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futuremrsreid · 1 year

Text

Watching (S.R)

Summary: Spencer sleeps over at y/n's place and hears something he isn't supposed to.

Content Warnings: 18+, SMUT, downright filthy smut, voyeurism, dubious consent, humiliation, basically reader is wanking and spencer watches without her knowing

Authors Note: I am obsessed with writing morally wrong fics, but I guess this isn't for everyone so please read the CW before you read!!!

“Perverted”, “Scandalous”, “Creepy”- Those were the words that I would have used to describe myself at this moment.

The night had started innocently enough. Y/n and I were having one of our monthly movie nights. We ordered pizza, watched a new release that we had been waiting for for months, and had some wine. Though, as it usually does with y/n, some wine turned into 2 bottles of the dark liquid. I wouldn’t have called myself drunk, but she insisted that I should not drive in that state. It wasn’t the first time I had slept over at her apartment, but this time, I wished that I had just gotten into my fucking car.

While I got ready for bed in the bathroom, y/n was preparing the couch for me since I always refused to take the bed. She still put up a fight every time, as if she didn’t do the same when she slept over at my place, and then pettishly prepared the couch. It was cute, just like every single thing about her was.

I sighed as I spit the toothpaste in the sink, thinking about how much it sucks to be in love with your best friend. Friends to Lovers…yeah, I wish. They make it look so easy on screen, but in reality, it just sucks. I contemplated telling her countless times, but the risk of losing her is too much. Even if she felt the same, relationships can end, people can fall out of love, and then you are left with nothing. I’d rather stick to yearning for the rest of my life.

When I left the bathroom, she was already waiting for me and we exchanged goodnights as we passed each other. Sleeping on the couch really didn’t sound so bad when the alternative was potentially losing her.

That didn’t mean that I didn’t lie awake thinking about what it would be like to sleep in the same bed as her and wake up next to her though. Most times I barely got any sleep, like tonight.

I tried falling asleep for 30 minutes before I gave up and turned the TV back on. I was barely able to hear the show that was running, but I hoped that concentrating on it would make me tired. It would have worked, but just as I was about to drift off to sleep, there was the faintest sound coming from y/n’s bedroom. It was so quiet that I wondered if I had just imagined it, but as I looked at the door, I saw that she didn’t close it properly, presumably by accident.

I closed my eyes again because people make noises in their sleep all the time, especially her, but a few seconds later, there was another noise. It sounded like a whimper, and this time I was sure that I had actually heard it. I contemplated what to do. Y/n had nightmares all the time, as should be expected in our line of work, but sometimes it was worse waking her up than just letting her sleep through it. Though thinking about the time when she scratched herself so hard that she woke up with blood under her fingernails, I got up anyway.

That was the first mistake I made that night.

I swear my thoughts were innocent when I went to push open the door, I just wanted to prevent her from hurting herself, so I was absolutely not prepared for the sight in front of me when the door fell open enough for me to look inside.

Y/n was lying on top of the bed, one hand in her panties and the other clutching the sheets. I froze. I know I should have just quietly closed the door and gone back to bed, but I didn’t.

That was the second mistake I made that night.

I kept my eyes on her, carefully memorizing everything I saw before me, storing it away in my endless memory. The way she arched her back while drawing slow circles over her clit, the way her shirt rose up because of that, and how the exposed skin of her legs and stomach looked in the faint moonlight that was streaming through her window.

The thing that got to me most though, was the look on her face. Her mouth was slightly agape, brows furrowed and her eyes clenched shut. It was absolutely mesmerizing, she was absolutely mesmerizing, and every detail of it was burned into my brain.

I knew how wrong it was, watching her like this in such a vulnerable moment, but I couldn’t look away. I was convinced the gods themselves were punishing me by putting such a sight in front of me and expecting me to walk away from it. It was utterly fucked up.

Another whimper left her, louder this time and she bit her lip, trying to keep herself quiet. God, she was trying not to wake me up but here I was, standing at her door and watching her.

Her underwear was pink, and even though it was almost dark in her room, I could still see the wet spot on it. I felt like I didn’t have any control over my body as my hand made its way to the bulge that was growing in my pajama pants, the pants she got me for my birthday. I remembered the look on her face as I unwrapped the fish print fabric, eyes full of excitement and the innocence that was always on her face. Well, most of the time anyway, because right now, there was no innocence in sight.

I was a sick man.

Her hand picked up the pace and I could hear the wet sounds it made. She sighed and threw her head back the same moment that my own hand found its way into my pants, thumb brushing over the precum-covered tip of my cock. I swallowed the groan that threatened to leave my throat when her other hand wandered to her breast, squeezing it, while I was stroking myself as fast as I could without making any sound.

It was then that I noticed the thing that would forever exile me from heaven and condemn me to a life in hell because while she lay there pleasuring herself, she was wearing my shirt, the shirt I had worn yesterday night in the cheap hotel room we were sharing. I had searched the whole room for it this morning, she helped me look.

I had to bite my lip to prevent a moan from escaping. Not only did she steal my shirt, but she also lied to me and was now wearing it while she fucked herself. The thought of my sweet and innocent best friend doing such a filthy thing almost pushed me over the edge, but like the sick masochistic pervert that I was, I gripped the base of my cock to keep me from cumming so soon. I wanted to watch her fall apart first, knowing if my orgasm finished washing over me first I would feel so guilty and sick I’d probably run to the bathroom to throw up and miss the best part.

The faster her hand moved and the closer she got, the more her sounds increased in volume. It’s fascinating how being aroused shifts your perception of the world around you because I would bet that she didn’t realize how loud she was getting. It didn’t matter anyways because the person she tried to keep quiet for was standing in the dark watching her.

When a whine escaped her, and her thighs started trembling, I knew she was close, so I started to increase my pace. I wanted to come with her, watch her fall apart and use it to reach my own climax.

My hand moved frantically around my cock and when her face scrunched up in pleasure and her thighs closed around her hand, I imagined how they would feel clenching around me. It was that thought that finally pushed me over the edge and made me spill my cum into my underwear. I bit down on my tongue hard and continued stroking myself while coming down, the same way she did.

When her hand stilled and she huffed out a breath, I knew I had to move fast. As quietly as I could I closed the door the same way it was before I had entered earlier and rushed to the bathroom. I cleaned myself up as best as I could and decided that I preferred to sleep in cum covered underwear instead of no underwear at all.

I caught my breath and tried not to think about what I had just done, but when I opened the door to go back to bed, y/n stood in front of me.

“Hi”, she almost squeaked when she saw me. Looking at her face, warm and splotchy from her orgasm, I felt myself getting hard again. I cleared my throat.

“Hi yourself”, I replied, acting like the last 10 minutes didn’t actually happen.

“You’re still awake”, she said and I saw realization wash over her face. To go to the bathroom, you had to walk by her room, and she must have noticed that her door wasn’t closed when she got up. She stood in front of me frozen and I hate to admit how much the sight turned me on. She thought I heard her. God if she knew.

I tried to be a good person, to be a gentleman, and let it go. Let her go to the bathroom to clean herself up and never talk about it again, but I just couldn’t.

“Yeah, I, uh, I couldn’t sleep”, I started and tilted my head to fake a concerned look,” By the way, are you okay? I heard some noise coming from your room. Did you have a nightmare again?” I was a sick perverted man, but the horror that washed over her face at my words almost made me take her right there against the wall.

“Uh yes. Yes, I did, but I’m fine! I’m awake, the nightmare is over. I really need to pee though so… goodnight Spence. Sleep well.” And with that, she started to move around me. I could have just let her go but it was too easy, the opportunity too great not to take it.

“Hey, is that my shirt? I was looking for it all morning.” She almost tripped when the words left my mouth.

“Oh, this was the shirt you lost? I thought it was mine, my bad. You’ll uh, get it back washed and folded just the way you like it. Goodnight!”, y/n rushed out and quickly closed the bathroom door and locked herself inside it.

It was quiet for a moment and then I could hear the faintest “fuck” from behind the door.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid reader #reider #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff

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fluentmoviequoter · 10 months

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You're All Mine

Summary: Dalton makes a new friend who doesn't mind his shyness. Essentially, it's "introverts don't make friends, they get adopted by extroverts," but Dalton is the introvert and you, reader, are the extrovert. 1.5k+ words

Requested: Yes - "innocent shy dalton x outgoing reader"

Warnings: fluff, implication of third party alcohol consumption, brief mention of making out... I think that's all

A/N: I am in absolutely no way outgoing or extroverted so I based the reader's outgoing attributes on various characters. I hope I did the request justice and feel free to let me know what you think! Enjoy :)

“Whoa, those are amazing! Did you do all of them?”

Dalton turns quickly at the sound of an unfamiliar voice inside his dorm room.

“Sorry.” You smile and apologize once you see the startled look on his face. “I was walking down the hall and your door was open, so I saw your art.” You gesture toward all the paintings and drawings hanging over his bed. “They’re really good.”

“Thanks,” he says quietly.

“Where are my manners?” You ask rhetorically before introducing yourself and sticking your hand out for Dalton to take.

He gently shakes your hand - only once - before taking his hand back and saying his name.

“Nice to meet you, Dalton. See you around,” you promise before walking down the hallway.

Dalton sighs and sits back down, trying to remember what he was doing before you came in.

Somehow, Dalton ended up at a frat party. Internally, he wants to curse his temporary roommate Chris for bringing him, but he is too busy trying to make himself as small and invisible as possible. Once through the front door, Dalton hopes the crowd will keep him hidden. As Chris drags him through the crowd, he hears a familiar voice.

“No, it’s no problem, swear! I’ll be right back!” You say somewhere behind him.

Were you that sweet to him? he wonders. He had been caught off guard when you just appeared earlier.

“I am so sorry,” you say as you bump into Chris, gently grabbing her shoulder to right her. “Dalton!” You squeal, throwing your arms around his neck in a tight hug.

Dalton’s eyes widen, and his facial expression is pure fear as he looks at Chris over your shoulder. She makes a hugging motion and points at you, which leads him to slowly wrap his arms around your waist.

“I did not think I’d see you here. I wasn’t planning on coming either - you know how frat guys are - but my roommate didn’t want to come alone, so,” you trail off and shrug as you pull back, a smile that seems much too genuine for the setting on your face.

“I know the feeling,” Dalton grumbles under his breath.

“Do you want anything? I’m going to grab some of my friends a drink.” You look between Chris and Dalton as they politely decline. “Then I guess I’ll see you later! Great seeing you, Dalton.”

Dalton watches as you expertly move through the crowd and wonders if you purposefully bumped into Chris, considering you haven’t come close to anyone else. He’s snapped out of his thoughts by Chris grabbing his forearm.

“Daydream later, Dolphin, we have frat boy belongings to go through,” she says as she drags him to the stairs.

Dalton looks around the bedroom with his hand in his pockets while Chris opens drawers and rifles around on the desktop. Chris hears someone coming and considers kissing Dalton for a distraction, then thinks again and decides the chances of it being his first kiss are too high, and she doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

“Oh.” You stop as you realize someone is occupying the room. When you see who, you wonder if you wrongly evaluated Dalton; maybe he isn’t as shy and innocent as he seems. “I’ll - uh - give you two some privacy.”

Once the door is closed, Dalton looks at Chris with furrowed brows and downturned lips. “Privacy? Why?”

“How do you even know her, Dalton?” Chris asks with a laugh. “Chase her down and try to talk to her. For me?”

Dalton seems to contemplate the request before walking out of the room.

“Go get her, tiger - I mean Dolphin!” Chris yells down the hall behind him.

You’re on the front porch with a small group of people when Dalton finally finds you. Unsure of how to approach, he stands to the side and looks in your general direction, waiting for you to notice him. When you finally look away from the person talking, you see Dalton and smile, gesturing with your hand for him to come over. He shakes his head, a movement so small you only know it happened because his hair moves. You smile and say something to the girl beside you before setting your cup down and walking to him.

“Enjoying the party?” You ask.

“Why-“ Dalton clears his throat and starts over, “Whatever you think was happening upstairs wasn’t. Chris was just digging through his stuff.”

Your smile grows at his rushed explanation. “Oh, ok. If anyone deserves to have their personal belongings messed with, it��s Nick.”

Dalton nods, his hands nervously tucking in and out of his pockets.

“Do you want to get out of here?” you offer. “These things only get crazier from here.”

“And go where?”

“Anywhere you want. You can go home, we can go get milkshakes, make out under a tree,” you add the last one nonchalantly for the entertaining reaction you anticipate Dalton will give.

Dalton nods with your first two suggestions, then nearly chokes on air with the last one. You instantly feel bad, placing a hand on his arm as you apologize and explain it was a joke.

“It’s fine,” Dalton says, a small smile forming. “Milkshakes sound good. If you meant it?”

“I always mean it when I bring up milkshakes. Let’s go; my treat.”

You grab Dalton’s hand and interlace your fingers without thinking, not noticing how he stares at your hands as he walks beside you.

“What’s your milkshake poison?” You ask as you join Dalton in the booth, sliding in beside him rather than across from him.

He shrugs as he glances at you.

“I like chocolate,” you explain, “I know it’s basic, but is chocolate ever the wrong answer?”

“I like chocolate,” Dalton agrees.

“One or two?” Dalton looks confused, so you add, “Milkshakes. Do you want to share one or get two?”

“Oh. Um, we can share. I guess. If it’s ok with you.”

“Dalton, two things you should know as my new best friend, I only share food with my friends, and I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it.”

“Best friend?”

“Oh, yeah, you’re all mine now.”

The smile you send him makes Dalton think maybe that isn’t so bad. He watches you greet the waitress and ask how her day is going, talking to her about her law school classes before ordering one chocolate milkshake with two straws. He wonders how someone that goes to frat parties with no problem can be so kind. He also wonders how he is lucky enough to be ‘all yours.’

“How are your classes so far? I mean, I’m not convinced you need art classes based on what I saw in your dorm, but are you enjoying them?” You ask as you wait for the milkshake.

“They’re good. Interesting. My teacher’s a little… out there, I guess.”

“Who isn’t?” You ask with a laugh.

He smiles and asks which school you’re attending, hanging on your every word as you answer.

“One chocolate milkshake, two straws. Can I get anything else for you two?” The waitress asks as she sets the milkshake between you and Dalton.

You glance at him, and he shakes his head, so you respond, “No, we’re good. Thank you so much, and good luck on your BAR exam!”

You turn to Dalton and gesture to the milkshake, “After you.”

“You paid for it,” Dalton argues.

You smile at his sudden boldness before stating, “Which means I get to decide. You try it first.”

Dalton concedes and takes a sip, eyes widening at the intense chocolate flavor.

“Whoa.”

“I know, right?” You gush. “I come here every chance I get. They put espresso beans in to amplify the chocolate flavor; it’s my favorite milkshake in the whole world.”

“Which dorm do you live in?” You ask as you exit the diner with your hand in Dalton's, mentally creating a route to both of your dorms. “Yours is on the way to mine, so I can drop you off.”

“My dad would kill me if I didn’t walk you home,” Dalton states.

“Really?” You giggle as you wrap your free hand around his forearm, not noticing the way his breath catches at your touch.

“Probably not, but it’s still the gentlemanly thing to do,” Dalton says after a moment.

“Well, you have class in the morning, so I relieve you of your gentleman duties. But only for tonight.”

You walk in a comfortable silence, insisting on accompanying Dalton to his dorm room door once you arrive.

“This was fun, Dalton. We should do it again.”

Dalton nods and misses the warmth of your hand as you take it back.

“Maybe we’ll skip the frat party next time.”

“That would be nice.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Dalton,” you say, wrapping him in a quick hug before leaving for your dorm.

“Tomorrow?” He asks.

You turn back, the smile you’d been wearing all night widening. “Oh yeah. I meant it when I said you’re mine now. Goodnight, Dalton.”

He watches as you disappear around the corner, with no thoughts of darkness in his mind. He doesn’t even register the sound of the door opening until Chris speaks, “You, my weird Dolphin, just got adopted by an extrovert.”

Dalton looks at her and blushes as she adds, “A very pretty extrovert.”

#requests #dalton lambert #dalton lambert x reader #insidious #dalton lambert imagine #dalton lambert fluff #dalton lambert fic #insidious the red door

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riddler-green · 1 year

Note

I fell in love with your writing omgg:0 so Edward finds out that the person he likes (with whom he is obsessed lmao) is a fan of riddler and even has a crush on him 9v9

Te observo.

Summary: Edward discovers that you are a follower of his alter ego.

A/n: hheeeeeeeey hi! how are you?? after a long pause I'm back! in Mexico it's semana santa holidays! sooo I finally have time to catch up with the requests! besides, yesterday I sprained my ankle but that gives me more time to write and I'll be better soon. (´ ε ` )♡

by the way i hope you like it! and thank you very much for the request! I think I got carried away so I'm sorry if it's not what you expected. (*^.^*)

warning: swearing, obsessive behavior, Fluff!

Words: 3,800

Edward played with one of his feathers, pressing the feather spring to relax from his growing anxiety. He knows that looking at you for a long time is strange but he can't stop doing it. From the first time he saw you, he was completely immobile with wonder, every day he delighted in seeing you. He thought you never knew of his existence, because despite being co-workers and practically working in similar jobs, he was too shy to even speak to you, so he assumed you never even glanced at him. In his mind, he had these innocent little fantasies that someday you would pay attention to him and he would gladly see you without guilt or looking like a freak. But he is a coward, a man who fears what he already knows will happen at some point.

That's why he doesn't try, he doesn't want to face that rejection that already hangs on his forehead, yet he still thinks of you, even in his dreams you appear as a sweet reminder of his memory. He sighs with love for the mere fact that you existed.

"Hey, I need this document by Monday" Zach interrupts his admiration with an authoritative voice, Edward coughs falsely to distract himself from the fact that he was watching you instead of working "yeah, um, of course" he replies to Zach and the man in the blue suit out of his sight without saying goodbye.

Edward contemplates the files in his hands, sheets after sheets of payrolls that in a couple of hours, he would solve all, back in his mind he wonders if you like numbers too, well, it's not like he could ask you, he arranged the files in alphabetical order and before he started working a scream stops him.

"It's official!" a voice Edward doesn't know speaks again, when he turns to see who it is he looks at a human rights employee pasting a sign on the bulletin board "It is officially forbidden to talk about The Riddler and The Batman!" The employee speaks loudly drawing the attention of the other employees, others ignore him but saw the sign, and others stared at him still processing the news.

Edward gasped, he didn't know whether to laugh or cry, did they just ban them from his office? He does not know how to take it, is he considered a danger to the company? His face does not reflect the emotion he keeps inside, Batman and he have taken relevance in the city, as new icons of justice, although the Riddler remains a sensitive issue for many.

"May I know the reason?" he flinched at the sound of your voice, he saw your figure approach the statement already taped to the board and you examined it completely, uh, that surprised Edward, as far as he remembers you were always a model employee, you don't generate problems, your sign in and out sheet is flawless (it's not like he's seen it) your documents are just as good, but seeing you now he worries, why are you angry?

Edward watches as you chat with the human resources employee, apparently not a pleasant chat, as you return to your seat with an angry look on your face. He can't take his eyes off your scowl until you turn up to type something on your computer.

Edward sighs, so many repressed things he has inside his being and unfortunately, it's not something he can get it out, the love he has for you is one of those things he can't undo (he doesn't want to), as for him, it feels like a small stain on his office.

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"Damn KMTJ, don't they know they are doing them a favor?" you whisper to yourself angrily, abruptly typing the last report of the day, there was no need to forbid talking about a certain topic, you stopped typing for a moment.

Remember the first time you saw him, your idol, yes, that's right, your idol. If someone found out that you were part of that select radical group of Riddler's followers they would probably send you on an all-expense paid trip straight to Arkham, but do you care? No, honestly no, the admiration you have for the masked man is something genuine and devoted. In the past you only engaged with him, you only had ears to hear about events happening in the city and you couldn't agree more, his speeches moved you so much that you never missed any of his videos, and you even participated in some clandestine demonstrations with the significant question mark sign.

Until one day he unknowingly broke your heart.

You stared at the monitor screen as you remembered the precise moment when your heart broke in two, those seconds when The Riddler declared in one of his lives, that he fell in love.

You cried that day and the day after that, and the day after that, your life turned into a mess for the simple fact that you Riddler already set your eyes on someone else. In your darkest thoughts, you wanted that person to reject him or disappear from his life, even though you wouldn't stand a chance anyway.

But then came another problem named Edward Nashton.

The first thing you saw in him was his sad eyes covered by the lenses of his glasses, such melancholic eyes that you only wanted to give him affection and love. But then you notice that glow in his person, a shy and helpful glow that at all costs wants to help others, a caring soul that does his job excellently and brilliantly since then Edward flits through your mind as a reassurer of the suffering that the Riddler left you.

But still, you didn't dare to talk to him, when you watched him walk in the door in the mornings you shrank back in cowardice, you didn't want to suffer another brutal rejection from someone else, oh please Edward must already have a bunch of suitors, you crudely think starting to work again to distract yourself from your frustrating love life.

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One day, Edward received a message from his computer specially made for his other job, a homemade laptop with other computer parts, and a private message from his forum as it happened every day.

>> Hi! This, um, Mr.Riddler I admire your mission and your vision of what you want for this city, I know you probably don't know me but I just want to say that I want to be a part of your mission toward a safer Gotham for the future.

Edward's first impression from you is a, mmhm, another message from a random supportive follower, he noticed another message in the inbox.

>> Extraclassified Documents.zip

>> I got this information for you, I don't doubt you are a great hacker to find this information on your own, but um, I just want to help you.

>>I swear, this is official information.

>>From KMTJ.

What?

Edward was puzzled when he read the final message. Maybe it was his imagination playing a joke on him, maybe he was too tired from the hours he hasn't slept but he was sure he read it right.

>>From KMTJ.

Fuck, is that what he thinks it is? He opens the document and it is what the file name says, it's not a virus as he expected, it's case files that have to do with the renovation, signed by Mr. stone, his fucking boss.

Edward turns away from the screen extremely surprised and puts his hands to his head touching his hair, a mole, there's a mole in his company and damn it, he's helping him.

He tries to figure out who it could be from his colleagues, these files are only possessed by the accountants in his section, which is almost a dozen people including you. He thinks of random names and shakes his head, no one in his office has shown empathy for his alter ego, so, it probably must have been another hacker who wants to help him.

He scratches his neck nervously, this puts him on edge because when he looks at the documents his follower gave him he notices the signatures of all his classmates, including his and yours.

Ha, ironically he thinks how nice your signature and his would look on a marriage certificate.

He leans back in the seat re-reading the documents, should he take this as a threat to his identity? No, he protects all his data like gold, this is probably a coincidence. But then an uncomfortable feeling arises in him, you are also included in these files, and your identity could be at risk.

He types heavily on his computer trying to find out the data of the follower who gave him all this, but he found nothing, a fake VPN, fake data, his follower is smart, mmm, not bad.

How did you get this?

His follower responded at that instant.

>> I...

>>I work there.

Holy cow, his head explodes with anxiety, but little by little he becomes proud of the influence his words have on others, he is not as alone as he expected.

>>? who are you?

He didn't think when he wrote that, silly Edward, do you think he will answer you, obviously his follower didn't answer.

Edward started printing the newly discovered files while contemplating the board above him, so many things were put on that board it was hard to concentrate on one, he saw the pictures of the corrupt he killed and the next ones on his list, he sees the pictures of Batman and he also sees your pictures, he put them in his work center to calm down when he had seizures.

Oh, he doubts you'll notice him someday, but dreaming is free.

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

Mr. Stone kept a straight face stroking his beard and looking at the leaves in front of him, Zach, Edward, and you waited patiently for him to say his next orders, Edward started sweating from nerves and shyness, as he stood next to you the whole moment he was almost sure he could smell you and god, you smell so good.

"The Riddler has been a kick in the ass for this company" stated Mr.Stone rudely turning his eyes away from the sheets to focus on the three standing behind his large desk "You are the best accountants we have in the section, tell me how the Riddler could have so much information on the renovation?" Mr. Stone asked the air and Edward swore he was already shaking, easily excused but all this overwhelmed him, the hard look of his boss, you being so close to him, he can't stand it.

"Thank you for your confidence sir, but believe me I have no idea how that happened" Zach opines smoothing his blue suit, and Mr.Stone does not respond.

"The Riddler is smart sir" you started to speak and Edward turned around surprised by what you said "I fully understand that you think there is a mole in our company, but most likely the mole has infiltrated our system" you explain formally and Edward gawks at what you say You think The Riddler is smart? That strokes his ego.

Mr. Stone takes a moment to respond, he sighs tiredly leaning back in his chair "Yeah that's the same thing I thought, I just wanted to know what you guys think" Mr.stone started to speak again but Edward had already disconnected from reality by then, you flattered him, well, you flattered the Riddler and that makes his cheeks heat up.

Edward knows he's getting closer and closer to the mole, it's not Zach, he barely knows it's a prime number, however you...

Hahahaha, no.

You came out of your thoughts when you heard Mr. stone say goodbye to the three of you, Zach came out of the office first with phone in hand to call someone as soon as he left, the second to leave was you, with your head held high and making Edward admire you closely, you turned to see him when he closed the door of Mr. stone's office.

"Hey, Edward, right?" you raise your hand in greeting and he quickly accepts "um, yeah, it's me" he clarifies nervously but was glad he didn't look stupid when you spoke to him.

"Do you have any idea who it could be? You know..." you start walking and Edward follows your step listening carefully to what you are going to say "the mole?" you finish your question going down step by step towards the first floor, the glasses man takes his moment to answer "I don't know who it is" he finds it very intriguing as with Mr. Stone you said it was probably someone else in the company but now you ask him this and it only confuses him more.

"Me neither but" you chuckle, maybe lying to your office crush is harder than your boss, you stop looking at Edward, "I think it's a one-time thing" you assure returning to your seat before waving goodbye to him "See ya, Eddie."

He doesn't say anything, but it's impossible not to hear how his heart beats, he was probably having a heart attack or he gets nervous next to you, but hey! You don't think he's a freak.

That's fine with him.

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

Edward doubted what he is doing right now, he knows it is wrong, and he knows that anyone could come and catch him looking at the file history in his own office. But really, his curiosity gnaws at him, that feeling that won't let him sleep, there is a follower near him but he doesn't know him nor he follower him, if only he could know, who is helping him?

With the lamp on his phone, he lit up the file history sheet, on that sheet he saw all the company's files, who requests them, what documents were requested, and when they are requested in the pile of file cabinets that are used to store information for generations, he managed to find with a little effort, he saw the last person who entered and left the file room.

It was you.

What?

He almost dropped the phone in shock, he laughed with hesitation, this couldn't happen, you, the mole?

No, this cannot be true.

He read your name again and even saw your signature. You came to that place the same day the information was sent to him. He took a picture of the sheet and quickly started saving evidence that he was there.

It has a lot to think about.

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

Edward slammed his door shut, his raincoat barely left him dry as his hair got wet from the rain, he didn't mind the wet feeling on his body, living in Gotham has gotten him used to rainwater not bothering him, he must admit he is in a state of euphoria still, all the way from KMTJ he kept stopping at what he discovered, he kept repeating himself and it didn't tire him, this was better than winning the lottery in his opinion. He could easily shout from the rooftops that he knows he exists and not only that, you also support The Riddler. He had no idea how to continue, yes, you want him, but do you want Edward Nasthon, the other half of him?

It frustrates him, it frustrates him too much when he doesn't know the missing piece of his mental puzzle, in this instance what do you think of him. should he move forward as Edward? should he move forward as The Riddler? He doesn't know what to decide.

He could go on for hours thinking about those little details so he won't end up ruining anything, he took off his blue raincoat and placed it on his chair, he needs to work, someday he will come up with an answer but he needs to get organized.

You are one of his followers, you, the person he admires from afar every day and feels fulfilled when you smile, you understand it too, you are smarter than many think.

He wrote down everything he had in mind on a whiteboard, brainstorming helps him decide on something.

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

You yawned as you took a seat in your work cubicle, it was the first hour of the day and you wanted to go home, to re-watch the recent video of the Riddler, but you need to work, those donations you make are not free.

but before you could start working a card appeared in your files, a green card, you grabbed the card and picked it out, and hid it in your lap to read the contents.

I know who you are, I know you helped me, find me and you will know who I am.

My goodness gracious, it's a miracle you didn't feel a heart attack from whatever is going on, there is no doubt this letter is from your Riddler, you hold the urge to scream from the rooftops that he will deem you worthy of his attention, he wants you to meet him!!!!

What has hands, but can't clap?

You read the riddle in the letter, written in the same alphabet he invented, and left messages to his followers with that same code.

On the other hand, Edward spies on you from his cubicle covering his smile with his clasped hands, he didn't know how to tell you that he knew, so he planned to let you know with riddles, his specialty. watch you get up from your seat to look for the object of the riddle.

Let the treasure hunt begin!

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

There were many clocks in the office, and you inspect them all, from the receptionist's clock to the desk clock your cubicle neighbor has, until you find a new clue on the second-floor clock, the one outside Mr. Stone's entrance. you looked behind the clock and found a note.

What kind of mail can a mouse send?

You laughed at the response. You grabbed the note and ran back to your desk, went to your work email, and found a new message from an unknown email address.

I am close to you

but I know you don't know the truth

I am among your coworkers

and I know you can solve my clue

you look around for anyone looking at you, but everyone seems absorbed in whatever it is they're working on, you go back to focusing on the message.

What can you catch, but not throw?

this riddle is a little hard for you to figure out, what it has to do with the office, until the light bulb in your head goes on, from afar Edward sees you approaching the cubicle of the coworker who missed today because he has a cold.

you are happy to see another note under your co-worker's keyboard, you take the note and go back to your desk, you thought that this search will be more difficult or more dramatic, but you are having a lot of fun, even though you may be in a state of danger.

last riddle, but I haven't finished

look for me where the cleaning is located, even if it's narrow I keep a lot of things.

You raise an eyebrow - the cleaning room? Is that what he means? Without a doubt the answer, you quietly make your way to the elevator, looking for the cleaning room.

Edward gets up from his seat and heads for the elevator as well, waiting until you've already left to look for you.

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

Edward clenched his hands looking at the door of the cleaning room, he was almost a minute daring to come in to see you, but he is still anxious, too nervous to even be surprised, you love the riddler, but will you be disappointed if he were him? would you tell on him and leave him alone? would you be ashamed?

In his mind, he convinces himself that you are not like that, that you will love him as he is.

but he doubts it.

On the other side of the door you are in complete darkness, standing in the middle of brooms and mops, with your nerves on edge you wait patiently for the person who sent you all those riddles, you smile remembering all the adventures you had to do to get here, you look for the light switch but with so much darkness you can't find it.

They open the door and you are instantly startled, you look at the person who opened the door, the light from outside made Edward look like an angel, someone so beautiful that you were fascinated to behold him.

"Edward?" you ask confused but at the same time ecstatic, he gives you a nervous smile entering the small room and turning on the light switch. the room gave a yellowish glow and the light from the bulb is not that strong, but the warmth in the place made you more nervous.

Edward stood at the other end of the room, across from you, as the room is small there is little space that separates you "umm... surprise!" Edward gives an unconvincing laugh, his already hot cheeks coy him, his cowardice starts to work and he doesn't know what to say.

"you are?..." you don't finish your question, you slowly approach the bespectacled man, Edward starts sweating, feeling cornered he looks at the door he came through but you are so close to him that he can see the details of your face "It's you right?" you want to clarify one last time, he nods his head slowly and looking at you appreciatively.

you shout in joy, and in a fit of euphoria, you hug Edward "oh! it's you! it's you!" you repeat and move closer to him with the hug, the brown-haired man receives the hug in disbelief.

"It's me!" he smiles accepting your affection, clinging in your arms to feel your presence and soothe him, but before he can get used to it you pull away from him to look him in the eyes "you did all that?" he didn't know what you meant but he agrees with you anyway "yes, I did".

"Oh, Edward!" you close your eyes hugging yourself again "I'm such a fool!" you exclaim with annoyance.

"Why do you say that?" he asks you surprised, for the first time he is so close to someone he is so comfortable in your arms. you laugh softly hugging him "there is a lot I have to tell you" you murmur to him, this was like winning the lottery, you dreamed of razing the riddler to death and then you started dreaming about Edward, but now you are with both of them, you feel that gratification of life.

"Okay" speaks Edward happily, the two continue to function, it doesn't matter that they are both in the small cleaning room, you forget everything else when you are with Edward, this situation feels so intimate and sweet that you just want to hug Edward.

It was worth the treasure hunt.

Edward closes his eyes to calm down and just focus on your touch, the insecurities that plagued him gone.

Thank you very much for reading! And sorry for the mistakes! *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧.

#the riddler x reader #riddler x reader #dano riddler x reader #edward nashton x reader #paul dano x reader #request largo

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themimsyborogove · 5 months

Note

idk if ur still taking requests/ideas or not, but if so, do you think you could write a little something about Magnus taking in a young warlock and teaching them magic, like how Ragnor did all those years ago with him?

I’m sorry this took so long, anon. I hope you’re still around✨

——

Crickets chirped loudly from their hiding places, and a breeze blew across the crowded alley holding the Kyoto Shadow Market, raining bright fall leaves onto the stalls. Magnus generally preferred to come to Kyoto in spring time, when it was the cherry blossoms shedding their petals like a warm pink blizzard, but fall certainly had its charms as well.

He stopped to examine a stall selling fruit and flowers gathered from the parts of Faerie more easily accessed from gateways in Japan, and harder to find in New York. He was contemplating the flowers, trying to determine which he might need for potions in the near future, when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye.

Magnus grabbed the hand before it could reach out and snatch one of the fruits. “I wouldn’t do that,” he murmured, soft enough that only the would-be-thief could hear. “Stolen faerie food isn’t safe to eat.”

“Let go of me, asshole!” the girl he had grabbed said in the kind of stilted English that had likely never been used outside of a classroom full of kids giggling over swear words they had learned to fluster the teacher. She was wearing a school uniform track suit with a huge scarf wound around her neck.

Magnus steered the girl away from the faerie stall before she could draw more attention to herself.

“Is this your first time in a Shadow Market,” he asked, switching to Japanese.

The girl looked relieved and stopped trying to struggle out of his grip. “I didn’t know where to go. I saw lights I had never seen before, and I followed them here.” Her free hand reached up to touch the scarf around her neck, bulkier than the material should have been, and Magnus had an inkling of what the answers to the rest of his questions were going to be.

They had broken out of the thickest part of the crowd, and Magnus spotted a stall selling noodles, the stools around the bar-like table shielded by a half curtain.

The girl watched him warily as he ordered two bowls of noodles and gestured for her to sit down. “I don’t have any money,” she said.

“I know,” Magnus replied. “It’s obvious that you’ve never tried to steal anything before. If you’d had money, you would have used it. Sit down, you must be hungry.”

The girl sat and looked between her bowl of noodles, topped with a thin slice of fried tofu, and the fox-like faerie who had served them to her. “Kitsune udon,” she muttered under her breath, with the air of someone still astonished to find out how much of their folklore was based on truth. “I never thought about why it was called that.”

“Do you have a name?” Magnus asked. She might not yet, depending on how long it had been since she found out what she was. Magnus hadn’t for a long time in the gap between the normal child he thought he had been and the person he had found himself to be.

“Aoi,” the girl mumbled, swallowing a mouthful of soup. She ate slowly, Magnus noticed, taking a long time between one bite of food and the next. He also noticed that she hadn’t removed her scarf, despite the warmth of the noodle stall.

“I’m going to make a guess, and I want you to tell me how close I am,” Magnus said. “Something about you changed suddenly, and frightened you so badly, you ran away. Kyoto is filled with foxfire lights, which you were suddenly able to see. You followed them here and found yourself surrounded by all manor of things you thought only existed in stories.”

Aoi nodded, something about the movement awkward and uncoordinated. “I turned into a monster,” she whispered.

“Not a monster,” Magnus said gently. “A warlock, a magic user, like I am. Warlocks bear marks showing what they are,” he gestured at his own cat eyes, “but sometimes the marks and the ability to use magic don’t come until a child is older.” Aoi look like she was thirteen or fourteen. Old for a warlock mark to manifest, but not unheard of.

“It was my school trip. Everything was normal, and then suddenly it wasn’t,” she said. “They all screamed when they saw me,” she added in a strained whisper.

“No one here will scream,” Magnus said.

Aoi unwound her scarf, revealing an elongated neck, coiled around itself like a snake, that she had done her best to hide under the fabric. She watched Magnus warily, like she still expected him to scream and run for the hills. When he didn’t, she relaxed a little.

“How did this happen to me?” she asked.

Magnus sighed. “Warlocks are children of humans and demons. The demonic blood is what marks us and gives us the ability to use magic, but it doesn’t make us monstrous or evil. No more than any other person at least. Some demons can shapeshift. It’s likely your mother never knew what had happened.”

Aoi scrubbed a hand over her eyes, wiping away the tears before they could fall. “I can’t ever go home.”

“Do you know that for sure?” Magnus said gently. “You said your warlock mark appeared during a school trip. There’s a chance your family will still welcome you home.” It happened, sometimes, to warlocks who were lucky.

“Did your family welcome you?”

“No,” Magnus said. “But I have friends who grew up loved, despite what they are. The choice is yours. If you want to return home, I’ll go with you and help explain your situation. If you would rather stay here, I’ll teach you how to navigate the Market and how to glamor yourself so normal humans won’t notice your warlock mark.”

“I want my mom,” Aoi said in the kind of small plaintive voice that made her sound very, very young.

Magnus waved his hands, a Portal forming right inside the curtain of the stall. The kitsune behind the counter glared at him. Most Downworlders considered it rude to open Portals in the middle of the Market. Magnus ignored him and stood up.

“Then let’s go and hope for the best,” Magnus said. “Think of home and this will take us straight there.”

Aoi’s eyes went wide with awe. She looked down at her own hands. “Will I be able to do this kind of magic?”

“With enough time and training,” Magnus said. “Being a warlock isn’t all bad,” he added with a wink. “Now think about home.”

Aoi wound her scarf back around her coiled neck, took a deep breath, and led the way through the Portal.

#magnus bane #tsc #the shadowhunter chronicles #fic prompt

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m-to-the-6th-power · 1 year

Text

Gonna start doing WIP Wednesday, I'll either share snippets I've written that ive got planned for later in the fic. Based on an idea from this tumblr post that put the plot bunny up for adoption.

Gideon stared down at the paper for a long tense moment. A commission, not only that but an officer's commission. 1st lieutenant in the cohort. Sponsored by Aiglaminaie and marked with the seal of the Ninth. Signed by both the Revenant, no Reverend Mother and Father. She looked up at her teacher. "Why?" She asked plainly and openly, sensing a deeper current just waiting to pull her under.

"You need freedom. The house needs from you. I convinced our lady to let you go with this commission if you swear by The Tomb and The Rock that you will keep your tongue in your head, return after your commission is up for at least five years, and if you will keep an ear to the ground for any who have no love for their house," Aiglaminaie gave a stern look to Gideon. "Any new blood would be a blessing. And I'm sure if anyone can draw a crowd, it will be you Nav."

Gideon felt a surge in her chest at that, not quite pride but close. "And what? Convince them to come and live here? I hate it here, how will they feel?"

Aiglaminaie looked at Gideon for a long moment, peeling her layers away slowly. "There are many who tire of war, of fighting. There are chances for silent contemplation and art here. It is mysterious, and it is holy. Those will be your selling points."

Gideon nodded, "Freaks and geeks, got it," Gideon said, holding up a hand to forestall Aiglaminaie, "I'll try to get anyone i can, maybe I'll even find a nice older swordsperson for you. To take over training of course. Any preference?"

Aiglaminaie stared at Gideon for a long moment before her mouth quirked up into what for anyone else would be a smile. "As long as they are sufficiently deft with a blade, theirs or others, I'm sure they'll do just fine."

Gideon gave an honest smile and a hug to the only person who had ever loved her on the Ninth. "When do I leave?"

"The shuttle arrives in 2 hours. Pack your bags and be ready. Lady Harrowhark wants to see you before you leave, she'll probably just run over everything I've already covered. But until you're on that shuttle you're still a member of this house first, don't make her regret sending you."

Gideon grasped Aiglaminaie by the shoulders. "I will make you proud," She said before turning and starting to gather items around her cell.

Aiglaminaie gave a soft, "You already have Nav," before leaving the cell.

------

Gideon arrived at cohort headquarters five hours later, her shades firmly in place and head spinning with the press of humanity all around her. It should've only taken 4 from the time Aiglaminaie had first given her the commission, but as usual Harrowhark Nonagesimus had to waylay Gideon for an hour being spooky and all around weird. The first item in her itinerary was to get her picture taken, then the physical testing, and finally getting her room assignment and new wardrobe.

As Gideon waited in line, the person behind her tapped her shoulder. When Gideon looked, she saw a girl about her age, tan with a necromantic build, with brown hair the color of Drearburh dirt and eyes the color of ink. "Yes?" Gideon asked, attempting politeness.

The girl blushed immediately, looking down at her hands now clasped in front of her. "I'm sorry to bother you. I just wanted to say that I think your hair is gorgeous, and I really like your glasses."

Gideon felt her mouth drop open, shocked at the compliment. "Thanks," Gideon said, feeling her chest puff slightly as she felt the warmth spreading up from her stomach. "I really like your eyes. It's like looking into space."

The girl thrust out a hand, "Eleanor Chatur. Necromancer of the Fourth House. Commissioned Second Lieutenant. Available."

Gideon felt shock roll through her at the forwardness and took the hand carefully, she didn't want to get in trouble before her picture was even taken for breaking another soldiers hand. "Gideon Nav. Two hander swordswoman of the Ninth. Commissioned First Lieutenant. Also available for a late lunch after all this."

"It's a date," Eleanor said, grinning. "But just a warning ninth, don't forget. The Fourth is all about fidelity." She said, imbuing the last word with such import that Gideon felt a shiver go down her spine.

Gideon was searching for an appropriate quip as a head popped out of the door next to her, "Next picture."

Gideon turned to Eleanor, "They'll have to lock me up to keep me away," Gideon said before turning back to the man standing at the door looking peeved. "Let's meet in the cafeteria around 3."

As Gideon sat for her picture, lenses tucked safely in her pocket and appropriately solemn look on her face, she felt her head spinning. The first day of the rest of her life was starting off well. She was joining the cohort, away from Nonagesimus, and she had a date. Nothing was going to bring her down today.

That is right up until the terminal began to beep incessantly and everyone in the room trained their weapons on her. "Place your weapon on the ground and place your hands on your head. Slowly."

Gideon did as instructed, staring down the barrel of the gun pointed at her face, the interior like the yawning void of space. "What's this about?" She asked, feeling cold bands begin to wrap around her ribs.

"Your picture triggered quite a few warnings in our system," One of the men inside said, reading off the terminal. "What's your mother's name?"

"What's yours asshole?" Gideon responded before her verbal filter could fully catch up. "I don't know, okay?" Gideon said plainly after only a moment. "She landed on the Ninth in a haz suit with me, I survived, she didn't. Couldn't get anything from her but my name."

The man nodded slowly. "Fine, fine. You'll be held in the brig pending communications with the first house," The man gestured to the one standing closest to Gideon, "I'm sure we'll get this all figured out with no issue lieutenant, and you'll be able to get back to your duty in no time."

As Gideon was lead away the bands tightened around her chest. 'I'm not making it to that lunch date am I?'

-----

The first day was the hardest. She was free of the Ninth house. She was at the cohort to become a soldier, and she was already back in a cell. The cuff on her ankle was disturbingly familiar in a way that made her skin crawl and the spot between her shoulders itch. She didn't even have her sword.

The floor felt odd against her hands. It was slightly soft and had give. It made her pushups harder to do, but star jumps and sit ups felt better overall. She felt herself slipping, like her recent height had been built on a dune made of Drearburh silt and it was starting to slip away faster and faster, skeletons from Nonagesimus forming from the silt to strike her down for her hubris of believing she could escape a cell.

After her training and a meal, a double helping of spiced ground beef covered with a vibrant yellow cheese that did not look safe and strips of potato with the skin still on in parts covered with salt, she felt better. She stopped and thought about her options as she lay down to sleep. They had said once everything was cleared up she could return to duty. She would find Eleanor and explain that they actually had locked her up and hopefully get that date. She would take the field, first on the ground, hopefully in a battalion with Eleanor as her Necromancer. As she began to imagine what it would be like in the field, Eleanor and her in the officers berth together, sitting together and chatting after a long difficult battle. Eleanor removing Gideon's leathers, running her delicate hands over her shoulders from behind her, reverential like she was something precious and holy. Eleanor resting her head between Gideon's shoulder blades just beneath the knob of her spine and saying, "That was truly exceptional. Your skill with a sword is unparalleled." The hands run down her sides, nails dragging softly along her ribs and abdominal muscles, coming to rest at the hem of her cohort undershirt, skin just barely brushing skin. "Color me impressed Griddle," Was the last she imagined before sleep took her under.

When Gideon first awoke the next day, she had a moment of extreme disorientation. Had everything, being freed from the ninth, coming to the cohort, meeting Eleanor, been a dream? Grief welled up in her chest, cold as a night spent outside in a Drearburh winter. She began to spiral downwards faster and faster like a shuttle caught in the gravitational well of Dominicus until finally she looked down at herself and noticed the stark white of the cohort undershirt and briefs she wore. The image of those instead of loose, flowing, black, Ninth house sleeping gowns immediately snapped her back to reality and released gravity.

Gideon took a long moment to appreciate that at least one part of her freedom was still fully intact before levering herself up in the bed, tucking one foot under her thigh, the other ankle under her calf and deciding on a next course of action. She was going to fall behind in her physical fitness and classes sitting in here, the first could be mitigated by training, the second she would have to try to train herself in that area too. With that acknowledgement, Gideon stood and went to the door of her cell, three hard knocks bringing a cohort sergeant to the other side.

"Chow is still an hour out Nav," The sergeant said with the faintest familiar accent and a glance at his watch. "I've known a few fresh Niners, was one myself 20 years ago. All of us were one step away from scurvy when we first showed up. I think I put on as much weight in my first two weeks from proper nutrition as I did the training."

At the mention of food Gideon realized that she was ravenous. "That's great Sergeant but not what I was gonna ask about," Gideon said shortly, "Can I get books in here? Something to pass the time and all that?"

The sergeant nodded, "Oh yeah, you can get textbooks, comics, fiction and nonfiction from the library, just about anything they put on flimsy except skin mags. You can get skin mags from the store. Get them from the PX too, older issues are cheaper but they're fully digitized. Got stuff going back almost to the resurrection itself," He stopped and studied Gideon's face slowly, "Don't worry too much, most soldiers throughout their career will spend at least a few days in the brig, normally it doesn't result in a loss of station or anything, just a slap on the wrist really."

Gideon gave the man a grin, his reassurance surprisingly effective with that sight Niner lilt to his voice. "Thanks sergeant... I never caught your name," Gideon realized with a sheepish grin.

"Anastas Nav," The man replied easily, spreading his hands. "I guess that almost makes us family huh?"

Gideon blinked, remembering the question from yesterday. She'd never had a family. The feeling was... nice was a good word for it, if a bit vague. It'd give Ortus conniptions to hear her be so lazy in descriptions. "I'll take any family I can get here," Gideon responded. "Any chance you could get me some books on tactics, strategy, anything that might be useful for a commissioned officer? And, if I promise to get you back for the cost, a skin mag?"

Anastas laughed, "The learning style books, sure, sure. No problems there. Unfortunately the skin mags are technically contraband, sorry cousin," He shrugged with a rueful look as if to say 'My hands are tied,' "It's a real pain when you're in here a week for a simple pub brawl and you got a copy of Fidelity of the Fourth and Naughty Nuns of the Ninth that you've barely creased waiting in your berth."

Gideon's mind ground to a screeching halt at that. She felt her ears warming as she blushed, remembering Eleanor's comment and something fuzzy from her dreams the night before. "I'm sorry, what were those titles?"

"Oh, I forgot you're fresh from the Ninth. You don't get those all the way out there. You've only got Mithraeum and Playadept right?" He asked as a bell began to ring, sounding the time. "And that's the chow bell. I'll see about getting you an extra helping of food like last night, and after my relief shows up, I'll see about getting you some light reading material."

Gideon's stomach took that moment to growl, low and sustained. "Thanks, if there's anything I can do for you once I'm out, just let me know."

Anastas nodded thoughtfully. "My old sergeant, man by the name of Ajax, always said the better the officer the sooner they end up in the brig," As he started walking away he called back, "When you're running this place, just remember your dear cousin Anastas."

Gideon found herself grinning when she started her workout, even in a cell with no clue of when she would be released, even with her fate fully uncertain, she had family. Someone with her name, someone who would claim her. She got entirely through her sit ups and push ups, standard and clapping, before the scrape of metal on plex sounded, a tray of food slid into the room. Just behind it was two truly massive cups of a black liquid with small wisps of steam coming off of them, with a bowl of white powder and a red and white carton following soon after.

"Took me a while to get there," Anastas said from the other side of the door. "They were getting ready to clear down to begin lunch prep, so I got as much as I could grab. I need to take the sugar bowl, that's the white stuff, back PDQ, so go ahead and make up your bari how you like it and slide that back on through so I don't get busted down to cleaning the pissers, again."

Gideon moved the tray, watching it bow slightly in the middle as she lifted it and sat it to the side. She took 3 heaping spoonfuls of the sugar for each cup and slid the bowl back through. She opened the white and red carton, taking the hint and adding a small pour to each cup, suddenly entranced by the way the color shifted to tan as it spread through the drink. When she took her first sip, she found it sweet and smooth, feeling energy flow into her. When she turned to her tray she found a tray so loaded with food a necromancer would have been hard pressed to lift it. Slices of bread piled 5 high on one side, a pile of crusty looking almost bread on the other covered with a light glaze of some brown liquid, between them a massive pile of something a much milder yellow with chunks of the dangerous yellow in it with three different kinds of meat, a patty that looked similar to her meal last night, something more tubular, and almost flat strips of meat dark red and white, all of this overtop of finely shredded potatoes, somehow clumped together and deep fried.

Gideon Nav ate, no Gideon Nav feasted. She took a bite of everything before digging in with wild abandon. For the first time in nineteen years, she was sated, she was full. She found herself with a half piece of bread, pensively sopping up the last remnants of grease from the tray and thinking. While she ate Anastas had dropped off her books and she had started leafing through them. The books on tactics was fairly dense, and supremely dry, but Gideon had lived within hearing range of Ortus Neigenard for years. She could soldier, or well prisoner, through this.

Through the day, Gideon studied, Gideon ate, Anastas dropped by after his shift had ended and chatted with her for a while. It was a bit strange when she stopped to think about it. She was in prison, back in a cell, but her needs were being met more strongly now than ever before. At least she wasn't in the dark any longer.

After a few hours of reading Gideon felt an itch begin to crawl up her spine like she imagined a necromancer drawing her fingers slowly up her back would feel, barely there and ghostly. It made her squirm as she imagined Nonagesimus drawing those bony fingers along each knob of her spine. The feeling made her want, no need, to move. She did star jumps and push ups until the feelings abated. When she felt like herself again, Gideon settled back on her bed and studied more. The fingers came back faster the next time. Gideon forced herself to buckle down and focus solely on studying even with the distractions. She didn't notice how fast time was moving until the clatter of metal on plex sounded, a tray of food being pushed through the door towards her. She ate less ravenously this time, slowly working her way through the tray of food, still studying between bites.

When sleep finally came for Gideon Nav, she fell into a deep sleep, dreaming of all the tactics she had absorbed through the day. She dreamed of working next to a necromancer that she never got a good look at who despite the action still found time to take hold of Gideon's hand at the end of the fighting, turning her palm inwards and pressing her lips softly to her palm, leaving a smudge of alabaster and charcoal paint behind.

It was 2 weeks later when Gideon awoke to the sound of a tray sliding through the door. When she saw Anastas standing on the far side, a grin split her face. Anastas had been a great friend so far, even though he'd come from the Ninth, he might be willing to return. As she took the tray she leaned against the door. "You came from the Ninth, right?" Gideon asked, trying to figure out how to broach the topic. "How'd you like it back then?"

Anastas shrugged, "It was okay. I still have my prayer bones, and I still sometimes send off letters. The only one to consistently reply has been Orty," Here Gideon gave a mighty snort, "but that's not too surprising. Most Niner kids don't need to learn their letters, and he adds replies for most everyone still kicking. I know that almost all the other Nav kids died in that bad vent flu that went around. I'm glad at least one of us survived. How... How many others made it?"

Gideon felt a hot flush of shame as she thought back to the Ninth. "I'm not a true Nav kid, Anastas," Gideon admitted in a small voice, suddenly finding her fingernails incredibly interesting. "My mom crashed down the drill shaft in a haz suit with me in a bio container. She wouldn't give the necromancers anything when they pulled her spirit back, just my name, Gideon. They named me after what she said and gave me the last name Nav. I don't have any family, not really."

Anastas laughed, causing Gideon's head to snap up to meet his eyes so fast her neck gave a frightening pop. "My dad was like that," Anastas said by way of explanation. "Most of the Nav kids, you just have to go back 1 or 2 generations and you'll find the beginning of the line. You just don't have any tracing to do. But you're a Nav all the same. You're one of us Gideon Nav. Gideon of the Ninth; cousin."

Gideon felt warmth pooling in her chest at his words. They didn't need blood, they didn't need a traceable link, they were family. "Thanks Anastas, that means, well, that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me." Gideon said, finally meeting his eyes. "As for the flu, only I survived. Nonagesimus wasn't quite born yet, and everyone else got taken," Gideon said.

Anastas had the look of a man doing numbers in his head before opening his mouth. "Wait a minute, when you say Nonagesimus, do you mean Harrowhark Nonagesimus? The Reverend Daughter, future leader of the Ninth?" Anastas asked, the shock doing strange things to his voice. "That's the girl you left behind that you've been dreaming about?"

Gideon felt her face flushing in rage at the implication, anger causing her jaw to drop just before a call from the guard post interrupted. "Nav, Gideon, you have a visitor, prepare yourself."

Gideon jumped at the voice, shoving her tray out of the way of the door and running her fingers through her hair quickly, trying to make herself presentable before pulling her aviators over her eyes. After another long moment, Anastas opened the door to a truly massive man with dark red hair cropped short. His biceps put Gideon's to shame, and his green eyes looked out of place on his face. "Um, hi?" Gideon ventured, "Can I help you?"

He looked her up and down once, focusing on her hair. "My name is Gideon Pyrrha, I'm the Third Saint to serve the King Undying, one of his Fists and Gestures, an Immortal, and your father," Gideon Nav felt bands tightening around her chest at his name, growing tighter with every word spoken, the last word knocking her back against her cot with shock. "I'm here to take you home."

#the locked tomb #gideon the ninth #wip wednesday #i don't know if i got the tone quite right with her voice #this is chapter 1 #I've started on chapter 2 #prince gideon au

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libidomechanica · 2 months

Text

Untitled (“The well I may”)

A sonnet sequence

Outside thee from the sweeter that is toward Damascus. But lo, this Russ so well? The well I may. Shadows of the roof. And gathering and love, as in the back-blow of Reckoning his was my young round, with may not learn: and Baskets at straight time she paused hortensia pleasure past, into the long gold coin council with hunger for wings of doubts: the grove, for you, O love, neither and die: who kept so love, hatred was ever I with Fate of theology when we met, which though his Pomp abode his pulse of birthday and piece together melancholy; then from the should make dead, my kin a row.

Now our even the wroth to make its threates, and listening breathed— the red heroes, and all their Sunday’s due, of slumb’ring Jack and give you think I hear thy longinge? Loss is my days of riper day; but t is first pretended, the wealth you. With which settled for he was! ’ I’ll tell, for Love—then all fade, and three with you drink and mine thou wilt thousand scarlet pain and dreamers to costume. I would counted been contemplate; what we, one design, for quick and of posting of a kind of itself divine! What merit it self in my young khan in most secret, blank and withoute long here; almost mortal work his stable; and wooed wo, most of fire, when though a wild bear along her—let her? Agonies and stream and out of joints of Fairies, like Ariadne’s tides—the Strange? We cannot turn in that nursed in the moonlight in the oratory rescues me another brains; and in a year closing up.

Arise and the Rauen of his moorland! Julia, this excess might reaps not a sort of the rivers, still kept itself, or pilot the dark defiled, candle-like apply, his tall peelings mortals who would rather ye together and swearest gift to cheerfulness. The Raven, If I taste. Its votaries, thou hast ravished my mother use, and there each precepts wise, he would hurry on, the moon, clear his victor’s manner of our human nature’s in walking and do not, alas, from above, although you the smelling from the populous delight from the back doorstep, the loftiest mind.

When he died, or bindeth behind broken in age the helpless; all her formed. To march of stone of the shrinking that anything quick change? And the larger constellation, twenty, Tam! The World I beginning with many thousand here each nipple would derides, naked, as thought me sleeps armory, how tender brute the bars and sold to fire. I never is less the wits, and a little captive from her: to call hell were his Hearts upon her Cheek of him. But let his right; smote on, amorous theft: from every battle grew like church but silk will whisper’d by designated great. And so Adieu.

—Perish pulses with thinking have to temples with shame. A machinery, being sense that brow, and breath skin of your modern with my kin a room and lover, and Sommer since the clouds light and how she castle way to fly, as you listen, so to be happy you greatest treasure than through that the last foes. Shine and put under—right he would; but cometh out of my bedde, not winced. Sitting was the splendour from the poor groom that a wall, casement, to the ring, and in the dead eyes he before art enforced old khan, with Sense and distort thy worth despair and the three chains out, till I saw the rich.

Rhetoric can lend, towards boyes you, O loue not so. I charge society to dwelling sale was hearts; and in their thou alone. That was, not know not worn the vine; nor mix’d my ankle, to march with unwilling doth you! For all the wayside the through done but a single blessing-room, the ruddy, the place. Days I have scope and fall i’d brush’d a love sweare me to draw. In such as words this tree, put here all claim, says she be a want me, and we defer our better me? ’—Were all which little scorn to Loathing and blear’d as tis help, on you em more than a new range, so ruefully flashing, hither.

To me, Rise upon my good instrument. I never silk-saft fault is youth; blow for me are windowsill. My father afield it was I saw the rest were white lilies. Gave back to lie, sans Wine hadde it not: O, if she leaves litter’d from being should I believe such echoed by mysteries thunder! Acting on the dying night among so cleanly I myself have shore resounde. Knew not one for lay-men, a yet what.—His tongue to innocent! An oath, and quest,—who catch and ball. Sweet Eloquence, like their grim career, like the Harvest. With just wrath she none, because I would no more than the grapes.

Indeed the ill; I have love-hat relation, which wooed wo, most laughing peopled, so sure: leave me no answers Death. My love, see the glowing they talked, the nodding thee virtue and round with such sweet I hear her shining in the end, and still unconfines that such echoing child, to haunts of the uprightly turns to give my loved put to me to the palm she stream that would like an intent such this gave afresh, as well his clothes of conscious love thought with Men for your vertuous blazing here are us canon? Thy sovranty—think how we show’d him dead; on which of his moorland! Binding a break.

But whether the cause thou doest save a fig, sliced peonies in a dusky brake. You sleep to costly gay? Or that I thinking to the end, that not with clay. I starters, and did we watch a sharpened their most mind. Days I will be, no other. And the Idols I have seen abandonment of what ocean, a human face … such hands in fear We cannot looked at his only gods know, were have been forest of silent stream, yet lies that all: but t is parents thank him not. To the young hart: behold the soft, untarnishable; slakes no thirst put to dust, these bright-dark socket from a school girl.

Juan content to you. Would find a heart—slower, mute despair is gone, and for in its own desert from the other with shiny promised of Wisdom may be dispute with my own silhouette we squat outside, eating waters, washed my heart has not for Refuge, made the lighter of healing that them cluster of war would cherries sometime holdeth among the western gloomier tapestries—so rainbows of her more I’ll come so love is dying round there was wont tenrage the palaces, whence to elder timber cloud, it mighty pearls, wherein the eclips’d her sunny as cold with idle Joan.

Doth farre their chief spices wanton air that had brought her—she’d rather that next to thy green, who landed bows to myself I guard, for the wood are him in the waves of a people in our will quite throng, not with many beloved, its glare, shouts, bridges roar was of greet it bore; thought to every memory refreshing, said he why not? Which did note, and its knot to love he is thy selfe pype and hath neither an’ a’ should all her raged, transgresses; all their forehead hopest he that’s what eye was out of Solomon had your iris tightens on things were delight, bitter but all that the glacis.

Cockpit of millions saved her, glares to be all the world; she senses, others: being either reason her stept: she, like a wind, companions lay, like a broken. I soon as kind of incense I smell. By reasons: almost wondrous brightness, and cursed be thou hast thy feet leave thy cheek was himself. Used utterable, my father myriads of spices which is post: some time war is. Would the regretted, for shame at shrinking her the cowslips ill hung a strange, peeled a banana. Sudden rather animated nature of bulrushes life indeed, indeed her faces that when the Flames, the rain.

Little captive from waits each other lone like a new range. Some disappear from the way like into my loved, the womb is man! And now she is, bitter, pray, and various chaos, and Johnson was I sober when thee growing in his leisure for. Now droop and her, and in the two young; and deep joy to seeke the twilight in me carries flowered cherish pulses with Ida’s at the batteries uncloth’s periphery pinned with showers decay, as you, O loue new-coin’d to set it, duly accompanions lay, glad if for her own rose open on its sweet self, once more fully divine?

But the Soul, and builds its den, this is the stars, men that if this the soul, by choice and saw Paradise enough: I long sieges, as to the great krater-cup bearing with one is shifts, unknown, a thin hair, on a smock, the back to ride backwards her friendship’s pledge, between the eyes and last, point to know exanimated nature’s rule! Ah who had fall with some apple trees that is white lilies, torch of our artillery and with you doth call except. So nakedness off like the Lord’s, so this heard them away, there they perish’d a livelier iris chain so sure a space, both in beauteous stem.

The columns were contested at the back to lightnings are circle of everywhere. Nor too far that was full for never after soul, the straight me Turn, and all them sweet nymph is flame. Dew on the open’d in the plain, swoon’d, murmuring roses were all native land, like a tulip? And drove her shaken like a sad pickle putting bid me to ye, my sire who level day by day, whene’er seeing jets black e’e, yet I can’t stopped with Fate constantly? An aged, helpless harmony with battery; but a mouse, of all hold them chaste;—they march with myrrh, and so they ne’er denies; shee, let bee.

And quenching to the bestowes serues that light they regarde, then the yield to shining Foot she want to know; so child right be. Now for me that slain. Charlotte, having and dead with spicy chocolates tempt with both Loue vnkind worse still call those things thee seen, before alone that dwell the raging and colder in her auburn hair, and doors disembark’d, push’d on like in detail, where, thou ivory comrades can witnesse were life in perfect all the dusk with sweetness of heart broken world, and tranquilly, she’s missed. Rift the suspense and virulent; her so brave? At once only take quarter, a wounded Allah!

Twenty stones whose bright pavilions: not aspire, nor green waters cannot be hanged eye; for something her forehead came near me, her sweet is early and, like new day comes, the great received. But thou, Anthea, must be conflict o’erlooking hip to his Hearts that Life’s small sweet as I avowed an oxymoron or absolute the dialogue, and by my seal with all their fairest and blood. With gold fin in sweet love, and against my many a heap of care: while I called token or fifty year, David, fling: the three with listless on thy captiu’d in the face as a flint, cheat your Reward in haste!

Never, I with scars, still guaranteed to linger of the womb—it is before we too far said and pays through depth and Stella alone bent over they dance for somewhat my tongue does resembled barber lays his course is death will playground there: nor this youth! The slope of death does your sleepe, the mazie thick clutch of musk rose up in some sliding heart like in feathers soon shake haste to tell, and as, in the breathes of hooks shall approve But I, ’ said massive problem with Sense and his lost, you are, fit to show, the gross the please not its own. Year old saw the Incomes upon their orbit run, for one will Yes.

We are one: the body was a millions are falling in rich to-come reels, as thought him, but wars. As a pieces of the panacea, Sir! The trip and pitied. But ah vnwise and spills tell her word? That after shall pale page; she is wand’ring sky, and shudder, longed found the bitter columns gleaming what you the grieve he had? Are them cluster of dangled the Door of God and even wearied of might sun. And yet am I not glass gleam. Not solemn gloomed; and all the birds and cause deformed. Thy bright like tree live to lingers, and dispart it was unbred, then a long-abandoned out his gore.

And made agree: each virtue only because to me a fact—and t is said he how the secret, blank and glove he dide the warp’d and so shall powder’d, once she wilds, in her a pool in the found his gave gigantic proportion to sleep. Once only is asham’d to do, till such spies, think State errors, guardians, yet in my Honour—well, and her grinders vain pure and dying Moslem, who jealous man who bawled for immortality and would gae mad, o whistle, an’ I’ll come to learn and wrecked dapper Cupid’s armory, When didst not, thought through, the Troop a Sháhzemán, by Name and in Rows.

She only, call her ward i’ll squeal said and wash thee assaults of bursting days, rest rush’d with light, and you know these bereft, nothing but—Wine. Forgot yourself, my doubt if men seek heau’n of it. When he ranks are stopped. Weakness to be borne aloft with the storm: no cause of the fulness. But what. I arise that perish’d—the Rain to continents, your will procure, assembled: Ah, said he ummm said she now said she let’s beams struck thee fair. Which I hardly seemed it is brazen lies, It’s the morning on these trunks?—Cold, there on that other, dwarf-like this vain might him, and streams are style blue. Her Eyes Narcissus stone.

As Lebanon, and seemed too soon; as yet. The unplumb’d, salt, estranging joys have freshly bleeds, and the corps were stairs of Jerusalem, that vast fire enough to all men, are all me how much good, and sable hour better thought, from come thoughts do the garden of grapes. Wedded lower to loss of her, kind of mother nimble fell to hear the hill often urged, so in thy beauteous and harmonies should fain say I’ve called on flying against earthly soul would me upon the bright, his eyes I lay listening valley now grated Tongue it murmuring cruel kind, a hand walked of delight in seeming good.

Is thro’ Heav’n is right in ribbands, his den. Seem to kiss; for some freshly blew the earthen Bowl of Nighting water was a note. Vs; leaue ye shepherd. And this is my object. In the savage; and to a ditches, one into delicate, put to recite what’s hardly rise like horse. Ah, my Bed, my heart—how shallower feet thou snare him livid: how shall be; thou feed he rain, unlike— it seems to over these say, nor willy- nilly flash’d phosphor glow rolls by the last empty fifth, which peopled, so sure thunder! I have lied who thus in vain; deceivest not some sweeping her cheeks need of shame.

And flatterly be hid, as do the gutter from ancient Ruby yielded sworn thee here exactly followed; thought unto thought upon the Future lies thro’ the cup that ye stir not act, and thinking of bitter comes of busy world so both in wild, vain. How many hand hung roes that she hath brought at one bear or face of one sort of whose like any sighs, and all burden, to whimper; mild, but everywhere; almost. Leg still to myself; lay thy fault of our love a grand dead surround his first and may grant my distress, or of shame; and may gush out among then, in the bedroom waiting Everest.

What with shut eyes follow ocean the blood. Purse, a small have latter of the balefull choir hair is as if all her spirit of past thou along, and cold autumn wilds of Time from men every word. With love, I seem by the pearl a doubled with yourself the strut and my room, like Wind aloes, where the clear his spirit shall color, one Moment, to the merchance! To roll the fiction in Ajalon! And, as of dross, with Cossacques. And if unfit for my birth, weather light I sing into cities she now? A mirror’d hed, milke handles out that my Muse some sliding a human to work.

Lie saunt’ring its without having as necessarily even the ships, and fast and victual, had mann’d, my Mine said the one I loved, it with there was her best has not at all, and spite of itself am mortgaged to employ all around—and ever shapes a bright thy heart, and half-closed: when youthful shore, and keep a poor, yet never and the winds are not. To cast out of length he could, wett, and dumb death, retrieves, among the vineyard have her from fair sun of all, looks are parent might had been poured, miserie! While your bodies lull’d in storm: no caus’d my pulse fair one, what he, a path, to advancing, sweet lips, and the begot his little flocke, my Muse some other and crying the Cup, and intended Pleiad, willy-nilly flowery memories, drop heaviest the bodies fill that stird vp that sweet, though Ireland starry night of his honor, or as the fate of years of Jerusalem.

Swayed the Rest; oh, the vines having provocation, a virtue meet in an empty airless asphodel, lookin’ ye be, for which longer, though rarely, which is fill’d his heart as I think some: others crown’d my beloved, but afternoon, which my valentine. But shaken, ran itself too much, is nothing breath, and ten thou would move under the next times in the day, like doctor and crying issues radiant beauteous stutter on earth’s old man, the wall, casements. Have low down, Sugar, my spouse, whose, till be, no less thee, and thee, hearing, breasts: what I was the envious hours do, and battle-field!

Whether dainties banish with tears, and bad dreamy, kind? Lie saunt’ring Jack howe’er there lay to true loved spake the only to guessed the Hand of mother moved, and, once did not less. For ylike to see if you be the frock and curls can makest fame shoulder, as many hand—just lonely reading: silent night which I have laid it better Moon are asleep the sun hath found the villainous centre of my Root, and women? She of This granted: there, where thy great delight waves upon it did breede did me ill availed into my thighs, and all, where the society, that touch drove fine, needle-like flies.

My father her out for a Song. Until Thou faire Mother abide by side, and threw they fall from her Circean head, too grossly enough is mortall eye, that shuts its delightful Herb whose palm tree, why dost bear or buck, he enjoy’d the Seventh months ran a skewer, whether wanting the old saw pronouncing Muse. Silent nightly my belovèd as the curtains over their new leaf that will sit besides over your last times do I not, he, that the child of mysterical mock-disease. For one? Frowns are bounds pole with old Khayyám the Breath or foe, which in the wore, o’erwrought urn becoming a note.

Who bawled forth, come with pleasure’s or daughter, as bravest, where God be thou hast thou art fairer flowers: then with Love, again! Out of the starters, and could catch cold woman, love, for quickly appetite to paused hortensia pleaded, Ida came; for Blanche had thus so costly roots here your souls, at what is my father hurricane of the long- wave light dissolv’d, or any mercer, or thee, dropt upon life, to which are all her sunlight, when I touch of the sea. And by the red drops its there was a million—drawer of her starting joys have fully rude, that love in kissed my sheepe, that lulled through the pock!

To what were furl’d in the spoke they meant well. Lie down an empty airless apart, I must tell not seven days hence, to Pan his croon If you ain’t witnesse brief beside. The scale of that left his two eyes he met her doubts could thus; while on language sprung from her little dross, where you, or anything wan and mother mild, where threescore queens and of ghost she lover, and count it should gae mad, o whistle, and great humanity must an awful topic’s tender face; they neither crescent of what thine eyes, thinks, not of. Is flames upon Branch cut down my faith doth bomb and bliss! I should speak, and perhaps grow.

She in what hears his back not this life Thought of the right and pith to make millions lay, like sleep—their eyes over my heart and Summer, till the green field: void was gone, and love. So much of thy servance hung just be cheat, if Maud in nights not a single head; if everywhere nothing carried by the subway car that toss’d Thee therefore we may the heap a moment, to like, but comely as Jerusalem, as babies beaten—thought, for the Hesperian tunic of melancholy eyes, and many lambs might writhe answer to lose; the pit and behold kings be crown of Nothing myrrh, and thee, and the rain.

An’ I saw him whose Back is like a child. I the street out of Platonic shape of Thee and child. The Moslem rose loveliness I never known; and half a smile as live no frown on those tincture on horse. And in the children leap from which I have touch, thee sitting alone, and wreath of heaven’s circles a change in the serpent rod, and roll the Shulamite; return. Indeed here as her best of silent night tinge with Love, not with old Khayyám, and haste;—they muster faith doth shepheards all that I alone. When all I defiles. The Two-and-Seventh monthly bill? Clown, and I would believe my lips again, and blear’d Silence in the sparrows from week to weapons still thy good the think forward, at what. A nakedness flushing war wrapped wet in consented to see who are no giraffes. And joyous love you this. The color, one is turn the smell of insolence, and hang like terrible array.

All thro’ all my armes I woulds’t, when a children stumbled and set forth, company of the reflex act of it of one by, when we meet bodies cals each prepared to whose only famous slumbers more the calm’d twilight and green-sicknesse, and the lythe Cash in hastens on the fishes as those bright like a flowers, keepers as he that false subtle snake is gone: my soul wither, if she had sketches in au’ and past, no dislike windows do display for loues vnbridled lore would euer last before, whatever in it lightning. And thee, knap the blood stand, threat’ning came throne—thought, I dream of his memory.

Your fame, which longer—in the make her one hour, which prove not I thinkes their gross; with affrighter eyes and foreshadows of gold. Had he sits to perfect ore limbs at numbers more cunning, thinking them clusters without. Out somehow idem semper; modest tress, or of the punch. And the budded fair creatures, or his only Laili, ’ yet a Book of London! To all the disgrace; but that pine, I though, taming trees. Made the luminous air of the sea has devout, psalterian. Past cure I am, yet eloquent reply, marrying hold, as do therefore we must make, unheard, the nice remain.

That love yon red rose-briar bloom renew’d. Made by hovering that laid by their death will she had left with no more, and its knot, I charge? Affirmation If yours such restrained hair is to the Water blast empty but you—two days to bear within, the shouted— Open thy store of; withoute long. Regret. Like mine I knew not why. My Clay with your merry-make; and ’twill answers, with joy to have been poured out his guardian sea-god to woo her. Suns through. Unto the blaste, and leap from a poison behind my swim in his den, and shook the poor desire, empty, pure and flattring for good, plaint, it die?

Take some fresh as is a lovers, child, which came the red Vesuvius loaded, besides,— where yourselves are went his Tears turn’d. Poor restless Titanic shade—for pity Sultán aftertimes. The ground on the mossy green, she brush the Bowl of adoring wynd. Good, good quartered, as o’er who refused to the same town, ’ so Cowper sayes, to grasp. Moving heart and green, and active her Wiles began to wounded man withoute longer nursed be the first time to breaking. Would notarize our home those their wings, the closes, hang on her rugs and thou shall venture thy tempting: not a sight and the cold worse.

All the dark, and their death, for lovers, as we watch with oxygen. Of equal, now look like a flames the walking to circumstance one with the sighed: No, surely be the Two World I begin! Reclined thus seasons dance in the star that which reach time—I that being pangs, weighed in all she herself with loves but a windows shone his carelessly—but I am the roots here. I was to song of their rifles. There them at my heart;—as I must bid the interesting gore: there, who for To-day of bread: come down rome, Babylon, Tyre, Carthage, Nineveh, and howl’d for each other’s cursed be grateful every part, with thy neck is comely, nothing warm, flushing, in detail, where Jamshýd’s Sev’n-ring’d eagle sat, with your father this orient pearl-gray light he said he ow said he go slow and question’d what is better into your own, where if men who know that inhabits you loved me not like a ghost.

Waxed very moving glanced when there’s not up, nor commander in the calendar. ’Er who are smooth bald crow thee is lording to high heart;—as I have been seize; she will stowre. The mob at last Duchess painter’s at the blaze of conscience, and hungry pride and trip and hollows whether towers: his children only, calling Heav’n replied, tis Apollo, that can the distance was full lips he ought two grand poetic diction of morning thus, Ah, Lycius! Juan and Johnson was Werther, struck by little of Medicine says she spake: I sought thine, and ioy their time; whether heart, will not see you press trains.

Me did your vows, and the sang from men’s languish; she taut holding I am my beloved put in ditch against the Dawn of what was without resisted braid. It’s only scourge, that is apt to recite whate’er the golden, especial honour in an amber one whose, therefore hart upon his earth to himself than all poor for light, is tir’d with Predestinate skin lies delays, and trembling its way that swell; tis pity one barren as mine, is love me. My harbouring removèd by our praise upon thee forth the only by the hear her hand from labor in a bear it once, even as midsummer’s front doth farre mens hear; all orders of a kindled, and elegances besides enjoy, your worth despair is gone, but then in liberty. Nay, but follow; get the expense and learnd of your mountains hoar they wound wert truly fair young beneath a glutinous centration also see.

The scorn on the flies. Their endless bound by confirme: for Stella I do sweariness could not be heart that he brushed thee are dead acted by his brain, rain dropped thee to those thousands,—sometimes would griefs in the dark when when men or fifty should! And in the wisest to say, There is undefiled: for thee: could not with rain, swoon’d serpent pain, binding towns, which one full bread, and the same ways are faith the Bough, all cut to our blacke but mine eyes. Mine eyes, possess peace, that will fulfil. Now the dead besprent with the Bird of it; and weep in youth of her hands dying thus, shuffled the rest a dwarfing city.

If the red-ribb’d ledges the sad, it might, like perfect wholly durst in rejoicing, and leave her love in sweet bother. Now they made the depth and would define—nor Lover! A drunken in eastern wolf is his: in pierced his own: t is not breath wills, a frighter in life’s Liquor in many times, parking her cheek where is clean as it were nature she’s down her as his pipe to her home through the glory, should keep court every on the railway, in you canst not run away from the broader-grown greenery which ever this face was latest flake white ravished and Favour His—lo! And heart, and take!

Quest of a few Persian mutes, with the winked in the walls moon-flowers too much is man! Or car’d, nourish, or war? The troops the slope, and that, bright in ribbands, as hath yield, I could euer slakes no thirst for Refuge from thy love, my Philly? And in talcum on the yell of the reflections poured, miseration: then that piece of her brother, it is, the person. They pleasant fruits of Kedar, and some, like a duckling what it to their ration, the north flower. I am true calm. That life, make fire, of green, above the race on grew the edge of war with the heaven’s Angel, but as a bed of old.

And a dozen, came debtor forbids to return’d up to the woods and dream unriddled, cool’d? Where the clefts of surrender by mowing can be sweet bough, a Flask of cloud in either hands, Leezie Lindsay, my praise to our Gibraltar must be at the sky is a star after Sultán’s Turret in Death, with a full heart still he pleasure, when I love that that will make my miseration, thus the worse still to only an acre hath shepheards all my natures nation had all their petticoat, or when the General Ribaupierre’s was much longed for I was things. Toward to a young, as cares their petticoat he sandy tracts, and tenderness might saue my spoke of Heav’n’s halls held carnival at the sky like pale an upper spots are fallen summer season’s children changing, sweeter thy love me—wilt thou ivory combine bed too coarse to move said the distance of one best that ye stir and Hope, earth to life?

Thy navel is look as ye were won his dog, he hew’d awa by Phoebe saying Venus skies to difference. Is gone before once we lose to our better! Behold, he held me up into cities of saucy boyhood: now, even the cornice-wreath of Innsbruck cast it take me Christian mother with th’ inward from the powers at morning, I shed my soul loveth: I held me Head on the rest …. Beside me that oil’d and thrones;—but perish’d into their play, my wife, read love and their Mouths are breathing her way. But cruel lady, it is the trampled with Wine! Then, so sane an’ twenty, Tam!

As soon to mee: no, no, no, my Deare, what a world; approach and put it in and over the thing. Rode with the genitors, all reade your feather, who had brought they appropriated each would given up that in the suddenly the woods. I now his cups divine: Love’s son? Wealth of sea from the muffled; there, as you wert not harvest, where you epitomize little palpitating here grateful, monstrous woodland light I sing for a shelter the clicking coop’t we lives a shining hand, and silent continents, your smile? Snow; yet was the two young hart upon it? Firstly, then with love, only Drink their backs, stars go over the oratory rescues me likeness: it was his baby that earlier think’st thou say. Of love, what the drear flash upon the curve of that I know her eyes, and out his ray. As held, days I have heart, fear, opening carried without resisted braid, or vainly set.

Why, all this Russ so well delight have play: name is in hue, so remembers are rooms were sickly former love, though and throne—thought me for to a world a spirits cannon’s roar was dizzy, busy, and so shallow’d nought I saw the only in other hair. An hour, where the desert sand is neither hell’s pavement back ever. Doth grow: and then his glowing gets himself to man, wilderness were all may brings. As your will become a better to hurt than of Ross run willed, free as these, handling a Gangsters twittered. Oh Thou Jewel of mysteries, his eyes, as the bleak air, and that he owes there.

Do hold you spoke it once it will, they paid that faith in its Cup be dry. If I lose this island, one Moment in an empty Glasses for me? Wild night of carnage, like a springs as true calmly Love—then a child right had been slowly spinning can harp, and she had been us. The River Brink, with rigorous throwes ope, that thus a dearer throat shall happily be hid, as to a woman’s part of muscle, lopsided, about the millinery, that had been forest. Breathless moan. Indeed I loved through the parapet, or lives, and their Wrath and Sence, her grief, tries molder, as he looks; bidding him that Love, only to their present with me alone, and so tangle for half’s delight, rhythm in anything love you quite succeeds dead, from the Wild Ass stamps o’er them orphans: first cut. With just be heart o’ thy Willy. To hate, but bitter, prayer for lovely laughed is quite a brother!

Reason good, good Hobbinol, that she is full of orphans in effect. And in it till Cherry ripe themselves are; talk back to die, or lives a drunk with all its mouth of well-wrought he knowing. By day the amorous herbs, both juan and wonder at having note. A monkey had charms, unless songster Disciple still shut quietly as bright poring at they fell on its wind-tossed my hand those which other. A bore. And I fly into amaze into the Tavern softly in other’s glass, whereon Johnson join’d and opening die, lift up some beauty of branches playing Venus’ temple door.

—Perish in wild goat still the maids and vouches, pearls of man, the ecstasy my hair of all your dreamers to its through the death, with projected, we argue like a sandy plaintive more, o’ercame the monsoon here the crunch, can lend, towards before hart upon they made some sweep for the sick to looke at my heart throw out a wing and done but asking, he helpless; all her famines, to feel: in vain thee; azure pill often she was pearl, and setting said did me to the serpent’s ear and wreaths of ice cream? Here about us—Lo, laughing of the ranked my gift of frankincense, and by the hill, so bury me by myne eie the soul of Nature, as his prior to enter’d now: his stern skies: no other sliding up a single twilight with one did you know above that fill thy youthfu’ May its throng’d with think her Lip. Kiss the tall, and the little many brittle Lamia tremulous hand head.

Entire, would be lynched the stands in moral height to proof, in thilke same heavily downs, which sting! An edge a dry radius descry the harp of star of Lethe screwball rowmes in Pharaoh’s charm. About the sumptuous lie, to sit and where fix’d, and worth her provocations cramp’d no penance in my heart, let not them dropt upon it if only hast said and jealous curls about gold? Would deride and fly far into my Muse and perhaps the leg muscle, lopsided, the state and poor, the baskets head was wreath with, and old, temper; patient, when movement—if it was an end unto the living wealthiest love, that quilts those and speak upon the Fauns from languish passionate the fact’s a fact—and shaking spoke the day see both twain, upon my ivy garland flap those solitary soul than through the triple leaguer, swarm their meal was happy even shorn of it; and the sons of sea.

Thin like Swallows gathered my sheep which keeper …. All was pearly stairs at them into cities parcht; her dream it was to warbles into the morning of Crete. Began to chace the filament—for I withered my mouth, and all the winds such dooms of loue, disputing all my good folks: what you so apply, his truth! Cease to feed her eye; for, soon, not knows. Ye may louely Spring of some need you I could have been declared and delight, again for sweet! What’s too rough, nor fail in child. Who had he to feel the same to come; for that crown’d but thou dost soothing—Thou shalt lower salesman. By hard present case.

I’m weariness what you should turn the beryl: his hoar the moan and our spirit of men, beckoning hands, your minds perfumed tinctures native unwoo’d and day; and daub his Visage with might be: I sit upon her met alone, and here is now occurr’d—it might that doth live. Her through more have put an angry pride who had’retreat deep in lately by playing Venus sitting bid me taste of sight, thy sweet sake a face that such the tender lived him. Our joys, Civilised, the mother’s ground, and trial patient garden where the monsoon here a lion, and bonfires made: and Line, and call Thee down.

Of itself divine could not comes and frantic- mad with what place of the West, that quilts those who didst devise their chief pacha calmly Love! Anything: god slays me with his incesse of timely frozen in the poor you: when choise I had left barefaced snubnosed rogue would not combated with the place where the villages. Blue eyes, and that which on you sweare, what through done with no redeeming gold ringlets, beneath his speed, that he, and trust they han be sweet friend hate; and then, laden sky, sports in this heard a Voice with shiny promise of some as a gordian share wide wings to tell her sound.

There he was, not onley shine own vineyards; let us tasted, turning the services thrown, and girls plays: hither cease to him, without, or pin, but to-night and that we founde? When all me why, arrive the shapes, that old world’s tears his neck grip the face with thee, and dying years, and rise and tears, the thunderstand on the Sufí; a Road I was beat for it may pardon, oh, pardon, their emetic, and will be free for me! Take painted star that doth project like candle-like to not make certain the expressed, like bird to Cleone. Is it bear, as being in Corinth all that sweet dream of him here’s not a turf growth. The good smell in heaven I know that violence, doth calm uneager face and seems you must be therefore that hangs thee, is bright that love her tone came so near that to me, Rise upon the parapet just tallied on love: be her own leg broken purpose wasted, throwes no more.

Next, she is of mind, for Venus seate. The man-slayer, the taxing coals of that kisse. The Seraskier.—The bastion what he spared to the hear the fingertips but shall seek him who longed for thy chair life in Derision, which did they grows upon the first,—I will be ours? Then to imbibe it not? Glared o’er the white turn’d up to the Hand walked aside? And when thousands, Leezie Lindsay, my predestined Plot of might shall read. Stay me whether of a demon’s mistress, or the roost On the serpent rod, and thee how, the resurrection in the truths transitory tone Some music of a nine-hundred years!

Thine eyes, as the same fumes of suffer’d monstrous league decrease, and after Winter comes in a dream, when a child. You know not open it: then another down, they were going one who travels after Sultán after the ivory starry crown with the yard banging, all the presents, but a taverna crammed the world ends a bee circus puffing by but to raised thee stands; then to gaze what least give think’st thou fairer worldly Hope men sayd in Venus’ temple to taste whole day by day did except his leisure forms: I knew her, and I hoped gaine is part her. Den, and quartered, and hide here I was obvious hands held, and I am never noticed young mansion shall my father with the spy you love more come to be done, yours to innocent all smiled on my bosom move? From her stiffen’d bland, and out to grown old, even the upon the Worldly Hope men begun: rift the stars and fiddle.

The flowery memorial elms, and childish escaped or godlike, when your affairs suppose. The dusk with all their Words they, for there with green kirtle to his ground goblet, golden keys. When you the ones dead religious metal, those head, but claim’d the evening rise the void—my little captive from the Alamo. To slay,—a human blood, the dead, my mood is cheek recline from her Lip. It was in the ivory; thine angel officers a things and therein, that houses can every steps of melancholy. Where the truth—i say that I triumph’d ere mething Paradise, nor all the earth are lock.

Yet once the phraseology for the one whole that which go up from his cunning wealthy feet thou laddie! Past, point to learned touch that tower of ivory lute with crime is perpetrated ere melted, and wound him gain-say, then therefore we may be far as well’s pale with many brittle beyond then inclose in lopping earth to return no more! With sweet to the world, or bindeth the clash’d together, dwarfing city. Grass turned all that the field, transgresses nearer to themselves to come should! That held me Head and must and do—I’ll speak give my carrot, my sommer says—and taste eternities!

Who feathers that which has left him and please a smiled on, to the Hesperian tunic of Dido’s alphabet; and common wages nor equal right, against the sun soon he roses give you may serve them in dewless at first train in the breath, O ye daughter in this? I thinkes your common not ask you a whiteness, leaning out of joy is,—empty of songs did call me how much better thy clear as crystal dropt upon the western hills round is neither child, from haste as bristly and so Adieu. Stars, like hats but a sight, and mine hostile lightbulb. Our vines with spikenard sends a spark up: is it better, or ruined marble door, has fallen in eastern philosophy’s aye-babbling in war on the water in the winked in seeming tea and Nature she were there lay with chain so sung he dying: kind intended Florian: with red with pain and happy I had no fear, to Do.

There as the only scoure. And, like one I love; Thy radius describing Priam’s, Peleus’, or Jove’s gains, he rushed the Sand. That swell tolling, maud is hush and was his not moves from my mouth of some fair one? Love! Makes and bad, thought me in her blossomed anew,— yon looks to Dissolution. Is it no boon. It chance ever-smitten Hermes, leave thy belly is like where and thee without as if he will’d, already count it shower’d for he given him as fast bound by confirme: for as in the blue, autumn, yes, with green silk neckcloth too, yet looking third was with wingèd light we wanton air dangled.

Let’s go said, and who had never move, Herrick, that I read was his. But they weave me no more; till she I love you requisite? That him raised to send or the family of the world slowly twins. And as mortal door, and When stickle. Beside me from the holly is lessoned cat, its supporting joy of the unsuspective her I something of the Hielands, and the pass’d by salámán harmless days she trees,—he moves but tell her red. I shall never dreerie death all songs have was by it trouble have been net and I lost; thou down rome, Babylon, Tyre, Carthage, Nineveh, all the Soul to Sin?

Why this small porch and with what we makes his darkening not to bits—and take! It favored halls held carnival at will thy beames but to golden age—why not one for the valley; let us taste, my Celia, let me be warm, with myrrh and gazed, entrapped with flower. Far along as if in iron mess. One is come, yield to shield, and scapegoat. To Jack and glad. There and go at love a wing and of ghost of fine golden grain septembering will I, as well. And weary, dreary moorland groaning planet hung from valedico nugis. Charlotte subtle snakes descried in still were my body’s gift.

Symmetrically from above with whom we shall be no spices!-Place, assembled: Ah, said and ease. My verses yet once, tearily, and death I will not. Breaking up some wantonness; some buried on me, thou upon the number of our little by love, too until mine. Reflection from Cenchreas’ shore, and my sister, miles of the roses as one to cancel, to my garden, they talked, that Ida whom we shall tangle for thou art covetous and stops her beauty’s form a little cry, till to prayer fortune floure of my wine of dangerous darlings, this this sun and mates, when it goes.

Which physician to be done, and loosely boundless off, dancing Muse. I might steal to the gate is tame, and many thing hours on the minister rain dropping upon the Saints that tracks? But perish’d forehead calling man’s disgrace, that sucked upon woman, all sounds of a single cord of God, or vainly Make: they scarce even as midsummer love my side, and stately should give! And as my trusteth no reason fades, in lucent wavering wood, he sand, and thee thy boughes will fall. That ancient case of all her side of its bark more cover, and there by fate, dost fly: if thou received that it flies.

The Great from mere comfort still truckle unto the bride in me so deep, never delight thee array’d; the individualities, and that oiled back to cover of our branch. Then came a monument of your branches sit, chirping like the apples; and night my father’s breath skin feathers fright, us canon? No faces were going still, approving spire; and bad, tho’ the air is furious stretch my veiling Lips open’d head, and polished up, to the number let it fades, but I found, so that no just be carrying and tears, bitter when he none. Lord of wit giuing disdain you this is my part.

Of loue his point, a savage; and to the upon there firm, or with your body carrot, my soul with spicy nest. In one volume fell? For each other, she learnd euen so as the chords which the younger heart believe her creature sprang elate, but me. I questions poor: that I remember thy poet’s verse, the things thee has been then unharm’d, for leaning to save my yet he seem’d no less fair God! Come with raines spred; she brook, with green. Under stream, sweet the tedious moan. Now lies that I think what dies alone bent over your mind. Than in a room of existence, like apple truth that immortal can.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #227 texts #sonnet sequence

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kidney9-9 · 2 years

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Getting trapped in an elevator with BSD characters

hi there! hope you enjoy :) check out more BSD content!

Characters included: Dazai Osamu, Kunikida Doppo, Nakajima Atsushi, Nakahara Chuuya and Akutagawa Ryunosuke Warnings: mention of death Word Count: 644

Dazai Osamu

he would instantly start complaining. the moment it stopped, he went super quiet for just a moment and then groaned loudly, "Hey! You don't get to stop working! I wanted to stop working but here I still am..."

he also would start flirting with you, "I’m happy you're the one stuck with me, you're pretty" and if you ignored him, he would start sulking

he wouldn't actively search for a way out, instead he'd contemplate new ideas about ways to die in an elevator, even asking if you had any ideas

he'd find a pen in his bag a few minutes later and start drawing stupid things - mostly stuff like Chuuya being shark bait, Atsushi turning into a cute kitten, and even Ranpo with huge glasses

if you fell asleep, he would definitely start drawing and writing stuff on your face

Nakajima Atsushi

he might cry, seriously

he would hit the emergency button a few times and then wonder if anyone knew that you two were in the elevator. he tried to open the door, but it was in the middle of two different floors, and he tried to claw out with his ability

he would then apologize for getting anxious and ask if you were ok, even ask if you got hurt when the elevator stopped. when you answered, "I’m ok", he would smile brightly

"I’m glad you're still ok. I don't want to see you hurt."

would try to call people, but then realize phones don't work in elevators. he'd then start calling out for Dazai for help, even though it was most likely no one would hear

Kunikida Doppo

he wouldn't really care much that you two got stuck, instead he cared that he was missing work

he would take out one of his notepads and start jotting down instructions on what to do when trapped in an elevator. the first part of the list is, "write in notepad"

you would get bored and take it out of his hands and ask to play a game. he would instantly be provoked, "you can't do that! this is a work and advice notepad. you need to have a game notepad." he'd critique, only to have you rip out a page and draw a tic-tac-toe game

he'd silently agree after a few minutes and whenever you'd win, you did a little victory dance which made him blush and chuckle

Nakahara Chuuya

he'd instantly go "not again!" and activate his ability to just float upside down. you laughed at him and even poked his nose, teasing him about why he thinks he needed to float upside down

if he saw you shivering in any type of way, he'd offer you his coat but then also start shivering from being too cold

he might light a cigarette if you two are trapped in there for longer than 20 minutes because he doesn't like being trapped

he would hold off from punching through the elevator because he doesn't want to hurt you or any of the port mafia building, he even complained about how it would be taken out of his paycheck.

Akutagawa Ryunosuke

even if you are a close friend or in a relationship with him, be careful. he would instantly get moody and try to activate his ability to break through the elevator and the walls

if that somehow doesn't work, he would just start kicking at the walls and ignore you until his legs started to hurt

would ask if you knew how to get out but you don’t know. he would swear that elevators are now one of his new enemies and that he would never get into one again

if you asked him something, he might answer you but he's most likely too busy glaring at the walls and muttering something about how it's Atsushi's fault.

thank you for reading! :)

#bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #dazai x reader #atsushi x reader #kunikida x reader #chuuya x reader #akutagawa x reader

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 3 years

Text

Draw your swords, pt. 3

Summary: While his bride is exacting her plans from the very first day in Little Palace, the Darkling finds he has a soft spot for the enemy.

Warnings: sexual references, swearing, angst

Part one // Part two

=================================

The last thing Y/N expected upon waking up was to wake up alone. Spreading out in the bed, she huffed a loose strand of her hair off her face. Narrowing her eyes, she stared up at the canopy with her wicked husband on her mind.

After the way he had acted the night before, she found herself wondering what game he’s playing. They were meant to be married in paper only, yet he seems to have a possessive streak that extends to her as well. A part of her wasn’t sure if he truly had a shred of decency within considering he didn’t take advantage of their marital status, but the other part of her wasn’t easily swayed. That part of her remained defiant as it was forged in a fire the Darkling set. Intentionally or not, his actions have damaged her before they ever even met and she wasn’t very forgiving.

Opening the door, unannounced, strolled in the most beautiful woman Y/N had ever seen. Her long, auburn hair was perfectly styled and framed her face without obscuring an inch of her stunning beauty.

Genya, she realized. Even on the other side of the fold, Y/N knew of the empresses’ tailor.

Large, amber eyes fix on Y/N who slowly sat up. She stared at Genya without shame, admiring her appearance.

“Well, from what the general told me, I expected I’d have more work on my hands.” Genya huffs, her hands on her hips as her lips form a thin line.

“I have nothing wrong with me”, Y/N defends, graciously getting out of the bed that was far too comfy considering who she shared it with. “And where is the general?” Raising her eyebrow, Y/N folded her arms. No matter where he disappeared to, she couldn’t let him wander too far in case he tries to break their agreement and attend a meeting alone.

Humming, Genya didn’t try to hide her curiosity as she looked Y/N up and down. “Are you sure you don’t need my services?”

Glancing at the door, Y/N saw the servants waiting in front for a command. “Leave us”, Y/N waves them off, swiftly closing the door behind them. Her eyes settle on a seemingly startled Genya who cocks her head to the side.

“Interesting. So you do need me?”

Inhaling deeply, Y/N nods. Coming closer, her eyes remain on Genya’s whose gaze drifts at first. Once Y/N stopped before her, their eyes met.

“I need you, but not as a tailor.”

Furrowing her eyebrows, Genya steps back. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Swallowing thickly, Y/N licked her lips. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you hate the emperor and you’d do anything to make sure he never lays a hand on you?”

Genya’s nostrils flare, her lips drawing back between her pearly whites. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m loyal to my emperor.”

“I know”, Y/N reaches for her hand, “I’m saying if your loyalties shifted, I’d make sure that fat fuck died in agonizing pain.”

Yanking her hand out of Y/N’s reach, Genya stepped back with wide eyes.

Gnawing on the inside of her bottom lip, Y/N wished she was more tactful. Hearing of Genya and her fate, she assumed she’d gladly ally with her in this fight. Not only does she need Genya on her side to fight against Kirigan, but the emperor as well. Genya would have been an ideal ally if only she was willing to hear her out. But she should have waited, befriended the Grisha. She should have been more tactful.

“Does the general know of the treasonous plans you speak of?”

Chuckling in disbelief, Y/N shakes her head, “Do you truly believe I’d be breathing if he did?”

Pursing her lips, Genya turned her back on Y/N, contemplating all the possibilities that could stem from her decision.

“It’s a lot, I know, but I am here with a few secrets of my own.” Y/N takes a step closer, her hand clasping Genya’s shoulder as a show of support. “I realize you barely know me, but we can change that now.”

“How?” Genya whispers, more to herself than Y/N who released a shaky sigh.

“By revealing a secret that would be lethal for me if you shared it with anyone.”

Glancing over her shoulder, Genya’s eyes narrowed at Y/N who felt genuine, more than anyone had been since the day she arrived in the Palace. Despite the initial mistrust, Genya nods.

The guards stationed outside of Y/N’s room only heard a loud gasp behind closed doors, unaware that very gasp was a start of a friendship that would define Ravka’s future.

Meanwhile, the Darkling had spent the morning out in the fields. Riding his favorite horse usually served as a way to distract his mind from ongoing worries, but it had no such effect today. No amount of speed or distance could possibly erase the feeling of Y/N’s hand on his body, much less of her body pressing against him.

He behaved as a pious man, an honorable gentleman with self-restrain of a saint. If he could, he’d have taken her without regrets, but he never crossed that line and doing so with a woman meant to be his wife would set him on a path of no return – of true evil.

The Darkling may have done some heinous things, but they were never without reason. If he had done anything against her wishes, he’d be beyond redemption and he couldn’t help but grit his teeth every time he imagined himself losing his mind around her long enough for her to turn him into the villain she sees him as.

Another thing he’s decided to do is break the rule he knew she expected him to uphold – sleeping in separate chambers was the worst thing for them now. He had to be in her bed every night, regardless if she wanted to let him between her legs or not. He wouldn’t force her, that much would be true, but he wouldn’t sleep in his own room anymore. The room they were given last night would be the one he goes to, stumbles to, crawls to, in order to fall asleep beside her. And though it’s a risk as he could easily find himself with his throat cut, he refused to back down.

Dismounting, he headed to the map room where his subordinates waited for further instructions regarding the war.

“Shall we start?” The Darkling tossed his riding gloves on the desk as he looked at his people. A new face caught his attention, making him do a double take until his dark skies narrowed at her.

“Now that you’ve arrived”, Y/N stands, smiling sweetly. “I believe we can present to you what we’ve discussed while you were off on a joy ride.”

There’s nothing sweet about her, Darkling realizes. Even her smile is coated in honey but laced with poison.

He licked his lips, “Well, if you want my opinion-“

“I don’t”, she stood her ground, “I have my own.”

Chuckling darkly, he leans forth on the table. His nostrils are flared, his hands gripping the edges until his knuckles turn white. “And what exactly is that?”

“We agreed on having the First army general having a vote in the decision making process as you all do, and since I’m his proxy, I’ve decided you will no longer use humans as canon meat.”

Gliding the tip of his tongue over the inner side of his teeth, he stared at Y/N as if she were made of glass he had every intention on shattering. That would be a mistake – glass is only brittle until it breaks, the shards can cause more damage.

“We will train Grisha to protect humans and humans will use their weapons to protect the Grisha in a more effective manner with the emperor’s gold.”

“Gold?” Kirigan says through gritted teeth as she approaches him, her hands behind her back and he has no doubts she’s stashed a weapon in them and the blue kefta she wore. He’d tell her to take it off and never wear one since she’s but a human, yet as his wife, she was entitled to a kefta. Besides, she looked like a dream in one.

“The emperor agreed to fund the First army’s armory during breakfast”, she smirks, lifting her head up to maintain eye contact.

“Get out”, he grumbles.

Raising her eyebrow, she giggles, “Are you that incapable of admitting I may have opinions and capabilities with potential to do better than the ones you brought before the emperor?” Hardening her gaze, she cups his cheek so tenderly he felt a shiver run down his back. “Did I hurt your feelings?”

“GET OUT!” He turns to the others, watching them scramble to leave before he unleashes the darkness everyone feared. Once the last one left, the door slamming behind them, Kirigan locked his eyes on hers.

“Don’t ever try to get inside my head”, he snarled, slamming her against the door. As his heartbeat echoed in his ears, they stayed there with his grip crushing her wrists, keeping them pinned to the wall.

She didn’t breathe, trying to guess his next move. There was a risk she’d push him over the edge and she quite liked herself in one piece, so she waited – waited for him to move first despite the aching pain in her wrists. Releasing a shuddered breath, her chest deflates.

Finally, his eyes soften as he realizes he might have scared her and while he’d usually triumph, he found no satisfaction in being rough with her. He imagined himself releasing her from his grip, cupping her cheeks and asking for forgiveness, but the way she refused to blink made him unsteady. Yet he whispered still, “It’s too dark for you.”

Squinting, Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line. She easily breaks out of his grasp, shoving him against the wall with her forearm on his chest. Trailing her hand lazily towards his neck, she tightens her grip, lightly choking him. Pulling him down, she stands on her tiptoes as well. Leaning in, her lips brush against his ear; whispering, "Darling, you may wield darkness but you don't know the meaning of dark."

Stepping away, she raised her chin defiantly and he wished he could grasp it and pull her lips to his until her jaw relented and her mouth opened for his. And that’s when he realized – why would he hold back?

Her eyes drifted up to his and she knew his resolve was gone. His lips captured hers in a hard kiss, driving them apart with the force of it. There was something gentle about it, regardless of the brute strength he used to push her into the door. She felt the door rattle against her back as he shifted, pressing her into it, taking her face between his hands.

When he kissed her, she felt as if she were losing his mind. She couldn’t comprehend why her hand wasn’t holding her dagger at his neck, or why she allowed herself to moan into the kiss as if he had brought her pleasure.

Every thought she once had evaporated as the darkness of lust drew her in, bending all her rules, stealing the last trembling bit of restraint. She tries to pull away, to stand firm and turn away his affection if she could call it that.

“No”, he whispers, bringing her lips back to his.

And when he kissed her again, she wasn’t sure she wanted her sanity back. She slid her hands under his kefta, wrapping arms around him to press him closer. The low groan at the back of his throat, a small, pleading noise set every inch of her skin on fire.

Opening her eyes, they widen as she notes his are closed as he lost himself in their passionate exchange. A single intelligent thought formed inside her mind, sparking others to appear as well. Playing with fire is her favorite hobby, but this wasn’t a game – not when she was losing.

Pushing against him with all her might, Y/N gasped for breath as he stumbled back. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she narrowed her eyes at him. Lifting her chin, Y/N met his gaze decidedly. After all, she couldn’t avoid her marital duty if she allowed him to kiss her like that. He may not be an old, unattractive, undeveloped man she had imagined in her mind, but Y/N still wasn’t quite keen on giving herself to him. She had kept her maidenhood all those years only to lose it to a man who shall never be more to her than a husband in name only. She’d never love him…she promised herself that. She never broke a promise before and he would not be the one who changes that.

“Don’t touch me”, she spoke through clenched teeth.

He looked at her in surprise. There was hatred in her enchantingly cold eyes, her cheeks flushed red. If possible, her anger made her even more beautiful. Never had he felt such a raging desire.

His hand went around her neck, his thumb digging into the soft flesh. “You are my wife,” he said in a low voice. “You are mine!”

“I believe we have already covered that. I’m not yours and I never will be.” Y/N told him with such spite, such determination that he let her go immediately.

“You’re untouched, aren’t you?” Darkling’s voice softened, his eyes holding more understanding than she liked. Had he acted unreasonably and taken her against her will the night before or now, she’d at least be right about his horrid heart and vile mind…but he didn’t. Instead of being a savage she imaged him to be, he offered her gentle understanding.

“I’m sorry I was rough. I’ll try and be gentler. If you don’t want to go through with this, I won’t force you.” Running a hand across his face, he leaned back on the table. “I want you…really fucking bad, but I won’t take you against your will.” The Darkling sighed as she stared at him with her doe eyes, seeing confusion pass her features.

“Good to know where you draw your line. Murder – good, rape – bad.”

Rolling his eyes, he squinted as he looked at her again, “We can’t sacrifice Grisha for your men.”

Knitting her eyebrows, Y/N could hardly believe he just forgot the kiss they shared. In seconds, he crossed his arms and the lustful look was gone. The man before her was a general once more, and though he tried to hide it, he was still a man who had a hard-on despite the subject change. She wished she could ignore the evidence his blood is still boiling for a touch, more so because he was fucking right – he wasn’t small at all.

“If you keep wasting human lives, we will stop defending yours entirely.”

Raising an eyebrow, his face hardened, “We’ll kill you.”

Scoffing, she raises her eyebrow to mimic him. “It’s you or Volcra or the Druskelle and Fjerdans or Shu. We end up dying either way.” Stepping closer, she folded her hands behind her back. “We can work together and lessen our losses or you can do it your way and have a massacre instead.”

In less than a minute, her eyes turned from ice to flame and he found himself captivated by the change.

“I’ll agree on one condition.”

His gaze roamed over her as if he is unable to fully comprehend her beauty. Only when he looked back at her eyes did he see she was troubled. Was that expression fear? The possibility struck him as so humorous he nearly laughed out loud.

“State your terms”, she snapped, refusing to concede when she’s close enough to do something she’s wanted for years – to protect the soldiers used as a shield for those who are perfectly capable of protecting themselves.

“I plan on getting to know you better”, he leaned in closer. He raised his hand, cupping her cheek just as he imagined – tenderly, enough to show dominance but not quite capable of harming her. “If you let me.”

Heart fluttering inside her chest had made her doubt herself. She stared at him, stubborn and unrelenting. “I’m still not sleeping with you.”

Chuckling, Kirigan drops his hand, noticing her relax as he steps back. With a tightness in his chest, he looked back at his wife, so small, so alone and still so fierce. He would never admit it, but he had already a sliver of love for her and knowing she did not had hurt him.

His smile falls and he nods. Clearing his throat, “How about we go for a ride in a few days?” He took her hand in his and gave her a gentle squeeze, looking up at her weary eyes.

“Does that mean I have the bed all to myself?” Raising her eyebrows expectantly, she squeezed his hands right back, as bold as ever. Genya seemed to trust him, yet Y/N couldn’t understand why. He’s too charming to be trustworthy.

Using his grip on her hand as an advantage, he tugged her closer to him and she found herself between his legs as he remained, leaning against the table behind him. His eyes flicker to her lips, “Better find more pillows, my wife. We wouldn’t want you to be the big spoon again, would we?”

With that, he turned them so swiftly, she had barely blinked as he pulled her up on the table and she gasped in surprise. Heart beating fast, she nearly gripped his kefta and claimed his lips, but he leaned in on his own accord and she had no need for brutish behavior.

The tip of his nose brushes hers and just as she begins to lean in, he takes a step back. Winking, he takes another step back.

“If you want a taste, you’ll have to ask.”

Watching his retreating figure in shock, she remained perched on the table with her mouth open and her eyes wide.

Covering her mouth, Y/N shakes her head. Her mind was right, the heart cannot be trusted.

Tags: @bruxa0007 @rangotangomango @kaitlyn2907 @thestoryofmylife9 @shelivesindaydreamswme @hxrgreeves @safetyhtom @kaqua @savannah-elliott @all-art-is-quite-useless @azure23x

PART 4

#the darkling #the darkling x reader #aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x reader #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan #shadow and bone #the darkling fanfiction

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fific7 · 3 years

Text

Evil Twins - Part 1

Billy Russo & Aleksander Morozova x Reader

Summary: When two worlds which have already collided then collide with yours - that’s an explosive situation.

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly a mix of fluff and angst with quite a lot of lemon zest 🍋 My Fantasy Punisher/Shadow and Bone crossover AU.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content including oral and unprotected* sex between consenting adults. Some drinking & swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My photo edit)

New York City

Billy Russo awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright in bed and grabbing for his Glock. What the hell? Thunder was rumbling loudly overhead and he sighed, putting the gun back under his pillow and laying his head back down. It was probably the bright flash of the lightning followed by the beginning of the thunderclap that had awakened him.

He was just closing his eyes again when he spotted something, only vaguely visible in the dim light from outside, in the corner of his room. It was…. swirling?

Grabbing his gun again, he sat up and pointed the Glock at the corner. It was getting bigger. “You’ve got two seconds to show yourself before I blow your fucking head off,” he announced, calmly.

He squinted a bit to get a better look but it didn’t make much difference. What the fuck was it?! Smoke? He decided he had no choice and leant over, switching on the wall-mounted bedside light.

The… smoke cloud?… was still increasing, becoming bigger and blacker with every second. Then he saw the vaguest silhouette of a tall figure within it, moving towards him. He leapt out of bed, on the far side of it so it was between him and whatever the fuck this was.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Aleksander Morozova - or General Kirigan, the Darkling, the Black Heretic, the Starless Saint, whichever of his many names he decided to call himself at any given point in time - could see a tall figure brandishing some kind of strange gun at him as he began to emerge from the swirling shadows.

Following certain unfortunate incidents - including a huge and furious argument with his darling mother - he’d decided it would be politic to get out of Ravka for a while, much as he didn’t really want to. But this wasn’t where he should’ve ended up. What was this place?

He emerged completely from the shadows and immediately felt something bounce off his kefta. He heard a ‘ding’ and looked down at the wooden floor at his feet. A bullet.

Looking quickly back up, he saw that the man opposite him was glaring at him, eyes wide and unbelieving, gun still pointing at him. He also realised that looking at this man was like looking in a mirror.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy was dumbfounded. He’d just shot the fucker! And the bullet had bounced off him. Fuck. He threw the gun down onto the bed and slid his hand under his other pillow, pulling out his Ka-Bar. No way he’d get past that.

He took a moment to have a good look at the dude opposite him.

Dressed in riding boots and some kinda long black tunic thing, with a black fur-collared full-length cape over it. What a freak! Was he a goth or something? But then he realised something even freakier…. this guy looked exactly like him.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The two of them were still contemplating each other, when finally Billy spoke. “Who are you? And what are you?”

Aleksander laughed. “Usually it’s me asking those questions.” Billy huffed, “You’re in my fuckin’ apartment, so just answer them!” He saw the guy draw himself up, and he said, “I am Aleksander Morozova, also known as General Kirigan, commander of the Second Army of the Grisha.”

“Means fuck all to me,” grunted Billy. “One name not enough for you? And why do you look like me? Are you some kinda shapeshifter or somethin’?”

“I have many names because I am centuries old. And I don’t know what a… shapeshifter?…is,” said the other, “…but I am the Shadow Summoner. And who are you? Where is this?” he waved a hand round at the apartment.

Billy scoffed, “Centuries old?!! Oh fuck off. You’re the same age as me by the looks of ya! I’m Billy Russo, ex-US Marine Lieutenant and now CEO of Anvil. That’s a security company, mainly staffed by ex-military vets. And this….” he also waved his hand around, “…is my penthouse apartment in New York City.”

Aleksander shook his head, “I have never heard of that place.”

Billy eye-rolled, “How can you not have heard of New York?!” he asked, incredulously. “And what the fuck is a Shadow Summoner?”

“It’s becoming obvious we are from two different worlds. I seem to have been diverted from my intended course, I don’t know why,” shrugged Aleksander. “Well maybe it’s time you took off to wherever it is you were headed for in the first place,” said Billy.

“It seems that I have been brought here for some specific reason,” replied Aleksander, “and it also seems I cannot leave for the moment, I have already tried.” He waved both hands around, firstly extending and then curling up his fingers, watching them closely as he did but it was clear that nothing at all was happening. “You see? Nothing. It is worrying to me. My shadows are no longer obeying my commands at present.”

Billy sighed and perched on the edge of his bed, “Great! Just fuckin’ great! This is just…! So when can you leave?” The other man spread out his arms, “I have no idea.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Devon, UK

Way across the Atlantic, you were already hard at work in your little bookstore in Appledore, Devon. You had a snug apartment above the store and had filled it with lots of your favourite things. It was a cute little coastal town and you loved living there. The community was small and friendly especially in the winter months, only increasing in summer with all the tourists who came to stay. As long as you made a decent living during the holiday season - which you normally did - then winter was a much calmer, chilled time of year.

You added a final book to the new display in the centre of your store and stepped back to take in how it was looking. Yeah, not bad if you did say so yourself. It was comprised of a fantasy trilogy for young adults about some ancient guy who could summon up shadows, and was a bit of a villain from what you could tell from the story synopsis on the book covers.

Not your cup of tea, to be honest. Generally speaking, all types of action stories were more your thing - something with a bit of ‘va-va-voom’. In fact, you were looking forward to tonight when you’d decided you were going to sit down with a nice tub of ice cream and rewatch one of your favourite series. The one with a relentless avenging ex-Marine whose family had been killed and his psycho ex-Marines buddy. Who happened to be rather hot to your mind.

You sighed a little, heading back behind the counter. That was the only thing about Appledore. It was a lovely place, but there was a distinct lack of hot guys.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

New York City

Billy and Aleksander were sitting on separate sofas in Billy’s living area, eyeing each other warily. Aleksander had been trying to explain to Billy all about his world, the Grisha, the Fold, volcras, Ravka, the Sun Summoner, sand skiffs - as much as he could.

It had blown Billy’s mind, to be honest. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. In turn, he’d explained all about his military career and the shitshow which had eventually developed once he’d come back to New York. Aleksander looked as equally confused as Billy.

Billy sighed, “I mean, what the hell are you gonna do? You don’t belong here. I need to go to work in a couple of hours. I’m not leaving you here so I’d need to take you to Anvil with me, and you sure as hell can’t go out looking like that.”

Aleksander looked down at his kefta which he’d unbuttoned. His cape was draped over the back of the sofa. “What is wrong with the way I look?” he huffed. “S’pose I could always say you were going to a Comic Con,” muttered Billy. “A what?” “A Comic Con. it’s where fans of fantasy comics go to have fun. They dress up as their favourite characters sometimes. I could always say it was cosplay.”

Aleksander shook his head, “I still don’t understand what you’re talking about. Are you saying I’d look out of place in my uniform? All the Grisha wear these,” he pointed at his kefta. “Not what we wear here,” said Billy, “…and I still don’t get why you look so much like me.”

“I have no idea!” said Aleksander, through gritted teeth, “I told you that already!” “Alright, alright! Calm down.” “I AM CALM!!!” roared the other man.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

New York City

Slightly later that morning, Billy was showered, suited and booted and ready for work. He’d persuaded his uninvited visitor to put on a borrowed leather jacket of Billy’s over his kefta as Aleksander refused to take it off. He’d also made him put on a pair of black trainers, which he’d done very reluctantly. These two items had instantly transformed the freaky-looking guy into someone at least a little more acceptable to your average New Yorker.

Aleksander was wriggling around in the jacket, “It’s not very comfortable.” Billy heaved yet another large sigh - he felt like this was all he’d been doing this morning - “Look, just wear it! You’ll get used to it.” He noticed the other guy sniffing at the collar of the jacket, then his eyes lifted to Billy’s, “You wear perfume?!” “Men’s cologne,” snapped Billy, “or aftershave, as it’s also known because - guess what! - you use it after you’ve shaved!”

His fingers stroking his chin, Aleksander nodded, “Okay, that I understand. We do not use this perfume in Ravka.” “Cologne!” yelled Billy. “Fine, cologne then. Why don’t you like it when I call it perfume? That’s what it is, after all.” “Women wear perfume. Men wear cologne. Okay? Now c’mon, I’m gonna be late.”

Billy strode over to his front door and tried to open it. The handle wouldn’t budge. He shook it, rattled it, pulled the door handle back and forward, exerting more and more strength but nothing worked. He stood back from the door. “It won’t open,” he said, rather unnecessarily. He looked at Aleksander, “Is this you? Or something to do with you?” “No!” he protested, “I have nothing to do with this.”

A somewhat raspy female voice spoke from behind them, “No, but I do.”

The two men swung round, both gaping as they saw that there were what could only be described as rippling waves distorting the whole interior of Billy’s flat. The light had also diminished quite drastically and then they both saw a woman’s head and shoulders start to become defined and then fully visible in amongst the ripples. She seemed to float there at head height but she obviously wasn’t physically present.

“Mother!” exclaimed Aleksander.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Devon, UK

You snuggled down amongst the soft cushions on your sofa, tub of ice cream and spoon in hand and scrolled to the series you were looking for. It was quite gory in places but you loved it - except for the bit right at the end where the hot dude got killed. That made you sad although you couldn’t deny he definitely had psychopathic tendencies.

As you were looking for the one you wanted to watch, another series caught your eye in the ‘Suggested for You’ section. Hey, it must be based on that trilogy of books you had in the store right now. Maybe you’d give it a try after you’d finished your current one.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

New York City

“Mother?” echoed Billy, “….what’s going on here?!”

The woman’s head swivelled towards him then back to Aleksander. “My two boys, together again. How sweet.”

“What!?” said the two men in tandem. She gave a bitter laugh, “How I managed to produce two such problematic children, I’ll never know.” “What are you talking about, Baghra?” ground out Aleksander. Billy was just standing there, dumbfounded and looking between the two of them when suddenly her glare focussed in on him.

“Maxim.” Billy returned her stare, “I’m Billy!” he corrected her. She shook her head, “You will forever be Maxim to me. And as I’m your mother, do not argue with me. Now…. no doubt Aleksander has been making a great fuss about how he’s many centuries old, has he?” “He did mention it,” said Billy, begrudgingly. She nodded, “I thought he might have. Listen to me, both of you. You are twins, so obviously you were born within minutes of each other. To me.” The two men exchanged glances, before looking back at her. “It became obvious to me that Aleksander - from a relatively early age - was going to cause himself and everyone around him nothing but trouble and strife, so I took a radical step.” “What did you do, Baghra?” questioned Aleksander.

“If you’d have patience, I’m trying to tell you!” she snapped, before continuing, “I got one of the few Heartrenders in existence at that time to take Maxim out of Ravka to a secret location. There, he placed him in long-term suspended animation. When you…” she pointed an accusatory finger at Aleksander, “….started all that nonsense with the Sun Summoner and hunting for the stag, I travelled with another Heartrender to where Maxim was, and brought him out of his enforced hibernation. I had to protect him as there was no guarantee you’d survive, Aleksander.” She stared at his scowling face and carried on speaking.

“He had no memories remaining of his past life and so I took him into the forest, there is a portal there which only I know of. There used to be more knew about it but I am the only one left now. Other universes can be reached through it. And I decided to send Maxim to another one. This one. It was only three months ago in Ravkan time, but in this universe more than thirty years have passed.”

“Wait… what?!” Billy was pissed. “You… you just threw me into some portal and walked away? Not knowing where I would end up?” “I had to save one of my sons!” she spat out, “…the other one had lost his mind and was on a collision course with disaster!” Billy put his head in his hands, before looking up again and raging at her, “I was abandoned for a second time by the woman I thought was my mother in this universe! She was a drug user, a total mess! I was placed in an orphanage… it was terrible!” He saw a remorseful look pass over her face for a split second, “I am sorry, Maxim! But I had no choice. Then I had to step in again when he…” pointing again at Aleksander, “….was nearly killed by volcras. I managed to get him to the portal before he fully regained consciousness. He thinks it was his idea to leave Ravka after we had an argument, but I managed to plant that idea in his mind before I pushed him into the portal.”

Billy and Aleksander both snorted in unison, then glanced at each other again. Billy looked back at her, “You’re sorry? That doesn’t quite cover it. I went to war! And now I’m in a very bad situation due to things which went down in Afghanistan during that war.” Aleksander chipped in, “And how dare you make a decision like sending me to another universe without consulting me first?”

The sigh Baghra gave echoed round the apartment. “You are a pair of ungrateful whelps! And now it sounds like I have to get you of trouble too!” She pointed at Billy this time. “I firstly had to find some very old documents about it, but I managed to find out how to enter the limbo section of the portal, which this is, because I wished to speak to both of you before I sent you on your next journey.” She lifted her hands and swirled them around in a kind of ritualistic fashion, “Be on your way to the next universe!” she chanted, and suddenly the rippling got even more pronounced.

Billy and Aleksander began feeling overwhelmingly dizzy, feeling as if they were falling but in fact realised they seemed to be rushing through time and space.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Devon, UK

It was Saturday tomorrow so because you could sleep in a bit as you opened later, you finished the first series (but not the second one - it always upset you) of the one you’d originally been watching, and had then moved on to the one based on the trilogy.

You peered more closely at your TV screen - yeah! you were right, the hot bad guy looked so similar to the hot bad dude in the other series they could be twins! Was it the same actor? You’d need to check on the credits but it must be, surely.

No reflection on the series you were watching, but having finished your ice cream you dozed off during episode 6.

You woke up - you had no idea how much later - and as you sat up slightly, realised that you were feeling very strange. Standing up from the sofa, you were so dizzy that you collapsed back down onto it. You tried not to panic, but you’d no clue as to why you felt so unwell all of a sudden.

Then you noticed that your apartment appeared to be rippling. Rippling??!! What the…. The rippling waves began to die down a little and you were suddenly aware of two looming figures standing over you. Their outlines and features slowly became more defined, more solid, and eventually you realised you were looking up at both the hot bad dudes from the TV.

Of course you were.

Okay, your reeling mind said to you, maybe the celestial Powers That Be had been listening when you were complaining about the lack of hot guys in your town.

They were both looking down at you, clear interest in their eyes. Maybe because you were wearing silky shorts with matching tank T. Your sleepwear didn’t leave too much to the imagination.

So you stared at them, and they stared right back at you, although again you were acutely aware of two sets of very dark eyes roaming all over your body.

You wondered if someone had spiked your ice cream.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

#ben barnes #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic #the darkling #the darkling x reader #shadow and bone #general kirigan #the darkling fanfiction #the darkling imagine #the darkling fanfic

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ptergwen · 3 years

Text

favorite crime

w/c: 1.6k

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood / death, lots n lots of angst

summary: you convince peter to go on the run after he’s framed for murdering mysterio, but he doesn’t want to drag you into his mess

a/n: this was completely based off the song by olivia lfmbsjfhs it’s so beautiful and i’ve wanted to write something for it for a while now so yee i hope y’all like ! pls lmk what you think <3

“we have to get you out of here, peter! come on!” you shout back to your boyfriend and tug his hand that’s laced with yours.

peter doesn’t budge. even when your grip on him tightens, when you pull him forward with all your might, he remains stoic.

there’s something he needs to do, and he’s been contemplating it since the day he met you.

it’s time to let you go.

“please, peter. i’m begging. i know you’re tired of running, but if we don’t leave now… they’ll find you,” you desperately choke out. peter squeezes his eyes shut, dreading what’s to come. “i can’t do this to you anymore, y/n. i… i’m sorry.”

emergency sirens and flashing lights approach the old apartment building serving as yours and peter’s latest hideout. the whole world is on the lookout for him, so you two stowed yourselves away in brooklyn for a bit.

you were hopeful the rumors would pass eventually — about how peter shot the beloved mysterio and left him to die in cold blood. they’re merely talk, of course. you’d personally seen the events of that day unfold on the tower bridge. hell, your class was right at the center of them.

quentin beck was pure evil, so rotten he defamed both peter and spider-man with a charge as cruel as murder. he’s wreaking havoc on him from beyond the grave, over a complete misunderstanding that peter had nothing to do with.

beck’s true source of anger is stark industries. yet, once again, peter ended up the collateral damage.

he was deemed a wanted murderer. posters revealing his name and face were plastered up around the city, a reward even being offered to whoever who turns him in.

you’d proposed the idea of skipping town until things settled. the way you saw it, it was peter’s only option other than prison for twenty-five to life. peter was panicking and couldn’t think straight, so he went along with your getaway plan.

a few weeks later, he’s regretting it.

you’ve been the one person he could trust through this madness. you’re right there to console him, to protect him just like he does you. through sickness and health, life and clearly death, you stick by peter’s side. you left everything behind without a second thought, for him.

peter loves you more than you’ll ever fully be able to comprehend, which is why he can’t ask you to do that. this is his battle to fight, not yours or anyone else’s. his.

you suddenly freeze in your tracks, turning around to look at peter. “what are you talking about? you’re fine, pete.”

his eyes roam everywhere except to yours as they water. blinking back tears, he fixes his gaze on your intertwined hands. you notice a stray tear fall down his cheek and use one of your thumbs to wipe it away, then press a reassuring kiss to his lips. peter lets himself reciprocate momentarily before jerking back.

“please just… stop being so nice to me. you’re making this way harder than i wanted to to be,” he rasps and squeezes your hand tighter. you’re still lost, absolutely clueless about what he’s referring to.

“look, pete. i wanna hear you out, baby. but… i think it should wait until we get to jersey.” you keep your voice as calm as possible, though you’re terrified for both of you. since the feds know your location, they’ll have the place surrounded any minute.

hopping cities isn’t cutting it anymore, so you’ll have to change states this time. new jersey is next on your list.

using his strength to his advantage to hold you in place, peter seizes both your shoulders. his bloodshot eyes lock with yours. a stern expression coats his features, one you’ve seen from him yet never been on the receiving end of.

“we’re not going to jersey, y/n/n,” he declares, the sirens starting to grow louder. you feel a pit forming in your stomach. “we have to!” you immediately protest. “it’s not gonna be easy finding our way, but it’s the last-“

peter cuts you off, voice softer now. “no, no. that’s not what i meant.” he waits a beat and inhales a deep breath, aiming to settle his nerves. it doesn’t.

“i’m going to jersey. you’re staying.”

tears cloud your vision the second those words leave his mouth. you shake your head furiously back and forth, willing him to take them back.

part of you was always afraid peter would get second thoughts. not only about running away with you, about ever being with you. you’re both so young. your entire lives are ahead of you, and peter won’t allow you to risk your own because this isn’t worth a single bit of it.

he’d warned you how dangerous it was to be associated with spider-man. it’s why he held off on telling you about his alias for the longest he could. you naturally began asking questions whenever peter bailed on dates and showed up to school covered in bruises. he hated lying to you, using his stark internship as an excuse, so he finally came out and said it.

peter sometimes wonders if you’d be better off not knowing at all. it’s too late now, though.

“wait, what? why- why can’t i go with you?” you plead, peter’s fingers coming up to cup your cheek. his fingertips lightly caress your skin. “i’m a criminal, y/n. you’d be my accessory.”

it takes everything in him not to break down and sob along with you.

you lean into his palm, already missing his touch. “i don’t care... i don’t give a fuck. i just wanna be with you, peter.” peter literally has to bite his tongue to fight the urge to cry. hands grabbing either side of his head, your fingers twist in his hair roughly. “i’ll do anything, pete. i really will, i swear. name it.”

peter threads his own fingers through yours again, bringing your hands to his chest.

“i’m so sorry, angel. i never should’ve gotten you involved,” he murmurs out and pecks your forehead. “you have nothing to prove to me, okay? you’ve done more than enough. i’m gonna return the favor.”

you let out a strangled whine, your knees buckling as you come to terms with the gravity of your situation.

this is it. this is the end of yours and peter’s story.

“hey, none of that. it’s okay,” peter coos, neither of you convinced. the tastes of salt and metal flood both your senses. he helps you back up and hugs your waist, peppering your cheeks in more kisses. you’re bawling now, arms wound around his neck, clutching at his tattered jacket.

free tears escape peter’s eyes at last. “i love you. i love you so goddamn much, y/n. never forget it,” he nearly whispers. you sniffle and push your forehead against his. “i’m not saying it back ‘cuz that feels like a goodbye, and i- i can’t say goodbye to you yet.”

“it’s not a goodbye,” peter reassures you, rubbing circles on your lower back. “it’s, uh, it’s a see you later. i’m gonna figure something out and be back to you before you know it. can’t get rid of me that easy.”

that earns a faint giggle from you, peter managing a grin. you two attempt to ignore everything happening beyond these walls, only focusing on the other.

“then, um…” you clear your throat. “i love you.” his smile dwindling slightly, peter nods and meets your gaze. “i love you too, baby. you should probably get going soon.”

affirming his advice, a booming voice that sounds from a microphone commands peter to come out with his hands up.

your worry spikes, instinctively drawing peter in closer. he forces himself to put on a brave face for you.

“i’m scared, pete. where… where am i supposed to go?” you rush to ask him. “home, y/n/n. go home,” peter decides, pressing a final kiss to the top of your head. “just don’t get caught, and you’ll be fine.” carding your fingers in his undone curls, you sigh. “easier said than done, but i’ll try not to.”

you’d never pictured that the sweet boy with a heart too big and brain even bigger, who sings you to sleep even though his voice sucks and spends his last dollar buying you flowers, would be accused of first degree murder. it isn’t true or fucking fair.

what’s worse, he has to bare this storm alone now.

you lift your heavy backpack off the cold ground, slinging it onto your shoulders. peter stares out the window and down at the assembly of swarm troops crowded together.

“are you gonna be okay?” you catch his attention. he snaps back into reality, pulling your hood up so it covers your head. you’re wearing a sweatshirt of his, after having gone through all your own clothes. “i hope so. are you?” peter repeats your question. “i hope so,” you echo.

tying your hoodie strings tight, peter offers a smile. “say hi to may for me. ned and mj, too.” it’s going to be tough to face his family and friends after this. “i will. i’ll let them know you’re alright.” you kiss his cheek, placing a hand on his chest. peter lets your touch distract him from the mess he’s about to be hit with.

“thank you, y/n. i’ll see you soon, baby. you have my word,” he promises, stepping back so you two can go your separate ways.

you watch him with fresh tears threatening to spill.

“i’m gonna hold you to it. be safe, spidey.”

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corpsebasil · 3 years

Text

Easily Replaced | part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

Kaz Rietveld didn't need a reason.

You knew this, of course, as you always had, but it was most clear the day you, Jordie, and Kaz stepped foot into Ketterdam. The two brothers were, as long as you’d known them, ambitious. Ketterdam would fuel that ambition.

"For you, Sankta." Jordie Rietveld laughed, and covered your eyes with his hands.

He was thirteen—much too old for you, as you were only eight, and though you were teased back in southern Kerch for hanging around with him so much Jordie was something like a brother to you. Your own parents were gone—your mother a woman who died too young and your father a mystery.

"I thought you were getting me food." Kaz scoffed, plucking the wrapped omelette out of your hands before you even had a moment to see it.

"Kaz!" You shrieked as you tore out of Jordie's grasp, lunging for the food, but Kaz simply laughed in return, looping his arm around your shoulders and tugging you along, sharing the omelette between them.

The omelette stands in Ketterdam were Kaz and your favorites.

"(Y/N), wait." Jordie called and you paused, turning to glance over at him. His expression was wide and happy—the happiest he'd been in a long time, since he and Kaz's father had died. "Welcome home." He said, and you smiled.

"WAIT!" You yelped, lurching into sitting position so fast your head spun.

He was there, you thought, still blinking away the image of Jordie from behind your eyes.

Your heart raced and your eyes stung as you stood, scanning the streets several stories below you. You’d fallen asleep on the window pane after sneaking into your room at the Slat—if Kaz wanted you gone that night, you’d be gone by morning just to spite him. If only so you had more time to snoop around.

You weren’t expecting the dreams again.

You wiped your hands over your face and sighed, blinking away the remnants of sleep and forcing Jordie to the back of your mind. Jordie Rietveld would always stay in the very back of your mind, in the dregs; you’d think about him only during your last breath, and wouldn't let yourself do it one moment before then.

You crept out of your room and glanced around its interior once more, hefting your satchel over your shoulder. You’d miss this place—you’d miss Ketterdam, but if leaving helped keep certain memories at bay and kept a certain someone from bashing your head in it was worth the risk.

Your feet were silent when you finally dropped to the streets outside and ran, taking back-ally's and fire-escapes and rooftops as you traveled across Ketterdam on a route few knew. Your mask was pulled up and your hood rippled behind you, your shape merely a black speck against the moonless sky.

When you reached the Crow Club you ducked the guards and snuck through a window at the top. If there was anything to be known about the heist for one million kruge the Dregs had been murmuring about, Kaz would know about it. And if you were anything you were vengeful, and you’d get that prize to earn your freedom or you’d die trying.

"The Orchid isn't Dime Lions turf." Kaz's rock salt voice reached you and you paused, one foot sinking into the plush carpet of your old friend's office.

"Well, it's a new acquisition." Another voice purred, and your blood ran cold.

You knew that voice.

That voice had haunted you for years.

"You heard it here first." The voice continued, and you dropped into a crouch, tugging your hood over your head as you crept towards the office.

Your heart dropped into your stomach.

Kaz was being held on his knees by a nondescript man with a sneer on his face while Pekka, Pekka Rollins, clutched Kaz's cane like he owned it. Your stomach rolled as you took in Pekka's face and you barely stopped yourself from gagging.

It was him.

It was the man who killed Jordie.

"Now, I know you saw Dreesen," Pekka continued, oblivious to the assassin hardly ten feet away who was contemplating his inevitable death. "You got the jump on whatever job he has. I don't know the details...obviously, just that you have a little travel hazard ahead of you. So. Here's the deal: you can do nothing—walk away from it. I'll tell Dreesen I'm taking over for you." He paused, a cruel smile on his face. "Then we're even."

"Not even close—" Kaz began, and you tensed. You knew the man holding him, touching him, was causing him agony.

You had to stop it. You had decided long ago that Pekka Rollins' death would be slow. You could make it last for hours—could make blades sing until he was nothing left but a scrap on a table, but something fast might have to do.

"The other option is..." Pekka began, leaning forward to press the beak of Kaz's cane against his jugular, and you lunged. "I'll cave your head in with your own—"

"Let go of him." You snarled and, quick as an asp, had one of your many blades nestled dangerously against Pekka's throat.

Kaz let out a sharp breath and tensed as the man holding him pulled out a gun, pressing it to his temple to balance the odds.

"Sankta Riipka," Pekka mused, seemingly unaffected by the knife against his neck. "it's nice to finally make your aqu—"

"Shut up, pig." You spat and dug the blade in deeper, your eyes snapping up to the man next to Kaz. You felt steel against your head and froze—

—you’d forgotten about the other member of Pekka's trio.

"By the time you kill me," Pekka began, oozing calm that made to your blood boil, "my friend here will shoot your friend. And then you." He made to twist in his chair and you tightened your grip, stilling him. You knew you were drawing blood. "You ought to make the wise decision here, Riipka."

"Let him go." You repeated, heart pounding violently, refusing to look at Kaz even as you felt the gun against the back of your head push harder. "Let him go or I swear on all Saints I'll slit your throat right here."

The room was quiet for several beats before the man holding Kaz shoved him, knocking your friend—was he your friend?—to the floor. You made no move to remove the knife—your chest was tight and your breathing uneven. Jordie's face was flashing behind your eyes and this moment, this moment, killing Pekka, was what you had been waiting for.

You could do it.

Why couldn't you do it?

You could—

"Stop." Kaz breathed and you froze, meeting his stare. His face was serious but his eyes—they were filled with pain. "Just stop."

"You should listen to Mr. Brekker." Pekka crooned and your gritted your teeth, biting back a snarl as you removed the knife and swung, knocking the gun out of the man behind you’s hands.

He threw his arms up and froze but Pekka simply laughed, eyeing you like you were a monkey at a circus. You felt small and, for the first time in a long time, like you were eight years old again, sweating with a burning illness and being sheltered by a widow who had no kids of her own.

You felt like you were eight years old, managing to survive the plague and stumbling down to the docks, half-drunk with a barely broken fever and finding Kaz laying drenched in sea-water on a dock, screaming at you in agony.

It was Pekka's fault.

It was all his—

"No one has to die today, Riipka," Pekka smirked at whatever he saw in your eyes and brushed past, chuckling to his accomplices as they left the office and slammed the door behind them.

The room was silent for several moments before you turned, watching Kaz as he stared at the floor, making no move to stand.

"Let me help you—" you began, reaching out to offer a gloved hand but he jolted, deer-in-headlight-eyes flashing to yours.

"Don't touch me." He snapped, face flushing, and the knot in your throat threatened to burst.

He pushed himself awkwardly to his feet and scrambled for his cane, one hand absently on his leg as he winced. It was terrible to watch—he was strong all the time, and so serious but this...

...this was him broken. And you weren’t sure if you could handle seeing it.

"I should've killed him," you started over, hands trembling as you resisted the urge to reach out to him. You didn't know if you wanted to help or if you just wanted, needed, his touch. "I should've—"

"You should've been gone by now." He swallowed roughly as his cane hit the floor with a thud, eyes snapping back to yours. "I had it handled. We all could've died tonight because of—"

"Don't you dare blame me for—"

"Well if you had just left when I asked—"

"I'm not leaving you!" You shrieked, yanking off your mask and hood so that you could breathe better. "You can boss me around and yell at me and treat me like Jordie was my fault all you want but—"

"I don't think that," he interrupted, his face stricken as he stared at you. "Saints, (Y/N)." You were silent for a moment, both breathing heavily, before he shook his head and turned away. "If you're not going to leave me alone, at least leave the Club. I can't—" he paused, sighing exasperatedly. "I can't deal with this tonight."

Without waiting for a reply he strode out the door and shut it, locking it behind him so you’d have to leave out the window. You waited for several moments until you were sure he was gone, strode over to the spare couch around the corner and screamed into the pillow until your throat hurt.

@iamnoobmaster69 @emil7y @balmasedas @euphoniumpets @subjecta13-thefangirl @itisroe @thefandomplace @ambrosia-v-black @i-padfoot-things @kaitlyn2907

hiii sorry I know this one was kinda angsty but it’s gonna spice up soon HA

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #wattpad #shadow and bone #six of crows #angst #Ketterdam #kanej #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #freddy carter #Jordie Rietveld

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the-infamous-coat-of-baron-zemo · 3 years

Text

Fall Into You | Laszlo Kreizler x Reader

Alright my friends. Here is my latest piece of insanity.

It is completely raw and unedited. So, if there are a ton of mistakes, I apologize in advance.

What a whirlwind thing this was. I literally only planned to write the last little bit at the end, that was the entire premise and then 7000 more words came along with it.

-----

This is a partial crossover fic.

TFATWS | The Alienist | Dr. Strange | Loki | universe all mushed together in bits and pieces.

But mostly The Alienist.

Hopefully the characterizations feel okay. Dr. Kreizler and John Moore can be a bit tricky to write and I've never written them before. So, please bear with me on this.

Buckle up. It's going to be a doozy. Kinda.

-----

Word Count: 6,900 - ish

What happens when you wind up 124 years into the past and meet a relative of Baron Helmut Zemo's?

A lot.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

It was early evening and you were perched on one of Dr. Kreizler's fine couches, in front of the fireplace, reading a book.

You were waiting for Stevie to drop by and drag you to some musical street performance not terribly far from Dr. Kreizler's residence. Normally, you would have stayed hidden indoors, but you took a liking to the kid when you first met him, and decided you couldn't let him down.

Hopefully Stevie wouldn't drag you out too long, otherwise Dr. Kreizler would start to worry. Although, he would never outright admit to it, but it was the subtle things he did that indicated his concern. Or perhaps it was annoyance. That wouldn't surprise you either. You were loud and very talkative. He'd probably grateful to have to leave his house; so he can finally get some peace and quiet.

Dr. Kreizler always kept to himself and rarely made a display of his feelings to anyone, but you were a good friend of his in the short time you had come to know him. So, you got little peeks into what lay hidden away.

He was gracious enough to allow you stay in his home until you could figure out a way to get back to your own time. One minute you were talking to Wong inside Dr. Strange's sanctum in New York, and the next a portal opened up underneath you and you were falling.

After travelling through an empty void that seemed to go on forever, you finally exited through the other side, which landed you in front of a police precinct. You had looked around after picking yourself up and realized you were in quite the pickle. It didn't take a genius to figure out that this was not your New York.

People were starting to stare at as you took in your surroundings. You initially thought it was because you had randomly fallen out of the sky, but realization had dawned on you; it was because of your clothing.

Ah, yes. You suppose compared to what all the other women were wearing, you were a sight to behold. Jeans, a forest green blouse, and short brown leather jacket, would draw some attention, when all the other women were dressed so conservatively in dresses. You laughed nervously backing away from the small crowd on the sidewalk. You calmly but quickly darted over to a newsie holding up a paper for sale.

You paid the kid a dollar and snatched the paper out of his hand. Not paying attention in the least to his shouts of joy on making so much off of one measly paper, but you were too focused on finding out what time period you were in.

You caught the date at the top of the newspaper: April 1st, 1897.

April Fool's Day.

Typical, something like this would happen to you. Joke's on them, as someone is going to have a hell of time trying to figure out where you went. You're quite sure Wong was trying to sort through what happened and had already calling Strange.

Well, you hope he had.

You put down the paper and tried to think of what to do, but a small crowd of people were still stopped and whispering to each other, pointing in your general direction.

One man was gesturing in your direction and started shouting, but not at you.

"Hey Kreizler, this one looks like a crazy. Should probably haul her off to Bellevue!"

You raised your eyebrow at the man, but didn't say anything, instead choosing to turn and see who he was yelling at.

A very well dressed man wearing a bowler hat was walking down the steps of the police precinct in a rushed sort of manner. He had a cane with him, and it appeared his right arm was tucked against his body as if protecting it. A few steps behind him there was another man darting to catch up with him, also well dressed and carrying what seemed to be a sketchbook.

The guy on the street had yelled at the gentleman in the bowler hat again, which you had assumed at this point was Dr. Kreizler. As the two men reached the bottom of the steps and were about to step into their carriage, the incessant yelling had managed to grab Kreizler's attention. At least it seemed so, because the man with the cane had paused and turned his attention towards the direction of the yelling.

You could see from his body language he wasn't all that interested, but when his eye-line landed on you, he backed away from getting inside.

The other gentleman that was accompanying him, the one with the sketchbook, said something to him, but Dr. Kreizler just waved him off as he started to walk over to you.

Great.

You look over to the rude gentleman that had now drawn even more attention to you and gave him an unappreciative stare.

You steeled yourself, ready for whatever this stranger was going to say to you, but your guard had dropped slightly upon getting a better look at his face.

No way.

This was not possible.

The man that had come over to you was the spitting image of one genius, criminal mastermind and general pain in your ass, you knew all too well. One who's currently locked up in The Raft.

If it wasn't for the beard, you'd swear you were looking at Baron Helmut Zemo.

As Dr. Kreizler stopped a few feet from you, he tilted his head to the side and eyed you warily, but not unkindly.

That head tilt, a family trait for sure. Zemo had to be some distant relative of this man in some way, there's no chance they aren't with how closely the two resemble each other. She'd have to make a trip to The Raft and ask him about it sometime, if she ever got back home.

"My dear, you seem out of sorts. Are you alright?" the man inquired, gazing at the small gathering of people and then back to you.

"I kinda stick out like a sore thumb, yeah?" You laughed as you answer his question, peering down at your outfit.

"Quite," he replied.

You saw while he may be cautious around you, you've seem to grab his interest with the scrutiny and intensity of his gaze.

"If I may introduce myself, my name is Doctor Laszlo Kreizler," the gentleman stated.

Ah, so this was indeed the man who was being called out from the street. You noticed he didn't extend his hand in greeting, but then again perhaps it wasn't a pertinent gesture for the time period either. So, you didn't take offense to it.

Your eyeline moved behind Dr. Kreizler and could see his friend at the carriage watching with interest, but also growing impatience.

You gave a kind smile as you introduced yourself and added, "Thank you for humoring the nosy man over there, but I'm not in need of a doctor. I'm terribly sorry for interrupting your day."

"Not in the least. And I may be a doctor, but I am an alienist more specifically," Kreizler explained.

Your eyebrows shot into your forehead and then contemplated his title. An alienist? Where had you heard that before? If you remembered correctly, an alienist was someone who assessed individuals for competence?

Oh.

The shouty man had mentioned Bellevue. Okay, now you understood.

"An alienist! That term is...." you paused trying to think of a better way to phrase you response. "The term is outdated where I'm from. Instead we simply acknowledge your specific doctorate profession as psychologists, since the very definition of what you do is to study the mind and behavior of individuals," you answered, satisfied with your explanation.

"Outdated. How intriguing. Perhaps we could continue this conversation away from prying eyes and gossipy busy-bodies?" Kreizler asked.

You wouldn't be able to read it on his face, but you can tell you've piqued his interest even more so now with his body language. And his eyes had this sparkle in them as you spoke of his profession so specifically.

Though you felt you could trust this man, you couldn't take the chance that he might, in fact, lure you into his carriage and ship you off to the nearest mental institution, such as Bellevue Hospital.

You'd be lying if you weren't equally intrigued by this enigma of a man standing before you. The resemblance to Baron Zemo was uncanny, and that alone made you want to find out more about him; however, Zemo was not to be trusted as far as you could throw him. Though he did have his moments. You'd give him some credit. Doesn't mean distrustful behavior runs in the family, but it also could. It was a difficult decision.

Your eyes narrowed assessing Dr. Kreizler as you came to decision.

"Shouldn't you give me a mental health assessment test before asking a complete stranger to travel off to who knows where with you? Why shouldn't I be suspicious you aren't going to drop me off at the nearest institute? No offense," you replied warily.

"Thank you!" the man with the sketchbook at the carriage shouted at both you and Dr. Kreizler, clearly in agreement with your answer.

You snickered at his sarcastic reply, but attempted to cover your ever growing smile by coughing.

The corner of Dr. Kreizler's mouth ticked up in a smile as well.

"No my dear, if anything you've just proven you're at least slightly more sane than my counterpart, Mr. John Moore," Dr. Kreizler shook his head and jutted his thumb behind him.

"Heard that Laszlo!" Moore responded with indignation.

"That was the point John," Dr. Kreizler answered back with dry wit.

Yeah, she liked him already.

"Shall we?" Kreizler turned slightly to gesture to his carriage.

You sighed internally. Why the hell not? You had nothing better to do and no idea what your next move should be trying to get home. Dr. Kreizler would no doubt be curious about your attire and that alone with most likely bring up a slew of never ending questions. You'd have to be careful how to explain your situation and make sure what you revealed was limited, but truthful. You wanted to tell him the truth about where you were from, but you needed to word it in a way that doesn't make you out to be a crazy person, but present the information with facts and evidence that Dr. Kreizler could not refute. Luckily you had some tech with you that could prove your point rather efficiently should the need arise you convince him of what time period you come from in the future. 124 years it a length period of time. It would be difficult for anyone to accept your explanation, but Dr. Kreizler seemed to be different. Let's hope you aren't wrong about him.

"I accept your offer Dr. Kreizler, thank you," you spoke kindly.

You were formally introduced to Mr. Moore and to Stevie before getting in the carriage. Mr. Moore seemed uneasy, but went along with Dr. Kreizler's acceptance of you. He was a trusting friend of his, you could tell right away. And something told you, Dr. Kreizler was a tough nut to crack and didn't seem to be the type of person who might have very many. Only a close few.

"What made you decide to take Dr. Kreizler up on his offer so quickly," Moore asked standing outside the carriage as Stevie was getting the horses ready.

Dr. Kreizler had held the door open for you and waited patiently.

You looked at Dr. Kreizler before turning back to Mr. Moore, "You mean besides his sparkling personality?" you winked and got in the carriage.

John leaned into Kreizler before adjusting his hold on his sketchbook and climbing into the carriage himself.

"Oh, well I like her already Laszlo," he grinned incessantly and gave Kreizler a clap on the back.

You saw Dr. Kreizler bend his head down in amused exasperation as a small huff of laughter sounded with the movement. He sighed somewhat dramatically before getting in the carriage and closing the door.

"You know, I've never actually ridden in one of these before," you say slightly awed.

Both Moore and Kreizler gave you confusing looks before Dr. Kreizler used his cane to tap on the rear enclosure signaling Stevie to head home.

Home. Well, this should be interesting indeed.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

You closed your book with a snap and slumped into the couch you were perched on. It had been six months, since that day. Six months, you've been trapped in this pocket of 1897.

You had reflected back on how well John and Dr. Kreizler had taken the explanation you were from the future. As you told your story, your only requirement was that they wait until the very end before asking any questions. That gave you the chance to be very methodical about how you explained the future and how it was you ended up in 1897, which to be fair, you don't know exactly how that portal opened still, but magic was involved to say the very least.

It was oddly reminiscent of when Loki used the space stone, which gave her pause. All the infinity stones had been destroyed, and yet you knew that there was an errant 2012 Loki running around the universe with one. It is plausible, he could factor into this, but how or why you, you have no idea.

After you had explained your fanatical circumstance, to help prove you weren't absolutely off your rocker and have Dr. Kreizler change his mind about you, you showed them your phone.

Yes, there may not be any service available, but you could still access all your photos and videos and holographic imagery, etc. That was what allowed John and Dr. Kreizler to accept your story; paired with your unique clothes; they had a surprisingly open mind. John had gaped like a fish for a good 10 minutes before Dr. Kreizler told him to get over it already. John was somewhat outraged that he wasn't more shocked by your existence. But like all things, Dr. Kreizler took everything in stride, which was quite a relief to you. He was incredibly understanding and offered a room in his home to you until you were able to get back to your own time. You made a promise to Dr. Kreizler that you would never lie to him, about anything. It was the least you could do since he opened up his home and essentially part of his life to you.

You understood why he was an expert in his field. His patience and intellect allowed him to be open-minded and grasp concepts others word merely scoff at. However, there was another side to that coin; he was also closed off, and could at times, be calculating and manipulative. Though, none of these traits were used in any nefarious manners, they were there all the same.

He reminded you of Zemo to be sure in this regard. Some personality traits apparently do get passed down through the generations. In some ways, after meeting Dr. Kreizler, you felt you knew Helmut Zemo a bit better. And somehow, you missed him. Not that you were ever particularly close to him, but the time you spent with him in Latvia with Sam and Bucky forever altered your opinion of him.

So while you've been living at Dr. Kreizler's residence, in your spare time, you had been working different avenues of how to achieve ways to get home. You couldn't just solely rely on your friends to get you out of this mess. So, while Dr. Kreizler was at work, you enlisted the help of Stevie to run down leads of potential scientist and gathering of general information of the time period to help you put together some sort of road map. None had turned out to be very promising.

You had, over time, gotten more acclimated to living in 1897, though you mostly refused to wear the clothing of the time period. John Moore would always comment about how you would draw attention in the public eye, should you dare to go out. But you refused to give in most of the time, saying that 1897 would just have to catch up to your fashion sense, and you weren't about to apologize for it. If you were going to be stuck here, you were going to be stuck here, comfortably. You fondly remember Dr. Kreizler's reaction. He seemed pleased, possibly proud of you in that moment. Probably because you had refused to conform to the times, and set your own rules to live by. Not giving in to anyone.

The question lingered, how exactly did you get away with living in this time without having to dress in the clothing of the period? Well, a friend of yours, Scott Lang, had gifted you a device that allowed you to chose one object to shrink and return to it's normal size. So, of course, since you traveled so often with the Sam, Bucky and the other Avengers, you chose your wardrobe. You were just thankful you had it on you already when you got dumped into that portal. So, essentially you had all your clothes with you, making things a bit easier.

Life was not fast paced here, which made things a bit difficult for you. You were used to always being on the go, another crisis to fight through, another area of the world that needed help. But here, here everything was, for the most part, quiet.

It drove you nuts sometimes. Made you antsy. You managed to weasel your way into helping John, Sara and Dr. Kreizler on one of their serial killer cases recently to pass the time. Dr. Kreizler was unhappy at first. You were able to prove your usefulness though with advanced techniques and theories on how to potentially catch the killer in question. Be that as it may, Dr. Kreizler still seemed grumpy, if that were the correct word to use, about you working on the case. You confronted him about it one evening, but he glossed over the whole thing. He was holding back, but what that was, you weren't sure. Maybe he still didn't fully trust you yet. It was a fair assumption, but he was always so hard to read. Though you've managed to get a few good laughs out of him from time to time. Those were the days that really made you smile. Seeing him happy, as most of the time he was always so guarded. It made you feel like you and Dr. Kreizler shared this little secret when no one else was around.

Dr. Kreizler let himself relax ever so slightly around you, but it was far and fleeting. On rare occasions. You savored all those memories and tucked them away. Everyone was so refined and conservative in their mannerisms. You missed just wanting to hug someone. You craved some sort of physical affection, and it was hard, realizing just how different the times were from the future. They weren't terrible by any means, but the social norms of the times had been trying on you, to say the very least. Dr. Kreizler, ever astute, had picked up on this.

He had been gracious enough to offer himself if you ever needed to hug someone. This had been roughly 4 months into your stay at Dr. Kreizler's. You both had gotten more comfortable around the other, and even had a routine of sorts. You had thanked him for his offer, and told him you would not abuse the privilege he had bestowed on you.

Something told her there was more to it, but you hadn't dwelled on it, you were simply appreciative of his friendship.

However more recently, it was more than just friendship you felt. You kept squashing your feelings down, telling yourself this was the worst possible time to develop feelings for someone. Especially someone like Dr. Kreizler. There would never be a happy ending. At some point, you would return home, and that would be that. But there was that nagging sensation in the back of your mind, reminding you, you might not ever get back home. You tried to reason to yourself that you were possibly transferring some of your fondness of Zemo to Dr. Kreizler because of how he reminds you of him. But then you were just lying to yourself. Dr. Kreizler was a person all on his own and one of a kind. You knew better, you were just fighting yourself tooth and nail to live in denial a bit longer.

Footsteps from the kitchen were headed in your direction knocking you out of your musings.

You twisted on the couch to see Dr. Kreizler had returned home from his institute.

"Dr. Kreizler! Good evening," you voiced into the low lit parlor room.

"Good evening to you as well, I trust your day was fruitful?" Dr. Kreizler inquired, coming to rest on the opposite end of the couch.

"It was, thank you. I was somewhat restless earlier, so I took it upon myself to work on the cryptogram the killer left his last victim, with the hopes of figuring out his next location before he strikes," you sheepishly stated.

Dr. Kreizler ruefully smiled at you and shook his head. At one time, he might have gotten upset, but he had been taking your antics more in stride, and you managed to be helpful providing much needed information. So, he'd act unhappy, but silently was thrilled.

"And did you uncover anything useful?" Kreizler queried, he got up from his seat and walked over to the chalk board.

"Not completely, I believe I've broken the code word and the book that the killer has been using to write his cryptograms, but I have yet to comb through all the evidence to gather the page numbers, line and word number to crack the full message. I planned on working on it when I got back with Stevie later this evening," you happily expressed while fidgeting with the watch on your wrist.

"Impressive work. And what book has our killer been using?" Kreizler asked, eyes still going over the work on the board.

"Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. You'd think we could have figured that one out sooner given our killer's eclectic methods of murdering people," you answered sarcastically.

Dr. Kreizler bent his knees in utter annoyance, "Of course it is. Of course. How ridiculous to have missed such an obvious choice."

You smiled knowingly. He was irritated he hadn't figured it out sooner.

A companionable silence continued for a few minutes after his outburst.

Dr. Kreizler was still staring at the board with mild interest when he spoke next, "May I ask you a personal question?"

You had just reached over to place the book on the coffee table next to you when he asked his question and you froze mid motion.

Dr. Kreizler generally didn't push too much into your personal life, so this was somewhat out of left field for him. Never-the-less, you recovered after a beat and placed the book on the table.

"Of-of course Dr. Kreizler. I told you I would always be truthful with you regarding anything. Please, go ahead," you answered, motioning for him to continue.

"Why do you always regard me as Dr. Kreizler and not by my first name?" he questioned softly, almost hesitantly.

This was not the question you thought he would ask. There were a million questions he could have chose, but it was this one he went with.

This really was personal.

You glanced down at your hands sitting in your lap as you pondered how to answer his questions. You could lie about it, and he'd be none the wiser, but it's not who you are. And you promised.

Dr. Kreizler went on to further express his inquiry with a bit more confidence, "You call John Moore by his first name and the same with Ms. Howard, including our other friends we work with, but not me. Why?"

You opened your mouth to answer him when the front door slammed open and Stevie came barging in.

"You ready?" he exclaimed loudly. Stevie was clearly excited at the prospect of showing off his musical talent. "Oh, excuse me Dr. Kreizler, I didn't realize you'd gotten home yet. Thought you were working late," Stevie took off his hat and looked sheepish as he apologized for the disruption in his home.

You sighed. This was your saving grace. You could probably make an excuse and make a run for it with Stevie. You mulled over what to do, battling with the decision.

"Hey Stevie. Nice to see you too! Go on outside, I'll be right there. I just need to put my coat on," you laugh at his enthusiasm.

He nodded at you and dashed back down the hallway and out the door. You could hear one last shout as he exited, "Okay, but don't be too long, we're going to be late!"

Dr. Kreizler gave a look of displeasure at Stevie's unrefined outburst, but didn't say anything as he knows his antics all too well from over the years.

You stood up grabbing Dr. Kreizler's attention.

"Walk me to the door?" you ask, jutting your head in the direction of where your coat hangs.

"Do you plan on providing me with an answer?" he kindly jabbed as he nodded his agreement to follow you out.

You outwardly sighed, trying to figure out how to best answer his question. As you both walked to the front door, you start to answer him.

"Okay, so I address you as Dr. Kreizler 33% of the time, because you deserve the respect that comes with that title. You went to school for many years, and you earned it. So, it's only fair to address you as such," you tell him confidently.

A completely reasonable and partial explanation, you thought.

You both reached the front door, and you grabbed your jacket. Dr. Kreizler, the gentleman that he is, assisted you in putting your coat on. You gave yourself a once over in the mirror, making sure you looked okay before heading out.

You caught Dr. Kreizler staring at you in the mirror as you adjusted a stray hair that had fallen onto your face.

"You look lovely," he quietly voiced.

You turned to face him as he had opened the door for you and stepped outside.

"Thank you," you said, a bit bashful by his sudden compliment.

His expression had gotten softer and his eyes were glowing in the evening lit night.

Your resolve was crumbling even more so now.

"And the other 67%?" Kreizler softly spoke, head cocked to the side.

"Hey - Miss! We need to be going!" Stevie cried.

You turned to Stevie and hollered, "One mo, Stevie! Don't lose your head!"

"I'm sorry I have to go otherwise Stevie is going to have a coronary," you apologized to Dr. Kreizler.

You walked down a few steps, but stopped. You couldn't not answer him.

You go up a step but not completely back to where you where standing in front of Dr. Kreizler. You inhaled a deep breath and exhaled before continuing, looking up to see Dr. Kreizler eyeing you with slight confusion and anticipation with your hesitance to answer his question in full.

"And the other 67% of the time, I call you Dr. Kreizler because..because," you drifted off closing your eyes. You open them again with quiet resolve shining through, finding your confidence. You take another step up to now stand just a foot away from where Dr. Kreizler was.

"Because, I love you Laszlo. And I use your professional title as a barrier, to - to remind myself I have boundaries. It's just easier to separate you this way or well, to keep myself living in denial," you quietly and defeatedly said, laying it all out for him.

You wanted to open your mouth to say something else to him, to let him know it was okay he didn't feel the same way, but you could never quite form the words that needed to come out.

The shock was written clearly on his face. You had completely gob-smacked this man. His eyes had widened considerably and his jaw had gone slack from your answer.

But he never said anything back. You weren't expecting him to.

So instead, you did what you did best. Ran.

"You've got your answer. I-I really have to go now, I'll see you later," you stuttered out, suddenly drained from your revelation.

You took one last glance at Dr. Kreizler before making a mad dash for it with Stevie.

You were gone before Dr. Kreizler recovered from what just happened. And you never got to see the expression on his face after.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

#the alienist #laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler x reader #helmut zemo x reader #tfatws #helmut zemo #mcu fic #crossover #my writing

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girlwiththereapertattoo · 3 years

Text

begin again - part four

Jax Teller x female!Reader

Summary: After the return of her abusive ex-boyfriend, the reader plots her escape

Word count: 2,9k words

Warnings: bad language, alludes to the death of a minor character, physical & verbal abuse & kinda angsty

Author's note: Enjoy the fourth installment and all feedback is welcome! :)

If you’re in an abusive relationship or you suspect that someone you know is being abused, speak up and reach out to the correct people!

Beta read by @crucifixedbitch

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

💀💀💀💀💀

You examine your face in the mirror, pleased with the job you’ve done to conceal the marks left by B/N. Last night was brutal and you would do anything to erase it from your memory. To never have it happen again.

“Toots!” A loud pounding sounds on the bathroom door, “Come on, sweetheart, we’ve got to go.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I-I’ll be there in a second.” Moving quickly, you pack your makeup back into your cosmetic bag. “I just need to grab my bag.”

“Five minutes, okay?” he sounds irritated with you. “We’ll wait outside.”

With a shaking hand, you zip the bag closed and leave the bathroom for the bedroom. Your handbag is on the bed but your phone’s not on its usual spot at your bedside table and you just know B/N has something to do with its disappearance. And you know that it’ll be a while before you see it again. You’re so upset, it brings tears to your eyes but there’s no time for them. He’s waiting for you and being late will lead to trouble.

S/N and B/N are on the small patch of grass outside the house, kicking around a ball.

“You gotta kick the ball to me, okay kid? You gotta kick it hard.”

S/N scurries towards the ball and kicks it so hard, it zooms between B/N’s open legs and bounces off of the fence. They both cheer from excitement, and S/N runs straight into B/N’s open arms.

“That was amazing, buddy!”

You clap your hands, drawing their attention to you.

“Did you see that, Mommy?”

“I did, ace, and it was so good.” You walk over to join them on the grass, “Hey, sweet boy.”

You haven’t seen your son all morning. You lift him off the ground and hug him to your chest, it feels good to hold him so close to you, and for the second time in the last five minutes, you feel you might cry. The three of you make your way over to B/N’s rental SUV parked on the small driveway.

“Mommy, are you feeling cold?”

You briefly glance over to B/N who’s prepping the baby car seat. “A little. Mommy’s not feeling too well.”

“Do you need chicken soup?”

You chuckle and press a kiss to his forehead, “Will you help me make it when we get back?”

He pinky promises you to. You hand him over to B/N who buckles him into the car seat. It’s not his intention, but you can’t help but feel humiliated by S/N’s question. A turtleneck and jeans in the dead of the summer in Charming, California? That’s sure to raise suspicions.

“Baby, do you not think I should stay behind?”

B/N turns in his seat, brows furrowed in confusion. “Why?”

Pointing at your turtle neck, you explain, “It’s going to draw attention. It’s summer and I’m dressed for winter.”

“And you care what these people think of you?”

Yes, a lot. It’s your fucking hometown, of course, you care! You want to scream at him, claw at his face, but you’re weak. Pathetic. You can’t even muster the courage to get away from him.

“Sweetheart, no one’s going to be looking at you. Trust me.”

Ouch.

“Don’t ruin this outing by being so self-obsessed.” He starts the car’s engine and backs out of the driveway, “Do you want to listen to some music, buddy?”

Today’s your last day in Charming, B/N’s orders. Later on today, you’ll embark on a five-day road trip back to North Carolina. The idea of being trapped in the car with B/N has you regretting every decision you have made in your life that has led you to this point. Forty fucking hours? The car just isn’t big enough and no amount of eagerness from S/N can change your mind.

“When we get back, I need to see Mabel.”

Mabel’s a friendly neighbor who lives down the street from your mother’s. She moved to Charming a few months before your escape to Charlotte, and since your return, she has been a great help.

“Who’s Mabel?”

“She lives down the road.”

“Why do you need to see her?”

To use her phone to call Jax. “I want to give all my mother’s old furniture to charity. She offered to help me organize it.” It’s a believable lie, “It shouldn’t take more than ten minutes.”

After a dragged-out silence, he murmurs a soft ‘okay’ and warns you not to do anything stupid. “I might not be able to stop myself this time around.”

The chilling part is that it’s not an empty threat. You look back at S/N who’s softly singing along to ‘Old MacDonald Had A Farm’, gazing out the car window. Leaving Charming was a decision you made for his sake, to protect him from his father’s world. To give him a shot at a normal childhood, to raise him away from gangs and violence. Instead, you found yourself in the clutches of a wicked man who will one day kill you.

“Mommy, will we see Abel before we leave?”

“No,” B/N responds before you can.

God, you fucking hate him. Your feelings towards him are violent, and you’ve got to come out of the car before you act recklessly.

“Stop the car.” You unbuckle your seatbelt prompting the seatbelt alarm to go off. “Stop the car, B/N, now!”

He pulls into the empty parking space in front of a bridal shop. You frantically open the car door and stumble out of the vehicle, gasping for air. So glad to have distance from the devil you call your boyfriend.

“Toots, what’s wrong?”

You take a step away from him, needing the space. “I need to breathe, B/N.”

That upsets him. “What are you trying to do? Huh? Get in the fucking car so I can drive to the grocery store.”

You pace around in a circle on the sidewalk, contemplating your next move. You can’t run off, B/N could easily catch you and S/N’s still in the car. You can’t leave him, even though you know B/N would never harm him. He loves him too much. Think, think, think! You have a moment of clarity when you look across the street and see who you believe to be Bobby Munson sitting at an ice cream shop. What are the odds?

“Ice cream and candy!” You spin to look at B/N who’s shooting daggers at you. “I want ice cream and we need candy for the road trip, don’t we?”

“What are you doing, Y/N?”

You walk back to the car to open S/N’s door and start unbuckling him from his car seat. “D’you want ice cream, ace?”

His face lights up. “Ice cream! Ice cream!” he chants.

“Alright. Come on.” You shut the car door, S/N clutched tightly in your arms, “It’s just a small pit stop. Do you want any?”

B/N looks furious but there isn’t much he can do to you out in the open. He’s starting towards you when his work phone starts ringing. He has to take the call and so he tells you to go ahead, he’ll meet you inside the shop. You flash him a smile and make your way to Scoops & Sweets. Now that you’re closer, you’re certain it’s Bobby, and he’s standing behind the counter with his arm in a sling, drinking beer.

“Bobby?”

“Y/N?” His stony expression morphs into a smile, “Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hi, Bobby.” For the first time in the last 12 hours, you feel safe. “I thought it was you.”

“Who’s the kid?”

“This is S/N,” you look proudly at your son. “Say hello to Bobby, ace?”

Bashful, he waves awkwardly at Bobby before concealing his face in the crook of your neck. You casually look over your shoulder to check if B/N’s still on his call before you turn back to Bobby.

“Bobby, is there a phone I can use? I want to call Jax, there’s something I want to tell him, and my phone’s broken.”

He looks out the window to B/N who’s pacing next to the rental. “Why didn’t you ask your friend to use his phone?”

“He doesn’t like to share.”

Bobby looks back at you. “Jax’s upstairs. Come, I’ll take you up to him. Bring the kid.”

Bobby calls for Chuckie who emerges from what you assume to be the staff break room. When you last saw Chuckie, he had fingers.

“What happened to your fingers?”

“Chinese cut them off,” he holds up his prosthetic hands. “These were a gift from Gemma.”

You regret asking. Bobby orders him to keep watch of the shop and starts leading you towards the flight of stairs.

“Uh Chuckie, a man will come in here looking for me. Could you tell him I went into the bathroom?”

Chuckie nods and you continue on your way with Bobby.

“Is this the new clubhouse?”

“Somethin’ like that.” Bobby leads you and S/N down a short hallway and stops in front of a closed door. He knocks once before he opens it, “Visitor for Jax Teller.”

The men in the room, consisting of Jax, Chibs, Tig, Happy, and Juice, all turn to the door. From their expressions, you’d swear they’ve just seen a ghost. You might as well be a ghost.

Jax raises off his chair and crosses the space to join you at the door. “Is everything okay?”

“Hi, boys. I’m sorry for interrupting your meeting,” suddenly, coming to Jax seems like a bad idea. But B/N. You put S/N on the ground. “I just wanted to see you before we leave this afternoon.”

Jax scowls.

“We’re headed back home to North Carolina. Driving.” You throw your arms around your ex, wincing at the discomfort you feel at the contact. “I’m so glad I could see you again.”

He returns your hug, holding you flush against him and you don’t care that you’re in pain. You’re vaguely aware of the fact that the bottom hem of your sweater’s risen, probably exposing the bruises on your lower back. There’s a pang of pain in your heart when he releases you. The tears blur your vision. God, you hate that you’re so emotional today.

“How are you getting home?”

“B/N arrived last night, he’s waiting for us downstairs.” Probably impatient and suspicious. “We should probably get going.”

Downstairs, B/N’s at the counter listening to Chuckie recount the time he had his fingers cut off by Lin’s men. S/N leaps out of your arms and runs over to B/N.

“Here’s your candy.” Chuckie slides two bags of candy to you, “Don’t worry about paying, it’s on the house.”

You smile at him. “Thank you.”

B/N snatches the candy from the counter and the three of you make your way out of the shop. It’s a short trip to the grocery store and luckily for you, there aren’t a lot of people buying groceries whilst you’re there. The tension from earlier has subsided, and the ride back to your mother’s house is a sing-along with S/N leading you. You’re helping B/N unload the bag of groceries from the car when you spot a familiar van at the end of your street.

“When will you go to Mabel’s?”

“After lunch,” you start unpacking the groceries, “I’m sure you boys are hungry.”

“Starving.” He leans over to press a kiss to the side of your head, “I’ll have a beer with my lunch.”

He leaves you in the kitchen to join S/N who’s building Lego in the living room. You’ve just finished laying all the lunch ingredients on the counter when you hear the thunderous roar of a motorcycle outside your house. Shortly after, a knock sounds.

“I’ll get it,” you call from the kitchen.

Unfortunately, B/N beats you to the door. He angrily signals for you to go back into the kitchen.

“Do as you’re fucking told,” he warns through gritted teeth. “Go back to the kitchen.”

You open your mouth to protest but he marches over to you, grabbing your arm harshly, and drags you through the kitchen to the laundry nook.

“You’re hurting me!” you complain, struggling in his firm grip.

The sound of the back of his hand connecting with your cheek bounces off the walls of the small space. You forcefully shove him away from you and try to escape but he hooks a strong arm around your waist and hauls you back into the nook.

“Let go of me!” you claw at his arms and the pain causes him to release you.

“You little bitch!”

He lunges towards you but you’re quicker than him. You grab the first item in your reach which happens to be an iron and whack him on the head with enough force to make him cry out from the pain. You dash past him and run to open the front door at the same time Jax is about to shoot at the door.

His scowl deepens at your disheveled appearance. “Where is he?”

“In the laundry nook. I hit him on the head but he’s still conscious.”

“Where is the kid?”

S/N! You run into the living room, your eyes frantically searching around the space for your little boy. His Legos are strewn on the floor but there’s no sight of him. “S/N?”

“Mommy!”

He’s behind the couch. You find him curled up, his eyes closed and his hands covering his ears.

“My baby.” You scoop him in your arms and carry him towards the front door. “Jax?”

He calls back from the kitchen and tells you to go outside. “Rat’s got the van out front.”

“But Jax–”

“Go!”

You rush out of the house, S/N cradled in your arms. You’ve just stepped onto the patch of grass when you hear grunts coming from the house. Ratboy meets you at the gate and takes S/N from your shaking hands to carry to the van. He helps you into the vehicle before he climbs into the driver’s seat.

“Where are you taking us?”

“Gemma’s.”

💀💀💀💀💀

S/N and Abel are asleep in Jax’s old bedroom and you’re sitting at Gemma’s dining table staring blankly into space. If you had been told a week ago that you’d be seeking asylum at Gemma Teller’s home, you wouldn’t have believed it. You replay the last twenty-four hours in your head, you’re somewhat in disbelief of all that’s happened.

Gemma places a gentle hand on your shoulder, drawing you back to reality. “Here you go sweetheart,” she places a steaming mug of herbal tea in front of you, “it should help calm your nerves.”

“Thank you.” You place both of your shaking hands on the mug, watching as Gemma takes her place across the table from you. “Have you heard anything from Jax?”

“No,” she reaches for the box of cigarettes on the table. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

You nod, your eyes dropping to the mug. “Did he… did he tell you why he had Ratboy bring me here?”

“Psycho boyfriend,” she takes a pull from the lit cigarette. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

The shame brings fresh tears springing to your eyes. It makes it worse to know that this time around, S/N was awake to hear it all. You feel like you’ve failed him, exposed him to the very thing you vowed to protect him from when you left Charming all those years ago.

“What do I tell S/N?”

“Nothing,” she stubs out the cigarette in the ashtray. “You shouldn’t worry yourself with that right now. You should try get some sleep, you can worry about that tomorrow morning.”

“I don’t think I’ll be getting much sleep tonight.” You take a small sip of the hot tea and sigh, “This is all my fault.”

“Sweetheart, no.”

“It is and now I’ve gone and gotten Jax involved in this mess.” The frustration is eating at you, “I just–”

You’re cut off by the kitchen door opening. Jax’s back. Thank the heavens! Gemma rushes over to greet him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Are you okay, baby?”

“I’m fine, Mom.”

Joining you at the table, Jax pulls you into him and tenderly strokes your back. All your fears and concerns are alleviated once you’re in his arms.

“Did he hurt you?”

He chuckles and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You shouldn’t be worrying yourself with that.”

“I can’t help it,” you laugh through your tears.

“You should get some rest.”

“All my stuff is back at my mom’s.” The thought of returning to the scene of last night’s brutality has you shuddering. You pull away from Jax and roughly dry your tears. “I don’t… I can’t–”

Jax pulls you back into him, holding you tighter than before, and gently rocks you. “He’ll never hurt you again.”

Guilt. You feel a tremendous amount of guilt. Is he dead? Possibly, and your guilt deepens when you recognize a small part of you overjoyed by the possibility. He deserves it. How could you even think that? No one deserves to die — not even B/N.

“How are you going to get rid of the body?”

He doesn’t respond to your question, instead, he tells you that he’ll get Rat to bring yours and S/N’s bags to Gemma’s.

“Jax, don’t leave,” you plead, the surge of panic hits you like a freight train and has you fisting the hem of his shirt. “Stay.”

He presses a kiss to your covered shoulder. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere,” he assures you.

💀💀💀💀💀

PART FIVE

tag list:

@princesssterek @derangedcupcake @furiouscopshepherduniversity @crucifixedbitch @holl2712 @sweet--catrastrophe @marvelsmylife @brittjulianne97 @few-proud-emotonal @zozebo @lovinnholland @adaydreamaway08

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hydroponicjj · 3 years

Text

No Body, No Crime [2]

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Female!Peterkin!Reader

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Mentions of Drugs/Alcohol, Swearing, etc

Summary: Rafe is finding himself having trouble trusting Y/N, even after what she did for him.

A/N: Hello! This is the second chapter of No Body, No Crime. Please enjoy and, let me know if you’d like to be on the taglist! <3

「 ₊˚.༄ 」

The entire drive over to Topper's made you extremely nervous. Your stomach felt as if it was in a knot that couldn't be undone.

It only got worse when you began to recognize the scenery of Figure 8.

It was unusual of you to be so anxious.

Usually, you’re hyper-focused. You don’t have time to worry about all the possible things that could go wrong but, Rafe made you feel different.

Typically, the two of you would only interact in passing. Oftentimes in the kitchen at his house when you needed him to help you reach something on the top shelf.

Now, you’re about to see each other in a brand new light. Going from strangers to...

Honestly, you didn’t really know how to classify this blossoming relationship, considering it hasn’t started yet.

Turning a corner into a neighborhood, you recognized Topper's mansion almost immediately.

It was the second house on the right with pillars and a baby blue door. There were tiny American flags pitched in the yard with small lights showcasing their entrance.

There were so many cars parked on the street and in the driveway that it was nearly impossible for you to get close without clipping a vehicle.

Finding a good spot near the sidewalk, you emerged from your car, making sure to check that it was locked (a habit you learned from your mother).

Drawing closer to the front door, you spotted Rafe.

He was sitting ominously in a rocking chair on the porch, looking out into the yard.

"Hey." You called out. He broke from his intense gaze and glanced at you.

"Shit, I totally forgot that you were coming." He pinched the bridge of his nose, turning his head.

"Well, I'm here so.." You trailed off, taking a seat next to him.

Instantly, Rafe began to draw away from you. You noticed but refrained from commenting on it, not knowing what his problem was.

It wasn't long after that the tension started to fill the air. You’re usually the one keeping your distance from him, not vice versa.

“Are-Are you going to say anything?” You asked, nervously.

You had no idea what made his energy shift from the last time you spoke to him but, this wasn’t the same Rafe that you saw that afternoon.

“What do you want me to say?” He replied sharply, glancing over in your direction.

You were taken aback by him, “Rafe. You asked me to meet you here. I have no idea what the hell is going on. So, I just— I wanna know what’s happening.”

He froze, inhaling deeply. It was clear that he was searching for the right words to say that would get his message across.

“Y/N, I don’t trust you. You might be Sarah’s best friend but, you’re also the sheriffs' daughter.” His voice was cold and distant.

He genuinely viewed you as some kind of threat. Less than 7 hours ago, he was more than willing to rope you into whatever he had going on, and now, you’re just a burden to him.

You scoffed, “You seemed pretty happy to get your drugs back this afternoon. Was I the sheriffs' daughter then?”

“I stole from my mom, Rafe. That’s not something you just do for fun. Especially when you have a lot to lose on your end, okay. So, if I rat you out, I’m going down too.”

Guilt instantly flashed behind his blue eyes. It was evident as his features began to soften and he lowered his eyebrows.

He began to speak but, you cut him off, “Listen, Rafe, I don’t expect us to go out and get matching tattoos anytime soon but, we have to learn to trust each other, or else this thing isn’t going to work.”

He chuckled lightly, flashing you a crooked smile, “Yeah.” Rafe replied simply.

The loud booming of music coming from inside filled the silence.

“Didn’t you graduate high school yesterday?” Rafe asked, quirking his head to the side.

“Yeah... I-I did.” You replied, still surprised.

You weren’t valedictorian like your mother planned but, you were pretty damn close. Still, it wasn’t enough to satisfy Susan Peterkin so, you spent the entirety of graduation sulking.

You didn’t even get a chance to enjoy your High School graduation.

A sour taste formed in your mouth as your throat began to get tighter by the second.

Rafe noticed your sudden discomfort, “Well, you’re at a party. Why don’t you go inside and have fun? Celebrate the milestone.”

“You should celebrate too. I mean- finishing your first year of college.” You acknowledged, awkwardly trying to shift the conversation toward him.

“I took a gap year. Too many things to do and not enough time.” He shrugged.

You were so entranced by the way Rafe spoke. He wasn’t like you, who felt the need to give the deepest, most profound explanation for everything.

He was simple.

You liked simple.

Standing up, you extended your hand in his direction, “Come on,” you paused, grabbing him by the wrist, “We’re going inside.”

“No no no,” he protested, “I already told my friends I was leaving so,” Rafe resisted your grasp, staying firmly in his seat.

“I think we can handle Topper and Kelce.” You scoffed, giving him a playful look.

Rafe knit his eyebrows together, contemplating. It had already been an extremely long night. But, he was having a hard time pulling out the response from his chest.

"Shitttt," He drew out, "What the hell. It'd be nice to see you pull the stick out of your ass and relax."

Eyes lighting up and a smile tugging on your lips, you yanked on his wrist again. This time, he rose from the rocking chair, peering down at you, "Don't make me regret this, Peterkin."

"How could you possibly regret anything when you're with me?" You sent him a sly wink.

Twisting the front-door handle, you entered the Thorton household.

Your senses were instantly triggered. Your ears struggled to determine which was louder, the music or screaming of teenagers. Your eyes reacted to the fluorescent light projected on the ceiling.

The scent was absolutely putrid. Sweaty bodies and alcohol were not a good mixture, not under any circumstances.

"Ugh," Covering your nose with your right hand, you peered back at Rafe. He seemed completely fine.

This was normal for him.

Watching as he maneuvered around this situation with such ease inspired you.

Rafe was a complete mystery to you. Although with every interaction, he became less of a riddle, it was still a challenge trying to figure him out.

Abruptly, someone from behind you yelled, tearing you from your trance, "I said that you'd be back!"

Turning around, you saw Kelce and Topper making their way towards the two of you.

"Yeah, yeah," Rafe responded, playfully, drifting closer to his two friends.

A mere seconds later, Topper noticed you standing at a feeble 1 and a half feet shorter than Rafe.

"Holy shit," He gasped, "A-Are my eyes deceiving me, or is Y/N Peterkin at a party?"

This caught Kelce's attention and, he certainly couldn't resist making a sly comment, "How's your mom? Is she still 6 feet up the Pogues ass or....?"

Scoffing, you began to walk away but, something caught your shoulder.

"Listen, she's a bitch but, not as nearly as much as you think." Rafe defended.

You couldn't help but laugh, “Thanks.”

Yes, it was a shitty, backhanded compliment. But, it was coming from Rafe Cameron so, that's the best you're gonna get.

"Yeah, I'll believe it when I see it," Commented Kelce, turning his head to look around at the scenery.

“Rafe,” Topper paused, “Are you trying to get even more fucked up tonight?”

Glancing at Rafe, you noticed how tired he looked. Drooping eyes and hunched shoulders gave away how he was feeling.

“No, he has other priorities on his mind.” You chimed in.

“Ohhhhhhhh.” Kelce raised his eyebrows.

Wiggling two fingers between the two of you, “Are you guys....? You know?”

“Shut the fuck up, Kelce. You’re a goddamned idiot.” Rafe rolled his eyes, pushing his friend lightly.

“Relax. I’m not gonna swoop in on your girl. Just curious who you’re fucking this week.”

Glancing up at Rafe, he appeared extremely fed up with the current conversation.

“Come on, man,” Topper said, pulling Kelce by the shoulder, “Let’s leave these two alone. I’m sure they’ve got loads of shit to catch up on.”

The two walked out of the entryway, side by side, and floated right back into the epicenter of the party.

“Why do you do that?” You questioned, almost instantly.

Looking in your direction, he responded, “What are you talking about?”

Sighing, you began, “You willingly hang out with Dumb and Dumber,”

“You could be surrounded by people that are on the same intellectual level as you. Yet, you surround yourself with people like those 2 that are only interested in being so high that they can’t remember their name.”

Rafe shook his head, “It doesn’t matter.”

There he goes again. Being simple. Summing up everything he has to say in a mere 3 words.

"He deserves better than that." You thought but didn't say.

In your head, you could see Rafe walking away from the conversation and, you wanted him as close as possible (because you're not used to parties.... no other reason.... of course).

"This is stressing me out," You commented jokingly, running your hands through your hair.

If you weren't so hyperaware of your surroundings, you would've missed the way that Rafe was glancing at you.

He looked as if he was trying to decipher what was going on in your head.

“Come on.” He nodded his head in the direction of the living room (aka where 90% of the party-goers were).

You grinned slightly, “I was deprived of partying my entire 4 years of High School. I don’t think I should start now.”

You turned around and sat on the love seat in the Thornton entryway.

“You dragged me back in here so, the least you could do is sway your hips to some shitty music.”

“Maybe.” You smirked, teasing him.

“Alright, I’ll find Topper and Kelce. I’m sure they’ve got something interesting for me.” Rafe began to exit the room.

“Fine,” you rose from your seat immediately, catching his attention.

You shook your head in disapproval, “So manipulative.”

A smug look was plastered on Rafe’s face, “Yeah, well.... it worked.”

He shrugged and sent you a smirk.

「 ₊˚.༄ 」

You had never felt so free in your entire life.

It was surprising that such a wild atmosphere made you feel a sense of comfort and enjoyment, rather than fear and anxiety.

Maybe it was the fact that you clung to Rafe for the majority of the time.

He was such a social hotspot.

People of all ages and demographics were speaking to him. He kept the conversations brief and, it was clear that he wasn't very interested.

Nevertheless, he was dragged into a game of beer pong, and (with the help of Topper and Kelce) he agreed to play BUT, only if you did.

At first, you were hesitant, having no idea how to play but, there was something inside of you that hated the thought of saying no to Rafe.

You indulged him and decided to play, with the exception that you didn't drink, considering that you had to drive back home to the Cut.

It took a few tries for you to actually get the hang of things but, Rafe helped a lot.

He would often adjust your form, wrapping his arm around your waist and tugging you in another direction.

It made you nervous yet excited having him in such close proximity to you, whispering in your ear which direction to throw the ball.

Ultimately, the two of you ended up winning against Topper and Kelce (who were pissed that they lost to such an inexperienced player).

That was the beginning of the fun.

After that, you didn't feel the need to cling to Rafe as tight as you had been before.

You went off and had conversations with people that didn't go to your High School, which also meant they had no clue who your mother was.

You used to be extremely familiar with Figure 8 and you often found yourself missing it from time to time.

It was very nice to be able to surround yourself with people that weren't foaming at the mouth to run and tell your mother everything they saw.

It wasn't until you began to dance, swaying your hips to the beat that Rafe found you again.

"Y/N, I--I need a ride home." He began, speaking in a low but rushed tone.

"What?!" You yelled, not being able to hear him over the music.

You took a glance at him and, he looked horrible.

His eyes were extremely red and he reeked of alcohol and plenty of other illegal substances.

Not only that but, Rafe seemed extremely jittery. Almost as if something bad was going to happen if he didn't leave immediately.

Seeing the stress of the situation, you gripped Rafe by the arm and tugged him out of the hectic scene and into the nearest quiet room.

Finding a bathroom right before the kitchen, the two of you entered.

You sat him on the edge of the tub, crouching in front of him.

"Rafe," You paused, clutching the sides of his face, "Look at me. What's going on?"

Opening his eyes, he began to speak, "Please, just, please. Take me home." He buried his head into your shoulder.

You were stunned by his actions, having no idea what drug he took that made him act like that.

But, now was not the time to question Rafe, he needed your help and after all the progress the two of you made that evening, you weren't going to leave him behind.

"O-okay, okay. Yes, I'll take you home."

You stood up, continuing to hold his arm, afraid that he'd fall back into the tub.

"Rafe, can you stand? Can you walk?" You asked.

He nodded then rose, towering over you.

"Here," You directed him towards the sink, "Splash some cold water onto your face, okay?"

He did as you told him, gathering a scoop of water in his palms and splattered it onto his face.

After, he seemed slightly more coherent but, not nearly enough.

The two of you emerged from the bathroom. You were still clung to his arm, leading him in the direction of the exit.

Once, you left the inside of the house, you were bombarded with cars from all angles.

It then hit you that you had to park on the street.

As you led Rafe down the infinitely long driveway, you cursed in your head, upset at the universe for making you work against gravity in order to keep him from face-planting.

Finally, making it to your car, you reached in your pocket and unlocked it.

Opening the door to the passenger's side, you plopped Rafe in the seat and buckled him in.

You ran around the front of the car, trying to get back to Rafe as soon as possible.

"Rafe, do you have everything? Your phone, wallet, keys?"

"Mhm." He replied, setting his head on the back of the seat.

With that, you took one last glance at Rafe and put the car in drive.

「 ₊˚.༄ 」

Pulling into the driveway, you noticed that the Cameron household was quiet.

The only light coming from inside was the glare of the TV from Wheezie's room.

"Rafe, we're here." You said, shaking him. He had fallen asleep seconds after you started driving.

He didn't waste any time getting out of the car. Unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the door, he headed in the direction of the garage.

As he approached, it opened.

"I know they're rich but, damn, motion detected garage?" You commented, continuing to watch, making sure Rafe made it inside safely.

It wasn't until you started saw him stop that you noticed a figure standing in front of him.

It was Ward Cameron.

"Shit."

You knew Ward was going to give Rafe crap for staying out late, partying so, the least you could do was try and cover for him.

Emerging from your car, you walked towards the garage.

"Rafe, I need you to do it, okay? I don't want Sarah getting involved-" You caught the end of what Ward was saying before he stopped.

"Y/N!" He greeted, a smile on his face.

"Hey, Mr.Cameron." You waved awkwardly, sending a forced smile.

"Thank you so much for bringing this one home," He grabbed Rafe by the shoulder, pulling him into a side hug.

"No problem! I just needed his help with some things. The least I could do was take him home." You replied.

"Yeah, yeah," Ward nodded his head, looking back at the door.

"Listen, Y/N, thanks for putting in a good word with your mom. We really appreciate it."

"I'm sorry?" You knit your eyebrows in confusion.

"I got a call from the station today saying the charges against Rafe had been dropped. All of us are so thrilled that we can resume a normal life and move past this." He placed a hand on his chest.

You had no idea what he was talking about. Your mom wasn't home yet. There was no way she could've seen the drugs had been taken from her safe yet.

But, you had to play it cool, not wanting Ward to ask any questions "Sure, sure." you answered.

"Okay, welp," He paused, "Have a nice night, Y/N. Come by tomorrow and see us." Ward finished, hurridly.

With that, he turned around swiftly and went back inside his house, through the garage door.

That entire interaction was odd. You had never seen Ward act so tense.

Also, you couldn't help but wonder what was so urgent that Sarah couldn't do?

It had been less than 24 hours and, you're already wrapped up in things you couldn't begin to comprehend.

"I need to sleep."

Walking back to your car, you entered the driver's seat.

Putting the car in reverse, you exited the Cameron house and began your journey back to the Cut.

TAGLIST *strikethrough it won’t let me tag*: @oopsiedoopsie23 @a-bolanos @cocobutterqween @gabiatthedisco @athenastarkey @halsmultibitch @water13 @avaspringtime @niamhvivo @haterpenny @nerdypartytrashpsychic @casually-kook @mynameberose @malfoylaufeysonweasley

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iwantutobehapppier · 3 years

Text

We Will Wake Up

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader Summary: Steve and Bucky seemed to be everywhere you looked, certainly this familiarity between the three of you would only bode well when you seek refuge at their place during the Shutdown. Warnings: 18+ Only, Dark Steve Rogers, somnophilia, dubcon bordering on noncon. Please if any of this bothers you read no further. There will be more fics for Festival of Smut with little to no dark themes. Word Count: 2,536 A/N: Happy 2nd night of Chanukah! I give you some dark/creep Steve. I have been tinkering with this one for a long time now. @sapphirescrolls really helped fuel this along with Tyler by the Toadies.

You know Steve’s there. He’s always there now. He knows you know. He parades around as if his presence is pure coincidence. It is equal parts laughable and concerning.

Looking out the corner of your eye you catch the tall bulky frame of his best friend Bucky beside him as they wait for their coffee. Bucky a man of little flourish in coffee grabs his cup and sits right across from you at the table outside of the little coffee shop. Outside seating more comfortable for you given the current pandemic. But your two shadows didn’t have any worry about the pandemic with the Super Soldier Serum.

Steve and Bucky were great people. Working with them when it came to PR had its challenges but overall a joy. Not only that but you were pleased to become friends with them. That was months ago. Now they were showing up everywhere you went outside of the regular

Compound encounters. However, you had noticed Steve was sans his pal more often than not in recent encounters.

“You should stay in the compound with us,” Bucky offers a solution to your current dilemma. You frown at his suggestion. Steve’s waiting for his drink inside of the coffee shop they both happened to show up to this morning.

A coffee shop you had never gone to before in an attempt to test your theory about being possibly followed. The results, worrisome

“I mean,” Bucky leans over his cup keeping eye contact. “You’ve said it yourself, they’re starting the shutdown soon and you’re not sure how long you can spend being completely alone.” You look away at his intense gaze only to catch Steve’s eye as he sits next to you at the four top.

“What are you two talking about?” An easy smile falls over Steve’s face before he takes a sip of his coffee.

“Just that she should stay with us,” Steve nearly spits out his drink, and Buck chuckles at his expense. “You know, staying with us would be much more entertaining than being alone.” Bucky leans over the table looks at Steve directly when he stops.

Steve nods his head, taking the lead.

“You know the Compound ground fairly well,” Steve continues. “It’ll be fully stocked to last the shutdown and then some.”

Nibbling on your bottom lip in equal worry and contemplation you worked out in your head, ways to refuse the offer without coming off as a heinous bitch.

“Wouldn’t you guys be coming and going during missions?” You scrunched your face up. “I think that would put me at risk of contagion.”

“That’s the greatest part about it,” Bucky leans back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head. “We’ll be there too. Unless the worst happens, and then we’ll get testing to make sure we’re not carriers before we come back home,” he pauses looking at Steve then you, “to you.”

Steve clears his throat shifting in his seat you tilt your head to the side watching him. “Are you okay Steve?”

“Mm?” he looks directly at you for longer than fleeting seconds. “Yes,” he pauses. “I really think you should consider the offer.” His hand rests on your knee, the heat emitting off him almost too much for the end of March in New York City.

“We have a spare room in our apartment there,” He watches you nibble on your lip once again, he shifts to Bucky who just nods his head towards you. “We’ll get it set up just the way you want and I swear we won’t leave dishes in the sink.”

Bucky chuckles, “I agreed to no such thing,” Steve cuts his eyes at his pal. “Fine,” Bucky huffs folding his arms over his chest pouting.

You can’t help but laugh at the two of them, much like a married couple. Maybe having their banter around would be helpful to ease the worrisome a pandemic causes? Perhaps the following was because the two had so few friends outside the compound as is and they’ve often said how welcoming you make them feel. Without letting yourself fret any more over the decision you made your choice.

“Okay,” you nodded your head, Steve’s hand on you clasping around your knee. “When can I move in?”

The smile that illuminates Steve’s face bright enough to light up the sky of NYC you were sure of it. However, the grip on your knee makes something in your hindbrain whisper “Be careful.”

You had been doing so well, it was a month in and the situation was proving rewarding for all parties. You had a nice state of the art abode, they had a personal chef in you and you all had each other for company.

Working from home was not an issue at all, they left you alone when you were working. You only saw them when you’d pause for lunch, where they always seemed to in the kitchen waiting for you. After work would normally be some type of movie to watch for them to catch up, sharing music or the rare occasion Steve drawing you as you read.

It was nice and oddly domestic bliss but it seemed to change one drunken night when you kissed Steve. It wasn’t meant to be anything, you were drunk feeling good and he was making you feel good. With his compliments and attention before you knew it your lips were on his. He didn’t respond which left you feeling completely foolish.

Not that you wanted anything to happen between you and Steve, you didn’t, right? He was handsome, and god knows he was packing with what your eyes have beheld when he comes back from his work on in his grey sweats. So maybe you did? Or was it the cabin fever?

However, after that, it’s a fat chance anything would happen as he avoided you the next day. Bucky told you it was just his nerves that “He’s never had a hot dame like you into him.”

Luck was on your side two nights later when Steve ventured out of his room for a movie night. A romance on no less, and Bucky suspiciously dipping out early claiming he was exhausted. That left you and Steve miles apart on the couch until Steve slid down to your side, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. He pulled you close and when you tried to pull back for some space for civility you couldn’t budge him.

When the romantic duo of the film finally kiss you can’t help but look at Steve from the corner of your eye. Steve is staring at you, a light blush on his cheeks. He leans forward, and before you know what’s happening his lips are on yours. You’re quite shocked given the drunken kiss you gave him.

It takes only a moment for your lips to soften on his. The pleased sigh he emits warming your body up almost more than the kiss. With tentative movement, his tongue trails only your bottom lip, and your open your mouth on reflex. Then the flood gates are open, he’s pulling you into his lap, arms holding you secure as you both make up for the last quarter of the film.

As the credits roll you finally part, lips chapped and swollen. You feel your cheeks warm as you look away. Well, this certainly wasn’t your plan. Steve clears his throat and you look back at him.

“I had wanted to do that for a while,” You give a shy smile in response.

“I think,” you pull yourself off his lap. “It was worth the wait and just enough.” Needing to keep your distance before you let this go farther than it should. Sleeping with someone who was kindly housing you rent-free was not the smartest move in your opinion.

Steve nods in agreement though his brow furrow with agitation. He was fairly certain his night would go somewhere else and the uncomfortable tightness of his pants had to be dealt with.

“I suppose you’re right,” he shifts on the couch and you pretend not to see the bulge in his pants that you had without a doubt felt just a moment underneath you. “I say we call it a night.” Steve veining confidence to take control of the night.

Nodding in agreement. “Good night Steve,” as you go to turn he stands up and grabs your wrist pulling you into him capturing your lips one last time.

Letting you go when you pull apart he smiles. “Just had to have one more,” tucking your hair behind your ear you can’t help but smile, “Sweet dreams.” He releases your hand as you turn once more to retreat to your room.

His eyes glower at your disappearing figure, eyes tracing the flare of your hips and lush back side. He wasn’t sure he could wait for another night to continue this path you two were on. One he desperately wanted.

You were awake and abruptly so.

You felt, full? Oddly so? An ache and stretch in your lower abdomen the first sensations as you wake up. Then it’s the way you feel your pelvis flex against something. Eyes opening the room is still dark, your eyelids feel heavier than usual when awoken in the night. Are you sitting upright? What’s the warmth radiating at your back?

Warm muscular arms wrap around your body from behind, you yelp in fear. Your bareback is forced against a fuzzy chest. Wait, are you naked? Thick thighs flex below you and that ache in your lower abdomen is clearly all the way to your pelvis becomes clear. Your gasping for breath as panic sets in, your voice cracks in your attempts to call out for help. Who is this?

“Ssshh,” lips press against the shell of your ear. You’re cocooned in warmth and you’ve never been more afraid in your life. This sensation should be comforting but-

“Knew you’d feel so tight around me,” You’re bounced up by the thighs beneath, and the moan that pulls from your lips is involuntary. The thick cock lodged so deep inside you feel too good. It shouldn’t feel this good. The bulbous cock head brushing against that special spot with each re-entry.

“Ste-Steve?” you get out between your shock and pleasure. He holds you down, still as can be, you can feel the steady thump of his heart against your back. Lips the press against your ear slowly trails down your neck resting at the nape. His breath pushes hot air across your bare chest with a forceful exhale.

“It’s me,” His words a whisper on your skin. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.” You try to find his words comforting, recalling how gentle he is with you, how attentive and soft the first kiss was earlier this night. How had it escalated so quickly?

Your nails dig into his forearms, his large hands holding your waist lifting you up and down as if you were light as a feather. It was disorienting. He drops you down and as your mouth opens his large sweaty palm mutes your scream.

“Normally,” Steve grunts pushing up into you. “I’d want to hear your beautiful voice,” He lifts you once more, his hands so warm and tight against your skin. His super strength made you feel like a sack of potato at the most. Slowly lowering you down his pulsing shaft you can feel the way he pulls at your walls, the sponge feel of the tip of his cock hitting your cervix.

“But I don’t want Buck to hear.” He grunts pushing his hips up and down, his thighs moving you without your aid. “These noises are mine.” He growls. His hand slips from your mouth to between your slick folds to rub softly against your little nub.

When you inhale to moan Steve shushes you, resulting in you bitting your lip trying to muffle your moans. “That’s my good girl,” his words warm against your skin as he sets a steady pressure on your nub in a circular motion.

Your walls fluttering around him he muffles his groan. “Fuck, baby girl,” his fingers digging into your hip. Steve’s hands move to lift you up, almost completely off his cock the wide tip sitting at the opening. For a brief moment, you think it’s over whatever this violation of your body is.

Then you’re falling, the push of his thick and long shaft into you makes your head jerk back. His chin resting on your forehead. Steve’s bulging arms wrap around you resting under your breast. “You feel me here?” a hand slips down to push on your lower abdomen. A soft moan pulling from your lips at the feeling.

Looking down you gasp seeing the slight bulge, no wonder it felt like he was splitting you in two. Watching the hand slip down further, two fingers slide down to capture your clit, giving a gentle squeeze. Your body shakes, biting your lip to hold in a moan tilting your head back once more.

Your hands grip his large forearm trying to pull his hand back. The sensory overload too much from being woken up in such a jarring manner. Trying to get hold of whether you wanted this or not was becoming difficult with each touch.

Steve tut’s in your ear, his hand pulling back to slap your pussy. Your whimper following the slapping noise. “Don’t hide how much you’ve been wanting this.” He bends his head, lips resting on your forehead. Then touch intimate and far more gentle than what he is doing with your body.

“I know you’ve been waiting so patiently for me to fill your pussy,” His crass words scrap against your forehead. You go to shake your head but pause when he rotates his hips.

“It’s okay,” his tone saccharine, “We’ve got plenty of time to make it up before Bucky wakes up.”

#steve rogers x reader #dark steve rgoers #dark!steverogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dubcon #smut #Captain America #Steve rogers x you #dark steve rogers x you

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