard. I was his first real friend, gave him his first kiss. And very soon, I became his first lover." This made the men blush and look away. Axa and Sagani paid them no heed.

"I was fascinated by him, and he adored me. We made our own little world together there in the caves, in the snow. And we lived there, separate from everyone and everything else. Until I had to return to Ixamitl, of course. But I had a plan: Before I could talk myself out of it, I asked him to marry me– the very night before I was to return to the Eastern Reach. ...Gods, I had known him for only five months."

"And... wait, how old were you?" Edér spoke up for the first time since Axa had started her story, confusion clear on his face.

"I– Seventeen, almost eighteen by the time I went back home," she clarified, miffed at the interruption. "I'm twenty-two, now."

The blond man held his hands out in front of him, squinting at his fingers, baffled. "And... and how old were you when you left home? Hey, how old was he?"

Kana sighed and leaned over, patting him on the shoulder with one huge hand and confiscating the man's pipe with the other. "Erh– Never mind that now, my friend. Please, Axa, continue." He smiled that big, toothy smile at the little woman, and she blinked very slowly.

"...I brought him home to meet my family and colleagues, to assist me in my studies since all I'd really brought back from the Land was him, and ultimately, hopefully, to become my husband. In the interest of brevity– albeit somewhat belated– here’s how all that turned out: my family and colleagues hated and distrusted him, and after I had defended him so fiercely I'd alienated myself from most of my peers, I found out that about three-quarters of everything he'd ever told me about his home and his language was complete horseshit and all of our work together was complete bunkum. So! I burned it all in a big bonfire behind our house before telling him to leave and never come back." She ticked her misfortunes off on her fingers as she described them, her hands trembling, and then gesticulated fiercely before letting her fists fall to the small tabletop before her. "And then... I left, too. And now, here I am."

...Gods, that was easy. Much easier than I thought it'd be. Why was it so–

She rambled on before she could lose her nerve. "So. That's why I... wanted to do that for Kaenra. My fiancé lied to me and fucked up my life, too, and I can't just ignore that kind of shit when I see it anymore." She sighed, turning to the window again with her pipe still burning away in her hand. "Vaargys is the reason I had to leave my home and everything I've ever known, because his lies ruined my career and my academic standing and my reputation. How could I just stand by and watch as it happened to someone else?"

"Yet, you advised Kaenra to forgive Purnisc?" Aloth twisted his fingers together in his lap, staring at them rather than looking at Axa as he spoke. "After... all he'd done?"

Sagani glanced at him, narrowing her eyes as he reached up to smooth his hair– and wipe away a stray bead of sweat in the process. Is it my imagination, or is he...?

Axa kept her gaze fixed on the street below. "Yeah, that sort of surprised me too, to be honest." She spotted a stray soul, its violet wisps of essence drifting slowly amongst the city goers, and she squeezed her eyes shut, felt them burn behind her eyelids. "I suppose... I just got the feeling that it wasn't too late for them, that what they had for each other wasn't so broken it couldn't be repaired. Vaargys and me... not so. There was no coming back from what he'd done, and we both knew it."

"Whatever became of him? Of Vaargys?" Kana leaned forward eagerly, his eyes shining with compassion. For once, he actually wasn't taking notes on the conversation, and Sagani noticed that, too.

Axa opened her eyes, and saw the lost soul on the street no more. She shuddered. "After I confronted him, Vaargys simply... left. Vanished into the horizon, just as abruptly as he'd first appeared to me. And then, I got to clean up after him– after us– all alone. I wasn't up to the task; wasn't really up to the task of anything but hiding in bed and regretting my entire life. I could really only scrape together the wherewithal every now and then to go out and sell off or give away all the ridiculous trinkets and baubles we'd accumulated together. A few of the things I tried to get rid of turned out to be stolen, of course– big surprise, Axa, he's a thief and a liar– which did my already brutalized image no favors. Nor my purse, when I was obliged to pay out of my pocket for his chicanery."

"Villain," Kana spat, shaking his head slowly. "Scoundrel! ...Oh, how dastardly, to sow discord between the woman he loves and her neighbors and colleagues, then to abscond, completely free of reproach!" His sorrowful frown was as huge and expressive as his smiles always were, almost theatrically so.

Sagani just barely looked over in time to spot Aloth surreptitiously roll his eyes, and she couldn't suppress her grin. I thought so. Ondra's Lure, they're pretty obvious now that I think of it...

The elf cleared his throat and took the reins. "Shall we assume, then, that your family and friends were unable or unwilling to aid you in your time of need?"

Axa scoffed. "My little brother was sympathetic, but ultimately powerless to help me. He's stuck too far under our mother's thumb. He's a Godlike, and it's made things... difficult, for both of them. He feels obligated to her. As for our mother, she blamed me for my own misfortunes, for 'shacking up' with a man like Vaargys in the first place. So... that sort of says it all about our relationship. My father hasn't been in the picture since I was 13, and any non-academic friends I hadn't already traded for school, I ended up trading for Vaargys. I'd made him my whole world, and he–" She stopped herself, puffed on her pipe. "I don't... really make new friends easily. Never have."

Kana laughed good-naturedly. "With all due respect, present company seems to indicate quite the contrary."

"Ha! Since becoming a Watcher with her own castle who offers to help everyone she meets solve all their problems, I do seem to be quite popular, yes," the orlan agreed with a wry smirk. "...I jest, of course. In any case, the friends I do make, I tend to keep. And cherish." She smiled at Kana earnestly, and now he averted his eyes and went ruddy in the face.

Sagani and Aloth surprised one another, simultaneously faking coughing fits to cover their derisive snorts. Kana went even redder, but still managed a sheepish smile as Axa quickly redirected back to the topic at hand.

"In any case, it was my mother who gave me the idea to relocate to the Dyrwood. She brought back the notice advertising the caravan from the marketplace, threw it at me as I lay in my little nest of quilts and despair, and told me I had better either try and do something to rebuild my life or I may as well just return my soul to the Wheel to start a new one, save it some time and trouble."

"So... in response to your fiancé sabotaging your career and your reputation in your own home community, your own mother told you to... choose between self-exile and suicide?" Aloth spoke very quietly, very carefully. When Axa nodded and shrugged, puffing nonchalantly on her pipe, he couldn't quite come up with anything to say to that.

"As harsh as it sounds," she pressed on as she rose and crossed the room to stand before the hearth, "I agreed with her. I still do. Mama grew up a slave and only finally earned her freedom by running away, so maybe she's biased, but... I was never going to be able to move on like that, lying around like I was dead already, surrounded by bad memories. I had to do something, get up and get out. And wouldn’t it be my luck, she dropped a nice, pre-packaged escape plan in my lap, just like that. Nicest thing she'd done for me in a good long while. ...So. That's what lead me to the Dyrwood."

"And then it lead you to the bîaŵac, the Engwithan ruins, the machine," Kana murmured, rubbing his chin and studying the little woman. "Perchance, did you ever pray to Wael that you might live an interesting life? Because if so, you've had your wish granted many times over!"

"It's funny," Axa sighed as she bent and tapped her pipe against the bricks of the fireplace, "you'd think I'd hold a grudge against Wael, allowing Their priest to make a fool of me like that. But in the end, I had to admit that although he betrayed my trust and wrecked my life, Vaargys hadn't actually ever violated any of Wael's tenets. ...Made me rethink the gods, a bit. Maybe he was a true servant of Wael after all, sent to guide me here for some reason. And I do still pray to Wael for guidance, on occasion."

The aumaua sat up in his chair, beaming. "Ah! Shall we go to the Hall of Revealed Mysteries tomorrow after all, then? We can ask the scriveners' opinion!"

"Gods! I spill my guts to you, and you're still thinking about going to the library?" Axa shook her head and chuckled. "You're a mystery, Kana."

"Wait, so... you were gonna marry a pale elf?" Edér mumbled into his pillow, half asleep and trying to kick his boots off. "But you're an orlan. Would that... how would that work?"

The little woman threw the sheets back on her bed, using a little more force than she'd meant to. "Another mystery, Edér," she snapped, rolling her eyes. "Mysteries abound."

The other two men winced as Sagani laid a gentle, steady hand on the orlan's shoulder. "Hey. ...Hel of a day for all of us. Let's call it a night, yeah?"

So they did.

—

#poe anthem infinitum #watcher axa #well! didn't think i'd be including that backstory in this chapter!#but that's how it shook out #next portion should be the last in ch. 9 i hope i hope i hope #story why are you so long but also somehow not descriptive enough #pillars of eternity

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hawkinspostbite · 4 years

Text

BURN THE WITCH - chapter two

Words: 3,793

MASTERLIST BURN THE WITCH

A/N: I do not claim to, nor do I own Stranger Things; the concept, characters, plot, etc.

Jim had fucked up. In the scheme of things, this wasn’t a royally huge fuck-up; he’d definitely fucked up a lot during his lifetime, but as of that moment, it was pretty important.

It wasn’t the first time he had been late getting home, or broken a promise, he was sure that Anna was used to it by now, but he knew that El had yet to get used to his usual routine. He was never really good at honoring commitments, although, recently he had been trying to make a better habit of doing the opposite. It was turning out to be harder than anticipated.

They sky had grown dark by the time he had finished flagging the land at Eugene’s farm. Eugene and his son and grandchildren had gone back to the house for supper while it was still light out. But it wasn’t until that time, when it was already too late, when Jim had realized he screwed up.

He had made it across town in record time, pretty much breaking every local law in the process. He all but ran up the leaf-covered path to the tiny cabin he called home. He rapped on the door, giving the “secret knock” twice before sighing. “Hey, girls. Open up, alright. Look, I know I’m late… I’ve got candy here, I’ve got all the good stuff.”

No response.

He smacked the door with his palm, growing frustrated. “Please, will you open the door? I’m gonna freeze to death out here!”

Jim heard the locks click, and he rushed inside, closing the door behind him. He scanned the room. The television was out of place, the long cord stretching the length of the living room, and under the door of his daughter’s bedroom. He rolled his eyes, setting the plastic pumpkin filled with candy he had bribed from Eugene’s youngest grandson, down on the coffee table. “Girls, open up, would you? I got stuck somewhere and lost track of time. And I’m sorry.”

Silently, he wished the girls would open their door, but he also would one-hundred-percent understand if they didn’t. Anna had inherited her father’s attitude, as well as his stubbornness, work ethic, and knack for finding trouble. She was a tough nut to crack. She never backed down from a fight or an argument, never let people push her around, and if she had an opinion, she was certain it was heard. Yes, she was definitely his child. (And he secretly was thankful that she favored more after him than her mother because he wasn’t sure he could go through that experience all over again.)

“El, Anna, would you please open the door?”

No response. They were nothing if not consistent.

He sighed, turning around and plopping himself rather dramatically onto the couch. He sighed again, leaning forward to grab the pumpkin from the table. “Alright… I’m just gonna be out here by myself, eating all this candy. I’m gonna get fat… It’s very unhealthy to leave me out here.” In the process of his rant, he began to unwrap a Reese’s cup. “I could have a heart attack or something. But you know, do what you want.”

Rolling his eyes, he flicked the candy wrapper onto the floor, shaking his head at his own stupidity. He had no room to say anything. He couldn’t blame them for not wanting anything to do with him. He had crossed them for the last time (for the time being).

Jim sat in the living room, the muffled sound of the television coming from the girls’s room playing softly in the background of the silence, for quite awhile. After a few hours at least, he decided to stop his moping, for he would never win the game, especially when it was two against one, and turn in for the night.

He turned the lamps off, made sure all the locks on the door were locked, and retreated to his bedroom.

Jim awoke the next morning, slightly shocked to not find Anna on the couch. That’s where she was most mornings when he woke up, that or in the kitchen getting a head-start on breakfast. But today, she was neither place. She was clearly, as he learned the older she got, very good at holding grudges.

He got himself dressed, made two stacks of Eggos, topped with a ridiculous amount of whipped cream and broken-up pieces of Halloween candy, and then went to wake up the girls. “Rise and shine.” He knocked on the door. He had been trying to not enter without warning, or not enter at all, as a promise to work on giving them more privacy. Another hard habit to break.

Still no response.

He knew that Eleven practically woke with the sun, so there was no way she wasn’t awake. “So that’s it huh, still not talking?”

Silence, once again. “Alright. I guess I’m just gonna have to eat both of these triple-decker Eggo extravaganzas on my own.”

He turned back towards the kitchen, and then he heard the door creak open behind him. “No Anna?” He asked, when he saw that only the younger of the two girls had appeared.

She shook her head, and followed him to the table, where there were, in fact, two triple-decker Eggo extravaganzas on the table. “Anna, if you aren’t out here within the next thirty seconds, I’m eating your food.” He called.

Jim waited patiently, giving her a minute, rather than thirty seconds, and then began to cut into the first stack of waffles, sliding the second towards Eleven. “Alright then, your loss!” He called again. “Ya brat.” He mumbled.

“Brat?” Eleven asked, dipping her finger into the whipped cream.

He sighed. “Brat, “a badly-behaved child”. Anna would be a prime example. Now, dig in.” He had attempted to keep it as light-hearted as possible when Eleven was around. She had spent her whole life thus-far being terrified of everyone and everything and as hard as it would be, he was determined to make her feel safe. “Mmm! Mmm! It’s good right?”

Eleven raised her eyebrows at him as she bit into a piece of one of her waffles. “Oh, and you know the great thing about it, is that it’s only like eight-thousand calories.” He laughed at himself.

Eleven gave him a questioning look. His humor was often lost on her.

He turned to look, once again at the television cable that led into her room. “You visited him again last night?”

Eleven looked at the cable as well, then back at Hopper. “He says he needs me.” She said lowly, taking another bite of her breakfast.

“Want me to go check on him?” Jim asked.

She shook her head.

“I know that you miss him, alright. But it’s too dangerous. You’re the last thing he needs right now. You’re gonna see him, soon. And not just in that head of your’s, in real life- I feel like I’m making progress with these people.”

“Friends don’t lie.” Eleven said quietly.

He felt like she was looking into his soul.

“What?”

“You say “soon” on day twenty-one. You say “soon” on day two-hundred and five. You now say “soon” on day three-hundred and twenty-six-“

The way the conversation was going, it felt eerily familiar to the way most conversations with Anna went, from the ages of twelve to fifteen. It was like she had groomed Eleven to be able to handle this exact situation, exactly the way she would have at that age. “What is this, you’re counting the days like you’re some sort of prisoner?”

She ignored him. “When is soon?”

“Soon is when it’s not dangerous anymore.”

“When?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“On day five-hundred?”

“I don’t know.”

“On day six-hundred?”

“I don’t know.” He had to stand his ground. He couldn’t loose his footing with this one.

“On day seven-hundred? Day eight-hundred?”

“I don’t know!”

“I need to see him!”

“I said, I don’t know!”

“Tell me!” Eleven shouted, nodding her head and sending both plates into his lap.

“Shit!” There was whipped cream and candy all down the front of his uniform. He jumped up, and quickly turned to look at the girls’s bedroom door. He had expected Anna to make an appearance after all the commotion, but she still didn’t.

“Friends don’t lie!” The girl stood up, challenging him, before storming across the room back into the bedroom, the door opening and closing with a wave of her hand.

“Shit!” He said again, as he began to clean up the mess his youngest child had made. Between cleaning up Eleven’s mess, and having the change his entire uniform, he was going to be late, that was inevitable.

“When I come home tonight, the T.V better be back out here, and you’d both had better loose your attitudes, or I’m gonna start cracking some skulls, you hear me?” He had shouted at the closed bedroom door on his way onto the porch.

Jim hadn’t actually meant he would physically crack their skulls, though he imagined that he had just scared El half-to-death with his figure of speech. Anna would know what he meant, and then explain it to the her.

On his short drive to work he began plotting his punishments for each child, had they not done what he said by that evening; For Anna, no going out on the weekend for at least a month, she would help volunteer at one of the pumpkin-patches or the library or something like that. And for El, he’d have to somehow disconnect the antenna for the television, because that was that girl’s vice.

As usual, he made quite the commotion upon arrival at the Hawkins police department, slamming doors, trying to lock repeat-offender Murray outside, roughly hanging his coat up, just a normal morning.

The first order of business was trying to track the pumpkin patch rot, on a map. “We found more out by Gilbert’s farm.” Powell said, leaning off the table he was sitting on to point to the general direction on the map.

Jim nodded, making an X on the map with his marker. “Some real nasty stuff. It was sticky.” Callahan said.

“Alright, where else?” He turned to look at his fellow officers.

“That was it Chief.” Powell shrugged, looking down at the small piece of paper in his hand.

“That was it, or you got tired of looking?”

“It was getting dark.” Powell said, posing the statement more like a question.

“I mean, it was really dark.” Callahan backed him up.

“They’re called flashlights, you dipshits.” He snapped, turning back to examine the map.

“Oh, okay…” Callahan muttered. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

“Kid giving you problems, Chief?”

Hopper tuned out his co-workers, staring at the map. He tried to recognize a pattern in the rot locations, or at least some focus-point to where they could start an investigation. Suddenly, he ripped it off of the wall, pushing Callahan off the table, and laying it down flat for them to see overhead. He took a red marker, drawing three circles around the areas of the rot. At the center of the smallest circle, was Hawkins Lab.

Without a word, he grabbed the map, folding it and grabbing his coat. “Hey Chief, where are you going?” He ignored Powell’s question as Flo, not even looking up from her work, handed him the keys to his truck. “You want us to go back out there?”

Where was he going? He was going back to that fucking lab. That dreaded place, that, between the appointments he attended with Joyce for Will, “business” meetings, and general law check-ups, had basically become his second home.

Without a word, he was let through the gates, in the front doors, and straight up the stairs and into Dr. Owens’s office. “Sit down, I’ve gotta show you something.”

He slammed the map onto Owens desk, quickly explaining the story of the poisoned crops on various farms within the area. “Grass, crops, trees, everything in this area is either dead or dying. That’s a radius of over three miles. And it all leads back to here.” Jim pointed to the lab in the center circle on the map.

“See, these patterns here are really pretty. I like the design. It’s almost psychedelic.”

Owens was attempting to make a joke out of the situation. Hopper didn’t find it funny. “This is a joke to you, huh?”

“No, it’s not a joke, it’s just- I don’t understand what this has to do with me Chief.”

“Whatever’s happening is spreading from this place. From this lab.” Growing increasingly more agitated, Jim sat down in the office chair.

“That’s impossible. The last burn was two days ago. It’s contained.”

“What if there’s a leak?”

“A leak?” Owens scoffed.

“I don’t know, man! You’re the scientist!”

“Exactly.” Owens slid the map back towards Hopper. “And I’m telling you, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Convince me.” Jim challenged.

“Convince you?”

“Yeah, you and your egg-head friends, go out to every area on this map, you run your tests, or whatever the hell you do, and you see if anything comes up.”

Owens laughed. “Alright, so you’re giving me orders now? No.” He shook his head. “That’s not how this works.”

“I keep things nice and quiet for you. And you keep your shit out of my town, so I can keep my kid safe! That is the deal! I have done my part, now you do your’s. Convince me.” Hopper slid the map back towards Owens, before storming out of his office. “I’m gonna assume you’re following me!”

Hopper stood proudly as he watched Owens gather a team of his colleagues/employees, and pile them into hospital vans. They set out for Merrill’s farm, as it was the closest to the lab.

Owens stood with the chief as they watched men dressed head-to-toe in full hazmat suits, dig up chunks of soil, and take whole pumpkins for testing. “Well, you were right about these pumpkins. Some nasty stuff. And the smell, mother of God-“

“So what exactly do you think is going on here?” Jim asked.

“Well, I told you what I think.” Owens looked at him, catching his glare. “But, we’ll run the tests and see what comes up. In the meantime, I just need you to keep the area clear for us. Don’t think it’ll be more than a day or two.”

“What do you want me to tell people?”

Owens shrugged, turning to face him fully. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” He patted him on the arm, before walking to his car, getting in it, and driving away.

“Hey, chief, you copy?” Powell’s voice on his walkie broke him from his trance.

“Yeah.”

“Do you remember that Russian girl Murray was goin on about the other day?”

Jesus Christ.

“Yeah, well now I’m thinking he’s not so crazy after all.” Powell finished.

Hopper’s voice quieted. “Stay where you are. Do. Not. Move.” He almost broke into a sprint as he raced to get to his truck, barely shutting the door before he was speeding to the location Powell said he and Callahan were at.

Once he arrived at the scene, he had the woman re-tell her story. “You don’t need to make a report on this, there wasn’t a crime committed.” He told Callahan as he walked towards the mother and daughter.

“It was a young girl, maybe twelve or thirteen, short, curly brown hair, very soft-spoken. She had a grey shirt on, with jeans and a brown coat.”

“What did she say? Did she say anything to you?”

“She just asked where the school was. So I pointed her in that direction and by the time I turned around to look at her again, she was gone.”

“Did she do anything to hurt you, or scare you? Cause you any harm?”

“No. No, it just shocked me to see a girl alone in the woods in the middle of the day.”

“Thank you, thanks, my officers will handle it from here. Appreciate your time.” He didn’t need any more clues to tell him that El had left the house. He should’ve known it was coming sooner or later, but for her to be so careless, it was almost ridiculous.

He left the scene before Powell or Callahan could even say goodbye, and drove straight home.

That was it. She had pushed him right over the edge. The situation was not unfamiliar. He had spent many nights in the past two years sitting up, angrily waiting for Anna to return after she had snuck out. He began to wonder if these were things that all children did, or was it just his two, that somehow, although having entirely different childhoods, managed to put him through the exact same scenarios repeatedly.

When he got there, Anna’s car was parked in the same spot it always was, almost looking untouched. So at least he knew Angry-Thing-One was home. He didn’t even bother to go inside because he knew he would just break something out of frustration. And Anna would know he was home because she most likely heard him pacing back and forth on the porch.

Jim smoked four cigarettes in a row before he heard the sound of leaves crunching in the dark. As El came into view, she stopped, and the two stared at each other for a moment, before she began to walk towards the house. He outed his cigarette, silently preparing for the battle he was about to engage in.

She walked into the house, with not a word spoken. And he followed right after her, slamming the door in his wake. “Friends don’t lie, isn’t that your bullshit saying?” He whipped his hat off of his head, throwing it onto the couch. “Hey, hey, hey! Don’t walk away from me!”

He managed to step in front of her before she could open the door to her bedroom. “Where’d you go on your little field trip, huh? Where?” El removed her coat, silently walking to hang it on a hook on the coat rack. “Did you go to see Mike?”

“He didn’t see me.”

“Yeah, well that mother and her daughter did, and they called the cops.” He was still blocking the bedroom door. “Now, did anyone else see you? Anyone at all?” He was met with silence. “Come on! I need you to think!”

“Nobody saw me!”

He began to pace, trying to direct her away from the bedroom door. She couldn’t keep retreating from their fights. Fights she had started. “You put us in danger. You realize that, right? You, me, Anna, we’re all in danger!”

“You promised I go.” Tears were now pooling in the young girl’s eyes. “And I never leave! Nothing ever happens!”

Once again, Jim had fully expected Anna to be out of her room by now, playing mediator and watching her young protege in action, but alas, not a peep of sound came from inside the room. “Yeah, nothing happens, and you stay safe!”

“You lie!”

“I don’t lie! I protect, and I feed, and I teach! And all I ask of you is three simple rules, three rules. And you know what? You can’t even do that!” It had now turned into a screaming match, and he wasn’t quite sure who would win.

He turned to walk into the kitchen and El smacked her fists onto the wall. “You’re grounded. You know what that means?” His planning from that morning were finally coming into fruition. “It means no Eggos-“ He opened the freezer, and grabbed the box of food, throwing it onto the floor. “And no T.V, for a week.”

He stormed over to the television, which was now back in it’s proper spot in the living room. He leaned over the back of it, attempting to unplug it from the wall, when an unseen force halted his hand. “Alright, knock it off, let go.” El was standing in front of her bedroom door, head bowed slightly, a stream of blood running from her nostril.

She shook her head.

He attempted to unplug the television again, but was stopped. “Okay, two weeks.” He tried to unplug it again. “Let go!”

Once again, she shook her head.

“A month.”

“No.” Eleven demanded.

“Well congratulations.” Jim turned back to the T.V. “You just graduated from no T.V for a month, to no T.V at all.” He caught her off-guard, unplugging the cord from the wall and quickly taking out his pocket-knife, cutting through it.

“No!” El shouted, rushing over to attempt and save her beloved television. She kept muttering “no” to herself as she tried to fix it.

Hopper took a moment to ground himself, reminding himself that he was not only dealing with a child, but a child with psionic abilities that had been spending an awful lot of time with his daughter. “You have got to understand that there are consequences to your actions.”

“You are like papa!” El turned to him angrily.

“Really, I’m like that psychotic son of a bitch?” He sighed, still trying to remind himself who he was dealing with. “Wow, okay. You wanna go back in that lab? One phone call, I can make that happen.”

“I hate you.” Tears were running down her cheeks.

“Yeah, well I’m not too crazy about you either. You know why, cause you’re a brat. Remember what that word means?” El was almost stunned by him. “You don’t? How about we look it up, B-R-A-T, brat.”

He tossed the book in the air, towards her, but with one swipe of her hand, it was suspended in mid-air. She flung it at him. “Hey, what the hell is wrong with you?” He began to walk towards her but she had now pushed the couch into his legs, almost knocking him over. “Hey, hey!”

El knocked over the book case outside of her and Anna’s bedroom. “Stop walking away from me!” She turned to walk towards her bedroom door, but her need for confrontation got the better of her and she stopped.

Tears were now running rampant down her cheeks. “You wanna go out in the world? You’d better grow up, grow the hell up!”

El’s hands were shaking, as she let out a monstrous shriek, every window in the cabin blew out, glass flying everywhere. Sobbing, she pushed past him and into the bedroom, not bothering to shut the door all the way.

Furious, and not backing down from the fight, Jim followed her, slamming the door open.

And then he felt his heart sink.

Eleven was the only other person in the room.

So where the hell was Anna?

#stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #jim hopper #jim hopper imagine #eleven #eleven imagine #Stranger Things Spoilers #stranger things masterlist

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ancientwastedlores · 4 years

Text

The Support System

SUMMARY: The Avengers have managed to collect all the infinity stones across the universe, and are currently keeping them in far corners of the world, only for research and to see if they can improve the planet and its people. Reader is a researcher with Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, as well as a field agent. Loki is currently serving time for his actions in New York City in 2012.

A/N: You can find the same fic on A03, if you prefer that. Let me know if you like this and I’ll keep posting more :)

Chapter: 1/?

Warnings: N/A

Audience: general.

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CHAPTER 1:

‘So we’re close!?’

‘Absolutely, we just have to crack it and baby’s gonna sing’ Tony smiles. ‘I’m good for a drink right about now’.

‘Me too’ you take off your safety goggles and place them on the your immaculately organized workspace. ‘Bruce?’

‘Yeah, I’ll join you’ he waves one hand in the air as he stares at the Reality Gem.

You and Tony leave the lab and head to the bar. ‘Beer?’ you ask, handing him a bottle. He takes it, you get yourself a can, and sit down on the couch.

‘How’s it going with Nat?’ he asks.

‘Great, we expect to be ready in a month to carry out the extraction’.

‘I can’t wait’ Tony’s eyes gleam like an excited child’s. ‘We’ve been tracking these guys for a year now, the tech they’ve managed to get their hands on is insane’.

‘Okay, I get why you want it…’

‘Research purposes, of course!’

‘Of course…’ you grin, knowing that research is never ALL Stark wants shiny new toys for, ‘but I do want to remind you that you did promise me and Natasha a whole day of playing with them before you break them apart’.

‘In a contained, safe environment’

‘Yes. I’m just reminding you because you do get excited’.

Tony chuckles and takes a swig from beer. ‘Next month can’t get here soon enough. But you sure you’re ready?’

‘Oh absolutely. You’ve been tracking them for a year, and we’ve been training for a year. Ask me anything’.

‘How do you hold the Chitauri M7 Blaster?’

You stand up, set your beer down on the table and position your right leg before your left, then stretch out your right arm while tucking your left wrist under your right elbow and having your fingers wiggle from underneath. It looks ridiculous without the weapon, so Tony laughs. You laugh too and sit back down.

It’s been a year and three months since you were recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D. You were originally a member of Maria Hill’s team, but three months later, after Tony Stark found some papers you wrote in secret about the sentience of all the Infinity Stones, as well as your records of correspondence with Doctor Strange, he decided your talents were better put to use in his lab with himself and Bruce Banner. Not wanting to abandon your role as a field agent, Tony offered you an apprenticeship with Natasha Romanova, which you gladly accepted.

Tony teased you for being taller than most of the agents and Avengers initially, until Thor showed up and stole your thunder, pun intended. You have broad shoulders, stand at 5’ 12”, and have jet black hair till your shoulders, which you mostly keep open, because you like how it frames your face. You love that people find you intimidating and hardly talk to you, when the truth is you’re the total opposite, a fact only known by Tony and a few Avengers.

‘Who else are you planning to send for the extraction?’ you ask.

‘You and Nat, of course. Then Clint. Thor might be able to help with the handling of the alien tech, so him. Couple of other S.H.I.E.L.D agents led by Hill’.

You smile at the thought of getting to meet Maria Hill again. She was your first mentor, and taught you nearly everything you know about fighting.

‘What about Loki?’ you ask.

‘I thought of it and decided against it. This is a sensitive operation, and surrounded by all those weapons, if he gets any ideas, you’ll all be at risk’.

‘I’m sure he won’t, he’s been doing well. But it’s your call’ you finish your beer. ‘Back to work?’

After spending another six hours at the lab with Tony and Bruce, you three finally call it a day and head back to your rooms. After getting to yours, you take a long shower, strings of theories on how you could crack the reality stone running through your head. You decide to get another drink, a cocktail perhaps, before curling up with some research papers Doctor Strange sent over.

You walk over to the bar in the residence wing of the tower, sure that it would be empty at this time on a weekday. Just before you reach the entrance, though, you hear two people fight.

‘…it was irresponsible and childish, and you could have gotten them killed!’ Thor’s voice booms. You decide to listen. ‘If I hadn’t taken it from her hand, she would have died anyway!’ Loki responded. ‘You let ME handle it then’. ‘Right, because I can never do anything right, can I, brother?’

Silence. ‘Just let me handle it next time. You do not involve yourself unless expressly asked’. Thor storms out from the other side of the bar, leaving Loki alone. Your own experiences with being grossly misunderstood makes you feel for Loki. You walk into the bar.

Loki doesn’t notice until you get close. ‘What do you want’ he asks, tired.

You go closer and envelope him in a tight hug. Shocked, Loki freezes. ‘What are you doing’ he whispers, fake annoyance in his tone.

‘Nothing’ you pull back. ‘I came to make myself a drink, do you want one?’ ‘No’ he said defiantly. You shrug and go behind the bar to get some cranberry juice. ‘Yes’ he says, in a softer tone. You smile.

You proceed to make yourselves a vodka cranberry. You would normally make it in a regular glass, but because you think Loki needs cheering up, you pour it in a Martini cocktail glass with an unnecessary amount of umbrellas to make him laugh. You manage to get a small smile as you slide his drink across the bar.

‘Thank you’ he says.

You take a sip of your own drink. ‘Wanna talk about it?’

His silence is answer enough, and you know not to push. ‘No worries’ you say. ‘How’s the drink? Want another?’

He nods. You make him another one while sipping from your glass.

‘I’ve been in the tower a while’ he says finally. ‘Yes, I know’. ‘I’m still looked at with nothing but suspicion’. You sigh. ‘I know. They’re only afraid’. ‘I’ve been painfully patient. I just don’t have anybody on my side to vouch for me’. ‘Oh’ is that it you think. He just needs a P.R. agent. You chuckle at the thought. ‘Is that funny?’ he asks. ‘No, I just thought of a thing. But I can do it’. ‘Do what?’ ‘Vouch for you. Be your uh… image manager. Whatever’.

Loki narrows his eyes at you. Even though he’s known you for about a year, this is the first time you’ve actually spoken to him. He can’t understand why you would help him.

‘Alright’ he says. He finishes the second drink as well. You ask if he wants another, and he just holds his glass out to you. ‘Something stronger this time?’

About six drinks later, Loki has a good buzz going, and you are not even close to tipsy. You roll your eyes at him, cursing your high capacity for alcohol, but deciding you’ve had enough of it, you tell Loki you’re off to bed and you’ll see him in the morning.

‘Let me walk you to your room’ he offers. You accept.

You absolutely love your room; an entire section of the room is just glass, overlooking the city of New York. It gets hot during the days, but it looks magical at night. Once you’ve reached your room, you stretch, take off all your clothes, and get under your blankets. It’s quite late, so you decide to keep the research papers Strange sent over for the morning.

A few hours later, just as you feel like you might fall asleep, you hear a knock on the door. You groan and reach for your phone to check the time. 3:35 AM.

‘Who is it?’ you call out. ‘Loki’

You know for a fact he has never felt comfortable enough to go to anyone’s room at 3:30 in the morning in the Tower.

‘One sec’ you call out, hopping out of bed to retrieve your shirt and a pair of shorts. You dive back under the covers and yell ‘Come in!’.

Loki looks like he has sobered up, and smells like he just took a shower. He shuts the door softly and makes his way to your bed.

‘What’s wrong?’ you ask.

He sits on the corner of your bed, next to your feet, so far that he looks supremely uncomfortable.

‘You can sit normally, you know. I won’t get offended’.

He obliges by placing himself further towards the centre of the bed, while still maintaining his corner. ‘Thank you’.

‘What’s wrong?’ ‘I couldn’t sleep, I just wanted to talk. I hope I didn’t wake you’. ‘You didn’t’ you say, ‘What did you want to talk about?’ ‘I-‘ he hesitates, ‘Well. I- I wasn’t in control in New York’. ‘Uhuh…’ ‘I was made to do it. I know that’s a lame excuse but it’s true. Thanos found me when I got lost and he… tortured me. But I can’t tell anybody that because they wouldn’t listen’. ‘Who’s Thanos?’ you ask.

Loki proceeds to tell you about the Mad Titan who killed his own people, his thirst for power over the entire universe, his obsession with the Goddess of Death, and his children. You listen in stunned silence. Thanos’ children inflicted unmentionable torture on Loki when he fell from the Bifrost.

As Loki recounts these events, tears start to fall, and he is visibly shaking. You scoot closer to him and hold his hands. ‘It’s alright’.

He stops to sniff, and catch his breath. ‘Do you want to go on?’ you ask.

‘Yes please’.

You don’t let go of his hands for the remainder of his story.

Once it looks like he has finished, you hand him a few tissues from your nightstand. He wipes his face clean and hands them back to you. You turn to throw them.

‘Why are you listening to me?’ he asks. ‘I don’t see why I shouldn’t’ you say simply. ‘It’s only the decent thing to do’. ‘No one else seems to think so’ he says bitterly. ‘Like I said, they’re scared’ you say. ‘Why aren’t you, then?’

You shrug. He looks at you. Your room is dark, but some light from the city spills into the room, so he gets a good look at your features. They only look at him with kindness. No fear. ‘Seriously. Why aren’t you afraid of me? What happened to you?’

You quickly look away. ‘Nothing like that. I just don’t scare easy’.

He says nothing. A few minutes pass in silence. You stifle a yawn. The watch says 4:45 AM. You’ve got a long day at the lab, and then with Natasha, and then at the lab again. You need to catch at least a little sleep.

‘Listen…’ you look back at him. ‘Do you want to sleep here, next to me?’

He widens his eyes in surprise. ‘You’d do that for me?’

‘Yeah’ you say, not really seeing the big deal. You move to the right side of the bed and pat the left as if to indicate that he may lay down there. He moves up to the pillow and lays his head on it, then settles the rest of his body down. You feel the bed dip.

#loki fluff #loki fanfic #marvel #Avengers #loki x reader #loki x you #marvel fan fiction #tom hiddleston #loki fandom

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delfinodreams · 3 years

Text

OKAY i said i would make a post about my thoughts on paper mario a while ago and im finally writing it out

ill put it under a break because its probably gonna be long-ish

update: yea this bitch is LONG

okay so overall i really really enjoyed it!! it was really solid for the first entry in the series and i could definitely see the inspiration that ttyd later took from it. one thing that i didnt know about was partners not having HP, which threw me for a little bit of a loop. partners as a whole in this game don't play as active of a role as i wouldve expected because they have so little lines but using them in battle is still very fun! another small thing but i also hadn't expected mario to be completely silent, but it later grew on me!

i'm also gonna list my experiences and opinions on each chapter so here we go!!

chapter 1 - pretty alright for an introductory chapter! i didnt find anything especially notable, apart from getting 2 partners in one chapter. navigating the koopa bros. fortress was fun, and i loved the battle at the end!! their theme is SUCH a banger i had to sit back and listen to it for a bit when the fight actually started ehe

chapter 2 - not quite a fan of this one imo? i liked the first part through the mountain, but the trek though dry dry desert kinda took it out of me. BUT the addition of my favourite partner made up for it! parakarry my beloved <3 also the cutscene where dry dry ruins rise up??? that shit was SPECTACULAR. i absolutely loved how it turned dark when it first came up, i wish it stayed like that for more than just until you entered the ruins. the boss itself wasn't too exciting for me, probably because there wasnt much of a story?? i dont know how to describe it. actually its like that for quite a few of these bosses, but its the first entry for this series, so i wont fault it too much.

chapter 3 - this might be my FAVOURITE chapter- the suspense buildup throughout the entire chapter was AMAZING holy moly!!! first through the forever forest when you have bootler ask for you, and then wandering the mansion itself. i TOTALLY thought that boos were gonna be actual enemies when i saw them floating around. sneaking around tubba blubba's castle was so so fun to do, and i legitimately panicked when you ran into him in the hall and also when he wakes up and chases you back to the windmill. i didnt actually think the heart itself was the boss, just a miniboss, so i freaked out when i left the windmill and was immediately thrown into a battle with tubba blubba. i cannot express just how much i enjoyed this chapter, seriously!!

chapter 4 - coming back to toad town with the music change threw me for a bit; i wasnt expecting action to pop up so soon! figuring out that you could actually go into the toybox was such a "wait, what??" moment for me, but like, in a positive way. it was really cool to navigate this chapter and the lantern ghost encounter genuinely creeped me out at first because it was COMPLETELY dark. the fight against general guy is also a BANGER i could listen to it all day

chapter 5 - man i LOVE the whale. just a big guy willing to take u across the ocean :^) i really appreciated how you weren't stranded on the island too, like how you were on keelhaul key in ttyd. the ravens are also funky little guys, love them too. again, the lava piranha didnt really have any substance to it BUT it was a nice fight nonetheless! when it popped up again i was shocked but i made it through!! also fuck kolorado he doesnt deserve his wife

chapter 6 - this one's formatting is really neat- one central area with lots of branching paths, which i hadnt seen in my past pm experiences! i loved the quest leading up to the big beanstalk, plus the environment was so pretty!! the little part with the sun tower popped out to me, i'm not sure why though. maybe it was the music, it was so different from the flower fields theme. at first i had actually expected to go up to the clouds earlier, maybe like midway through the chapter. i thought that would be the "dungeon" of this part, so i was a little bit let down when i realized that the fields were the majority. however, the bit of the clouds we do see is SO good i LOVE the atmosphere!! huff n puff was actually relatively easy, using parakarry and lakilester for their all-around attacks. the guitars were a nice touch for his theme as well!

chapter 7 - oh dude i LOVED this chapter. i didnt know what i was expecting when i first went into the pipe in the sewers, whether it would put me into a village immediately or if i would have to make it through some screens before. needless to say, i was relieved when it popped me out into shiver city. the whole place felt "warm" which was really nice!! i was comparing it to ttyd's chapter 7 and fahr outpost which i didn't really vibe with, so it was a nice change! the whole murder plot was also unexpected but i enjoyed the whole "whodunnit" mystery! omg as im typing this i realize just how many aspects of this chapter i love this is gonna be long,, the entire snowy atmosphere is just so PRETTY and starborn valley felt so solitary to the rest of the land, like its own little bubble. i also had no idea that ninjis were in this game so when i saw one at merlon's i was like HUH?? anyways the way up the mountain to the crystal palace kept me on my toes; i thought that was the dungeon at first! the small bit where you see madam merlar and she tells you the story of the palace really got to me i have no idea why. the music and mysticality of it all was just SO good. dont even get me started on the crystal palace itself HOLY MOLY. the whole reflection bit was SO SO clever and the moment you realize its NOt actually a mirror?? fucking magnificent. this has to be my favourite dungeon in the whole game because it has such a NEAT gimmick!! it also has my favourite mario enemies, duplighosts! FUCK the crystal king though. he stunlocked me with his freezing move because i could not get the hang of blocking it. my partners really carried me for that battle; thank god for quick change

chapter 8 - THIS CHAPTER DELIVERED. the buildup for the entire game leading to this point. OUTSTANDING. i had to sit back and admire star haven because its so pretty- did i mention i love the water graphics in this game?? it has a pixelly look but it works SO WELL. going to the ship to take you to bowser's castle really felt like a "this is it" moment. the entirety of bowser's castle was So Good, it kept me on my toes the entire time!! slowly advancing as the music got more intense REALLY pumped me up. tracks that start off with only a couple instruments and eventually add more as you progress is one way to make me go BONKERS. the one bit where you make your way outside on the bridge and the music dials down and then you re-enter on the other side to it SLAMMING you in the face- that was Great. and then the complete silence as you get outside peach's castle HOLY SHIT. and then you actually enter the palace and the music is SO EERIE and youre like OH SHIT THIS IS REALLY IT. seriously, the buildup for this entire castle is done SO magnificently. i hadn't expected to fight bowser twice, i guess it was the game's way of letting u level up One Last Time before u got to the big bad. that being said, i wasn't too worried on getting a game over since i was fucking stacked on items. but that's besides the point- the fight itself got my heart POUNDING. the effects for the star rod and the star's powers were really nice to see in action, and the little section with peach and twink was so cool! i was expecting a little interlude where you would get your stats maxed out because thats how its like in every pm game, but it was still moving :)) bowser's final battle theme fucking SLAPS. the guitar especially sounds AMAZING. you really see him as a threat here and its so badass. his healing move fucked me over multiple times- i probably ended up having to deal with double his base HP over the course of the fight.

after the fight was over and you got to see peach's castle float down with the soft music in the background, it really hit me that its done, its over. again, the effects in this game are so pretty and theyre utilized SO well for the n64. visiting toad town one last time with all the npcs was a really nice touch- for some reason i really loved being able to interact with vanna t. (chuck quizmo's toad assistant) she's ADORABLE and i will probably end up drawing her sometime :)) the credits were also something that i really enjoyed- i LOVE the ongoing theme of parades at the end. seeing everything and everyone in the game condensed into a short 8 minutes really got me, i cant remember but im pretty sure i was smiling the whole time! and a small sidenote- TOADS WITH GLOWING SPOTS ON THEIR HEAD HELLO?????? I WANNA DRAW THAT SO BAD.

the ending screen with peach and mario looking at the fireworks made me really soft and i teared up a little because i was finally finished. the addition of pop diva's solo in the track was also so touching, it was my favourite sidequest in the game so hearing it again brought up Emotions :')

one thing i wasnt sure of was if there was a post-game mode and my completionist heart was disappointed a little when i found out i couldn't advance from the end screen and was forced to reset. although not many games from this era had post-game content so i cant dock too many points for that.

the paper mario series has a fond place in my heart, and finally being able to play the game that started it all really was a special experience. it really cemented my love for the original formula and i could see many places where ttyd took inspiration from. this game really is fun, and i would highly recommend playing it yourself if you have the means!

#i just finished typing this out #i did not mean for it to get this long omg #i just have Many Thoughts #and you guys get to deal with them #i just checked and this is nearly 2K WORDS HELLO??????#paper mario #paper mario 64 #dreamy convos

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queenofthelanternfish · 4 years

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Disclaimer: hopefully tumblr will be kind to the dirty bad fun fic and actually show up in the tags for my bae @anesther. She spent a long ass time on this and deserves praise for her oscar worthy smut.

AN: why tumblr. anyway, gonna post this one to my girlfriend’s because, frankly, this took most of my day to get to and write out and I’m tired of tumblr gobbling up my posts pffft.

Title: Interfaces

Characters: Entrapta, Hordak

Pairing: Entrapdak

Rating: M (for smut, duh)

For the love of all gods, AO3 is best to check out.

Experiment

“How’s the armor?” Entrapta asks, shuffling over. “Has it been having problems like before?”

Hordak looks at her, “No. It’s been more than exceptional.”

Entrapta grins, “That’s great! I’ve been monitoring it, and it seems as though this is the longest it’s gone without a complication.”

“Have you now?” Hordak asks, glancing at her over his shoulder, smiling lightly.

“You’ve been monitoring me, then?”

“Of course, silly! How else will I be able to keep track of what the armor needs fixed?”

Nodding, Hordak returns to his work. Entrapta settles herself on a perch of hair, lacing her fingers together and propping her chin on them.

Hordak glances at her, “Is there anything else?”

“Oh, no! Don’t mind me. I’m observing the armor’s capabilities.”

His gaze rests on the table while hers remains on him.

Entrapta has never really stopped to look at Hordak before.

Everything about him is so much sharper than she gave notice to. She remarked his features and appearance the week they started to work together, but he seems different. He tilts his head to the side, and her eyes slide to the crook of his neck. Blue-grey skin clashes with white, the anomalies of his skin hidden beneath the armor and sleeveless attire he wears under that. That doesn’t eliminate the fact his neck is surprisingly interesting.

His expression stern, it softens as the minutes pass. He enters a state of mind that is almost tranquil, not concerning himself with anything except his inventions. Learning about his heritage, and the rage she knows is in him, these are the moments a youthfulness comes to his face.

She tilts her head, brows furrowing together. She should get back to work, but he’s being… fascinating. He is every day, yet her thoughts fixate on knowing about him for now. A dark strand of hair falls in front of his forehead. He blows it away to the side, hands occupied.

Entrapta kisses his cheek, startling him. He looks at her with wide eyes, stunned.

Holding up her hands, she backs away an inch, an apologetic grin on her face, “Sorry! I just wanted to know what that would be like…”

Recovering from surprise, Hordak clears his throat, “You wanted to know… what?”

“What it’d be like to kiss someone.”

Hordak stares at her, gaze flickering over her features. “Well, I don’t think… a, uh, kiss, can tell you much by just doing it on the cheek.”

“What should it be, then?”

Hordak turns in his seat, looking down at her expectant face. His eyes flicker to her mouth.

Entrapta’s expression is neutral, not betraying the rapid beating in her chest.

Leaning forward, Hordak breathes in. Unsure of what to do, his hands lift to her face. Hesitating. It was one thing to observe her as she slept, but another to have her be in front of him. It was always easier to look at her when she was unaware of it.

“It’s okay,” Entrapta says, tone low. She can’t help but be curious. There’s been a lot of time spent together, and, on occasion, she would wonder what this sort of interaction was like. It was a general thought, akin to musing over hypotheticals that were interesting in the theory of it. But as time went on, her ideas shifted away from staying only a hypothesis. And it went from general imagery to Hordak.

They were both friends, and she figured having him help her understand would make sense. He is her lab partner, after all.

He cups her face, thumbs brushing the curve of cheekbone, fingers brushing the tips of her ears. Bending low, Hordak feels her breath tickle his chin. He grazes her mouth with his own, light and chaste. The skin contact sending shivers down his spine, surprised by how warm her lips were.

Entrapta’s heart skips a beat, marveling at the gentle motion. Exhaling, she attempts to stay still. She didn’t want to interrupt this experiment they were doing. His eyes glow brighter when they’re up close.

Hordak stares at her, trying to keep his breathing even.

“Maybe if we close our eyes?” she suggests.

He nods. Hordak keeps his open as he bends down, her own softly closed. He shuts them only when he pushes their mouths together again. His fingers slide behind the back of her skull, fragile skin and bone possessing the brightest mind he’s ever known.

Thinking this, a hand trails down her neck. She shudders against him, gasping. Her body shifts closer, propping herself carefully onto her hair, her hands place themselves on his shoulders.

Entrapta knows there’s more to it, from what she recollects seeing. She opens her mouth, slipping her tongue past razored teeth.

Hordak pulls back, shocked; he maintains his hold of her, however.

“Was that too much?” Entrapta asks. “I’ve seen people do that.”

“When?”

“When I would watch couples from a distance.”

He raises a brow, confused, “You would watch couples from afar?”

“I wanted to know what osculation was and observation is the best mode of it.”

“I do not disagree,” Hordak replies. He draws near again, “We should attempt that...”

“Right…” she breathes, mouth parting.

Hordak’s hands wrap tight around her as she initiates the kiss, her tongue tentatively delving in. This isn’t something his species is designed to do—or rather, a clone is supposed to do. Her body is soft and warm. Her breathing quickens against his mouth, sensing her limbs wrap around his shoulders. Fingers touch the sides of his head, threading through his hair. A pleasant tremor runs up his body, and he holds her even closer, so that she’s arching into him.

She moans.

His thoughts freeze for the smallest fragment of a second.

Then he’s focused on heat and sound.

Entrapta’s arms tighten around him, pulling back for quick catches of air. Hordak moves her away from her seat, placing her on the table’s edge, pushing aside the contents laid there. She doesn’t resist, enthralled by this change. He ensnares her mouth with ferocity that leaves her panting, mind spinning. Pressing into her, his hands slip down the side of her frame. Nails scathe the side of her waist, causing her to grip the back of his neck with such force, he falls on top of her.

Propped up by his hands, careful not to crush her, he takes this moment to trail kisses along her jaw. Sighing beneath him, his mouth continues its course, gliding along her throat. She doesn’t protest, gliding the tips of her gloved fingers down smooth, cool metal. They lightly thump over the wires behind him, until she settles them on either side of his pelvis.

He keeps tracing down, nipping at narrow patches of exposed skin. She emits another gasp, her legs wrapping around him.

Without thought, he grinds his hips against hers.

Her squeal is muffled by his mouth, cheeks flushed. His teeth drag across her lower lip, bruising tender skin. Groaning, she raises her hips to meet his. She’s researched this before, but to actually feel something rub against her clit is so different from merely reading it. Mesmerized, her hair glides around them, guiding him to dig down more, press harder, faster.

She jerks in place, fingers clutching at the armor, a small cry of shock leaving her lips, deep moans following after. He isn’t sure of what’s happening, but a growl forms in the center of his chest. His hands clasp around her wrists, pinning them down, tips of her knuckles tipping over the ledge.

Kissing him on the mouth, locks of purple bind his wrists and legs in turn, keeping them in place. She wiggles her fingers, and he releases her, a silent command. Her hands slide down his chest, eyes barely registering the gem glinting. The back of her hand grazes the outside of his thigh, fingers bolder as they slip up and down the inside of it. She isn’t sure who spread his legs—himself or her—but they move apart, and her knuckles skim the underside of his cock, erect and ooh what if she did this—

A hiss escapes gritted teeth, reacting by biting her shoulder. Entrapta’s fingers don't stop, demanding he continue to move. The rough texture of her gloves leaves him incapable of doing much else, except thrust his hips forward. Her brazen nature is intoxicating, her legs keeping themselves tightly wound about his torso. The intensity of it is unlike anything he’s felt before. He’s locked in limb, thought and heart, burning.

“Hordak…”

His ears twitch at the sound, the tone. The complete deference and trust in her voice.

He withdraws, her scent in his thoughts, “Entrapta… is this part of kissing?”

“I think so,” Entrapta murmurs, brushing back his hair. “Do you want to stop?”

“No,” he says, a little too quickly. “I’m simply… not sure of what follows.”

“I know what does, but maybe it’s too soon? I’ve heard that it can take a long time to reach this stage, and for some it takes no time at all.”

“What?”

“Sex.”

Hordak raises his chin, “Ah.”

“Do you want to try it?”

He isn’t sure. It’s not something he has experience in.

Staring down at her, laying underneath him, lacking judgment in her expression, he feels his chest tighten. Tucking hair behind her ear, his thumb caresses soft skin.

“We don’t have to have sex.”

“I’m simply unsure of whether my body will give out or not,” Hordak half-lies.

Entrapta grins, “That’s okay! I can, as I’ve heard people say, ‘get you off.’”

“I don’t understand,” he says, blinking.

“I’ll show you,” Entrapta tells him. Sitting up, she shifts their position so he’s leaning against the table, and she’s back to being in the air.

Pushing aside the front of his outfit, Entrapta’s eyes widen at the member standing upright in front of her.

“Oh, wow… you’re not much different from Etherians in this aspect of your physiology.”

“...Is that a good thing?”

“Very much!” Entrapta answers, trailing her forefinger along the underside of his cock. It’s ridged there… At his shudder, she removes her gloves.

Her hands are so much better this way.

She starts with easy, slow motions. Despite her analytical nature, her cheeks brighten at the sight she’s given. Her hands slip up and down, and she remarks the precum dripping down its sides. She pumps faster, gazing up at his face. Head bowed, hands latching onto the table, Hordak’s breathing quickens. His gasps are broken apart by sighs, and when she adds the slightest pressure, he releases moans that she can say, both scientifically and personally, is the sexiest sound she’s ever heard.

His body, were it not for his defect, would imply a powerful, healthy specimen under the armor. Yet, she wouldn’t change him for anything.

His cock stiffens further in her hand as she slips her thumb around the head. Her face inches forward, mesmerized by the noises he’s making. Curious, she opens her mouth, and licks the tip of his cock.

Seizing in that spot, Hordak shuts his eyes.

“Did that bother you?” she questions.

“No… the opposite,” he murmurs.

Pleased with this, Entrapta continues to use her hands, occasionally licking up the shaft. She takes it one step further and places the head into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it. She gazes up at him, making mental notes of his reactions, his every gesture. How he bites his lip when she sucks hard on it, or how his face turns gentle when plants kisses along its length.

Panting, Hordak feels his body continue to burn with indescribable heat. He looks at her through slitted eyes, expression intense. Her face is focused, as it normally is, yet there’s something there he doesn’t comprehend. It’s her usual look, but he sees an emotion flicker across her face when their gazes meet.

It’s when their eyes lock for another flash of a second that his body tenses. His fingers crush the edge of the table, metal crunching between them, as he comes into her mouth.

Entrapta, not expecting it, barely manages to stop from choking, her knowledge keeping her from botching it. Breathing out, saliva and come trailing away from her mouth, she swallows whatever went down already.

They look at each other. Red eyes gleaming at one another, bodies flushed and sweaty, the two of them let the moment be.

Suddenly, she beams at him, “Wow! That was amazing! I really didn’t know you had such similar responses to sexual stimulus like Etherians do.”

“I… suppose I do…” Hordak says, smoothing back his hair.

“That was so much fun! I wasn’t expecting to go in that direction when we began kissing, but it proved to be a very interesting experiment.”

Hordak lets out a shaky breath, unable to really think.

“Thank you, that was enlightening!” Entrapta says, eyes alight with purpose.

“You’re… welcome?” Hordak states. He watches her put on her gloves, realizing something. “Where’s your recorder?”

She smiles, “That was between you and me.”

Hordak sinks against the table, “Don’t you usually… record things?”

“I’m going to make some notes on this subject later in my room,” Entrapta explains. She comes up to him, kissing his lips. She does usually pride herself in being thorough with her research. But, as she pats his cheek, she’s glad she took a more private account for this. At least for now.

“Hold on,” he says. “I feel as though this was one-sided.”

“Oh, you can make it up to me later!”

Staring, mute, Hordak watches her leave. The thoughts in his head don’t regain their normalcy for hours afterward. His fingers tap the gem nestled into his armor, shining in its case.

#entrapdak #entrapta #hordak #spop #shera

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faewhump · 4 years

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Unseelie Pet: 13. Chapter

Malachi takes Alex to visit another Fae Lord and his pet, where the promised ‘playdate’ suddenly takes a different route than they expected.

Previous Masterlist Next

Content warnings: dehumanisation, non-consensual touching (not sexual), drugging (faerie food), noncon kiss, dubcon kiss, mentions of noncon, captor bonding

Tagging: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @whumpsideblog @frnkieroismydaddy @slaintetowhump @thewhiteraven73 @galaxywhump

The game Malachi had forced Alex to take part in had rattled him more than he would have liked to admit. He had seen similar and way worse games before, but back then they had been easier to ignore, especially when Rían told him not to worry about the human pets in general. As a pet himself now he’d been aware that he would probably have to join such games, and yet it had come unexpected. Even though he feared and hated Malachi, he still had naively believed that the Fae wouldn’t treat him like that.

Meanwhile Malachi didn’t seem to understand the problem, after all Alex hadn’t been hurt or punished. And besides, some of the other pets had enjoyed the game, so clearly it wasn’t all that bad. Alex still continued to sulk, which Malachi tolerated with a sort of exasperated amusement for a couple of days, before he strictly reprimanded him to watch his tone and behaviour, lest he gave the impression of being ungrateful.

A week after the ball Alex’s routine of feeding his meals to the crows, reading, being taken on walks and fed by Malachi was suddenly upheaved when he was informed that they would visit Lord Cian this afternoon. Alex wasn’t too thrilled; he hadn’t liked the creepy Fae they’d met outside and was a little worried about what the ‘playdate’ with the other pet would entail. But there was nothing he could do about it, and so he didn’t resit when Malachi hooked the leash into his collar and led him to Cian’s rooms.

“I would like to urge you to be on your best behaviour today,” Malachi told Alex on the way. “I will not let you embarrass me in front of Cian again. To make this easier for you, you will not speak at all during our visit. If I should hear only one word from you, the muzzle goes back on. Understood?”

Alex swallowed at the threat, then mumbled an affirmative. He understood, no matter what happened he wouldn’t speak a word.

The other Fae received them warmly in a beautiful drawing room and immediately offered his old friend a seat and something to drink. Peering over Malachi’s shoulder Alex saw Cian’s human pet for the first time. Lukas had reddish brown hair, a small frame and looked younger than Alex, probably in his early twenties. His only piece of clothing was a roughspun trouser, and Alex shuddered at the scars and bruises on his bare chest.

Malachi sat down on the sofa across from Cian and placed one of the pillows on the floor for Alex to kneel upon. Cian didn’t offer his pet a pillow, and so Lukas just slumped at his feet with a lowered head. The skin underneath the dark metal collar around his throat looked painfully raw. Alex remembered the one time he had complained about the fit of his beautiful golden collar, and how Malachi had immediately adjusted it and even put soothing creme on the slightly sore skin.

“Yes, he’s perfectly obedient now,” Cian said, giving Lukas a short kick. Alex winced with him in sympathy. “What about your little human?”

Malachi gently ran a hand through Alex’s hair. “Oh, we’ve been making great progress.”

He continued to pet Alex while talking to Cian and even handfed him a couple of treats from the canapé plate on the table next to him. In turn the other Fae completely ignored his pet. Alex couldn’t stop staring at Lukas, he felt so sorry for him. How must he feel right now? Seeing him in his fine clothes and golden collar, unhurt, clean, and clearly spoiled by his owner…

Up until now Alex had always felt sorry for himself, he’d hated everything Malachi did to him and thought he was suffering. But compared to the way Cian seemed to treat Lukas… Alex was ashamed, if Lukas knew of his previous thoughts, he’d surely think of him as incredibly spoilt, bratty and ungrateful. Alex realised that despite his rebelliousness Malachi treated him quite well.

“Enough of that for now,” Cian decided eventually. “I remember I promised our little pets a playdate, so why don’t you two go ahead and say hello?”

Alex frowned, he’d been explicitly ordered to not speak, so how was he supposed to say hi? He didn’t understand what the Fae wanted him to do and stayed where he was, while Lukas pushed himself to his knees and crawled over. About a three feet away from Alex he stopped, looking down. Confused Alex glanced up at Malachi in question, who merely smiled and nudged him encouragingly. Slowly he moved closer to Lukas, still unsure of what Malachi expected him to do. Lukas seemed to notice his uncertainty and gave him a shy smile, then leaned in to nuzzle at his face. Surprised Alex jerked back; he hadn’t expected that.

Cian chuckled. “Your pet is a shy one, isn’t it?”

“He generally does need some more encouragement to show affection, yes,” Malachi said. “Come on, darling, don’t be rude now.”

Angered Alex turned his head to glare at Malachi. The Fae merely raised an eyebrow, and it was enough to remind Alex of the stern warning to behave he’d given him. Alex took a deep breath and moved closer towards Lukas again, and when the other human carefully nuzzled at his face he didn’t pull back. He knew that Lukas wasn’t doing this out of his free will either, neither of them had a choice in this.

Lukas slowly reached his hands out towards Alex, who gently took them into his and was appalled at how much smaller they were. From up close the bruises littering his body looked even worse, and although Alex had lost weight too lately, he wasn’t nearly as thin and weak as Lukas. The urge to protect the younger man surged through him, but he knew well enough that he couldn’t even protect himself. Alex stiffened when Lukas hugged him, then carefully wrapped his arms around the thin, shivering body.

“Aww, how cute!” Cian cooed. “I knew they’d look adorable together.”

“They do indeed,” Malachi agreed, sounding pleased.

“Hmm, I’m sure they can be even more entertaining, though,” Cian said, then coldly addressed Lukas. “Go on, boy, you know how much I like a show, don't you?”

In his arms Alex felt the other human freeze.

“Yes, master,” Lukas replied meekly, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked at Alex apologetically, then suddenly leaned in and kissed him.

Shocked Alex yelped and tried to pull back, but Lukas held on to him desperately, shaking in fear. What the hell was going on? Was this what the Fae had meant with ‘playdate’? Would Malachi really force him to ‘play’ with this other human, on the floor in front of him? When Lukas finally paused the kiss Alex pushed back, pleadingly turned around to Malachi and whined.

Up until now Malachi had watched the happenings passively, but now he placed a hand upon Alex’s shoulder and made shooing motions with his hands towards Lukas. “Shoo, away with you!”

Lukas recoiled immediately and whimpered apologetically.

“Hey!” Cian complained. “They were just getting started.”

“You know that I don't like sharing what is mine,” Malachi said, his hand closing tighter around Alex’s shoulder.

Cian huffed. “Come on, pets playing isn’t serious and just for entertainment, it’s not sharing. Of course I know your preferences, but I really wouldn’t have expected this to be a problem. It's really fun to watch, and since your pet clearly doesn't have any experience, this would be the perfect opportunity for it to learn from Lukas… which could improve your enjoyment as well.” He winked.

Unsettled Alex moved back to press himself against Malachi's legs, looked up at him and whined pleadingly. Malachi slid a hand into his hair, and Alex leaned into it. Maybe if he was good enough Malachi wouldn’t force him to do this. He wanted to ask him to please not to, but the threat of the muzzle successfully kept him quiet.

Malachi smiled at him, then turned back to Cian. “I’m sorry, but this human is mine,” he stated. “And I am too possessive of my pet to allow anyone else – be they faerie or human – to touch it.”

Relieved Alex sunk back against Malachi’s legs, he hated how grateful he felt towards the Fae for declaring him his.

“Alright, alright, it’s your choice,” Cian appeased, sounding a little disgruntled. “What a pity though...” His eyes raked over Alex, then fell upon Lukas. He snapped his fingers. “Heel, boy.”

Lukas, who had cowered shivering on the floor, trying to make himself as small as possible, quickly obeyed. The two Fae Lords smoothly picked up their conversation again, and Alex slowly allowed himself to relax. He stayed close to Malachi, feeling oddly safe and protected by his side. Across from him Lukas had slumped at his master’s feet again, eyes unfocused and not looking up or reacting in anyway.

Watching the other pet Alex felt almost overwhelmed with pity, he just hoped that Malachi would never let him end up like this. For the first time he was incredibly glad that it had been Malachi who’d found him that night, and not someone like Cian. In a way he had been very lucky. It was hard to hate Malachi seeing how much nicer he was compared to other Fae. In contrast Malachi was very soft on him, giving him so many luxurious things, taking care of him even though he rebelled at every turn… And he was incredibly beautiful. Glancing up, Alex thought that wouldn't mind kissing him as much as he had minded Lukas.

The moment they entered his room again, Malachi immediately began fussing all over Alex.

“You did so, so well, my darling,” Malachi praised and guided Alex to sit at the dressing table so that he could remove the make-up. “You behaved so perfectly; I am very proud. Such a good pet, staying quiet and obedient all throughout. And when you looked at me with those adorable big eyes and made those sweet, sweet whines…”

Malachi removed the ornate drop earrings from Alex’s ears and replaced them with a pair of small pearl studs. Ever since he had spontaneously pierced Alex’s earlobes he’d forced him to constantly wear earrings to keep the piercings open.

“I am sorry you were frightened like that, though. I thought Cian knew better, but apparently not.” Malachi sighed and shook his head. “That dirty mutt shouldn’t have kissed you like that.”

“It…it wasn’t his fault,” Alex mumbled. “Lukas didn’t want to either. Cian forced him.”

Malachi’s hands faltered for a moment, then he continued to comb Alex’s hair. “Quite right, I’m afraid,” he admitted.

Alex licked his lips nervously, collecting his courage. “Is there… is there a way we can help him?” he asked quietly. “Cian seemed so… cold to him, and he was hurt…”

Malachi chuckled. “You want to help someone you’ve only just met?”

“Yes.”

“That is quite adorable of you, but I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do. It’s Lord Cian’s choice how he treats his pet, as it is the prerogative of every Fae.”

“Do many Fae treat their pets like that?” Alex’s asked, his eyes flitting to Malachi’s in the mirror. “Or… or start to when they get bored?”

“It varies, I’d say. But I’m afraid that it isn’t uncommon,” Malachi replied. “Why, are you that I will get bored and stop spoiling you?”

Alex shrugged, but his expression said enough. Malachi turned him around and cupped his cheek, titling his head up.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, there’s nothing for you to worry about,” he said gently. “I would never treat you like that; I promise. I love my darling pet way too much for that.”

Alex’s eyes widened. “Really? You… you love me?”

Malachi smiled. “Of course I do. And you should know that unlike you I truly cannot lie.”

“Oh,” Alex said tonelessly. He didn’t know how to feel about this revelation, didn’t know whether he should be relieved, disgusted, happy or scared … But when Malachi slowly leaned in to kiss him, he didn’t move away.

The Fae’s lips were unexpectedly soft and gentle, and he kept the kiss unhurried and short. It felt… nice. Alex was confused, he knew he shouldn’t like this, he really shouldn’t… and yet it felt good. Eventually Malachi pulled back, somehow both too soon and not soon enough. Alex looked down, unable to meet his eyes.

“There’s no need to be shy, my sweet,” Malachi said, still holding Alex close, and ran a thumb over his cheek.

Alex made a disagreeing sound, he wasn’t shy, he just hated the decisions he made recently. A part of him screamed at him to push Malachi away and refuse to let the Fae touch him again, but instead he leaned in closer, rested against Malachi’s chest and allowed himself to relax into the comfort.

“Good boy,” Malachi whispered and pressed a kiss onto his hair. “My perfect darling.”

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danyka-fendyr · 4 years

Text

Absence of Good - 5

Chapter 5:Head Above Water

Hey everybody guess who’s back from hiatus! Okay, so this is a bit of a long one, which I’m actually rather pleased about. I took a break to let my creative muse simmer, and I think it turned out pretty good! Hotch kind of gets more of a spotlight in this chapter, which is important to me because I want to emphasize reader’s connection with the other characters and not just Spencer. What can I say? I’m a sucker for slowburn. Anyway, hope it was worth the wait! (This hasn’t been proofread so it might not be.)

Taglist: @dreamwritesimagines @rhabakoli

AoG Taglist: @pancakefancake @prettyboyspenerrr

Wordcount: 3844

Warnings: Generally disturbing themes. Mentions of death, sexual assault, drowning and other dark themes.

“War is what happens when language fails.”

-Margaret Atwood

You had never been more terrified of an assignment than this one. And that was saying something.

Through everything that had happened to you in your line of work, there had always been an element of a safety net. Despite all the danger, despite the horrors you saw every day, there was some comfort in the knowledge of two things. The first was that you would get to go home at the end of the day to your loving bed. The second was that you were not the target. You were not the target.

“Are you sure about this?” You asked Hotch, trying to hide the slight wavering in your voice.

“You’ve seen the pictures, Agent Y/L/N. I don’t think I need to tell you how sure of this I am.”

You swallowed thickly, holding the glossy images between your fingers. You hated the texture of them between your hands, had never liked the sticky grip of a fresh printed photograph stealing your fingerprints, so easy to mark up. It stressed you out. These photos did a little more than stress you out though.

“How…this is…”

“Uncanny,” Hotch finished for you.

You two were alone in his office, which should have meant bad news to you on any day, but you had hoped for the best. You had thought maybe he was going to tell you off for helping Reid prank Morgan. Perhaps he had actually called you in to tell you some good news. That had been too happy to hope for though.

“Yes. Uncanny,” you echoed.

“The message seems clear enough though.”

“Say it,” you whispered.

Hotch looked reluctant, like the words would sound almost as bad coming from his as they would from you.

“This unsub is obsessed with you.”

Every girl looked exactly like you. Some of the more recent kills had even been made to look more like you. Hair dyed, styled. One with colored contacts to turn her eyes your same vivid hue. No one could blame you for the single tear that slipped down your face and landed on the dark, lemon scented wood of Hotch’s desk. No one could blame you for your complete inability to look away from all of your dopplegangers.

No…not dopplegangers. Replicas. Created to be perfect mirror images of you.

You felt like you were going to throw up.

“Who-“ You cut yourself off.

“We don’t know.” You had never heard Hotch speak so softly, his voice a gentle murmur. “Agent Rossi and myself are the only two who know about this right now. We thought we should tell you before the rest of the team. We’ve been looking through old cases trying to find someone who escaped but we haven’t met with any luck. Which leads us to believe…”

“That it’s someone I know in my personal life.”

“Most likely.” Hotch’s face was grim, his mouth a thin line.

It aged him, you realized. Every time one of the members of his team was in mortal danger, the years seemed to pile on, making him seem 10, 20, 30 years older than he was. It was jolting to realize that Hotch was not all that old, not in the grand scheme of things. That to Rossi, he was young, comparatively. For a moment you felt you were closer in maturity to Jack, his son, than you were to SSA Aaron Hotchner.

“I’ll go tell the rest of the team,” you whispered.

You tried to move, but you couldn’t seem to do it. For a moment you simply did not have the willpower to rise up out of that chair, an island keeping you afloat just off the continental shelf of the ocean that was Hotch’s desk, a buffer between you two. The terror held you in place, eyes still glued to those pictures, to the broken bodies in them.

“You don’t have to,” Hotch offered, throwing you a lifeline. “Agent Rossi and I can handle it.”

You should have taken it. Should have fallen to your knees and blubbered out your gratefulness. That’s what any sensible person would do. Anyone who had not read too many fantasy stories of heroines who put on a brave face and too many textbooks about how the shock could make you numb to things. If there was anyone willing to play their own brain it was you, and right now you were ready to play it like a fiddle that would be too shocked to process your own grief and terror.

“No. I can do it.”

You wiped your face clean, unashamedly whipping out a compact mirror to make sure you still looked presentable. You didn’t have to bother hiding anything from Hotch. He could care less how much or how little you cared about your appearance, as long as you remained professional. You had always liked that about him. How comfortable he was to be around when it came down to it. How trustworthy.

You didn’t look like you had been crying. That was good. You would lose the respect of 75% of the office if you did, and that was a convenient thing to have sometimes.

“Let’s go,” you said, finally finding the willpower to stand.

You didn’t look at the photos. You couldn’t. Not if you wanted to hold on to the shellshock, the numbness that would buoy you through this briefing.

The bullpen wasn’t ready for your announcement. You could see them all gathered around Spence’s desk, speculating. You knew what they were doing because you had done the same thing on a few occasions. They were trying to figure out why Hotch had called you in, laughing to themselves, smiling. You almost couldn’t bear to tell them, to wipe the smiles off their faces.

You took a deep breath, squaring your shoulders.

Spencer was the first to notice. To see the stone look carved into marble features and to freeze, his amber eyes going dark. It didn’t take the others long to notice, to put together your clenched jaw and Spencer’s tense posture. If there was one thing they knew better than serial killers, it was the face of a bearer of bad news.

“What happened?” JJ asked.

“We have a case. Briefing room, now.” You got there before Hotch could.

There was no hesitation, only an icy edge to the air as you all headed to the briefing room, closing the door behind you. You let Hotch do the setup, the man knowing you well enough to know that you wanted those pictures behind you. You couldn’t look at them while you told the team. It was bad enough seeing Garcia’s gasp as she pieced it together, and Spencer…You could barely look at Spencer, first to pick up the pieces, first to figure things out, first to have a thousand emotions flicker across his face. He was angry, he was sad, he was sick, he was terrified.

You tried to start, but the words stuck in your throat, so Hotch gave you a push.

“We’ve all dealt with unsubs of a more personal nature in the past. As you can all see, this is, unfortunately, one of those times.”

“This unsub has a connection to me. Obviously.” You tried to keep the words from shaking, gripping the edge of the table to hide the tremors running through you while coaching yourself to get a grip. “At first, he chose victims who look like me. He’s become more manic though, with less time between kills. It’s no longer enough to wait for girls who look like me. He’s desperate enough that he doesn’t care what they look like, but meticulous enough to model them after me. Additionally, he is still careful enough to pick girls with similar lifestyles. Low-risk victims with strong educational backgrounds, all the same age as me.”

The words were starting to run dry as it felt like the world might slip out from under your feet. You were sure your legs were going numb, sure that someone was freezing all the blood inside your body in some kind of twisted science experiment. You knew he had frozen the bodies, kept them for a while to do things you didn’t want to think about right now. Oh gosh, oh gosh, oh gosh, you had to make it through this briefing, had to make the words keep coming, but how.

“We believe this unsub is obsessed with Agent Y/L/N, and knowing this we can only assume that as his cooling off period decreases the danger to Y/N increases. There is some good news though. The unsub seems to be deteriorating, which could lead him to make a mistake.” Hotch took over.

“How did so many of these bodies turn up without us noticing?” JJ asked, horror in her eyes.

“The unsub crossed state lines. He’s clever, very much so. Medical reports indicate that he keeps the bodies frozen for a period of time before dumping them, and there are signs of sexual assault, though it appears to have been done with a blunt object. Some of the bodies he brought across state lines, which only further complicates things.”

“But we’re going to catch this psycho, right Hotch?”

Morgan’s righteous anger was normally calming, but now not even he could reach through your panic.

“We’re doing everything in our power to track down this unsub now that it has been brought to our attention. I fought for them to let our team have this case, so I expect you all to be at the top of your game. Agent Y/L/N, for obvious reasons, will not be apart of the investigation, but rather will be in protective custody.”

You swiveled, your legs nearly giving out beneath you but not quite.

“No she will not be,” you protested.

“This unsub is targeting you directly. The safest place for you to be is-“

“Surrounded by my team. At best, cooped up here. But I refuse to be sidelined and tucked away in some safehouse Hotch. You said I probably know this guy. So who better to help track him down than me?” You appealed to Hotch’s sense of reason, that sense that always won out with him. “You need me for this Hotch. You can’t find this guy without me.”

Just when you thought Hotch would agree, Spencer stood from the table, slamming a hand down with more aggression than you thought him capable of.

“Absolutely not!”

You felt the blood rush back to your extremities as it rose to color your face, Spencer’s protest bringing you back to yourself. You clenched your fists, turning the full might of your own fury on him even as he stared at you with eyes that seemed to blaze with fire.

“Reid, she has a point. She’s the only one who knows the unsub-“

“So we’re just going to use her as bait?” You had never seen Spence so livid, his eyes tearing up with the emotion. “I won’t let you put her in danger like that, Hotch. She shouldn’t be anywhere near this case.”

“I’ll be wherever I need to be, and right now that’s here, Spencer.”

There were few people who could match Dr. Spencer Reid. His mother was one of them, an unstoppable force. The eccentric, immutable Gideon, you had heard, was another. You were the third, fire rising to meet fire, washing out any trace of ice, any danger of drowning that might have existed before this moment, this challenge. There were a lot of people Spencer Reid was good and entitled to boss around, but you were most certainly not one of them.

“It’s too dangerous, I won’t let you-“

“Won’t let me? Well I’ve got news for you Spencer, you’re not my boss. You have no claim over me, no say in what I do or don’t do. I’m helping with this case because if you ever want to find this guy, you need me.”

Spencer looked like he was going to say more, but Rossi interrupted him. A dangerous thing to do for anyone other than Rossi.

“She’s right, kid. I hate to say it almost as much as you do, but she’s right. A case like this, could be anyone. You know that. You also know it’s entirely possible that she’s the only person in the entire world who can connect the dots. We’re not just throwing her to the wolves though. We’ll keep her safe.”

You had never seen Spencer looked so betrayed as he had now, looking first to Rossi, then turning to the rest of the table in a silent plea for support. He found none. Reluctant as the team was, you had made your point.

Turning on his heel, Spencer stormed out of the room. You had half a mind to follow him, but it was Rossi who held you back.

“Let him go. He’ll come back soon. He won’t be able to leave you alone at a time like this.”

You didn’t know where Rossi’s certainty had come from, but you could hear it in his voice, and you decided to trust him on this. After all, you would have to trust your team on a lot until this guy was safely behind bars.

The next few days were taxing, to say the least. You had gone through just about every person you had ever met trying to figure out who the unsub was. People you were close to, people you had barely known, and everything in-between. You were about ready to give up, nearly asleep with your head on Garcia’s desk as she cast her sympathetic gaze your way.

“Honestly, it really could be anybody. Sometimes these guys just see you smile at them once in the street and they’re insane for you. They’re wacky.”

“You can say that again.” You sighed.

You were in an extra bad mood tonight. You and Spencer hadn’t been talking lately, not since your fight over whether you should be involved in this. Despite the fact that you were confined to Garcia’s office and that Hotch wouldn’t so much as let you go home, Spencer’s vow of silence did not lift. It seemed as though he was refusing to condone your involvement in this with words.

Which was just as well, you didn’t need him. That was what you were telling yourself. You were just cranky and on edge because of everything else going on in your life. Heaven only knew you had a right to be.

“Boy genius still not on speaking terms with you?”

To add to your stressors, Garcia had been getting unnervingly good at guessing your thoughts.

“I don’t want to talk about him right now. Any activity from the unsub?” You quickly changed subjects.

“Well I haven’t heard from them in a while, but let me ask my brown sugar.”

Deftly pressing buttons, Garcia dialed Morgan, putting him on speaker so you could hear too.

“Hey baby girl.”

“Hello my gorgeous chocolate thunder. I was wondering, could you perhaps update me on the situation?”

“For you? Anything. We just got done talking to the M.E. about the newest body. Apparently he’s now taken to dressing them up as cheerleaders, presumably in reference to Y/N’s high school cheerleading career. Anyway, not much else has changed about his M.O., nothing we’ve noticed yet anyway-“

“Wait…Morgan…did you just say he’s dressing them up in cheer uniforms?” You asked.

“I sure did. Why? Does that mean something to you?”

“Morgan…I was never a cheerleader.” You felt like all the air had been swept out of your lungs. “I don’t think this is about me.”

The team had all headed back to Quantico at record speeds, made faster by the fact that the unsub had been getting closer and closer to Virginia in his killing sprees. They were now assembled in front of you in the briefing room, but this time you hoped to shed more light on the situation.

“When I was 16, I fell in with a bad crowd. Well, not a bad crowd, but you know. Not my kind of people. I was a quiet book nerd and they were party people. Anyway, I was going through some things and I wanted to be cool, so I let them convince me to go to this party. Long story short, it wasn’t fun. The highlight of the night though, I remember, was this girl. Amber Melfort. She and her boyfriend got into this big fight, and it was obvious he was drunk. He hit her, hit her pretty hard, and she fell. Fell into the pool, and didn’t get back out.

Her boyfriend, as you may have figured out, was not a class act. I think he thought that if she really was dead then if he left her there nobody would know it was him. I don’t really know what he thought, to be honest. Don’t really want to know. Anyway you slice it, that didn’t sit right with me. He walked away, but I dived into the pool, fully clothed, and managed to drag Amber out. Did CPR, got somebody half-sober to call 911. At the end of it all, Amber pulled through and her boyfriend, Matt, got kicked off the football team.”

“No offense, but I’m not sure I see how this is related to the case.” Emily’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Amber was a cheerleader,” I said. “Whatever this is about, it isn’t just about me. It’s also about Amber.”

Emily’s eyes widened in understanding, as did everyone else’s at the table.

“It’s certainly worth looking into. Reid, you and Dave go interview Amber Melfort, find out whatever you can. Morgan, Prentiss, I want you to find the boyfriend and make a house call.”

You all collectively scattered, and you and Garcia went back to researching whatever else you could.

“Alright, looks like Amber lives alone not far from here. Apparently she’s been dating a life guard, irony of all ironies, and according to her social media…Oh, major bummer. Turns out up until a couple months ago they were engaged until she broke it off because he was cheating on her.”

“Poor Amber,” you said.

The girl deserved a break.

“Yeah. Okay, so anyway, she hasn’t had any contact with the boyfriend, Matt, in years. He doesn’t live too near here either, which might be why the killings started further out but seem to be circling in.”

“Any stressors in Matt’s life?”

“Oh beautiful baby doll you know that I already looked and weirdly, I have not come up with much. It would seem that, to all appearances, Matt is living the perfect life. In fact, he even just got married. And other than their status as Facebook friends, he and Amber no longer have any kind of connection. He hasn’t even liked any of her posts in over a year.”

You felt the wind get knocked out of you. “I guess my theory was wrong then.”

“Seems like that might be the case. I’m sorry angel cakes.”

You were more than ready to give up. You had been ready to give up for weeks, but now? Now you were convinced you were going to be drowned and buried in a cheerleading uniform.

It didn’t make sense. All of the signs had pointed to a connection to Amber, right down to the drownings which you hadn’t been able to connect before the cheerleading outfit. You were at your wit’s end when your cellphone began ringing.

You did a double take when you saw the number. Spence rarely called, but right now he was angry with you. It didn’t make any sense for him to call. Unless…maybe he had found something. Heard from Amber that there was someone else who was a potential danger.

You picked up the phone, hoping against all hope, only to be filled with cold fear.

“Y/N, it’s Dave. My phone is dead, but we’re on the way to the hospital. Spencer’s been hurt.”

“I’m on my way.” Screw the unsub, you were not leaving Spencer alone in some stupid hospital.

“Okay. Let me know when you get here.”

When you arrived at the hospital, you found Dave quickly and he explained everything that had happened to you. Amber had been the unsub all along, dealing with her trauma the only way she knew how.

Her fiancé cheating on her had been the stressor. Apparently Matt had been cheating on her way back when and that was what they had been arguing about at the party just before he struck her, nearly dooming her to a watery grave. In a twisted reenactment, she had been playing out her memories by killing not herself, but the girl who had come to save her, all in the hopes of gaining your attention. She had become obsessed with you and with your work, and ultimately it led to her revealing herself and having a shoot-out with Spence.

“Is he okay?”

“The doctors think he’s going to be fine. She only grazed his arm,” Rossi reassured.

You breathed a sigh of relief. “Can I go see him?”

“Yes, I think they’re allowing visitors now.”

You didn’t stay behind to listen to Garcia’s speeches about charts before charging ahead.

“Spence.” You breathed a sigh of relief seeing him awake.

He looked towards you and for the first time in days, a hint of a smile pulled at his mouth.

“Hey,” he said. “Did you bring me Jell-O?”

“No. But I can,” you said, turning to go get some.

“No! I mean, that’s okay. Don’t leave yet.”

He looked so pale under the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital. A white bandage wrapped around his arm and nearly matched his skin as well as the sheets. The dark marks under his eyes stuck out even harsher for it.

You drifted over to his bedside, taking a hesitant seat in the hard, alcohol scented chair next to his bed.

“Listen…Spence…I’m sorry,” you confessed. “I’ve been stupid. When I heard you were hurt, all I could think about was how if you died I wouldn’t have gotten to tell you…Well, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you that I’m an idiot. You were only trying to protect me, and I’m sorry for not seeing that and respecting it.”

“No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have gotten so angry at you, shouldn’t have wasted all that time being mad at you for being right. In the end, you were the one who solved the case and the one who saved the day. Even when you aren’t in the field you’re a brilliant agent, and I…I was just worried. I thought maybe I could lose you, and if I did…I don’t want to think about what would happen. So please forgive me for being so selfish and stubborn.”

You smiled softly at him, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze.

“Forgiven.”

He smiled widely at you, a smile you hadn’t seen since before the threat to your life. “I’ll take that Jell-O now.”

“Coming right up.”

“The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.”

-G.K. Chesterton

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid imagine #dr. spencer reid #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #tw:sexual assault #tw:death #tw:body horror #tw:selfharm #???#tw:panic attack #tw:drowning

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worldofroleplay · 3 years

Text

I don't want to fall asleep, not that I would be able to. The weather and the copious amounts of coffee I'd been numbly downing all evening are both seeing to that. I'm sitting up in bed, watching the snowflakes drift through the beam of light cast by the lone lamp at the steps of the patio. My gaze is unfocused, I'm thinking only of her.

I don't know who she is, but she is why I don't want to sleep. I dream about her. Often. She's not very remarkable at a glance, not like the Hollywood elite most would dream of, not angelic with a pillar of holy light illuminating her. She just radiates a magnetic aura, a pull so strong I can't escape. And the dreams are always the same, we're looking for each other. The reasons are never clear, just that it's imperative we find each other. I need to get to her.

Sometimes, we win. When I see her, the wave of relief is so great it could drown me. Once I even held her, as close to me as I could without opening my chest and letting her in, as if I'd lose her forever were I to let go. When I woke without her, I felt a lonely ache in my chest that stayed with me for hours. The times we don't, I wake feeling like something was torn from inside me. I spend the day feeling like I'm recovering from the shock. It's been three years now, and I've still not worked out how I can feel like this over someone I've only ever seen in a dream.

I blink, coming back to the room, the darkness split by that solitary lamp. There's something poetic about it shining so brightly despite being alone, but I shoo the potential metaphor away. I don't feel like thinking that hard right now. There's a strange energy that peaks at night, simultaneously managing to be peacefully calm and bursting with excitement. A pseudo-high I crave, I'd much rather be focusing on this. Oh... I suppose another reason why I don't want to sleep. This isn't a feeling I can bring on at will, and I want to submerge myself in it for as long as I can.

It starts to fade as the pale grey light of morning slowly begins filling the room. I hadn't slept at all. It's almost 8 by the time I shove myself up from the bed, crossing the room still in a bit of a daze from the sleepless night. I don't turn the light on when I enter the bathroom. I just stand at the sink, staring at the mirror, my own reflection not immediately registering. I briefly consider shaving but decide against it, I don't want to take the time and where I'm going isn't anywhere that would require clean dress. Small shops in a small town are forgiving that way. You're allowed to be comfortable. You're allowed to feel at home. There's a small piece of that home that's still missing, for me. Everything here is wonderful, but there's just one thing off. Like an otherwise complete sentence that still has no punctuation at the end.

It's a forgettable day, not unlike so many others I've had. When I've finished the more tedious of my errands, I duck into the only restaurant in town for a break. Recollect myself. Reset. It's still snowing, still cold. I could use something stiffer than the coffee sitting untouched in front of me, but it isn't that kind of restaurant. I've been smuggling in a flask for weeks, and I know the waitresses know. They look the other way, likely because I keep it to myself and don't become a rodeo clown when I've had a shot or two of it. I tip in a bit of the dark rum and give it a stir before taking a mouthful. Much better. I don't order anything else, but I accept a refill and notice that this waitress has slightly underfilled it to allow room for my customisation. I smile a bit, it was such a small gesture but it means so much. The smaller gestures are more personal, more touching. Anyone can guess you'd be excited to get a new car, few would note the scattered little themed trinkets around your house and surprise you with a similar one. I leave her a generous tip in return and start back out, I need a few things from the corner store before I can go home.

Life has not been subtle to any of us regarding how it feels about our plans. There are times when life decides to cooperate, though these situations are too few and too far between. Today, life has decided to stop torturing me. There were no other customers when I walked in, but I 'm vaguely aware of the door opening a few minutes after me. Not at all noteworthy until the person asks the cashier if they carry some specific product. I freeze with a box of lightbulbs in my hand, a fleeting panic hitting me that perhaps this time, I didn't hold my rum very well. I have to be asleep, I have to be dreaming. I immediately know that voice. I've heard it a million million times, reaching out across the dreamlands, searching for me. I don't want to look. I take a shaking breath before finally turning to her. Her face is the one I see every time I close my eyes. I can live without whatever I came in here for, but I can't live without knowing her. My throat closes when she happens to look at me.

I don't think I've ever had an out of body experience before, but I imagine it would feel something like this. I'm walking to her before I'm aware that my legs are moving. I almost expect them to give seeing as I don't fully feel in control of them. I stop maybe a foot away from her. Her expression softens, her eyes are warm and I think she might be smiling. The cashier hesitates, then opts not to interrupt, thankfully. I don't even know what I want to say, so many thoughts I'd never know which to start with. She speaks first.

"It's you." Her voice is gentle. Her tone, almost factual. "Of course it would be you. It's always been you, hasn't it?" and now I'm smiling. A genuine smile, the kind I haven't felt on myself in what feels like years. Then she laughs. "I really hope you know my face, because I know yours very well."

"I was afraid I was being haunted by a dream," I confess. "I was afraid you weren't real." She looks relieved, her smile is still there.

"I was nearly convinced you weren't, either. I'm glad you are."

"I can confidently say I never expected to find you here. Now I just don't want you to tell me you aren't staying." The words tumble out before I can stop them. I still don't know her name, and I'm begging her to stay.

"We've been trying to find each other for years. Now that we have, there's nothing that would ever make me leave." She seems to suddenly realise where we are. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything. Are you busy?"

"I'm not. Even if I were, I would much rather spend my day finally getting to know you. I mean, if you aren't busy, either," I stumble. Without breaking eye contact, I feel her take my hand. I squeeze my fingers around hers, not wanting to ever let go.

"We've been so busy looking for each other. Let's now instead be busy learning each other."

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dearlazerbunny · 4 years

Text

Closer

Pairings: Yusuke Kitagawa x Reader

Genre/Ratings: first kiss, ace!Yusuke

Words: 1400

Summary: You’ve modeled for Yusuke dozens of times, but this ends a little differently than most.

Oh, did someone say ignore everything you need to be writing and write about my favorite angsty art boy instead??? I thought you’d never ask!!!

“Yusuke. Yukukeeeeeeeeeeeeee.”

Nothing. The boy across from you is ruthlessly invested in the sketchpad resting on his knee, a charcoal pencil fiddling between his fingers. You almost wish you could take a photograph so he could sketch himself instead of you- he’s more of a picture than you’ll ever be, with the look of concentration on his face and the pillowy gray dust streaking his hands. From your position laid across your bed at apparently interesting angles, you have a perfect view of the fading sunlight filtering through the window and the evening settling in the air. You’re warm and a little drowsy from lying down for so long, and Yusuke still isn’t finished.

“Will you at least show me what you’ve got so far?”

Hmmm.

“Your hair would look better in a Mohawk.”

A bit of an eyebrow raise.

“I want to have your babies.”

Well, he’s muttering something under his breath, but nothing coherent.

“The phantom thieves logo is ugly.”

“Hm?” A moment passes before Yusuke’s gaze actually focuses on you- like his mind is still entangled in his art. “Did you say something?”

You bite back a giggle. “Nothing. I know you aren’t supposed to rush art and all, but my butt is getting sore.”

He glances back down at the drawing on his lap. “I don’t yet think I’ve adequately captured the fluidity of the pose-”

“Yusukeeeeee. You say that every time, and every time it looks like a damn masterpiece.”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s a touch of a smile on his lips. “Flattering.”

“It’s why you keep me around.”

“A preposterous notion.” He stands and stretches, shoulders rolling under the collared shirt he insists on wearing even on lazy days. “I’m quite fond of your jawline; it proves a fascinating study.”

“You really know how to woo a girl,” you yawn through your quip, taking the opportunity to shift into a more comfortable position amongst the pillows you’re surrounded by.

“No, you’ll mess up the-!” you cock an eyebrow, daring him to argue about ruining your form or line or whatever he was about to say- he promptly closes his mouth, and you rub in the victory by dramatically ruffling your hair out of whatever carefully draped formation Yusuke had arranged it into hours before.

In an effort to shield himself from viewing the destruction of his masterpiece, Yusuke turns his attention back to his unfinished piece while you wiggle around and snuggle up into a blanket and generally make yourself look silly. It’s always so fascinating to watch his face waver and contort as he takes in his own work- there’s always a pinch along his brow bone, a tilt of the head here and there. For someone who prides himself on keeping his emotions in check, you can consistently read him like a book.

You blink- at some point in your staring, he started staring back at you. It’s his artist’s gaze, something intense and critical but also somehow dreamlike as it imagines what could be with a stroke of pencil on a page. Being its target never gets old. He crosses to where you’re still curled up on the bed and ever so gently reaches out to brush away a stray piece of hair from where its fallen on your forehead. You freeze. This is- different. This isn’t the deft touch of a sculptor arranging his model. It’s… softer. More tentative. Almost nervous?

“I believe I’ve realized something,” Yusuke murmurs, “and it was rather foolish of me not have seen it previously.” You wait, your heart thumping something fierce. “You are.. intensely beautiful.”

“Well, I don’t think artists aren’t in the habit of drawing ugly things.” You try to jest and give him a smirk as you sit up to meet him, but something frozen has flooded your veins and slowed you down. Compliments aren’t rare, necessarily, but they are when they’re not coming from the artist, but from him.

He shakes his head, bangs falling into his eyes. “No. It’s difficult to explain. I can capture this-” he traces the line of your cheekbone with a gentle finger, as though you’re forged of crystal- “easily enough. But the light in your eyes, and in the curve of your smile… they prove unfairly elusive.”

“Yusuke?” His hand hasn’t left your cheek; you’re almost afraid to breathe for fear of scaring him away. “I don’t really know what to say.”

“I- I don’t-” He lets out a little huff of frustration, clearly irritated at his inability to put his thoughts into words. You stay where you are, watching indecision flicker across his face, waiting for any sort of cue. Little by little, it becomes clear what he’s trying to say but can’t quite voice- it’s in the way you’re reflected in his eyes; how his fingers wander their way down to the nape of your neck and let themselves tangle in your hair.

Ever so gently, you mimic his movement and brush his bangs back into their characteristic swoop, not missing the way his breath hitches as you comb through the strands. “Is this okay?” you murmur, not wanting to push anything too far. He’d told you long ago about his asexuality and lack of interest in anything physical- fine with you, you aren’t interested in him for what he can offer you in the bedroom. But now… “I thought you were ace? Which is fine,” you reassure. “I just need to know where my boundaries are.”

“I am,” he confirms. “But at the moment I feel as though I need to kiss you or either spontaneously combust.”

You breathe out a laugh, both from shock and awe at his sudden honesty. “Okay.” Your fingers move a little more assuredly along his hairline, little parts of him you’ve long admired but never been able to touch. “That’s okay. We can work with that.”

Nothing but a hum of resolution from Yusuke, who continues to let himself meander over your features. The two of you draw ever closer, a small dance of back and forth until you’re close enough to feel him whisper a confession as his eyes flutter closed- “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“That’s okay, too,” you whisper back, letting him take his time as he gently brushes your nose with his own, runs a thumb over your cheek, and leans in for your first kiss.

It’s gentle at first- tentative, experimental. While it’s your first kiss as a couple, you know it’s also his first kiss ever, and it’s sweet knowing he trusts you enough to share the experience with you. You try to send him subtle little signs that say it’s all good, I’m right here. Do what you want to do. He gets bolder as the seconds pass, letting the small bits of passion that characterize everything Yusuke does leak through his wall of uncertainty: his fingers clench in your hair, he leans into the taste of you, lets you hear the catch in his sigh of contentment and small noise of want. You follow his lead and try not to let on just how many fireworks are sparking though you, all the way down to the tips of your toes.

Somewhere along the way the two of you got so entangled that separating only means putting a few inches between your faces. You look at each other in wonder, in amazement, like your entire worldview has shifted into high definition clarity.

And then you both promptly dissolve into giggles, because, yeah. That was... good.

Yusuke looks years younger with a smile on his face and crinkles around his eyes- it’s a rare sight that you cherish each and every time you’re privy to it. Knowing you’re the cause makes it even better. “Okay?” You ask softly, unable to stop yourself from looking at him in this new way- closer, softer, warmer.

“Mmm. Quite.” Being close enough to taste his words is such a sweet feeling. “And you?”

Your nose brushes his in an Eskimo kiss. “Never better. You never fail to amaze me, Inari.”

He graces you with another soft kiss. “However amazing I might be, it only reveals itself because of you.”

“You’re too damn poetic, you know that?”

Another smile, this one even brighter than the last. “And yet,” he gestures to the pair of you, at how you’re happily and contentedly wrapped in his arms- “here you are.”

A/N: Yusuke is gray-ace and you can pry that headcanon out of my cold dead gray-ace hands

#persona 5 #persona 5 fic #persona 5 fanfiction #yusuke kitagawa #yusuke kitagawa x reader #yusuke kitagawa x you #reader insert #ace!headcanon #first kiss #first kiss fic

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toxic-gorgon · 4 years

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Beautiful Lie: Lotor x Reader

I’m still disappointed with the last two seasons of Voltron, and Lotor deserved so much better than what he got. But despite that, I can’t let this show go. It’s still relatively good, for the most part.

Laying exhausted like you did most nights, you turned your head and watched as the prince left your side and quickly rustled around for his clothes. Panting, you reach up to your throat and wince. His grip was almost deadly this night, perhaps the negotiations didn’t go well? He often took his frustrations out on you, only solemnly seeking refuge in a different concubine’s chambers. Those nights you found the most peace.

The prince turns his head and noticed your painful expression. “Did I not satisfy you, darling?” his voice smooth like velvet to your ears, you despised it. Even more so, you despised how much it made you crave him. You briefly look at him, before sitting up, matching the expression of a statue.

“The only satisfaction I get from you, is when you leave.” you spat, resting your back against the cold wall, your body turned towards him. Crossing your legs in the lotus position, you ignored his running cum gushing from your core, but rather focused on your tough-as-nails façade. The prince never bought it.

“Oh? Do you hate me that much?” he asks, standing up, now fully clothed. He saunters to your bedside, but his yellow orbs studied you, watching for any sign of weakness. “I gave you a comfortable room instead of a freezing cell, I gave you far better quality meals than most of my underlings, and I allow you to continue studying what your species call alchemy. Have I been nothing but generous to you?” You grimaced at his words.

What he calls generous, you call sex slavery. Of course he would want to take relatively decent care for you, if not for his own gain. You’re no genius, but you are observant, and what you noticed was Prince Lotor didn’t keep anyone around, unless they can be useful. You wouldn’t be surprised if the other girls were medics, soldiers, or scientists. But you? You were just a nutjob human; studying a dead form of science-meets-occultism, which didn’t amount to anything besides being abducted by the prince and his cohorts.

Waiting for a response, Lotor’s yellow eyes shined with amusement and his smirk widens, just like when you first met. “What?” you snap at him, folding your arms over your bare chest. “You expect me to grovel and apologize for my insolence?” you mocked, not even batting an eye. The prince frowns as he comes closer, his knees dipping into the mattress, and soon he was towering over you, the palms of his hands slam against the wall, his face inches away from yours.

“I suggest you start being thankful for what I’ve given you. You are expendable and can be tossed out whenever the mood suites me.” his threat rings in your ears, but instead of you being scared, you prey for that outcome.

“You promise? Please do, I’m tired of being part of a collective, just some souvenir from the planets you visit.” your words spat venom, but you didn’t flinch from his intimidating presence. The prince stares at you, too long for your comfort. He was calculating something, you could feel it. You didn’t dare ask him what, he would show you soon enough. This cat and mouse game you both play continuously with each other, he’s not the type to admit defeat and neither were you.

“Is that what’s bothering you, darling?” he asks, his pretentiously sweet voice returning. He backs away, cupping your cheek softly with his bare hand. “I’m ashamed I haven’t noticed it before, please accept my apologies.” Your body flares up, his touch sending tingles throughout your senses, clouding them from the underlying meaning of his words. He knows you’ll cave in too, like so many times before. That bastard.

“J-Just go, please. You have duties to attend to, my prince.” you mutter, defeated. Lotor wells up with pride, he’s won this round. He goes to move off the bed, but not before leaving a searing hot, rousing kiss on your bruised lips from kisses past. You hate yourself for melting each and every time he locks lips with you.

His cocky smirk returns, as he leans away and flashes a pleasing smile. “Until we meet again.” he said, leaving you in your erotic prison alone. When the door shuts, you burst into tears, your eyes burning with emotions you held back. Your hands gripped your hair, as you cried out your frustration; your chest aching like it did every time you confronted your warden.

You cried until there was nothing left. Too depressed and empty to will yourself to do much. Sleep was the only place you can escape. Tomorrow was a new day, full of new ways the prince will torture you and make you succumb to him. You close your eyes, drifting back to a time before all this. Your memory was hazy at best; after all it’s been two years.

Two years of captivity and torture, your former life as a human on Earth seems like it was a dream. You can vaguely remember your family and friends, but it’s the little details that you’re always stumped on. Their sadden faces are what always chokes you up and makes you cry more. The mere fact they will never see you again, alive or dead, and there’s no way to let them know you’re ok. Even if they did know where you were, there’s no saving you. It was for the best they think you’re dead or ran away anyway. It would save them the true horrors what you experience.

You lie down and roll over to your side, tucking yourself into the blankets. You’ll need your rest; the prince wants you in top shape, he always does for your little games.

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You woke up and gathered what Lotor called clothing suited for his concubines. A deep purple, thinly layered, sheer skirt with decorative gold trimmings, with a matching bra that barely covered your nipples. High fashion for a royal whore such as yourself. How much you hated walking around with such a get up (when you’re allowed to leave your room), with other Galra males sizing you up, but for the sake of their lives, never act upon their obvious desires. It makes you sick just thinking about it.

Once dressed, you move over towards a table, littered with books, pens, and papers. You sat down and read a human alchemy book you’ve read dozens of times, but need to work on. So, why did Lotor allow you to continue your studies? To be frank, it’s no threat to him. Human knowledge is severely limited, and your alchemy is nothing like the alchemy from other planets. Not only that, but without any way of practicing with actual Earth ingredients, your studies are more like light reading anymore.

In fact, you were sure that’s what you offered the prince. A silly notion that you knew what real alchemy was that you were confident in your abilities, only to realize just how little you knew. In the end, you deducted that your use was indeed entertainment, amusement, nothing more than an ignorant human pet. A human pet with a thick skin, or that’s what you want everyone to believe.

You defied the prince on a daily basis, and every time he brings you back down a few pegs, waiting to see if you break. Every time he’s delighted to see your determination, and thusly the game continues. You were sure he enjoyed them a little too much, seeing you as a puzzle he can’t yet figure you out, and everyday he tests you. You just wanted to escape, but yet part of you want to crack his puzzle as well, as cheesy as it sounds.

You were conditioned to be the perfect whore and there were dozens of times you could’ve left, so why didn’t you? He doesn’t treat me like the others, you would say to yourself. In the very bottom of your still aching chest, you wished there was a sliver of love or fondness he had for you. You hoped there would be a day he would confess his love for you and treat you like a real person. Such a thought shatters your heart.

Your door suddenly opens, and as if right on cue, the prince walks through the threshold. His gaze immediately follows you, as he takes long but delicate strides towards your study area. “Ah, darling. Reading again?” you roll your eyes, what else would you be doing? You chose to say nothing, and let him take a seat across from you. Closing your book, you sat it on the table and allow him to have your attention.

“What do you want?” your voice void of emotions. Lotor scoffs, but is smile remains, his elbow propped on the table with his chin resting in his palm.

“Hm? I have to have a reason to come see my favorite? I thought you enjoyed my company.” his all-too-smooth voice sent shivers down your spine, but you distracted yourself by placing your hands in your lap.

“You have others that are desperate for your company, why not see them?” you ask flatly. Lotor chuckles and sits up, his yellow eyes peering down at you with that glimmer of amusement again.

“Others? But darling, I released them.” You gasp, your face falling into shock, and your arms lay limply at your side. What did he do? Your eyes widen, but you kept quiet. Your bewilderment said it all, so the prince continued. “I thought about what we talked about, and upon thinking it over, I decided that I’m only in need of one concubine. You.” He grins, savoring your reaction.

You licked your lips, your mouth gone dry. “W-Why would you do that? Where did they go? Don’t tell me you killed them!” you exclaim, standing up as well, and backed away from him. Lotor shakes his head and reaches out to grasp your arm, pulling you closer.

“No, I didn’t kill them. I simply dropped them off on a nearby planet under Galra rule. They have their freedom, but more importantly, only you will be taking care of my needs for now on.” his voice fell into a low purr, one that could easily make you crumble before him. You stood still, but gathered your courage to speak.

“I can’t offer you any advantages. I’m a lowly human with outdated knowledge on alchemy.” you growl. “You don’t need me, so why not release me too?” Lotor seemed taken aback, but cups your cheek with his free hand, bringing you closer.

“You’re a reasonably intelligent female, I would expect you already know. The answer is quite simple, you wanted this. You’re no longer part of a collective, as you put it.” his words precise and spoken with a hint of smugness. He has you in checkmate and you were out of moves. Mentally you curse yourself, your own words bit you in the ass, and all you can do is accept your fate. You are his forever.

“You aggravate me, you defy me at every turn, and you resist me, but you won’t break.” he whispers, standing chest to chest with you, his warm breath grazing your lips. “And yet I can’t help but to be drawn to it, enthralled by how much willpower you possess.” he steals a kiss, adding fuel to the flames between you.

The static was more than enough to bring the craving back, as you almost fell into his arms. You catch yourself kissing back, this new, tender side of Lotor could be another way for him to use his charisma against you, but you didn’t care. You were weak, you were tired, and dammit you wanted any love this man could offer lies and all.

He breaks away all too soon, with a thin string of saliva connecting your lips. “Let me care for you.” he whispers, before catching your lips again, his tongue darting into your mouth and rubs against yours. Moaning, you reach up and grip his suit, using it to steady your wobbly legs. You kissed back with just as much vigor, his words nearly bringing you to tears, but of course your pride won’t let them fall.

The prince picks you up princess style, gently, almost like you were made of glass. Never once did he break your kiss, even after he sets you down on the bed. He straddles your hips, hooking one his claws under the fabric of your bra and pulls it down, allowing breasts bounce free. Only then did he break the kiss, bending down and engulfs your left nipple with his mouth, his hand tweaking your right. Your eyes flutter shut and your mouth agape, as long syllables of gasps escape. Your hands grip his shoulders and your nails dug in when Lotor licks your harden buds.

The prince leaves your breasts, kissing between them before teasing his way down your torso and hips, until he reaches your skirt. He lifts his head to read your expression, dark red dusting your cheeks when he smirks. You watched his every move and bit your bottom lip. It’s not like him to ask for an invitation, not that you would deny him. He’s been oh so gentle, almost like when he took you the first time when you were captured two years ago.

Without wasting time, he diligently removes your skirt and spreads your legs, your cunt dripping for him. Lotor of course, was satisfied with how easily aroused you were. Then again, he always knew which buttons to push with how much time he spent mapping out every centimeter, and memorizing your weaknesses. His long but slender finger traces your slit, covering it in your juices, and takes a good look at it. He glances over to you and without braking eye contact, he licks it.

“Darling, you taste absolutely divine.” he coos and starts to unfasten his suite, pulling it down his broad shoulders, chiseled physique peeking. He gets up and stands at your bedside, yanking his suite past his chest and hips, allowing himself to step out of it. Every time you see the prince in his glory, it always renders you speechless; more so when your eyes drift down, taking in his every detail, even his Galran cock. He always catches you staring; you could swear you can see his ego inflating more than it already is.

“You know it’s rude to stare.” he quips. You quickly gaze away, your cheeks practically glowing from embarrassment. His orbs take in your bare form, like a predator ready to pounce on his prey. He gives his cock a few pumps, pre cum leaking from the top. You lick your lips, remembering the last time you wrapped your mouth around it, and how the ridges from its underside reaches spots in your core like nothing has before. He crawls back onto the bed, hovering above you; his long locks fan out around you.

Capturing your lips with much passion, he playfully nips your bottom lip, causing you to moan. “Ouch, that’s not fair.” you pout, reaching down to give his length a good stroke. The prince shudders, closing eyes only for a tic, but recovered just as fast.

“Nothing is fair in war, love.” he says, removing your hand from his cock. “But just for tonight, I’ll concede.” You arch an eyebrow; it’s not like him to give up so easily. However, your suspicions were confirmed, when he slithers down between your thighs, planting loving kisses until he reaches your outer lips. He looks up one last time, before giving you’re a slit a very slow, but tantalizing lick.

It was your turn to shudder, as you grip the bed sheets, shrinking against the mattress. You hold back your swears, but moan when your clit was being flicked by his skillful tongue. What really did you in, was when he inserted two digits into your depths, spreading you, and sucks onto your bundle of nerves. Your face contorts into a painful, but pleasurable expression, your right hand threading into the prince’s silky white locks and pulling, earning a groan.

“Darling, you’re so demanding.” he laughs, but you pout. He always loved that look on you, it made you resemble a spoiled child with cute puffy cheeks. He would never say it, but rather he smirks, gripping your thighs tightly so they left bruised imprints. You watch as he dives back in, sucking your inner folds, and dips his tongue inside before he sits back up, yanking you against him. You growl, he was such a fucking tease.

He kisses you again, and you can swear he was desperate, almost. You taste yourself, twirling your tongue against his, but all too soon he departed again, kissing down the front of your throat and leaving delicious love bites on your flesh. It was more than a kink to him, marking you up, claiming you. His possessive nature drives him, like it’s a need for his peace of mind in his vary soul. At this point, you welcomed it, easily taken by the charming prince.

He litters your chest with his bites, while his claws trace your inner thigh, scratching thin lines of red. The mix of pain and pleasure making your head swim, until he frees you, and helps you on your back. His usual hungry orbs soften, as he positions himself near your entrance, his cock teasingly rubs your clit. Your heart beats rapidly, as you waited patiently, like you were trained to.

Licking your lips again, you gulp. “M-My prince, if I may be so bold?” you ask, resisting the urge to grind your folds against his cock’s ridges. Lotor glances up and nods, pausing his teasing.

“You may.” he huffs, his control harder to maintain the longer his eyes linger on your wanton figure.

Your words come out like a breathless whisper, but so hesitant. “My prince, p-please.” you swallow a sudden lump that formed in your throat, your fingers curling into the bedspread. “Please, fuck me my prince.” Lotor’s eyes widen slightly, but narrow hungrily. Nearly broke of his composure, but not quite, he slams his cock into you, not allowing you to be adjusted. He bends forward, caging you against him, and nips your ear.

“As you wish love, but don’t blame me if you can’t walk tomorrow.” he hisses, already thrusting into your depths sporadically, losing himself every time your walls pulse around his length. Your hands find purchase on his shoulders, your nails digging in like your hanging on for dear life. He seethes in pain, but it drives him so much more.

“I-Ah, fuck!” you moan, tilting your head back when his ridges hit your g-spot so perfectly, like your pussy was made just for his cock. Writhing under him, you scratch down his back, uncaring if you leave lines of blood or not. His dick is too good, and you’re afraid that your nightmare came true, you were addicted to it.

His large hands cup your ass, gripping it with vigor, as he lifts you up and angles your hips, so he penetrate deeper, leaving you gasping. Your eyes roll in the back of your head, your mouth hangs agape. He was defiantly leaving bruises tomorrow, but if you’re lucky he’ll kiss each one. But until then, you would rather enjoy the rolling of his hips against yours, and how he bounces you on his cock.

The prince grunts, holding back any high pitched moans. His pointed ears would rather listen how he reduces you to mush. He tortures you with precise thrusts, knowing which spot to hit and when, as his Galran cock stretches you so you feel every inch of him. He savors every moment and every moan, gaining a not-so-subtle ego boost. You’re the only one who can give him such a high.

Your throat feels sore with all the moaning that’s been erupting from you. You let Lotor position you to his liking and toss you as a ragdoll, anything as long as you were full of him. His cock hits your cervix, which makes you convulse under him. Your head was blank of anything except him, and the blissful fucking he’s giving you. You were clearly drunk off his cock, as your legs shook with strain with how they were wide open. When he pinches your clit and rolls it between his thumb and index finger, is when jolts of ecstasy rolled off you.

“Who’s are you?” he says between breaths, relentlessly thrusting into you, his member throbbing against your walls. “Scream it, I want everyone to hear.” he commands, pulling you out of your daze. You could barely focus, but when he slows down, you whine, but reluctantly respond.

“Y-You, my prince.” you mutter, gyrating your hips against his for more friction. Lotor shake his head and slaps your ass harshly. You yelp, but look up at him with a pout. “Mmmmn, P-Prince Lotor does-“ you said a little louder, which made Lotor thrust a little harder, but not quite how you crave him to. Frustrated and needy, you wiggle against him, but again you were defeated. Taking in a giant breath, you grip your prince tightly, as a mighty voice bellows from you. “I’m Prince Lotor’s!”

Gritting his teeth, he stops himself from coming undone right then and there. Lotor was beyond ecstatic with your answer, pounds into more intensely than before, and rolls your bundle of nerves. You scream, the buildup of your climax rushing through you. Your pussy walls contracted around his member, with determination of milking him dry until finally your senses were clouded with white, and you couldn’t feel a damn thing besides your lust-filled high.

The prince sharply inhales, as he was chasing his own orgasm. He claws dug into your plump ass, as he finally lost himself. His thrusts unhinged and almost violent, it didn’t take him long before his balls became taut and his pulsing member released it’s sticky ropes, coating your insides. Lotor stays still, panting for air, his eyes closed while he was lost in the moment. His chest rose and fell, as he gently lets you down and pulls out of you, allowing the mix of your juices to run out of you. He admires the sight, and best of all he was the one who did it.

He lies on his side next to you, wrapping an arm around your resting form, and nuzzles his nose into your hair. He sighs, satisfied and just enjoying the moment, cracking open an eye to watch as you curl up against him, a smirk plastered across his face. Your chest couldn’t help but to flutter against his touch, forgetting or forgiving him, you weren’t quite sure. The prince caresses your side and kisses you lovingly.

“I love you, darling.” he purrs, holding you closer. You turn around and snuggle against his firm chest, wrapping your arm around his midsection. You smile, listening to his heartbeat.

“I love you too, my prince.” You were utterly, completely hopeless and there’s no escaping it. You would believe a beautiful lie, than confront the ugly truth.

#voltron #lotor #prince lotor #x reader #spicy #alien #galra #one shot #scenario

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wheremytwinwatches · 4 years

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[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 40

Last time: Our protagonists put on a play for Kimblee, Yoki actually proved to be useful, and Al lost his map. Onwards!

Really digging the new intro. And hey, just noticed that Al’s still got his “hair” cut short from his run-in with Buccy’s chainsaw. Continuity! Hey, you’re the Central jerks who told Armstrong the Great to go south while you took her chair! Boo! I mean yeah, she did kill Raven like you suspect, but he totally deserved it! In Central Armstrong the Great’s walking along when she oh ho! She’s run into her rival, Colonel Roy Mustang!

They snark at each other for a bit, although Armstrong the Great’s not that wrong when she accuses him of getting the post for being “well-connected”. Further attempts at flirting are shot down (she’s both an Armstrong and lives in freezing weather conditions, do not offer to buy her food if you value your bank account), as well as a final attempt to pass off his Flower Mountain. Oh yeah, she should visit her grandmother while she’s here! Here we go, Fuhrer King Bradley vs Major-General Armstrong the Great. He gets right down to it, demanding to know what she’s done with Raven. Knowing she can’t completely lie, Armstrong the Great plays it off as doing Bradley a service, cutting down a blabbermouth who spilled all sorts of secrets like immortality, the plan of the country, and Bradley’s true nature. And knowing all of that, she still came within striking distance of this monster. Because heck, she hears that there’s an empty General’s chair… Wow. Ok, that’s badass. From being summoned for killing one of Bradley’s men, she’s spun this into a seat of power to strike against the Goths. Sure, she has to play along for now, and put her troops in the center of the trap, but damn if I’m not impressed. You go, Ice Queen. Slightly less impressed with Bradley though, while he’s normally all composed and menacing he’s gone all Glowing Red Eye and Smirking At Wordplay here. Still better than Kimblee. Anyways, give it up for General Armstrong! While she’s in Central, her troops are still up north, glaring at those pompous Central officers swanning around like they own the place. Pfft. Their boss might not be in the area, but the soldiers of Fort Briggs still act as one, and when the moment comes to do more than glare at the Centries’ backs… [Buccy]: “From here on, the bears will fight the tigers.” Episode 40 - “Homunculus (The Dwarf in the Flask)” ...ok, I was misled before with thinking “The First Homunculus” would be about Uncle, but second time’s the charm! Gimme Big Bad Backstory! Hey Riza! Hope you’re feeling better after that run-in with the creepy kid. Still have that cut on your cheek? Roy takes a seat at her table and damnit Bradley, why’d you have to go and split up the power couple, with the whole hostage situation hanging over their heads it’s just awkward work conversation with hardly any good banter. I mean, all Riza can say is that Roy is a slacker, I know she’s got way better insults than that. Yeah, especially after the Selim encounter she has to be careful what she says. But she taps her mug to get Roy’s attention? Twice? And the Plotting Music has started up as Roy double-taps his own pen, and oh my Leto they’re talking in code yes. Now Roy’s in a bathroom going over his papers, listing off oh I see, the code is she says a name and he uses the first letter. Clever! Roy’s listing off the names, starts getting shocked as he goes along… yup, I’d say that SELIM BRADLEY IS HOMUNCULUS is something to get shocked over. Roy immediately destroys the paper, wondering what the heck’s about to happen in Central. Down below Uncle’s lounging in his Pipe Chair, taking a nap? Uncle Flashback! To a young man, being yelled at by an electronic voice? Looks like a guy in ratty clothes with a broom, an Alchemist’s Apprentice?

And there’s a bottled-up flask with a shifting black cloud inside, I’m guessing that’s the titular Homunculus. Flask seems disappointed that Apprentice isn’t shocked at being talked to, but is pleased at the lack of fear. Apprentice is apparently #23, oh so he’s a Homunculus working for the Alchemist. Or a slave? So wait, is Apprentice human? Flask is explaining what “deeded” means, says that Apprentice isn’t very bright and wonders how he was born “from someone as stupid as you”. Ok, so the Alchemist used some of Apprentice’s blood in an experiment, that created Flask. Flask is grateful, and decides to give Apprentice a name. Something noble-sounding, but not too complicated for his stupid little brain… how about Von Hohenheim? Oooh, so we’re getting Beard backstory which should lead into Uncle backstory. Hmmm. I see what you’re doing Flask, offering to teach Beardless, raise him up from his life as a slave. I mean yeah, slavery is awful and everything, but I’m getting the distinct impression that your goals aren’t exactly Good. The little arms and Red Eye and manic grin you’re sporting aren’t helping your case, either. [Flask]: “I’ll tell you what, Von Hohenheim, you can call me “The Dwarf In The Flask”, Homunculus.” Eh, I think I’ll stick with Flask for now. Time is passing, suns and moons flying past an hourglass that’s picked up by Beardless while a man in blue robes scribbles away in the background. There’s talk about how All Things Are One, Beardless standing on a cliff with Blue Robe to the side carrying Flask. Wait, is he giving Alchemy lessons to Beardless? For a guy who has numbered slaves to do the drudge work, that’s a surprising act. Unless this is just so Beardless can be a more effective worker for him, so jury is still out on Blue Robe. Beardless seems to impress his boss by talking about how if All is outside the One then it is Nothing or somesuch, Blue Robe says he passed and that Von Hoenheim is now an Alchemist. Really? You give your slave lessons and name him your equal? I really don’t know what to make of Blue Robe. Regardless, Beardless is humble and says he’s still only a servant. Flask chuckles at that. Later Beardless is thanking Flask for his life being improved with the knowledge the Homunculus gave him, earning his Master’s respect. Heck, maybe he’ll even get a girlfriend one day! Flask mocks humanity needing to procreate in order to continue existing, Beardless argues that it’s the bonds of friends and family that people live for. That leads to the question of what makes Flask happy. [Flask]: “Well… I’d hate to be guilty of asking too much, but I think I’d be happy if I could just leave this flask…” Mid-ep pictures of a scuffed-up Beardless (Slave Number 32) wielding a stick, and The Little One Inside The Flask with his huge grin.

Uh oh, creepy music in a darkened hall. Flask is resting on a cloth stand, asking why “someone with so much power and prosperity” would need immortality. Uh oh. Blue Robe snaps at Flask to mind his manners when in front of royalty, seems the noble that Blue Robe works for wants to be immortal. Blue Robe even threatens to smash Flask’s flask (so would that set them free or kill them?), but Flask talks back saying that he wouldn’t dare destroy such a source of knowledge. King certainly looks old enough that mortality is a pressing concern, he demands the secret from Flask who remarks on the age of the King of Xerxes- oh dear, that’s a name that we recognize. So for one we know that this will not end well for the kingdom, and also GOOD LETO Beard is freaking old if he’s from the Precursor civilization to our modern characters! So I think it’s safe to say that the little black-and-red grinning ball of smoke is Evil, it looks like the King’s ordered his people to dig “irrigation canals” all around the country. No sooner do they go to bed after a hard day of standing around and talking about how awesome their King is, that a bunch of soldiers come riding in and slaughter the workers to “carve out a crest of blood”. Dude, not cool. Later Beardless is carrying Flask around as townsfolk murmur about how villages have been getting wiped out, Beardless remarks that it’s an awful tragedy. [Flask, being totally sincere]: “Yeah, real tragic.” A couple more slaughtered villages later, an hourglass runs out and the King is woken up by Blue Robe, along with another Robe Alchemist and Slave Number 32 who is now rocking the Beard. The King just snarks that the TC took long enough. Time to get some immortality all up in this royalty! (Gee, I wonder if it’ll work…) The ceremony begins, the King giving some blood to an urn ask Beard looks on in awe, so happy to see his ruler achieve immortality oh gosh look at all that black smoke and red lighting, looks like things aren’t working out so well. Spindly black arms rise up from the ground to freak out the Xerxians in the circle, the King has just enough time to realize that this isn’t immortality before he and his flunkies start dying. Turns out the real center of the circle is where Flask and Beard are, Flask used the blood of his blood-brother to open the doorway for both of them. A great eye appears below a shocked Beard before enveloping him and growing to encompass the entire city, dozens of giant shadow arms erupting across a screaming nation before they descend on the eye. In the Whitespace Flask and Beard are Deconstructed and the light show ends. In the morning, Beard wakes up next to a broken flask, calling out for his Majesty and his Master before stumbling outside to a city of corpses. [Beard]: “Somebody… there must be someone left…” [Uncle]: “It’s no use. All of their souls have been taken from them.” Beard thinks that the one standing above him is his King and bows, but looks up to see his own face. Uncle says that he created a body using Beard’s blood, now he can walk on his own two legs. [Uncle]: “To thank you for your blood, I’ve given you a name, and I’ve given you knowledge. And now, I’ve given you a body that will live forever.” Yup. Beard’s immortal, carrying half of all the souls of Xerxes in his body. You know, I can kind of understand why he calls himself a monster now. Beard springs back to the waking world on a train, seems he dozed off. So where are you heading now? Finally going to join your boys and be useful, or are you still kicking around Amestris doing whatever it is you do? Ooh! Teacher! Looks like Izumi and Sig are on the same train as Beard! Wait, have they ever met before? Ok, Teacher’s talking about how she finally gets to meet Papa Elric, and Beard finally gets to meet the teacher of his sons. Uh oh, Izumi’s having some stomach problems, Sig goes to get her medicine before Beard offers to take a look. Right, he’s got his Philosopher’s Stone blood, he can patch her up. Sig is sent to “get a car” so he can talk to Teacher privately, he confirms that she’s seen the Truth and she sacrificed her internal organs. Ok, now he can WHAT WHAT NONONONONONONONONONONONONONO BEARD WHAT THE FUCK YOU JUST STABBED TEACHER WHAT THE FUCK I FINALLY SETTLED ON YOU BEING A GOOD GUY (barring you abandoning your family) BUT NOW YOU’RE KILLING OFF THOSE WHO HAVE SEEN THE TRUTH IS YOUR PLAN SERIOUSLY TO KILL OFF UNCLE’S POTENTIAL SACRIFICES SO HE CAN’T USE THEM FUCK THAT, FUCK YOU, KICK HIS ASS SIG wait Teacher is ok? She’s breathing easier? There’s no wound? Ah. Ok, well aside from Beard’s deplorable bedside manner and scaring the living daylights out of me, he’s done a good thing. He apparently can’t replace Teacher’s injuries as they were “a testament to her sin” (so is that the reason you haven’t fixed your kids yet with your Philosopher Blood?), but he did rearrange her organs to allow better blood flow. [Teacher]: “You’re the boy’s father, but who… who are you?” [Beard]: “Who am I? I am a Philosopher's Stone, in the form of a man. That’s what I am.” Post credits has Ed explaining Philosopher’s Stones to Sideburns, who’s skeptical about so much power being held in such a small package. Ed says he’s never seen a Stone larger than that, to make one you’d have to kill thousands. Cue image of Beard eating dinner with the Curtises. [Ed]: “Maybe it’s possible, but I would never want to see it.”

#wmtw #where my twin watches #full metal alchemist #full metal alchemist brotherhood #fmab #fmab 40

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