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themeraldee · 10 months ago

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The Lucky Winner - Part 2

[Masterlist] [Part 1]

18+ Only | 7.3k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Early Season 1. Voice kink (mild). Roleplay. Established Relationship. Masturbation. Dirty Talk. Unprotected sex.

Summary: After much deliberation you finally decide to meet your hero at a meet & greet.

Author’s Note: Sorry if the ending of this feels a little confusing. I did have an idea for a retrospective Part 3 of this that would cover the events in between Part 1 & 2, clearing up the confusion a little bit, let me know if you'd be interested!

The metal detector beeps, finally letting you through after the hassle of emptying your entire bag and getting a full body scan. You quickly collect your scanned belongings and you scuttle along, almost sprinting across the now-empty hallway. You’re breathing heavily, holding onto the bag over your shoulder as you reach the right door. Panicked and out of breath you show your pass to the man working the door and he just about lets you in grumbling something about it being way past the time slot and how you’re the last one in. You ignore all of it, instead you focus on your breathing and move along. You inhale sharply through your nose, trying to mask just how winded that rush got you.

You take your place as the last one in the line. Turning around just in time you see the door guy close off the room, not letting anybody else in. Phew. You just about made it. You smooth out your summer dress, adjusting the bag you had over your shoulder as you look around the hall. God, you’ll be waiting forever!

You knew it would be busy but having usually avoided convention centres it still hits you hard with how overwhelmingly packed the hall is. The ventilation and air conditioning could be state-of-the-art and it would still feel stuffy. Looking around you feel like one of the few people who didn’t bother dressing up like their favourite heroes. You see about thirty Queen Maeves at a quick glance, another twenty Black Noirs, a few of the Seven’s new member Starlight but the most prevalent one is easily a sea of Homelander knock-offs. The sea of cheap red, blue and white assaults your vision, making it actually pretty overwhelming to look around.

For once Homelander is actually drowned out in a sea of look-alikes where normally he stands out like a sore thumb in all his primary-coloured glory. Homelander. Just the thought of seeing him here makes you pick at your nails and bite your lips with anxiety. Sure, you’ve met him before. You’ve talked. You even had sex, really good sex, goddammit. You have history. But still, you’ve never done this. Not the in-public meet & greets that you decided to put yourself through today. But still, you’re doing this for him.

The longer you’re standing at the end of the line the longer being surrounded by fans dressed in Spirit Halloween versions of the Seven’s costumes is becoming less comical and more uncanny valley. You only wonder what it feels like to them.

You slowly move through the line. Sighing impatiently, your nerves are slowly being replaced by irritation as you watch the interactions play out in front of you. You’re now close enough to see and overhear. Thankfully with each step you take forward the people in front of you get what they came here for and they leave, making the hall a little more breathable.

You’re now watching Homelander as he tends to each fan, all puffed up and high energy to replicate the vision they all have of him but you see how much he wishes to be anywhere but here. Most of the Seven do. Vought plucks them from what most expected to be their duties, like saving the world, and instead they drop them in front of cameras and paying fans. You watch as Homelander signs each piece of merchandise his fans bring him, one after another with a smile on his face.

Having seen part of his real self, or the extension of himself he doesn’t show the media you see the smile for what it is. Placating, empty, downright forced. Were you none the wiser you wouldn’t have thought to look past the showmanship but now you knew better. It was easy to notice his tells, his jaw ticks anytime he’s irritated, his eye twitches anytime he has to hold a smile for too long or anytime he’s forced to compliment someone. You overhear his booming stage-voice going, ‘you look great buddy, wear it better than I do!’ for about the twentieth time. The crowd eats it up, again, and somehow they’re blind to his tortured expression. Sure, he hides it very well but if any of them cared to look underneath the surface it would be glaringly obvious. Instead they look at him like the hero they want him to be. Flawless, perfect, serving their needs. The more you’re privy to this viewpoint the more it grates on you. He’s so much more than that! And you don’t understand how they don’t see it. More than that, you're angry that they willfully don’t want to see it. Why would they ruin the image of a perfect hero they look up to when they don’t care to know the person behind the suit in the first place.

You shake your thoughts away, focusing on keeping up with the queue. Thankfully the hall has now almost emptied, few residual fans loiter around taking pictures of themselves in their costumes with the Seven members right behind them. As it’s almost your turn, and with that the end of the event, you clumsily pull out a postcard out of your bag clutching it in your hands getting it ready to be signed.

With each step you hear him clearer and clearer. Your heartbeat picks up and by the time the Homelander female cosplayer in front of you gets her very own, ‘you might as well take my spot, you pull it off better than me’, your heart is pounding so hard that you think it must grate on Homelander’s nerves. You rub the glossy paper of the postcard in between your fingers trying to distract yourself from the impending doom that’s bound to be caused by whatever comes out of your mouth. Even after all that’s happened between you two, all that history, you cannot stop yourself from feeling flustered in a situation like this.

You’re so stuck in your head that you don’t realise that the lady in front of you already left and all who’s left is…well, you.

You’re broken out of your trance by a familiar voice.

“Looky, looky, who's here? I can't believe you actually showed up at one of these.” There he goes, grinning like a Cheshire cat as he quickly looks you up and down. Already his eyes are glittering with excitement. Your heart skips a beat at his smile. It's more genuine. You see the annoyance seep out of him, his posture a little more relaxed.

“Yeah…about that. I thought I couldn't really call myself a fan otherwise right?” You rattle off some lines and your anxious mess of a gut is slowly unravelling to make room for the coil of excitement replacing it. Sure, you’re nervous. How couldn't you be. But the place is nearly empty and there isn't much he could say that would get you as flustered as he did the first time.

“Here for an autograph? The one I gave you before wasn't good enough?” Right. Scratch that. You blush a bright red as the images flood back into your mind. And he's grinning so widely, clearly pleased with how he can so easily make you into a blubbering mess. Even if someone overheard, there’s technically nothing dirty about his words but the shiver they send down your spine along with the vivid imagery is enough to make you feel indecent in a public space.

“No—no! It was, um, great. I just—uh—wanted something a little more permanent.” You quickly look around seeing if anyone caught that interaction as if they could read your mind. Well, you are in a room full of superheroes, who knows what they can or can’t do. Thankfully, it doesn’t appear like anyone is interested in Homelander signing a photo for yet another fan. The rest of the Seven is slowly filtering out of the room, finally relieved of their duty.

“Alrighty-doo, let me sign that for you.” He takes his hand out prompting you to put the postcard in his palm. You do so, giving him a little timid smile. Your hands shake a little as you retreat them back by your sides. Catching the way his eyes linger on the movement you cover your shakiness by clasping your hands together in front of you.

“Is this all you want me to sign? Did you really wait the entire line for that?” He says his eyes squinting incredulously as he waves the postcard with his likeness in front of you. Without waiting for your answers he still places it in front of him reaching for his marker pen.

“What was I meant to bring?” You scrunch your eyebrows with confusion. Sure, you weren’t used to going to these events but you still brought something he could sign, that’s good enough, is it not?

“For starters, something that my signature won’t cover entirely.”

“It’s fine if it covers it.” You brush off his concerns. Really you didn’t care about the signature as much as you cared about seeing him. So placement be damned.

You look as he uncaps the pen, turning the card around. It’s a photo of him in his hero pose standing against a very patriotic background. Originally it came in a pack of seven postcards, one for each member of the Seven. You don’t want to admit that you were so anxious over deciding whether you would even turn up or not that when it came to the day you forgot to bring an item to sign. Hence the pack of generic postcards you bought on the way when you realised that you forgot just about the most important item. This also turned out to be the reason for your tardiness, you spent way too long in the shop just angsting over the small selection of items you could even pick from.

“You know it's a real shame you of all people didn't come dressed up. I'd like to see you as Mrs Homelander.” He says all cheeky and amused at the image in his head, while he’s fiddling with his marker pen, trying to start his signature for the third time but the ink has run out.

“Oh no no no, I couldn't. I don't think it would be a good look on me. I mean nobody can rock the uniform like you do!” The idea of dressing up as him was ridiculous, you couldn’t just take that away from him. He’s more than a circus animal to you.

“You think I rock it?” He gives you a look, clearly fishing for compliments while he lets his voice rumble. He might not be in your ear but you still feel a shiver dance down your spine. You don’t think you’ll ever get over the effect his voice has on you. He just knows how to pull your strings. And what’s a puppet to do if not follow.

“It looks very good on you. The colour brings out your eyes.” You make an awkward gesture, pointing at your dress and then your eyes, as if it wasn’t obvious that those two had the same colour on him. You cringe internally but he always seems endeared by your awkwardness. You think it probably feeds his ego. You’re always such a mess in front of him and he slurps it up.

“Wowie, heavy on the flattery today are we?” He’s fiddling with his marker pen, trying to start his signature for the third time but the ink has run out. “Oh for fucks sakes.” He tries another two times, the leather of his glove creaking with pressure around the pen. You expect him to snap it in half at this point but he just sighs and recaps the used marker, placing it down. He looks around, his jaw ticking as he mumbles, “where the fuck is Ashley…” He rolls his eyes, muttering something about being surrounded by incompetent idiots as he stands up.

“Just, come with me, I think there are some spares in my dressing room.” He waves his hand, still holding the postcard in the other one.

“Are you sure? It’s really no big deal!” You feel guilty at the way his suggestion sends a shiver up your spine. You’re not entitled to it but the fantasy of him fucking you in his dressing room still plays out in your mind.

“Nope, you waited your turn. You know I’m not one to leave my biggest fans empty handed.” He winks at you before he beckons you to follow him. You give a short nod and you scurry behind him like a little duckling, mesmerized by the sway of his cape swishing with each purposeful step. You feel your heart rate rise with every step, just being in his presence is overwhelming and the closer you get to his dressing room the more vivid your fantasy gets.

“Righty-ho,” Homelander says as he opens the door to his dressing room, fiddling around to pick up a spare marker. He presses the postcard against the wall signing it for you with a silver sharpie. You stand in the half open door a little awkwardly. Rather than focusing on him, you’re looking around making sure nobody sees you standing in Homelander’s dressing room. He tears you away from your paranoid thoughts as he hands the card back to you with a sing-songy, “there you go!”

Your eyes widen and you gingerly take the postcard with a “oh, thank you,” and you gently put it back into your bag, not wanting to smear the ink. Part of you was disappointed that he genuinely took you here for innocent reasons.

Like the open book you’ve always been to him he reads your facial expressions for what they are barking a laugh at the dumb-struck look you were sporting. “What? Did you think I brought you here to fuck you?” He leans against the doorframe, his tone a little condescending and mean.

You really do your best to recover but your embarrassed blush and the spike in your heart-rate is such a blatant giveaway of your true thoughts. “N-no! I wouldn’t, of course not.” It doesn’t matter what you say in the moment, it’s not wiping the all-knowing smirk off his face.

“Jesus, you’re so easy, you know that?” His gaze is predatory as he looks you up and down again, this time slowly, reaaally taking you in. Before you know what’s happening he yanks you into the room, closing the door behind you. For all his strength he controls it well as you don’t end up with a dislocated shoulder after a move like that.

He cages you in against the door, leaning close to your ear so he can get his voice nice and low and he whispers, “For that kind of slutty behaviour I definitely need to fuck you.” You can hear the smirk in his voice. You love how easily he reads you, there’s nothing you can hide from and you know that these days, you’re his favourite book. In a way it’s liberating, it removes the thoughts behind actions, it removes the second-guessing. You know that he knows what you want. So you don’t have to make propositions and embarrass yourself further, he’s either gonna take you as he pleases or tell you to get lost. So far it’s always been the former.

His gloved hand grabs the side of your jaw as he leans back and the woodsy, natural scent of leather whiffs past your nose. His other hand is less stationary, he brazenly glides his hand down your dress, generously palming your tits before he slides down further down your waist and back, settling on your ass. “Gotta teach you a lesson that you shouldn't be spreading your legs for men you don't really know that well.” He growls out tilting your head so he’s directly staring into your eyes with his impossibly piercing blues.

“You’re not just a man.”

“Mhm you got that right.” He purrs all pleased at the obvious stroke to his ego. You’re all flustered, breathy and eager for him and he loves it. The pure adoration and love you give him so easily just flows through him, feeding that black hole starved for affection inside him.

He didn’t wait a second longer to kiss you, one gloved hand still on your jaw, the other quickly moving up to the back of your head pressing you into him. With a moan he kisses you, already acting like you’ve been starving him this entire time. His kisses are feverish, already hot hot hot as his lips ply yours open. You feel his shaky breath hot against your lips while the plush pillows of his lips are pressing against yours in a frenzy.

You wrap your hands around his neck for support more than anything. You know how he gets. Your heart rate has skyrocketed by now, beating hard and loud in his ears as he presses his tongue in between your lips, already wanting to be in you one way or another.

You part your lips for him just like you’d part your legs and you let him kiss you, heavy, hot and wet as he holds you with almost shaky hands trying to get as much as he can out of you.

His ravenous kisses don’t relax you, they make your body feel tight, wound up, always expecting and wanting more. At this moment you need him as much as he needs you. You grind your body against him with each more pressing and needy kiss. You know he can feel you through his suit, even though it’s handily hiding his hard-on. He still moans when you rub against him, clearly just as wound up as you are.

He pulls away, his eyes no longer that bright piercing blue but now his pupils are blown, his gaze lustful and heavy. His breathing is rough and stuttered. Even though he can’t get winded or tired his body is so strained that he pants for you like a thirsty dog.

Homelander takes his time to calm down, wanting to take control of the situation, he wants you to look up at him with those unsuspecting sweet wide doe eyes while he defiles you. And you do, you look up at him, panting out of actual lack of breath and you stare in reverence.

There he goes, grinning like a shark again and you’re already waiting for the foul words that he’s undoubtedly going to thoroughly wet your panties with.

“Tell me,” he purrs out, seducing you with his dulcet tones. “How many times did you make yourself cum to my voice, huh?” He’s now leaning into your ear again, knowing this is where the occasional brush of his lips makes your body burn bright and hot. “Or to the memory of my cock inside you?”

You expect him to be filthy and talk with no filter, it’s his specialty behind closed doors, but it still catches you off-guard. It especially does anytime you’re reminded of the time he utterly ruined you for any other man in your home, in your safe space, in your bed.

“I don’t know—many times. I, um, I lost count.” You don’t know exactly what answer he wants from you but you know that he will turn each and every one against you. His hair tickles the side of your face as he nuzzles into you with a small whimper before continuing.

“Yeah? Maybe you should show me, do it for me. A little performance as a reward for all that I've done for you.” You hear the restraint in his voice. You know he wants nothing more than to just fuck you, have you fall apart on him. For him. But you also know Homelander loves to play. And he doesn’t want the game to be over yet. “You can do that for me, can’t you?” He goads you with that. Homelander knows just as much as he swallows up all your love and affection; you thrive on being reminded of how much you adore and worship him. How much you’d do anything for him. Anything.

Homelander pulls back from you, his hands now firmly on your waist as if you were a flight risk.

“What do you mean?” You regain some sense of self after he gives your hot and flushed body a little break.

“I mean you’re gonna sit your pretty ass in that chair, make yourself cum for me, while I watch.” He guides your body towards the further end of the dressing room where he points at a chair in front of a lit vanity table that’s still littered with make-up and brushes from when his team got him ready for today’s event.

Your body is buzzing with excitement but part of you is still a little embarrassed by such a blatantly open display. He wants you to sit in that chair, spread your legs and give him a perfectly lit view of the way you get yourself off? Yeah, that’s not the easiest thing you’ve ever done. But again, for him, you’ll do anything.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” He pulls the chair out a bit tilting his head towards it. He looks at you, blatantly undressing you with his eyes. Literally, undressing. You may not physically feel his x-ray vision but the look in his eyes and the way he stops at your tits with a leery smile on his face is very telling. He doesn’t bother to hide how much he ogles, he knows how much it turns you on anyway. “Come on, panties off and hop on.” He clicks his tongue impatiently.

You sneak your hands under your dress and pull the hem of your panties down. You slide them down your legs until they pool at your ankles where you step out of them with your shoes still on.

Homelander chuckles to himself as he picks up the undergarment inspecting the damage. “You’re like a faucet, always fucking dripping wet.” He brings them closer to his face, inspecting the pair of Homelander-themed panties. He inhales the scent of your pussy now that it’s long seeped into the fabric. “I didn’t think these would be salvageable after last time.” He speaks as if he was talking about the weather and not pure debauchery while he indulges in the scent of your cunt.

“I got more pairs.” You said with a shrug as you got into the chair. You had to jump up a little as it was set on the highest setting for Homelander’s viewing pleasure.

You watch as he tosses the panties on the vanity table in front of you. “You’re gonna have to spread those legs some more.” He tuts with his tongue. You spread your legs as wide as you can in the chair and he shakes his head. “No, nope that won’t do either. Legs up on the arm rests.” He commands and as much as you want to comply, even you have your limits.

“I’m not that flexible!” You yelp out in amusement. “Wait!” You exclaim again except this time he easily manoeuvres you around in that chair with his stupid strength and you feel like a pretzel as you’re being pushed into the right position.

He ends up hooking just one of your legs over the armrest letting you rest it against the vanity table and giving you a comfortable enough position but more importantly, giving him a great view. “See, there you go. Flexible enough.” He pulls off his gloves one by one, throwing them on the table, out of view. “Come on, show off for me,” He coos in your ear, his bare hands, hot and smooth, sliding up your legs picking up the hem of your dress on the way as he pulls it up.

You gasp at the view in front of yourself. In the lit mirror in front of you you see yourself spread wide, your pussy easily visible and glistening in the bright light. This might as well be a porn shoot with how well lit and visible all your parts are. As you instinctively start closing your legs Homelander presses your thighs down, barely putting any power into it yet you feel the unyielding strength thrumming through his fingertips.

“Don’t be shy, you know I’ve seen it all.” He tucks the skirt of your dress above your waist and behind your back. Your hand slowly slinks down to rest on the bunched up fabric of your dress.

He straightens up properly standing behind you, his hands land on your shoulders, close to your neck, squeezing softly. He watches you in the mirror. He extends his pointer finger pushing your jaw up so you look up and meet his gaze. “Keep going, spread that pretty pussy for me.” He growls in your ear as his eyes are locked on the way your fingers slide down your slit, your pointer and middle finger spreading your pussy open for him to see. “Just as I said, like a fucking faucet.” He chuckles at the sight of you drenched and dripping.

You blush at the way he’s staring so intently at your reflection. Your fingers tentatively run up and down, gathering the wetness on your fingers, bringing it up to your clit where you rub small, shy circles around it. You’re taut as a bow and struggling to relax.

“Stop thinking and start feeling.” Homelander purrs in your ear. “I know you can do this for me, can’t you?” His voice sends a hot flush down your body, and you feel your clit throb under your fingers.

“Yeah… I can.” You breathe you, closing your eyes for a second to take a deep breath. The tension slowly leaves your body as Homelander presses soft kisses down the side of your face as he leans over to your other side. You let your hand go on auto-pilot trusting it to know what to do. You suck in a sharp breath as he sucks on your jaw, giving it a little nip while you still circle your clit with a soft squelch of your slick.

“There’s my girl.” He watches as you breathe deeply, your eyes finally opening to watch as he descends more kisses down your neck. You shiver at the sensation, pressing in your fingers a little harder, at the right pressure in the right spot. You’re just about to dip lower, push a finger inside your wet, needy hole but Homelander speaks up. “Uh uh, nothing but my cock is going inside that pussy today so keep your fingers on your clit.” Your entire body prickles with heat all over at his words. He’s so brazen and upfront and no matter how many times you hear it it always makes your head spin and pussy throb.

You nod a simple ‘okay’ and only ever slide your fingers down to collect more of your own slick. Homelander is whimpering with you as if just the sight of your pussy was enough to get him off. For him, it’s intoxicating. His senses enhance the way your slick squelches loud to his ears and the scent of your pussy just makes him want to stop this little game and rail you already. Yet, he’s a patient man when he wants to be. And more so, indulging in his own desperate urge isn’t as fun as watching you submit to him first.

“Eyes open.” Homelander interrupts the thoughts and visuals in your head. Your eyes snap open and you meet his sharp gaze in the mirror. You didn’t even realise you had them closed. “What were you thinking about?” He asks, almost testing you. As if saying, you better not be straying too far from the path he wants you on.

“‘M thinking about you fucking me.” You say meekly, your fingers rubbing at a particular rhythm now that you know will get you off. Your clit is already throbbing, aching under your fingers.

“Getting a bit ahead of yourself missy, first you’ll have to cum for me.” He says nonchalantly while he pushes the strap of your dress and bra down your free arm. As much as you’ve gotten more used to functioning around him, his voice still makes you dizzy, especially when he’s a master at saying the most depraved shit.

You pause to help him get out of the other set of straps and when your arm goes up to slip out of the strap he gives your slicked fingers a little suck, tasting you with a pleased grin making you flush hot.

While you go back to rubbing your clit Homelander unclasps your bra from behind your back dropping it on the floor and he pushes your dress down, already groaning at the sight of your tits free for his eyes to feast on. He presses his hands against your tits from either side, groaning at the sensation of the plush pillows underneath his hands.

“That's a good girl, keep rubbing that clit.” He growls out an order, yet somehow he looks more frazzled than you while he's not even the one performing. “Open up,” he whispers, his voice frayed at the edges as he presses two fingers against your lips. Obediently, you open up giving them a suck and laving them with your saliva while you keep eye contact with his reflection. He moans at the raunchy display, his eyes glazing over as he pulls his fingers out. With both his hands back on your tits he pinches your nipples, overwhelming you with the different sensation of one being rubbed wet and the other dry. You whine at the sensation, your pussy throbbing with each hot breath you feel against your neck as he tucks his head against it.

He listens to your heart beat like a drum in his ear, while he gives your nipples all his love and attention. He whispers and moans sweet nothings into your ear whilst watching you rub harder and faster finding the perfect rhythm that has cascading heat climb up your spine. “Thaaat’s it, come on—fuuck—come on, you can cum for me. I know you can.” Homelander watches as your muscles tense, seeing your body just ready to snap. What really does you in is the way he’s whimpering like he’s the one getting off. It’s like he’s sharing all the pleasure you're feeling with you.

You cum with Homelander’s lips whispering against your ear as you hold your breath, your body tense until it finally gives in and you feel the wave of heat and tingling pleasure wash over you from your core to your limbs. “Ohhh god.” You finally release your breath, your chest heaving with the release.

Homelander is less impressed. Clicking his tongue again against the roof of his mouth.

“Mhm that won’t do, you can do better than that. I’ve seen you cum better than that.”

You barely have the strength to counteract his claim. This was easily one of your strongest orgasms and he’s trying to say that it was weak? Oh please. You shake your head. You know he’s just playing his little game of ‘I can do whatever the fuck I want’ so you let him.

“Come on, up you go,” He says as he pulls you up on your feet all wobbly and numb from the way you were sitting on the chair. He pushes the chair out of the way with enough force that it topples over with a bang. He bends you over the vanity table where you’re up close and personal with the mirror, watching Homelander’s reflection as he hurriedly unzips his pants pushing them halfway down his thighs.

You can’t see his cock from this angle but you’re sure it’s rock fucking hard and leaking precum with the way he’s panting like a dog in heat. He’s not even in you and he looks about three strokes away from finishing.

“God, fffuck!” He grits out through his teeth before parting his lips letting a long groan out as the tip of his cock parts your folds, immediately finding your soaked hole and pushing inside with one long slide. He huffs and puffs, his head tilted back as he keeps his eyes shut with restraint. His cock is hot and hard inside you, giving your pussy something to quiver around.

You’re overstimulated, your nerves totally fried and your body has still nowhere recovered from your performance of a lifetime but you still take him in. You push your ass towards him, whimpering yourself as you feel his hands land on your hips, holding you there. “Look at how your pussy just opens up for me. Taking me riiiight in.” Homelander’s voice is strangled and raspy as he hisses air through his teeth.

You whimper at the way his words leave you buzzing and mindless with pleasure. You prop your elbows against the table as he starts fucking you, dragging his cock agonisingly slowly at first as if he was so sensitive he was about to bust.

Thankfully that gives you some time to recover and your pussy is no longer screaming at you that it’s too much. He gives you more and more with each thrust, letting out a breathy soft moan each time he hits home. Tip to hilt on every slide.

His boots kick your legs together giving him a tighter, more pronounced feel. That’s where he really starts to pick up speed. He moves his hands up, gripping where the fabric of your dress is still bunched up as he wholeheartedly fucks into you, minding his strength of course, he gives you what you can take and not a drop more.

You’re so deliciously taken in by him that you barely remember where you are and that you reaaally shouldn’t be screaming and moaning at the top of your lungs. Against all odds, your body is still so wired up and wound up that you feel the climbing sensation prickle at your nerves, your legs quivering with each stroke.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Homelander pulls out of you unceremoniously and you whine.

“I was so close!” You pull a displeased face in the mirror, looking at his reflection.

“I know. And so does everyone on the other side of that door.” He mumbles as he picks up the panties he tossed earlier on the table except this time he balls them up stuffing them in your mouth. You protest around them, your eyes widening in shock and your body flushing with indecent heat when you get a remnant of your taste from the soaked fabric.

“I don’t need people barging in to see who’s screaming bloody fucking murder.”

He turns you around, swiftly picking you up and plopping you on top of the vanity table where you’re nicely lit from behind. “Now behave, the door’s not locked. I’d rather not have anyone see you like this. Capiche?” You nod fervently, at this point just doing anything to get him back in you.

“Good girl.” He coos as he pulls your legs up wrapping his forearms underneath your thighs, his hands gripping the sides for easy control. And just like that he slides back into you. You give muffled little sighs into the fabric of your panties as he fucks you hard against the table, making it rattle on its legs. The littered makeup and brushes were now rolling off and in some cases breaking on impact.

“You’re always so fucking worked up. Just need someone to fuck you don’t you. Poor little fangirl, so obsessed with me she doesn’t even have time to date anyone else.” He gives you a sharp grin, his canines sharp like a predator’s would be. You body flushes with embarrassment at the almost degrading comment and with the way you’re gagged and fucked you feel like Homelander’s personal toy.

He fucks you until your legs tremble in his hold and your eyes flutter shut with each press of his cock deep inside you.

He slows down with the literally mind-melting grinds of his pelvis against yours and instead he looks you straight in the eyes getting your attention. “Did you learn? Will you be good?” You nod. He takes the panties out of your mouth, leaving the now even more damp fabric back on the table.

You keep your promise and you keep mainly quiet, biting your lips shut and only letting the occasional whimper out as he strokes a particularly good spot inside you. Instead you let your body do the screaming for you. You shake and tremble around him, all tense and hot and Homelander doesn’t need to hear you scream to know that you’re close.

With your lips free again he captures them, as if he’s been starved this entire time without them. He kisses you deep and wet while he bucks into you, slowly losing his impeccable rhythm as he’s so strung out for an orgasm it’s bound to happen any second.

“Ah—I’m, uh, close…” You nearly whisper out, all strangled and needy. Homelander nods, clearly just as far gone. He lets one of your legs go, instead letting you wrap it around his waist as he places his fingers on your clit, giving you the extra push to the finish line.

He doesn’t wait for you as he cums in the next, one, two, three, strokes. But he pushes through still fucking into you while his cock pumps you full of his load. You cum immediately after, it’s more the thought than the faint feeling of him finishing inside you that just pushes you over the edge. A burst of buzzing fireworks sparks behind your eyelids as you close your eyes shut through the euphoria sinking into your bones.

You’re panting, catching your breath, moaning your residual finish in small whimpers. “Wow, that was—”

There’s a sharp knock on the door.

“Sir, you’re needed on stage in 10 minutes.” Ashley’s panicked shrill can be heard on the other side of the door and your heart stops for a second before realising it’s her. Ashley knows better than to barge into any rooms ever since Homelander’s shown interest in you.

“Oh well, there goes the afterglow.” You mumble with a tired laugh. Homelander nods quietly as he tucks himself back in, finally spent and satisfied—for the time being at least.

Homelander looks at you with fond hunger, leaning in for a soft kiss. “Yeah. Sorry I have to cut it short.” He grumbles, displeased, as he nuzzles his face in the junction of your neck.

He pulls away, reaching for your bra and passing it to you so you could make yourself presentable again.

“Tell me, did you actually leave the door unlocked?” You ask.

“No! I don’t want anyone else seeing you like this. Well. I want you out there with me, just not when you’re freshly fucked. That’s all for me.” He gives you a wide grin, unable to stop himself from peppering you with kisses, capturing your lips again hungry for them as if you’re constantly denying him air.

“Thank you for today.” He breathes hotly against your lips. “You know how to indulge me, I really didn’t think you’d turn up.” He smiles against you, caving in for another kiss.

“What wouldn’t I do for you?” You say with an amused roll to your eyes, but it’s all light-hearted. He knows you really would do anything for him.

“I haven’t found that out yet.” He rumbles all pleased as he helps you make sense of the mess he made of your dress.

“And you never will,” You beam at him, your heart pounding again but this time it’s just from that overwhelming love you have for him, the butterflies that don’t seem to ever calm down in his presence. Even though you’ve been secretly together for a couple of months ever since the fated phone call, the excitement hasn’t even begun waning yet.

“Hey, you know, you’re a really great actress. Had me sold quite a few times. Maybe I should get Vought to cast you in a movie alongside me, huh?” He grins as he picks up his gloves, pulling them over his hands again.

You have to laugh. Sure, you’ve enjoyed role-playing as the obsessed fan that you were a few months ago but it wasn’t all acting.

“I wasn’t acting! Well, obviously I did with the ‘I don’t know what’s gonna happen’ part but beyond that I was really nervous to be with you like that in a public place. You know how I get. It’s not that I don’t want to be with you publically, it’s just a huge adjustment. So… baby steps.” You finally adjust your dress though you still very much look like you just got railed.

“Come ooon, let me make you mine officially. Fuck this sneaking around. The people who need to know, know. The rest is not important.” He presents you with his sweet honeyed voice, and he’s cheating really, he knows how much it affects you.

In a way, he’s right. The people who matter at Vought know about you seeing as you’re up at his place every other day but there was something terrifying about announcing to the entire world that you were Homelander’s girlfriend. That’s nothing easy to get used to. He’s not just a celebrity. He is the celebrity. You will have to say bye-bye to the comforts of a private life. But maybe that’s all worth it for him.

“Okay. How about you go do your job and I go do mine and when you see me for dinner we can talk about it again. Sounds good?” You said as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for another sweet kiss.

“Sounds good." He repeats before continuing with a fond, "I love you,” which always comes out a little strained. He’s never been able to say it without letting himself drown in the endless pool of emotions that are just swirling around inside him.

“I love you too. Now go before Ashley has a heart attack. You’re already late.” You kiss him sweetly, adjusting his hair, making it look more purposefully-tousled, less ‘sex-hair’. You let him go, smoothing your hand down his suit.

“Oh please, I’m the Homelander. Does the party really even start without me there?” He blows a raspberry into the air with a scoff.

“Sure doesn’t, babe.” You shake your head, amused as you watch him wave you off and shut the door behind himself.

You took the time to make yourself look more presentable but you couldn’t leave the room in the state you both left it in. So you collected the things that fell, you wiped the surfaces clean and you trashed whatever broke on the way. It’s the least you could do.

You looked into the mirror, almost not recognising the woman you’ve become over the past few months. Being someone who feeds off your endless adoration has done wonders for your confidence. You no longer feel crazy and obsessive. You’ve finally found someone who’s never gonna have enough of you. Someone who inhales your love like the oxygen he needs to breathe.

You revere Homelander less as an icon and more as a person, as a partner, these days. You know so much more of who he is now and strangely, while he scares others, you’ve never felt safer in his presence. Something about you two just clicks. It’s no wonder he wants to show you to the rest of the world. He wants to lock you in, have people forever associate with him.

And soon enough, there will be no way out.

[Part 3]

Taglist (you can add yourself to be notified anytime I publish a new Homelander story): @morishitoshi

#I'm incapable of being concise #this part 2 was meant to be just an excuse to write more smut without establishing a backstory really but now it evolved into more #but now I'm already planning part 3 #anyway hope you enjoyyy #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander #homelander fanfiction #my writing #the boys fanfiction

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ceasarslegion · 8 months ago

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I don't really think pretending someone's disability doesn't exist is really doing anyone any favours if youre trying to be accessible. I think of all the disabled passengers I have dealt with in my job as airport security, and it's always so much smoother on everyone involved if I just like, acknowledge their disability and act accordingly. Like there was a guy without any limbs who rolled up in a power wheelchair once, and I just opened the gate for him to roll on over for a pat down instead of going all "ooohh can you go through the metal detector for a few steps? 🥺" because that felt like a stupid question that would've come off as mockery when he literally did not have arms or legs and was moving through a mouth-controlled power wheelchair. And we had a lovely conversation about crazy gambling stories and his plans for his vegas trip with his friends while I patted him down. There was no point in drawing attention to him by acting like the questions we were technically supposed to ask everyone to "not assume things" could be applied en masse. Because sometimes it's not an assumption but just the information your own eyes are telling you about someone.

There was another passenger once who also didn't have limbs but did have like, half of an arm he was pushing himself around on a skateboard with, and I had to search his bag. He was very mobile all things considered, and in that case I just asked him if he wanted me to pack his bag back up for him because I didn't know. Usually I don't because I have a whole line of other bags to deal with, and that case felt did feel like an assumption after I'd seen for myself how mobile he was, but I could still acknowledge his disability and go "do you want me to pack it back up for you?" the implication being "i can see you have a different ability level than me, so would it be more comfortable for you if I did this part instead?" and he ended up saying "that would be good of you man, thanks. Just slide it back to me after." And like I assume he can do it himself, its just that airports are loud and stressful and exhausting and even more so when you have a disability, so sometimes it's not a question of if you CAN do something, but what gives you a small break from something that's harder for you.

I think a lot of accessibility issues come from this idea that we have to radically treat everyone exactly the same and never point out when people have different levels of abilities, and I understand where that sentiment comes from, but I don't think it really does anyone any favours in the long run when you're dealing with people whose disabilities literally do affect every aspect of their lives.

Funny story though: once had a guy who would not stop alarming on the metal detector. Nothing in his pockets, no belt buckle, didn't bump the sides, we were so stumped. I just go "alright I'll give you a scan then and we'll figure it out." Left leg beeps, I pat it down, stop, and say "...do you have a prosthetic leg" and the guy double-handed facepalms himself and goes "I FORGOT THAT MY WHOLE LEG IS METAL"

#some thoughts

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winterrhayle · 1 year ago

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an incomplete list of things that i am very very very very very very very intrigued and excited about being visually portrayed in the tlc adaption:

BIOELECTRICAL MANIPULATION. HOW will they portray this??? because its animated i could imagine them doing some like visual effects like squiggly lines or something (kinda into the spiderverse spidey-sense esque) OR they could show it in the way it would look irl, by just showing the impact of the manipulation on the person however i would imagine that this would be really really difficult to show as the audience needs to know when someone is acting by their own accord and who is acting due to manipulation,, this is so intriguing to me genuinely

LUNAR FASHION ! specially in the scenes during winter at levana and kai's wedding, i think the clothing and hair and makeup would be so fun to look at as the aristocrats' clothing is so ornate, and as its animation there really aren't any limits to what they do with that

cinder's vision, with her constant information trickling in with the orange lie detector, heart monitor, internal portscreen etc etc, i kinda imagine them doing a lot of scenes from her POV, where we can see what is happeining through her eyes, and this would be specially interesting in particular scenes like when her cybernetic and natural vision are fighting against eachother to try and figure out how levana really looks, and the scene where cinder is doing some insane multitasking fighting the guards + wolf soldiers while escaping artemisia palace and jumping into the lake

the character designs for the fully modified wolf soldiers, i've always found them kinda difficult to picture personally so i would be very interested in looking at how they're portrayed here

general scene setting like : new beijing market, the artemisia and new beijing palaces, cress' sattelite, the rampion, the abandoned paris opera house fight scene, farafrah, benoit farms, etc etc etc, you get the gist. i feel like tlc has so much potential with these visuals specially because theyre in the future, so the fashion could go in any difrection, and you'd see futuristic things around like the hover cars and maybe like, subtle things like people scanning their wrists (with their ID chips) to pay for things im yapping i know but i just love the world building so much

winter's hallucinations, it would be interesting for it to switch between what she sees, eg a scene where the walls are bleeding and they could do some like spirally camera work around her and then it could cut to another characters POV, like jacin where you can see how it really looks, it would be cool juxoposition and it would be really helpful to get into winters head (as she has the shortest time on paper out of all the characters :(((( SIGH)

they could do a cool thing with the selene / cinder connection, i said yelled my ideas in the tags of this post here, its in all caps sorry lmaooo i got a little excited

anyway these are just off the top of my head there are definitely more,, but if u guys have any more please please please please share i would loveeee to hear

#tlc #the lunar chronicles #marissa meyer #mine #babbles⋆｡˚

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qveerthe0ry · 9 months ago

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What Means to You, What Means to Me

Summary: Max Phillips changes everything. Written for @perotovar 's offering of Frith Word Count: 8,046 Pairing: Max Phillips Loki (The Trickster God of mischief and chaos) x afab! NB! Bisexual! Reader Rating: 18+ mdni Warnings: smut, talks about gender non-conformity, talks about gender dysphoria as it relates to sex, GENERAL GENDER FUCKERY Beta: My sweet angel @for-a-longlongtime of course A/N: Under the cut

Author's Note: First of all, I just want to thank Erin for putting together this writing challenge and sharing SO much about Norse Paganism. The effort you put into this, from the moodboards to educational resources is incredible. And the fact that you've shared something so close to you with all of us made this writing challenge feel like getting a warm hug <3

Second, see the author's note I wrote at the end (as to not spoil the story) if you want to know the ways Loki ingrained himself in this fic.

You’ve heard of this queer club before, but you’ve never been inside. You’d thought the descriptors were exaggerations, but you find out quickly that you were wrong.

Security is tight at the door, and they ask you questions as they scan your ID that sound like small talk but are a bit more probing once you think about it. Your pockets are patted down and you walk through a metal detector before you even breach the front door.

You’re wondering if it’s even worth all this. You’re by yourself, no one’s meeting you here, and you don’t plan on going home with anyone.

Really, you’re just bored, in a fairly new city with no one familiar but your new co-workers to converse with; those are the last people you want to be around on a Friday night after a long work week.

So you’re here. Are there a dozen other queer bars you could have gone to on this rainbow-lined street? Yes. But none of them really feel right. So you’re here, finally in clothes that you feel comfortable in, around people who aren’t going to make you feel uncomfortable in them.

And its reputation precedes itself.

Gaudy. Over-the-top.

There’s three floors, the top two cut out to overlook the dance floor in the middle of the ground level. There’s chandeliers everywhere, far too ornate for a fucking nightclub. Candelabras litter every tabletop with flaming wax that you’re sure is a fire hazard in an establishment like this. There’s fuzzy, cozy-looking lounges and really hot people walking around serving complimentary waters on gold trays and maybe it was a mistake, coming here.

But you’ve already been through the TSA of nightclubs, and so you might as well grab a drink while you’re here and make the uber ride home worth it.

At least the drinks seem to be cheap. You take too long staring at the specialty cocktail names when a bartender asks how you’re doing, and end up ordering your favorite drink anyways. At least they seem nice, unlike some of the bars you’ve been to at the not-mandatory-but-suggestively-obligatory happy hours after work.

You sit at the bar, a little intimidated by the fancy decor and skilled dancers that overwhelm the club.

The music is unsuspecting, something soft and melodic that you only realize is live music when your eyes settle on her.

Her fiery red hair cascades down her shoulders, igniting all the skin exposed by her backless dress. She’s sitting at the piano in the middle of the dancefloor, obscured by couples and others dancing around her.

She’s everything. The most gorgeous woman you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Her nose is strong and her jawline juts and contrasts with those soft brown eyes. You’re yearning before you can even realize it, a kind of consumption that leaves you breathing heavier than normal as you sip your drink probably way too quickly.

You focus on her long, nimble fingers, painted red at the nails and fluttering so skillfully over the ivory keys that it makes your cheeks feel hot.

The ringing of the keys doesn't register over the thumping of your heart and the blood rushing in your ears, which feel like molten lava. Perhaps that’s why you don’t notice she’d finished her set until she’s a foot away from you, placing an order you’d only know if you were able to read lips.

Christ, her lips. Plump and painted in the same shade of red as her hair and nails, they purse as she sips from a champagne flute. She’s so dainty, and poised, everything you’ve never had the desire to be.

And she’s staring right at you.

“See something you like?”

Your breath gets stuck in your lungs and your heart flutters in a medically dangerous way.

“You’re incredible.”

The words roll off your tongue without any go-ahead from your brain.

She laughs anyway, with her head thrown back, and the sight of her throat elongated makes your own go bone-dry.

“If I had a nickel,” she jokes with a wink.

Your half-melted brain scrabbles for something to say so you can be graced with her presence for even one more second.

“How long have you been playing?”

She quirks her perfectly shaped eyebrow at you, and she smirks, and something about the way she can see through you like cellophane turns you on and it makes you feel wicked.

“You don’t really care, do you?”

From your peripheral, you see her long, toned arm inching closer to yours on the bar. Her fingers touch yours, feather-light, and you shiver before you freeze in place.

“I— No, I do.”

You can barely hear her low chuckle over the house music that’s started to play in her absence, but you do, and it sounds like heaven and hell all at once.

Slowly, torturously, she leans closer to you, and her bubbly breath ghosts across your cheek, your jaw, and then gusts in your ear.

“Don’t lie to me, handsome.”

Her tone is teasing, sing-songy in a way that might be annoying if you weren’t so aroused.

Your fingers clench around the glass you’re holding, and her own do the same over yours.

“What do you want me to say?”

You don’t know if you’re more scared, horny, or irritated. They’re all three tied for gold, at this point, with tipsy coming in second and way too warm bringing up the rear.

And the pure audacity this woman has is impressive, as she places her lips so so lightly under your earlobe. You hope to god her lipstick stains.

“Ask me if I wanna get out of here.”

Your lungs inflate too quickly, and your eyes close, and you lean into the touch of her lips.

“Where would we go?”

It’s a stupid question. Why in your right mind do you give a flying fuck? She could drag you to the DMV and you’d happily follow like a pup.

She stands from the barstool, tall, taller than you realized, and the proximity puts her between your spread legs.

Your thighs flex involuntarily, and your fingers twitch and ache to touch her.

“I know a place. If you want?”

Her eyebrow is quirked at you again as she leans back. You can’t find your words, so you stand in answer, and now you’re too close. Every delicious curve of her body is pressed against your front and you unhand your drink to dig your nails into the top of the bar.

“Please.”

Her grin is so mischievous that it startles you, those sharp canines on full display. You think about how they’ll feel against your skin as she nods her head and prompts you to follow her.

You might as well be wearing a leash, the way you trail her so closely. You twist your fingers as the nerves start to pick back up, and all of a sudden you’re in front of some elevator doors with a very huge and intimidating bouncer guarding the buttons and staring you down.

“Before we head up, just so you know, I’m working with a… different set of equipment than you might expect.”

You nearly ask her to repeat herself, a bit too overwhelmed with the eyes on you and the situation you’re about to get yourself into. But your brain plays a game of catch-up, and somehow this little fact makes you feel more comfortable.

“That’s cool— me too. I mean, maybe? I don’t know what— uh, what you’d expect me to have, but… yeah.”

Your voice trails off as the big burly bouncer chuckles at you, and your face could probably melt off of your skull with how hot it feels, but then she grabs your hand and squeezes to tug you into the elevator with her.

The club sounds are nearly all drowned out now, and you’re certain she can hear your heartbeat in the silence as she crowds you against the back wall.

“My name’s Max,” she says, speaking all breathy and low against the skin of your neck.

You shiver, barely eke out your own name as her body presses against yours.

It’s heavenly, the way she feels against you, but the way she teases your earlobe between her dark cherry lips feels hellish. You still haven’t touched her, even though your hands are burning to feel the silk of her dress over her waist. You’re intimidated and horny and mentally working yourself up to do anything on your own without her giving you direct orders.

There’s a ding, and all momentum is lost when she turns away from you to enter the snow globe of a penthouse beyond the open elevator doors. You follow eagerly.

“This is your place?”

Your voice is awe-filled as you look around. The walls are just windows, and the city lights and the last few minutes of sunset brighten all the dark wood and leather around you.

“Yeah, so’s the club.”

Her tone is nonchalant, and you gape at her as she steps out of her strappy, expensive-looking high heels. Maybe you shouldn’t be so surprised. She has all the confidence of someone who owns the world, and her cockiness is reflected in the ostentatious nature of the club and her penthouse.

But you’re still shocked. Maybe you’re shocked because she’s chosen you, out of every other patron, to come up here with her.

“It’s nice— the club. And here, too.”

She chuckles and shrugs but she thanks you as her bare feet bring her close to you once more. You feel your hackles raise as she approaches, along with your heart rate, but she walks right past you.

“Follow me.”

As if you’d dream of doing anything else.

Her bedroom is all windows, too. The bed is huge, much bigger than a normal king, and the space itself is fairly empty of any personal touches. It suits her mystique. You feel like you have a million unanswered questions, but none of them matter when she shoves you down onto the mattress and straddles your thighs.

Your mouth drops open, but she steals the words from your breath when she grabs your hands and places them on her hips.

Finally.

Fuck, she feels incredible under this silky dress as you squeeze her waist and arch your hips up into her.

You tell her as much, and get another one of those cocky chuckles that goes straight to your center.

“Do your worst, handsome.”

And maybe you’ve never been the best at getting into someone’s bed, but you’re certain you’re the best once you’re between the sheets.

It’s no exception, with her. You’re so eager to please. You worship every last inch of her body once it’s revealed to you. You take note of all the places you kiss and lick that make her breath hitch, you tease her until her cock weeps, and you take her so far down your throat that tears sting your eyes.

Her nails dig into your scalp, and you feel like the cocky one when she begs you to pull off, when she tells you that you’ve damn near sucked her soul out through her dick.

Your clit is throbbing and you’ve soaked through your underwear by the time she hastily pulls them off of you. She kisses you breathless and bites your lip with her sharp teeth as you roll the condom down her length. The way she whimpers when you finally straddle her sends you reeling. Your hand finds her tit, and your palm rolls against her taut nipple as you finally get her cock to slide through your slick folds. She arches into your touch and she begs and there’s no force powerful enough to keep you from giving in to her pleas.

Her face twists up so fucking beautifully as you impale yourself on her. Inch by inch, so slowly, teasing her like she’d teased you earlier in the night. You feel satisfied and hungry at the same time when you’re flush with her thighs. Her hips buck when you pinch her nipple, and she hits the perfect spot, and neither of you have any resolve leftover.

It’s a give and take that lasts too long and is over far too quick. You ride her, and she thrusts up into you, back and forth until you both crumble at the same time, blinding and intense and loud.

You might black out.

One moment you’re stroking her skin with your fingertips and thanking her over and over, and the next you’re sitting up against her headboard with a glass of water in one hand and her fiery hair in the other.

She’s sighing in your lap, nuzzling into the heat of your thighs with her aquiline nose.

“You’re incredible,” you say for probably the millionth time that night.

She chuckles again, just like she did when you first told her, but her pretty brown eyes shine when she looks up at you.

“You’re not so bad yourself, handsome.”

Your face gets all hot again, and you feel shy, eyes darting around the room to focus on anything but the gorgeous woman resting on you.

“Does it bother you when I call you that?”

You huff.

“Not at all.”

“Are you trans?”

You huff again.

“No. I— I don’t know. I’m just… me. In-between. I don’t really feel like I fit any one description.”

She hums and presses a kiss to your mound through your underwear.

“I understand.”

“I’ve always been like this, you know? Before I knew what it was. I just didn’t feel comfortable in my own skin. Not in an insecure way. Just that it didn’t feel right.”

“Do you want a dick?”

Her bluntness makes you laugh.

“Sometimes I do.”

She nods, and the way her silky hair feels against your bare thighs makes you shiver.

“It’s actually kind of awesome, I’m not gonna lie.”

She laughs with you.

“Don’t rub it in.”

“I’ll rub it in if you give me another five minutes.”

She does.

You fall asleep in her arms, exhausted and sated and happy.

She’s gone in the morning. All the shades are drawn, those same hazardous candles from the club lighting the apartment dimly. Your clothes are dry cleaned and hanging in a bag you’re certain costs more than your entire outfit. There’s a note next to your half-empty glass of water on the nightstand.

See you around.

Except you don’t.

You wait eight whole days to go back to the club. You wear something nicer, go through the tight security, and saunter up to the bar with much more confidence than your first visit. You wait for her. You drink one too many and hope to find her walking around or playing the piano.

A few people come up to you and ask you to dance, and you refuse each one with the bitter taste of irony on your tongue, and then you go home alone after last call with a headache and queasy stomach.

Maybe she’s just out of town, you tell yourself. She owns an entire nightclub, she’s clearly a very important woman, probably quite busy, too.

You go back the next weekend, and the next, and you don’t see her once.

So after a month, you go again and this time you accept the offers to share a dance, grind against people with a weird confidence you know comes from the woman you hope to see tonight. You share meaningless kisses and buy a few people drinks but refuse an offer or two to ‘get out of here.’

You start to lose hope when the dim lights flicker brighter and last call is announced. But as you bid goodbyes to a group you were hanging with, that very large and scary bodyguard from the elevators is walking towards you, and this time his presence is more exciting and less intimidating.

“Max would like you to come upstairs.”

And while it’s kind of annoying, and seems pretentious— why didn’t she come down here and tell you herself?— you follow. Eagerly. Once again.

He lets you take the elevator up by yourself, and this time the anxiety is more anticipation than it is fear.

Though, when the doors open, you’re face to face with a guy.

He’s got a familiar cocky smirk on his face, messy gelled hair, and he’s leaning up against a wall with his arms crossed.

Panic, is what your body tells you to do, leave, run. But you’re frozen under his thick gaze.

The elevator doors start to shut, and you take a step back when he moves to hold them open, but he chuckles.

A cocky little chuckle.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Max.”

“No you’re not.”

“C’mon, handsome. It’s me.”

You shiver when he calls you that, but not in the same way you did when she said it.

“Is this some kind of joke? Listen, she didn’t tell me she was exclusive with anyone—”

He cuts you off by saying your name in a pleading tone.

“Come in, please, just give me a minute to prove it to you.”

Panic. Run. Leave.

You ignore every instinct to finally step out of the elevator.

“You told me, last time, that sometimes you wished you had a dick. Right?”

You nod before you can think better of it.

Who is this guy?

You’re no stranger to genderfluidity, the way a haircut or makeup or different clothes can drastically change someone’s look— but this isn’t that. This can’t be that. While they have similar features, her sharp noise was still softer, her eyes were less crinkled at the edges, her brow bone was much less prominent. If this is smoke and mirrors, she’s one hell of a magician.

“Do you wish you had one right now?”

“I mean, yeah, I guess. Are you guys twins or something? What’s going on?”

He chuckles again, and you have to say, it’s much less arousing coming from him than it was from your Max. He reaches out to touch your arm, and you want to shove him away, but you can’t.

Your body feels frozen, again, but not from fear. There’s a strange sensation that courses through you, some unexplainable energy that makes your bones feel like they’re vibrating, makes your blood feel thick and heavy in your veins.

It scares you, but the newly soft look on this Max’s face is just comforting enough to keep you from a full-fledged panic attack.

That, and the fact that it’s over just as quick as it started. Your body loosens back up as Max’s hand on your arm rubs reassuring circles.

But then you feel weird. A strange turning low in your gut, kind of like arousal, but not quite. And your pants feel tighter, more constricting than they did earlier.

You look down.

There’s a bulge in your pants, like there would be if you were packing. But you’re not. You’re certain you made the decision to leave it at home when you left earlier in the night.

You look back up at him. He’s smirking.

“You can touch it.”

You do, despite your brain screaming how weird it would be to touch your crotch in front of a man you’ve never met before.

You have a dick.

You feel it now, and while the feeling of it in your hand isn’t foreign to you, the fact that it’s sensitive and fucking actually attached to your body is.

You pull your hand away like it’s been scalded.

“What the fuck?! How did you—“

You stare at him open-mouthed and terrified and maybe a little bit turned on.

“Does it matter? I gave you what you’ve always wanted.”

He looks from your face to your… dick, and back again, smirking, admiring, like he’s just finished an art project.

“Will it… Will it go back?”

“Do you want it to?”

“I— I don’t know.”

Max chuckles that damn chuckle, all full of himself. But this time, it’s her. You know it is, now. As crazy as it sounds, it’s the only thing that makes sense. This is your Max.

“Why don’t you take it for a test drive? If you don’t like it, I’ll change you back.”

You gape at him. It’s all clicking. This is your Max, and they’ve listened to you and done something so fucking weird but so fucking sweet. You don’t know how, and you honestly are starting to care less and less the longer Max keeps staring at you like he’s proud. Of you or himself, you’re not so sure, but it’s working.

“It’s— it’s you, isn’t it?”

“I told you so.”

“Fuck,” you sigh, “where have you been? I came back. Every weekend.”

Max hums.

“I was a little caught up. Got into a bit of trouble, as I do. But I’m back, and I wanted to see you. I’m glad you came.”

“Are you— I mean… you look a lot different?”

He shrugs.

“Do you still think I’m hot? I can change back—”

“No! No, sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. I was just confused. You’re still—”

“Incredible?”

You huff a laugh, and finally relax for the first time since you got into that elevator.

“Yeah. Incredible.”

His cocky demeanor falls to the wayside to make room for something more sincere. He takes a few steps until you’re face to face with him, and places a suspiciously cold hand on the back of your heated neck.

“I missed you,” he mumbles.

“I— I missed you too. That night… I’ve thought about it so much.”

“Mmm, yeah? Me too.”

You kiss the stupid smirk off of his face.

He tastes the same as you remember before, like champagne and sweet mint and her. His teeth are just as sharp, scraping your tongue as it explores every bit of his mouth.

His free hand grabs your hip and pulls you even closer to him and fuck, that feels better than it has any right to. Your cock stirs in your pants and you buck your hips again, fiending for this new type of friction.

“Come to bed with me?”

All you can do is nod and follow.

The bedroom looks just the same as it did last time, but the lack of sunlight makes everything feel quieter tonight— slower, more serene.

He turns down the covers slowly, and you stand at the foot of the bed, extremely uncertain about what happens next, even though your dick throbs with anticipation.

“You still into this?”

Max’s voice startles you out of your own head.

“Yeah, sorry. Nerves.”

He hums and steps closer to you.

“Nothing to be nervous about, handsome.”

You nod and let your eyes trace up and down his body, noting his broad shoulders in that crisp white dress shirt and his thick thighs under the satiny sheen of his slacks. He’s still just as gorgeous in this masculine form, and it’s as irritating as it is enticing.

“Do you wanna fuck me?”

“Shit.”

His words go straight to your cock, and you’re unashamed to palm it in your hand and press and curse at the completely new sensation.

“I’m assuming that’s a yes,” he chuckles. “Do you want my ass or my pussy?”

Your hand on yourself stills.

“You— you have a pussy?”

“I can.”

And it shouldn’t surprise you, after everything else that’s happened in the last ten minutes, but it still does. Your breath stutters in your chest and your dick fills out even more against your hand and you distantly wonder how big Max made it, if it’s exactly what he wants.

“Can I— Will you show me your pussy?”

He leers at you when you ask, and it only turns you on even more.

“I was hoping you’d go for that.”

He starts unbuttoning his shirt, but this whole mad situation has you feeling much more comfortable, in a fuck it kind of way. You step into his space and work the buttons free, and follow with your mouth. His skin is cold under the heat of your lips, and by the time his shirt hangs free from his shoulders you’ve made it your personal mission to warm up every inch of him.

It’s easy to work his belt open, undo his fly and watch it open to a thick thatch of pubic hair. You pause to press your lips to his again, to reach around to cup his pert asscheeks as his slacks fall to the floor.

You can’t stop grinding against him, even as you press him back and down onto the bed. You just follow, fully clothed, hesitant to deny yourself this new heady feeling of pressure to your cock.

It’s only when he suckles your top lip and reaches down to palm you that you realize you’re teetering on the edge of embarrassing yourself.

Your hips jolt away from him and it hurts a bit when you rip your lip out between his teeth, but all the better to take your mind off the intense, heavy arousal in your gut.

“Okay?”

He asks it with a smirk, like he already knows the answer, so you don’t give him one. You just stare down past your heaving chest to see the damp spot on your pants and start to unfasten them to relieve some of the pressure.

“You’re gonna want to chill out. Refractory periods are annoying with those things,” he warns.

You huff.

“That’s kind of you,” you joke.

It’s better, just in the thin fabric of your underwear, less resistant. You want to take them off too, but you’re afraid that the euphoria from seeing yourself with a dick will really conflate the issue at hand.

So you shuffle down the bed a bit, and press your lips to Max’s flat chest, to his nipples that are half the size they were last time. They pebble quickly under your attention, and you bite down on one when you accidentally drag your cock along the mattress.

He groans and arches into you, goads you on with a hand on the back of your neck.

“Are you as good at eating pussy as you are at sucking dick?”

It’s almost comical, the way he applies pressure to urge you further down his body.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You nip at his sparse happy trail as he pushes you down with his large hand on your shoulder and delight in the way his muscles twitch under your mouth.

“Some time this century, yeah.”

You hum, nose at the wiry curls on his mound and grab the wrist of his hand that’s still pressing on you.

“You’re not very gentlemanly,” you tease.

He laughs as he stares down at you with his dark eyes. His hand moves to cup your jaw and you let it, let him trace your bottom lip with his thumb.

“Is that what you want? A gentleman?”

You suck his thumb into your mouth as you shake your head, grinning around his knuckle. You bite down a little harder than you mean to and he hisses. He yanks his hand from your mouth to grab the back of your head and tug until your face is buried between his thighs.

You relent, breathing in the scent of him, bypassing any preamble to shove your tongue inside of him. The way his hips buck into your face makes you smirk into his folds and dig your nails into the skin of his thighs.

He still makes the most beautiful noises, when you get down to it. Desperate, hungry, eager. For as cocky as he is, he sure writhes against you like a shameless whore as he whispers curses into the dark room.

You savor the taste of him, the warmth and tightness of him around your fingers, the scratchy feeling of his bush tickling your nose. The way his strong thighs tense and relax under your grasp makes you want to feel them do the same around your waist.

You look up when he starts clenching around your fingers like a vice, and the thought of that feeling around your new dick makes you whimper into his pussy. You focus even more on the way you suckle and flick his clit, to try and set the arousal aside so you don’t come before you can even slip into him.

He’s got his head thrown back, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, his back arched off the bed when he finally shudders and comes. You work him through it, lapping at his dripping hole, letting him grind against your tongue until he’s squirming away from your touch.

You’re dragging this out. Stalling. You press little biting kisses to his thighs and his mound as he’s coming down. Maybe if you just worked him through one more, you’ll be calm enough to—

“C’mere already.”

You roll your eyes at him as he tugs on you, but you go willingly to hover over him and let him lick his taste from your mouth. His hums are lower and more subdued in the aftermath and they rumble deep in your chest as you try your hardest not to grind into him.

It doesn’t matter.

His free hand wraps around your cock and the feeling turns you on so much that you almost feel nauseous. You can feel all five of his fingers there, even with how big his hands are. He’s around you, and the familiar sensation on the inside mixed with the foreign sensation against your skin is a bit confusing but so hot. He squeezes and you jolt, bite down hard on his lip, but it only makes him chuckle.

“That good, huh?”

You groan into the crook of his neck in answer, completely at a loss for words.

“I’d like to say the novelty wears off, but I haven’t found that it does.”

You feel like you’re on fire, honestly, like you’re trapped in a burning building with no way out. It’s hard to speak or breathe or think with his hand wrapped around you over your underwear. You can’t even begin to imagine how good his skin is going to feel against yours.

“C’mon, handsome, lie back for me.”

You do, with his help, reclined back against his decorative pillows. Your breathing is ragged as he takes his time getting your shirt off and pressing surprisingly sweet kisses to everything revealed to him.

You ground yourself by petting his hair, coarse and a little sticky from hair gel but thick enough to be extremely satisfying to card through. For a moment you’re able to focus on the feeling of it slipping between your fingers instead of the throbbing of your prick.

But then his thick fingers find the elastic waistband and creep underneath. It shocks you out of your false sense of security. When your panicked eyes meet his, they’re so warm and soft you think you could maybe cry a little about it. But he speaks up instead.

“Are you still okay with everything going on?”

And you are, even though you’re hanging by a thread and preemptively embarrassed by what’s about to go down; you want it so bad.

So you nod.

“Words, handsome.”

You huff.

“Yes, Max. Please.”

He hums and smiles.

“Good boy.”

You’re engulfed by embarrassment when your cock jumps dramatically at his words, right beneath his hovering face. You feel even hotter when he huffs out a laugh.

But then he’s pulling your underwear, and it’s there, in plain sight, a gorgeous cock. It’s perfect, it’s how you’ve always imagined yours would look if you had one. Like Max knew, somehow, was inside your brain and could see the same fantasies that you could.

It jerks again in the cool air. You can feel the blood rushing there, a powerful gush that makes it twitch when you think about how it’s your dick, on your body. He hasn’t even touched you yet and you can feel pre-cum dripping down your shaft.

“Can I taste?” He asks.

You nod, then remember your words.

“Please.”

You can’t produce more than a whisper as you watch him lean forward, like slow motion, with his tongue hanging out dramatically and his eyes locked on yours.

The first touch of his tongue against your skin has your hips flying off the mattress at a speed that you’re sure defies laws of physics.

He just looks so fucking gorgeous with your prick eclipsing the middle of his face. Your prick looks so gorgeous. God, you’re starting to understand where cis men get their audacity from.

You tighten your grip on his hair for no other reason than you need something to hang onto or you might just float off into space. He teases you with more kitten licks, up one side, then the other, and you watch in awe. You can’t take your eyes off it, even though it may delay the inevitable if you could.

He kisses the head of it, and his tongue does something wicked right underneath it that makes you tug his head back by his gelled locks.

“Too much?” He asks, even as he winces at your tugging.

“You’re teasing, and all that’s going to lead to is disappointment on your end.”

God, why do you sound like you’ve just run a marathon?

“I’ll never be disappointed by making you come, handsome.”

He’s so fucking annoying. You want to fuck his face just to shut him up, but you know that would only last about ten and a half seconds.

You curse and close your eyes and dig your head back into the pillows. He must take it as a signal to continue, because bright, staticky stars burst behind your eyelids when he takes you into his mouth for the first time.

Fuck. You’re inside him. It feels hot and wet, kind of squishy, but so tight when he sucks and sinks his mouth down even farther.

You yell. The dramatic noise is ripped from your vocal chords without your consent, and your eyes fly open to look down at him. Those plush fucking lips look so goddamn good wrapped around you, all wet and red and swollen. You squeeze his hair in your hand. You’re so torn between wanting to chase the warmth of his mouth and wanting to arch away from it.

Then you feel it, that familiar twisting deep and low in your gut, only it’s ten times as intense as it usually is. You start to panic.

“Max! Max, please, I’m—!”

He pulls off quickly, and squeezes the base of your jerking dick. It kind of hurts, and you hiss and watch in horror and wait for something to come out. But it doesn’t. It’s so weird, the way he’s manually shut down your orgasm with one touch. Completely different than the way you would have had to hold back without this new dick.

“That’s—”

“Incredible, right?”

You huff in the midst of catching your breath. You still feel like a hair trigger, but without someone’s finger hovering over it now.

“Oh my god,” you sigh.

He laughs and lets go of you. You watch him wipe the corners of his pretty mouth and distantly think that you can’t wait until you get used to this, so you can make him gag and watch his drool and your cum seep from it.

Your dick jerks at the thought, and it’s strange to have the evidence of your arousal be so obvious. It’s like a damn car alarm.

“Wanna fuck me now?”

You laugh, delirious.

“My new nickname’s gonna be One Pump Chump.”

He slithers up the bed to lie beside you.

“It’s totally understandable. Normal, even.”

You raise your eyebrow at him.

“How big is the sample size?”

He shrugs and smirks but his eyes focus on the bedsheets between you.

“I know I seem like a douchebag, but I really just wanna help.”

You pout at him, but fix your face before he looks back up at you. You run your hand through his hair, gently this time, and something about this whole situation is making your heart feel all gooey.

“You only seem like a little bit of a douchebag.”

He grumbles at you but smiles.

“Besides, there’s like, a billion things you’re gonna want to try with that thing. You’ll get practice.”

That thing suddenly doesn’t feel as pressing anymore. You’re still hard as rock, but it finally feels like it would take a little more than a gentle breeze to make you spill.

“Let me fuck you, then.”

“Yeah?”

You nod and smile; and some of that eagerness comes back to light up his devious eyes. He reaches for the condoms in the bedside table and you admire all of the taut muscles under his tan skin.

“You want help with this?”

You roll your eyes, but it’s kinda sweet. You’ve never actually put one on at this angle before. So you get between his thighs when he lies back and let him roll it on you.

“You can definitely get someone pregnant with this too, so… be warned. Don’t sue me about it, it won’t go over well in court.”

Your dick bobs in his grasp as you laugh. It feels so weird and fascinating.

“Noted, thank you for the disclaimer. And sorry about the lawsuit?”

He squeezes your prick around the condom and smiles up at you.

“No worries, that was decades ago.”

You laugh until the words catch up with you. But you don’t have time to question it much, because he’s lying back and spreading his thighs for you, getting a pillow under his hips so his glistening pussy is tilted perfectly. Your mouth waters at the sight of him so aroused and ready for you, and at the thought of how much more wet and tight and hot it’s going to feel compared to his mouth.

You sigh and play with his little clit, still wet from your saliva. He keens and seeks out more friction and you have to fuck him. His pussy is even more enticing now, knowing you can slide your prick inside.

You shuffle closer and try to remind yourself to take your time. You purposefully glide your hands up his thighs, feeling the way the hair gets more sparse and fine the further up you go. You’re delighted by the little goosebumps that form under your fingertips and the way he sounds so relaxed when he sighs.

Shuffling even further now, you settle those thick thighs over your own and let your knees cage his slim hips. When you look up, he’s watching you through hooded eyes with his bottom lip between his teeth.

“You really are gorgeous,” you tell him, softly, afraid to disturb what’s becoming a very peaceful calm before the storm.

His breath hitches a little and you see it as it ripples his chest.

“You really are handsome,” he winks back.

Your hand wanders up higher, across his ribs, and your thumb presses against his stiff nipple and rolls it. You feel the small noise he makes under your palm and smile.

Your other hand grabs the base of your cock, sure to keep the base of the condom from slipping down. The subtle move kind of makes you feel like a pro, and you’d snicker about it if the euphoria that flooded through your body didn’t overwhelm you.

It’s kind of like an out of body experience. But you’re also painfully aware of your body and this new appendage and the way the feeling of it is wreaking havoc on your entire being.

You slide your cock through his wet folds and even just this feels incredible, the way every bit of him feels rubbing against your sensitive cockhead. You can’t drag it out any longer, you know.

“Are you ready?” You ask him hesitantly.

“Are you ready?”

You snort and roll your eyes and pinch his nipple. His back arches and the movement makes your dick slip down, press just barely against his opening. You suck in a breath and it takes every ounce of willpower not to shove yourself inside to chase that wet heat.

“Okay, okay, I’m ready. Just fuck me already. Gonna feel so good.”

For him or for you, you’re not sure which he means, but it doesn’t matter.

You try to take your time. You really do. But as soon as the head of your prick slips in it’s like you have no self control.

You chase the warmth, plunge all the way into him, and stay.

Oh my god.

“Oh my god.”

Max chuckles at you and you can feel it. You’re so fucking wrapped up in him. Every little move, shift, clench, it surrounds you and overwhelms you.

“You feel so fucking good, Max.”

You’re sure you look absolutely wild. Your jaw is permanently dropped, eyes wide as you try with all of your might to hang on.

“Ditto,” he breathes.

His eyes look dark and intense, when your eyes can finally focus in.

“Do you— did you make it exactly how you like?”

It’s so stupid to be asking questions right now but it’s the only thing you have to keep you somewhat composed.

“Yeah,” he admits, a little breathless.

“You get off on that?”

You know he does before he answers, can feel him clench and contract around you. You muster up the dexterity to find his clit with your thumb and press.

“I do! I do, fuck.”

You finally start to inch out of him, slowly, afraid that too much friction will send you over the edge.

“Are you using me like a toy?”

He whimpers, and the sound alone makes you snap your hips back into him.

“No, no, that’s not it.”

Your brows rise up in question, and you pull out again as you wait for him to explain.

“It’s— I dunno. I like that you… hah, shit, like that, don’t stop.”

You feel smug that you’ve derailed his thoughts by starting to fuck him with a slow rhythm, if only because he’s derailed yours a million times in the two nights you’ve shared.

You circle his clit and groan at the way his pussy squeezes you. It’s hard to even pull out of him, it’s like he’s sucking you right back in.

“You were saying?”

And it doesn’t sound smooth coming from your mouth, your breathing labored and your voice strained.

“I like that you’ll think of me when you fuck. I like knowing I made you like this for me even if others get to enjoy it. I like knowing— shit— I like knowing I’m the one that makes you feel good.”

You balk at his confession. Such a beautiful explanation for something so possessive. From anyone else it would sound so objectifying. But with this strange relationship the two of you have, it makes your entire body burn.

You collapse on top of him once the words really sink in. You hide your face in his sweaty neck and begin to rut into him with the knowledge that you’ll probably crumble far too quickly, but you don’t quite care.

“You do, you make me feel so good,” you tell him.

He whines and works his hips against yours to meet your frantic thrusts. You grab his hair again and bite faint marks into his neck that make him writhe and squirm against you.

“You do too— harder, please, fuck me harder.”

Man, your hips are starting to ache, just like with your strap, but this time the sensation of feeling him wrapped around your very real cock keeps the discomfort at bay and it’s just pure bliss.

So you double down, raise back up to put more of your back into it. Your sweaty hands slip against his skin as you try to grab his hips for leverage.

“You gotta touch yourself for me,” you pant.

The way he scrambles to comply just turns you on even more, gives you one more tick in the ‘power tripping’ column. He looks so fucking beautiful under you, back all arched in pleasure, his face scrunched up in concentration. His bicep is bulging as he slides three fingers back and forth across his clit, so frantic but so practiced.

You fuck him and try to think about anything other than how good he feels. You’re plunging into the world’s softest, warmest hole and he’s moaning for you, you’re making him feel just as good as you do, and you’re going to lose it.

“Gonna come, Max. I can’t—”

“Do it, come for me. Wanna be the first.”

Your hips stutter as the wave finally, finally crashes over you. You try so hard to fuck through it, try to make him come again, but as the first shock of your orgasm spikes up your spine, you can’t think to do anything but try to bury yourself as far as you can into his tight cunt.

You know he’s saying something encouraging by the tone of his voice, but his words go in one ear and out the other as you grind into him and rest your sweaty forehead in the middle of his chest. It feels so good you could cry.

Your fingertips dig into the flesh of his hips as you ride it out, and your chest starts to burn and your throat starts to ache and your eyes start to burn.

You are crying.

“Shit.”

It comes out as a broken sob, muffled into his chest, and he starts at the sound.

“Hey, it’s okay. Just breathe.”

You shake your head against him.

“I’m fine.”

“I know, just breathe though.”

The breaths you suck in are all shuddery and stilted, and there’s snot, and it’s so embarrassing but comforting all at once.

He urges you to slip out, and he even holds the condom for you, pulls it off, and ties it while you try to reel yourself in.

You don’t, not right away at least, because once you get over the crazy rush of endorphins and serotonin and dopamine or whatever that’s flooded your body, you start feeling extremely self conscious about the whole sobbing during sex thing, and the fact that he didn’t get off, and—

“Come snuggle?”

You’re not sure when he got up, but he’s holding up a robe for you in one hand, and cradling your head in the other, and ushering you out into the living room. His fireplace is on now, and there’s a tall, snobby glass bottle of water on his end table.

You’re tired, now. Like, bone-deep exhaustion. You slump into him where he’s sprawled out on his leather couch and close your watery eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

He shushes you gently, pets your head that’s on his chest that definitely has your dried snot on it still.

“Don’t be sorry. As long as you feel good, I feel good.”

You nod, and taking a deep breath comes easier to you this time. You brave a look up at him, and his eyes are warmer than ever as they reflect the orange-yellow flames.

“Thank you.”

He smirks then, and you feel the tension in the room shift.

“So how was it?”

You grin and hide it in his pecs. You’re hyper aware of your spent dick lying soft and sticky on your thigh. You’re so much more tired than you ever usually are after an orgasm. It was all so different, every little bit of it. And there’s this calmness you feel now, after all the commotion, and it hits you all at once that it all feels right.

There’s no cleaning your strap, putting away your toys, no sliding on your underwear to hide the thing that just gave you pleasure. There’s no awkward dissonance. It’s just… normal. Normal in a way it’s never been before. Effortless bliss, like a sensory deprivation tank. Nothing.

“It was everything.”

Author's Note: I wanted to share a bit about what really resonated with me as I learned more about Loki. The one thing that stuck with me throughout this writing challenge is that Loki is not a bad guy. I will be honest, the only thing I knew about Loki before this was from the MCU, which to me seems like an oversimplification of the norse god from everything I've learned about him. Erin provided me with this very thorough video that analyzes Loki and his myths. To me, he seems like someone who liked to 'stir the shit' for the sake of curiosity. I didn't find much ill will at all in these tellings of his trickery, just a guy who wanted to fuck around and find out about things, someone who did more than just wonder what would happen.

Second, Erin said he's Like a fun older brother. Very playful and mischievous. Very straight-forward. Protector of outcasts; lgbtq+ folks, disabled people, neurodivergent people, etc. This was another driving force behind this fic. It wasn't a coincidence that Max met reader their first night at the club, they founded the club for the sole purpose of creating a safe space for queer people and takes an active role in making sure their patrons feel like they belong.

Lastly, Erin said their pick for me would be Max / Loki because of the gender fuckery, which excited me as much as it made me feel honored. When watching the aforementioned video, I learned about Loki turning himself and Thor into a bridesmaid and a bride, respectively. Loki himself was unrecognizable and was the exact image of a woman. However, Thor pretty much just looked like himself in a dress (this is paraphrasing.) I loved the idea that Loki's shapeshifting could not only be directed toward other people, but could vary in vagueness. These undefined rules for Loki’s gender felt like how I personally view gender in general, as well as how I relate it to my own identity, and I really took that idea and ran with it.

Anyway, thank you again @perotovar for this writing challenge and the piece of yourself you shared with all of us. I love you so much! <3

#pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #max phillips #max phillips fanfiction #max phillips x reader #max phillips x you #perotovar's offering of Frith #writing challenge

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kenziebluex · 5 months ago

Text

The Broken Heart That Makes Us

!!!PLEASE READ!!!

TRIGGER WARNING: Degradation, Dub-con Elements, Mind-Manipulation, Blackmail

Note: To those of you who still think this is a comfort story. (Its is we promise just not right now lol)

(Btw this is Kenzie taking the reigns for the first time because I don't know how to use tumblr! If you see any errors...no you didn't.)

Story Description:

Your arranged marriage is on its last legs. After making an agreement with your step son, Megumi, you are puzzled when you are faced with finally making a decision.

Your whole life so far has been planned for you, leading you to struggle with the idea of moving on and finding something stable…someone stable.

Will you finally be able to let go of the life that was made for you? Will there be others out there willing to pick up the pieces?

(18+) Pairings: Toji, Gojo, Geto, Nanami, & Choso.

Read on ao3: TBHTMU

Chapter 6:

“Miss! Miss!” You stopped mid-typing to see the bouncer trying to catch your attention.

“Are you going inside?” You dabbed the tears on your face with the underside of your thumb. You nodded hesitantly and he scanned the metal detector around your body before allowing you to pass through the red rope.

As soon as you passed through the club doors, the talk you had with Gojo was put on the back burner although it still ate at your mind and heart. You were determined to have the night you came for and that meant selfies, a signing and a five-minute yap sesh with your favorite actress. After confirming the large crowd that waited in a new line to see the actors in the VIP section, you made a beeline to the opened room housing the bathrooms to freshen up your face for pictures.

The bathroom was empty, likely because all of the patrons were either in line or on the dance floor. The bathroom itself was strange, hidden in a separate back room with a single stall and door latch. As you stared at your puffy, red eyes in the mirror, you were able to take time to try to get yourself together. It didn’t work. Staring at yourself only reminded you of the pitiful situation you were in. Breaking up over a phone call? Didn’t even have the balls to talk to me about it. Blocked my fucking number?!

You would laugh if it weren’t so pathetic. You felt played but you also felt stupid. Nearly all of your eye and cheek makeup was washed away while the only thing that remained were your lashes. You said ‘fuck it!’ and concluded that you will only be getting pictures of your favorite actress instead of with your favorite actress tonight.

You yanked the bathroom door open and booked around the corner to emerge from the room. Your exit was blocked by a large chest. You stepped to the right and the stranger followed and your path was blocked. You stepped to the left and he mimicked you again.

He wore a black suit with an open blazer and a white button down. Black trousers that covered over black low heeled boots. Mocking feline slit eyes stared down into yours and long back flowing hair that cascaded down his shoulders. If Gojo reminded you of the shining sun, this man would be the midnight moon.

You laughed awkwardly looking up at the gorgeous man in your path. The same man that stared you down at the street intersection the other day.

“So…were you planning to meet the actors like this?” He looked down at you. A humored smile gracing his lips. He shifted his weight and shoved his hands in his pockets.

You laughed to yourself again, patting your eyes dry once more.

“Oh no. Haha. I didn’t plan on taking any pictures tonight.” You answered but pleased that he cared that you were crying alone in the bathroom. You gave him a gentle smile.

“I meant to say that you’re dressed like a slut.” He spoke elegantly, fiercely contrasting the vile words he just spoke to you.

“What the hell?! Who do you think you are?!” You stomped your foot and balled your hands to your side. Your shoulder purse hung down your arm as you felt your despair turn into rage.

Swiftly, he pinched your chin and forced your head to face up to him. He clawed your waist and hauled your chest into his.

“I’m a man who turns dreams into reality.” Venomous words continued to spill from his lips. He used this thumb to caress your chin slowly.

“Fuck. You.” You spat as you squirmed to release yourself from his grasp.

He whipped you around and held your neck up with his large hand, forcing your head back against his shoulder. His other hand dragged down to your hip and pressed his hardening member in between the split of your ass.

“Is that what you want, princess?” He hissed. Your mouth dropped open in a gasp. He tightened his grip on your neck and you raked your hand on his on your neck and the other on your hip. His long black hair curtained over your shoulder as he leaned down to speak to you. He slowly started to knead his cock in between your ass, violently grazing your clothed pussy.

Dizzy from the tears and lightheaded from crying, you couldn’t stop a long moan from escaping your mouth. A wet tongue traced against the back of your ear. He curved your hips upward in an uncomfortable arch to better rub against your core.

“Do you want me to fuck your problems away?” He whispered low and dangerously. A small whimper escaped your lips as you nervously started grinding against him. You wanted to feel something…anything. You fastened your hand around his wrist to pull him into the bathroom. If you were going to have a rebound you might as well make it worthwhile.

“Do it. Fuck me until I can’t think anymore.” You leaned over and allowed him to push you up against the sink, his hips locking you in place while he yanked his blazer off. You held your body up with your hands while you were bent over the sink. The handsome man was pleased with your compliance.

“Did you wear that see through green dress for attention? Pathetic.” He began unbuttoning his dress shirt. Your chest heaved. You were having a hard time having a full grasp of the situation. A part of you is telling you to run but the other part is telling you that at least somebody wanted your body. You wanted to feel wanted, you wanted get fucked and you were drowning in sadness too much to care about the consequences.

“I don’t know who you wore that for but the person fucking you senseless tonight is me. Remember well and be grateful, princess.” He fisted your dress and pulled it to your upper back exposing your underwear. Your legs tightened as the cold bathroom air ghosted your core.

He discarded his shirt and it fell to the floor. It was obvious that he worked out. You felt it when he pulled you against him. His arms were toned and his body chiseled. You figured that if he weren’t here as a fan, he definitely could pass as one of the actors.

You were facing forward, forced to see the mess that is your face and the wicked pleasure in his darkening brown eyes. You were at war between your head and your heart and you wondered if you could fuck the pain away. Is that what you wanted? You weren’t sure if you were in the right headspace to make those decisions. But you hoped that he could fill a hole within you, despite the cruel words that he said.

Your eyes hooded and he dug a strong palm into your hair and dragged your head up and back.

“What are you going to do?…” You inquired softly. In your head, you already knew the answer. You tried your best to keep the shakiness in your voice from being obvious. He chuckled and hovered down, head next to yours and gazed at you through the mirror.

You felt two fingers trespass through your underwear and down the slit of your pussy. He split your lips apart and started stroking the entrance to your hole. Heavy sighs escaped your mouth, your fingers balled into fists. Tears pricked your eyes as your mind wandered back to how Gojo used to touch you.

“How bold. You're wondering what’s going to happen when you’re already this wet for me?” He nibbled your ear. Your eyebrows furrowed. You are letting this strange man bend you over the sink. You wondered if it was going to hurt. He didn’t owe you any gentleness whatsoever but even then, you still craved it.

“Ah! Ahhh~” You squealed as his two fingers speared your hole. He thrusted them in and out at a relentless pace. The tears idling in your eyes finally fell as he pulled screams from your lips. He pulled your head back to keep you from falling forward, forcing you to watch him pierce you over and over again.

“Did you think I was going to be gentle? You’re so arrogant for thinking you deserve that much.” He let go of your hair and you fell forward, almost bumping your head into the mirror. He yanked your underwear down your feet and helped one leg out to spread your legs wider. He knelt down and pawed your ass with both hands and leveled his mouth to your clit.

He parted your pussy with his thumbs and took a long lick from your clit to your entrance. A long low groan fell from your lips.

“You sound so fucking dirty.” The words went in and out of your ears. He felt heavenly like he was an expert with his tongue. He slapped your ass before tasting circles around your cunt and used one hand to fiddle with your clit. You bit your lip to keep another embarrassing moan from escaping you and then he slapped your ass again. You gasped.

He hummed as his tongue breached your core and started roaming around your insides. You squirm so much that you thought you would collapse to the ground. He held your hip steady to keep you from moving.

“Don’t come until I say so.” He ordered, replacing his tongue with his two fingers and thrusting in you again. You cried in desperation as your nearing climax was denied. He moved fast and used his tongue to egg you on, clearly to test your will power. You were too tired to compete but you were desperate for praise. You listened.

You scrunch your eyes and tried to fight off your climax. Your head bowed into the counter of the cold sink as a brood of moans spilled from your lips.

“Come for me, princess.” He spoke so languidly you could get drunk off his words. You took in a deep breath and your walls fluttered around his fingers. A strained scream was ripped from your chest as he forced your climax out of you.

The man chuckled darkly.

“Mmm~. Will you milk my cock like that too?” Before you had time to come down from your high. The man already pulled his pants and underwear down to his ankles. You froze at the reflection of his cock that slid against your lips. It was not as long as Gojo’s but it was much girthier. You haven’t been fucked since Toji and damn sure haven’t had a cock almost as big. You started internally debating your options.

“Are you on IUD?” He asked and you blinked twice, still not done resolving the internal conflict inside your head. He dug behind your hair and choked from behind your neck. He pinned you to the sink as he lined himself up at your entrance. Your head started spinning even more and you struggled to breathe as he repositioned both hands at your hips.

Your million thoughts were replaced with a sharp pain as the man didn’t even practice gentleness before plunging into you. Your pussy swallowed a third of him and you yelped out in pain. He groaned and threw his head back. He echoed a low fuck and paused. He leaned forward into your back again and forced your head up to witness him taking you from the back.

“Or do you want to be known as the bitch that got pregnant from a one night stand.” You opened your mouth to protest as he snapped his hips back and then front forcing you to take all of him. You cried out from the pain that quickly morphed into pleasure. You held your palm against the mirror to prevent his violent hips from striking your head against the mirror.

He let go of your hair to wrap an arm around your waist and then snaked the other around your chest to latch to your shoulder. He started thrusting into you in quick succession. His cock bullied its way to your cervix while his balls drummed against your clit. Slapping noises rung across the room as your mouth falls open, sustaining loud moans. He buried his head into your shoulder and deep groans rumbled against your ear.

The loud boom of the music in the nightclub blurred as all you could hear were your desperate screams and his hisses and moans. Each time he pulled out of you he snapped back quicker than the time before. He was relentless and punishing but your body was too busy chasing ecstasy to care. He pinned your hips once more and pulled himself out of you. You gasped at the disconnect.

He turned you around to face him and picked you up to sit on the sink counter. You leaned your back into the cold mirror, as he prepped to enter you from the front. You ground against his cock, begging him to enter you again.

“Beg for it.” He ordered. You snaked your arms around his shoulders and toyed with his long black hair. You grazed your hand through his scalp and dragged his head back. Your loose bangles falling up and down your arm as you toured through his long black locks. He moaned deliciously, telling you that he liked it. You pulled his face to yours.

“Give it to me.” You demanded breathlessly. He took your lips into his and he sucked against your tongue. He used the same ferocity to pierce your core again with his swollen cock and started humping into you once more. He latched his hands to your hips prone to keep you still. Your eyes screwed shut as you were approaching your breaking point again. You moaned into his mouth.

“Oh god! Oh god! Please-!” You said a prayer into his ear over and over desperate to once again meet your euphoria. He slapped a palm against the mirror, next to your head. He started pairing silent grunts with a slew of curses as his pace slowed but became more violent. His cock pulsed within you and he hissed. He hiked your loose knee over his other elbow to spread your legs further as his thrusts became sloppy.

“Nnnghh…hahhh~….What’s it going to be?” He bit out as it seemed like he was nearing his breaking point. Before you had time to respond, you reached your climax first, your head buried into his shoulder and screamed Bloody Mary praying desperately that the IUD you installed a few months ago was working its magic. Your spasming walls pulled him with you as he shoved his cock deep and released into you. You milked him for all of his seed as a long moan coated his lips. When he was finished he pulled out of you.

You were still shaking from your climax as he knelt down once more and began sucking at your core that is overflowing with his cum. Your legs and knees fought against him in overstimulation as he came back up and clawed you by the back of the neck. He kissed you and spilled all of his cum from his mouth into yours tasting the mixture of your climax and his.

He let go of your lips and used this thumb to force your mouth shut.

“Swallow it.” He commanded and you hesitated but complied. He started to get dressed but you were still sitting in the sink. Frozen and your mind in a limbo.

Your head cleared and you were no longer thinking. Your pants became rapid and you became paralyzed with worries. One word came to your mind…

Panic.

✿❀○❀✿

The entire ride home was silent with your eyes glued to the road. You felt like you broke every traffic law while racing to get back home and into the comfort of your own bed. Tonight was a bad idea, terrible one even. But you felt liberated. You got fucked hard just like you planned and you’ll take your wins where you could get them.

The only regret you have is not being able to get the autograph that you came for. After that session, you were far too embarrassed to even greet your favorite actress in that state. Hair disheveled, makeup smeared and reeking with sex from head to toe. Even trying to exit the club was challenging but you held your head up and walked out with as much confidence as a fucked out woman would have.

The clock on your phone displayed 1:07 am. You dropped your keys on the kitchen counter and peeled your false lashes off. Megumi’s lights were already off. You left the lashes on your bathroom sink and pulled a few makeup wipes to clear off as much makeup as you can with what little strength you had left.

You leaped into the shower hoping to come out a different woman than you came in. But everything remained. The numb pain in your heart pulsed through your entire body. You felt hollow. You didn’t bother to throw on much more than a satin silk nightgown and face planted into a large pillow. You cuddled the pillow tight, attempting to replicate the feeling of warmth and comfort and curled your body into the fetal position.

Your phone rang.

To your dismay, you didn’t waste another moment to pick it up to view the contents

Text Message Notification

Mr Blue Sky

“Hey…I know I’m a colossal fuck up. At the time, I just thought that it would be better if I just kept my distance from you and allowed you to hate me. I have too much baggage and emotions that I’m not sure are fully healed. Everytime I feel like I’m growing closer to someone…I self-sabotage every relationship I’m in out of fear. But ending the call like that… It wasn’t me and I was sick to my stomach thinking about how that probably made you feel. I love you and I panicked. I was too overwhelmed with my own thoughts and trauma that I hurt you and…I’m sorry. I wanna talk. Tomorrow is Saturday, right? Let me make it up to you. After dropping Megumi off at home…I’d like to see you and to talk to you. I still want to kiss you. I don’t want everything to end like this…”

You clicked your phone off and threw it off the bed not remembering that it needed to be charged. Or you didn’t care. You buried your head into your pillow knowing that sleep won’t be coming easy tonight. ‘You’re too late.’ You cried to yourself.

taglist: @beetusbritt ❤ @nousija ❤ @notleclerc divider by @cafekitsune

❀ follow for more ❀ ao3: kenzieblue❀

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-kenzie & des

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fic #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #gojo satoru #gojo smut #jjk gojo #geto smut #geto suguru #geto x reader #jjk geto #suguru geto

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charming-saturday · 4 months ago

Text

An excerpt from The Five-Star Fiasco, in which Hermione and Draco get roped into going on a romantic vacation together and Draco has to go through airport security.

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Once she has finished with the woman at the check-in counter, she leads them to join the line for security. There is a family with approximately seven too many screaming children in front of them, and once again, the lack of caffeine in her system screams in protest. She tells herself that the children are probably very excited for a summer vacation and that she should try to look forward to her own trip. Sea breeze, homemade pasta, a crisp glass of chilled white wine…Yes, perfect . But then– her self-soothing daydream is very rudely interrupted by some sort of agitating, grating sound. What is that? It’s some sort of screeching to her right. Oh, yes. It’s Malfoy rummaging through his bag, grumbling about how “bloody stupid” this line is.

“Malfoy. Can you just suck it up and follow my lead? It’s going to be over before you know it and then we can both get a nice cup of hot coffee and wait in silence at our gate until our flight leaves. Not talking to each other.”

“I don’t like coffee.” She shuts her eyes at this because it is truly a terrible confession but he continues, “It’s basically burnt mud water.”

Hermione thinks this is truly the cherry on top of the list of reasons to hate Malfoy.

“I’m finding it extremely difficult to muster any semblance of sympathy for you at this moment, Malfoy.” He’s about to retort but she sees they’re next in line to start putting their belongings in the bins. “Okay, it’s time. Are you ready?” She hoists her bag up on the conveyor belt, setting a security bin to the left of it for her loose belongings. The screaming children ahead of them are still struggling to take their jumpers off and the line is moving at a snail’s pace, so she relaxes a smidge, knowing she has time to sort her and Malfoy out. She’s praying to whatever gods may be above that he doesn’t make a scene and is able to play the part of any ordinary muggle heading to his summer holiday.

Surprisingly, he manages to mimic Hermione’s actions perfectly, setting his bag on the belt and procuring a bin from the stack of ones that are currently not in use. She watches him take off his jacket while his eyes rapidly scan their surroundings. His facial expression is tense, and she can see the tension in his movements. Not that Hermione really cares, but she assumes this must be a strange experience for him so she inquires, “Is everything okay?”

“I just don’t understand how you can call this ‘security’. I just saw one of the workers yawn and close his eyes for about ten seconds while he was supposed to be looking at that little screen. Aren’t those where they detect dangerous items? And that worker over there– he’s quite literally licking his fingers clean after finishing his second donut. With these buffoons for opponents, I could easily run through that hallway there with all my belongings and toss a weapon to someone before they could catch me. Then that person would have a weapon when they get on their flight. There’s so many holes in this operation. They could really use a consult from the Auror department.”

Hermione isn’t sure how serious he is about the Auror comment, but she decides to appease him. “You’re right. It’s not a perfect system. But it’s the best they can manage and it’s a huge improvement to the lack of security just a few years ago.”

Malfoy doesn’t seem to feel the need to respond to this and they continue inching their way down the belt, shuffling their feet side to side and awkwardly hauling their belongings until they reach the front.

Hermione has just stepped through the metal detector when she hears bickering behind her. Oh no .

“Sir, you will need to take your shoes off.”

“And walk on this floor in my socks? Ha! You must be bloody joking.”

It’s Malfoy and he’s arguing with the security worker about taking his shoes off before going through the detector. “Sir, this is a legal requirement for everyone here unless you are over the age of 75.” Another scoff from Malfoy and then, “Sir, I’m afraid if you don’t comply we’re going to have to take you back for questioning.”

“But this floor is a literal cesspool and my socks will be contaminated with every disgusting thing that’s ever touched it.” Hermione can see Draco shudder. Hermione watches him, torn between stepping in or letting nature take its course– nature, in this case, being Malfoy’s inevitable detainment. If she keeps quiet, he’ll probably get pulled aside for questioning, miss the flight, and she’ll have this trip all to herself. Just like she dreamed.

The thought is so deliciously tempting that she nearly steeples her fingers like a cartoon villain hatching an evil plan, but her conscience gets the better of her and she’s bargaining with the security agent before she can stop herself. “Excuse me, sir, this is my brother I’m traveling with and he’s never flown before,” she says, shielding her mouth from Malfoy’s view, “and he’s a bit of an oddball. Has a thing about keeping his socks clean.” Hermione weakly smiles at the agent, silently pleading with him to accept this truce before Malfoy digs them into a deeper hole.

The security agent looks skeptical but is slowly nodding, as if this is something he has dealt with before– tall, platinum blond young men who are exquisitely dressed and cannot bear the thought of their socks becoming soiled.

Hermione continues with her attempt to diffuse the situation and looks to Malfoy, “Remember I brought a clean pair of socks for you in my bag? You can have them once you take your shoes off and come through the metal detector, okay? Tell the nice man you’ll take your shoes off now.” She has shifted her tone of voice to one that you would talk to a tantruming toddler in, and she finds just a little joy in doing this so publicly.

She can tell that he understands where this is going, and that it is probably best for them both if he plays along. “Okay, yeah, whatever,” he grumbles and finally slips off his too-shiny loafers. Once they are through security and walking side-by-side to their gate, Malfoy leans his head down and lowers his voice, “Just to clarify– you were kidding about the clean socks in your bag, right?”

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First five chapters are up now and I'm updating regularly :)

#dramione #draco malfoy #ao3 #dramione edit #draco x hermione #hermione granger

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pankowcrumbs · 3 months ago

Text

Lie detector X Richard Madden

MasterList

Richard Madden Masterlist

"Hi I'm Y/N L/N" I introduced myself looking at the camera

"And I'm Richard Madden and we are from the cast of Unwritten Fate which you can see in Theaters on May 8th"

"Today we are doing Vanity Fairs Lie detector Test" I finished before we moved into our spots with me starting first.

I took a deep breath as I settled into the chair, my fingers absently smoothing over the cool metal armrests. The bright studio lights illuminated the set, casting a warm glow over the pristine white backdrop, and in front of me sat the dreaded lie detector test.

Richard Madden sat opposite me, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief as he folded his arms, already looking far too entertained by the situation. A technician stood beside me, adjusting the wires strapped to my arm, his face neutral as he explained the process.

“We’ll be monitoring your heart rate and any physiological changes,” he said. “Just answer honestly.”

I swallowed, my lips curling into a playful smirk. “No pressure then.”

Richard chuckled, his voice a low rumble. “Oh, none at all. Just your career and reputation on the line.”

I rolled my eyes. “Brilliant. Let’s get on with it.”

The first question was innocent enough. “Is your name Y/N?”

“Yes.”

The technician nodded. “That’s true.”

Richard gave a mock sigh of relief. “Thank God. For a second, I thought you might be an imposter.”

“You’d love that,” I teased.

His lips twitched, but he leaned forward, scanning the cue cards with an exaggerated seriousness. “Alright, let’s get to the real questions.” He cleared his throat. “Would you say you are a good liar?”

I tilted my head, considering. “I don’t think so. I can act, obviously, but outright lying?” I shook my head. “No, I’m terrible.”

The technician checked the machine. “That’s true.”

Richard smirked. “Noted. So, if I ever need the truth, I just have to ask you outright.”

“That, or just watch me attempt to lie and fail spectacularly.”

"Okay have you ever stolen something from a set?"

I laughed "Most definitely I always take a little something"

"me too" he laughed "Next one is do you find it hard doing an American accent for this film?"

"I mean some words are really hard to say in an American accent but Julia my dialect coach made it so much easier"

He laughed, leaning back in his chair. " Alright, next question.” He glanced at the card and then at me, his expression shifting into something more inquisitive. “Do you think I am attractive?”

My stomach flipped. I narrowed my eyes at him. “Did you write these questions yourself?”

“I've decided i'm just going to make them up now it's more fun” he admitted, his smirk growing.

I exhaled slowly, feeling the heat creep up my neck. “Yes, Richard. You are attractive.”

The technician didn’t even look up before confirming, “That’s true.”

Richard grinned like the Cheshire Cat. “Good to know.”

I shook my head, fighting a smile. “Are all my questions going to be like this?”

“Hmmm....maybe" he smirked

I huffed a laugh. “Next question.”

He glanced down at the cards again, eyes dancing. “Have you ever had a crush on a co-star?”

I bit my lip, feigning deep thought. “Define crush.”

Richard arched a brow. “Oh, you know exactly what it means.”

I sighed dramatically. “Fine. Yes, I have.”

The machine beeped steadily, confirming my truthfulness.

“Interesting,” Richard mused, tapping his fingers against the table. “Was it from this film?”

I chewed the inside of my cheek, glancing at him from beneath my lashes. “Possibly.”

The technician nodded. “That’s true.”

Richard leaned forward, his voice dropping. “Do I know him?”

I swallowed. “I would assume so.”

His smirk softened into something more genuine. “Fascinating.”

“You are enjoying this far too much,” I muttered.

“Oh, absolutely,” he admitted. “Alright, last question.” He tilted his head, his gaze steady. “Do you think there could be something between us?”

My heart stuttered in my chest. The studio felt impossibly warm, and for a moment, the world outside of this small room didn’t exist.

I exhaled slowly, choosing honesty over deflection. “I think… it’s very possible.”

Silence stretched between us, heavy with something unspoken yet understood. The machine beeped once more, solidifying my words as truth.

Richard’s lips parted slightly, his expression unreadable, but the warmth in his gaze told me everything I needed to know.

“Interesting,” he murmured, his voice lower now, softer.

"Now Y/n during this interview did you lie at any point and we didn't catch you?" he continued

"No" I said looking him straight in the eye

The technician cleared his throat. “True, That concludes Y/N’s round.”

I finally looked away, exhaling a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding. “Right. Well. That was an experience.”

Richard smirked. “Oh, love, you have no idea. Because now? It’s my turn.”

I sat back, a slow smile tugging at my lips. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy this.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Somehow, I don’t doubt that.”

The machine is reset, the wires adjusted, and Richard takes his seat where I was moments ago. I watch as he rolls his shoulders back, exuding his usual effortless confidence, though there’s a slight smirk tugging at his lips that makes my stomach flip. The examiner secures the sensors to his hand, and he glances at me with a teasing glint in his eye.

"You know you're fucked now brother" the technician laughs to Richard as he sits back down to his seat behind the machine

Richard laughed "Oh I know I just realised what i've gotten myself into"

Eveyone in the room laughs.

“You ready?” I ask, leaning my elbow on the table, chin resting in my palm getting serious.

“As I'll ever be,” he replies, flashing that devastatingly charming grin.

The Vanity Fair producer clears their throat, bringing us back to the moment.

“Alright, Richard. We’ll begin with some baseline questions,” the examiner says. “Is your name Richard Madden?”

“Yes.”

“Are you an actor?”

“That’s what they tell me,” he jokes.

I snort a laugh, and the examiner simply nods. “Truthful.”

“See? I’m an honest man,” Richard teases, tilting his head at me.

“We’ll see about that,” I quip, enjoying the way his eyes narrow playfully at my challenge.

The real questions begin, and I shift in my seat, eager to take my turn in the game we’ve been playing all morning.

“Would you say you’re a good liar?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow.

Richard exhales through his nose, thinking. “I suppose I have to be. It’s part of the job, isn’t it?”

The examiner nods. “That’s true.”

“But are you a good liar outside of acting?” I press.

He shifts slightly. “Not really. I can maybe tell a white lie or two, but I think my face gives me away.”

The examiner checks the monitor. “That’s true.”

I grin. “I knew it.”

Richard groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Great, now I can never bluff around you.”

“Not that you ever should,” I counter, nudging his foot under the table. He glances at me, something softer in his gaze before the producer moves us on.

"Do you prefer the food back home in the UK or here in the States?" i ask reading off the Cue card.

"Um I don't really want to die from like Red 40 and shit chemicals so as bland as food in the UK is probably that" he laughs

"You once played a police officer in a TV show; do you think you would make a good police officer in real life?" was the next one.

"Absolutely not, although I did look quite hot in the uniform, so maybe just for that reason."

"What to pick up girls?" I asked with a smirk

"Eh, maybe just one girl," he winked, and we all laughed.

Now it was my time to ask for what I wanted that wasn't on the cue cards.

“Would you say you’re a romantic?” I ask, tilting my head.

Richard chuckles, leaning back slightly. “I think so, yeah.”

“True,” the examiner confirms.

“Oh, really?” I muse, enjoying the way he shifts under my gaze. “What’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever done for someone?”

Richard hums, thinking. “I once planned an entire surprise weekend getaway. Booked the flights, the hotel, arranged everything down to dinner reservations. Just turned up and told them to pack a bag.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “That’s impressive.”

He shrugs, but there’s a touch of pink dusting his cheeks. “I think grand gestures are nice, but sometimes, romance is in the little things too.”

“True,” the examiner says again, and I feel something warm curl in my chest.

“Okay,” I continue, tapping my fingers on the table, “do you believe in love at first sight?”

He meets my eyes and there’s a pause, a charged beat of silence.

“I think… I think you can meet someone and feel something instantly,” he says carefully. “Like you just know they’re going to be important to you.”

My breath catches slightly, but I keep my expression neutral.

“That’s true,” the examiner notes.

Richard lets out a soft laugh. “Good to know my heart’s not lying to me.”

I swallow, breaking eye contact for a moment to glance at my question card. “Alright, next question. Do you think we have good on-screen chemistry?”

He huffs a small laugh. “I hope so. Otherwise, we’re in trouble.”

“That’s not an answer,” I tease.

He licks his lips, eyes flicking over me. “Yes. I think we have great chemistry.”

The examiner doesn’t even glance up. “True.”

Richard exhales dramatically. “Thank God. Imagine if I failed that one?”

“I think I’d have to walk out,” I joke, though my heart is hammering a little.

“Would you ever date a co-star?” I ask, my voice deceptively light.

Richard smirks. “Depends on the co-star.”

“That’s a non-answer again,” I warn, my stomach flipping.

He leans forward slightly, voice quieter. “If the connection was real, and it felt right… then yes.”

The examiner glances up. “That’s true.”

Something shifts in the air between us, a slow, simmering tension that neither of us moves to break. I bite my lip, and Richard watches the motion with something unreadable in his expression.

“Last question,” I say, barely above a whisper. “Do you have a crush on me?”

Richard's lips part slightly, his jaw tightening just a fraction. Then, ever so slowly, he leans back, his tongue running along the inside of his cheek.

“Yes,” he says, clear and unwavering.

The examiner nods. “True.”

A silence stretches between us, thick and electric. Richard watches me carefully, as if waiting for my reaction.

I swallow hard, my fingers tightening on my cue cards. I could joke, brush it off like we’ve done all day. But something in his eyes tells me this moment is different.

“Good to know,” I murmur, a small smile playing on my lips.

Richard lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah. It is.”

"Richard during this interview did you lie at any point and we didn't catch you?" I asked

"No" He said smirking

"True" the technician said smirking too.

Richard and I glance at each other, something unspoken passing between us.

"I don't think we've ever had people go off script before but man that was entertaining" one of the producers laughs shaking her head.

The moment the cameras stopped rolling, a different kind of tension settled between Richard and me. The playful, flirtatious energy of the lie detector test had left a lingering buzz in my chest, but now, without the bright lights and the crew’s presence, the air felt heavier charged with something unspoken.

“Alright, that’s a wrap!” the director called out, and the small team of producers and crew members began packing up the equipment.

I stretched my arms with a small yawn, glancing over at Richard. He was already watching me, lips twitching into a knowing smirk. “What?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.

He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his tousled hair, looking far too smug for someone who had just admitted on record that he found me attractive. “I need to tell you something,” he murmured, his voice just low enough that only I could hear.

I raised a brow, intrigued. “Oh? Are you finally admitting that you fancy me, Madden?”

His smirk deepened, and he leaned in slightly. “I think I already did that in there, sweetheart.”

I could feel my cheeks warm at the way he said it so casual yet filled with something deeper. “So, what is it, then?”

He hesitated for the briefest second, as if debating whether to say it. But then, with a decisive breath, he spoke. “Remember when you asked about the most romantic thing I’ve done?”

I nodded slowly, thinking back to his answer. The surprise weekend getaway. The flights, the hotel, the carefully planned details. I suddenly felt an odd tightness in my stomach.

“Well,” he continued, his blue eyes flickering with something unreadable, “that trip I planned? It was for us.”

I blinked, sure I had misheard him. “For… us?”

Richard gave a small, almost sheepish nod, the corner of his mouth tilting upward. “I booked it a couple of weeks ago. Just in case. I figured after all this press madness, we’d deserve a break.”

My mouth parted slightly, caught between surprise and something much softer. “You planned a surprise trip for us?”

“Aye,” he admitted, tilting his head. “Thought I’d tell you after the interview, but then they asked that question, and I panicked a little.”

I let out a soft laugh, still trying to process the fact that Richard Madden my co-star, my on-screen partner, my undeniable off-screen flirtation had not only thought about us outside of work, but had gone so far as to book a trip together.

“Where?” I finally asked, my voice quieter now.

His smirk softened into something more genuine. “Italy.”

My breath hitched. “Italy?”

“A little coastal town. Private villa. No cameras, no press. Just… us.”

I stared at him, searching his face for any hint of teasing, but all I found was sincerity laced with something hopeful. The air between us felt electric again, but this time it was different no barriers, no pretence.

“You don’t have to say yes,” he added, suddenly looking almost shy. “I just thought”

I cut him off with a slow, knowing smile. “When do we leave?”

The relief that crossed his face was immediate, and he chuckled, shaking his head as if amused by my response. “Saturday morning.”

I grinned. “Good. Because now I really want to know if you’re as romantic as you claim to be.”

Richard leaned in even closer, so close that I could feel his breath ghosting over my skin. “Guess you’ll have to find out, won’t you?”

#fanfiction #reader #x reader #one shot #richard madden x reader #richard madden #richard madden x you #richard madden imagine #imagine

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wooahaeruby · 1 year ago

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Chapter 2: Umbrella to Stand Under, Together

Chapter Word Count: 3,230

Possible "triggers" but not really All unrealistic government stuff, hacking, coding, etc. Don't take that shit serious, I just needed to add it because I needed the filler and for context later for jokes.

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The rain let up. It was the fourth day that it pelted the ground without fail and drenched the city in gloom.

You weren’t surprised. Long, random bouts of rain weren’t uncommon but were definitely unwelcomed by you and any passerbyers on the busy streets.

It was early, as it typically was when you left for work, and the fog that shrouded the city only added to the drowsiness that was taking over your senses. Your heels were no match for the rain but you were smart enough to pack them in a tote and wear flats to better traverse the slippery sidewalks and subway tunnels. Peak rush hour had you stressing yet your steps never faltered as you squeezed into the subway car and stood with your hand grasping the railing for stability.

You flatten out your dress pants the best you could, shivering at the small wet patches that dotted the fabric from the rain. You’d hate to have to walk home in them unless the sky magically opened up to the warmth of spring sunlight. The long sleeved, powder blue blouse you wore wasn’t any better, barely keeping in warmth without the jacket you slung on as you hurried out the door. A lot of work needed to be done today at the office and you shook off the annoyance that you held, not needing to be huffing over stupid clothes when you’d be behind a computer all day.

The office building wasn’t too far from the subway entrance, it provided your much too short daily need of exercise since you wouldn’t bother driving a car in the overpopulated streets of the city.

At the top of the steps, you were ready to weave through the busybodies that lined the street when a hand stopped you, gently holding your elbow.

“Don’t you want a nice umbrella to walk under, honey?” The voice caught you off guard but familiar nonetheless. It was silvery and bright, laced with a bit of teasing and a heavy drop of sarcasm. “Can’t have you getting soaked in the rain.”

Another day, another act.

You hummed and let your arm be linked at the elbow with the man, taking in his sharp nose and long, handsome face. “I’d love that, nice to see my husband is always caring for me one way or another. Though I wonder, how did you manage to be here early enough to catch me?”

“Ah, well you know, the early bird catches the worm and a loving wife keeps my head down from the clouds to remind me to pamper her.” He held the umbrella above you, hoping it was enough of a shield to keep the both of you mostly dry from the never ending rain.

“Good morning, Seokmin.” You properly greeted, a smile on your face as he laughed to himself.

“Good morning, beautiful.” Seokmin hummed, letting his usual long strides match up with your smaller ones. “Thought I’d be nice since you almost always forget your umbrella when it rains.”

“Not sure if you are calling me dumb or being thoughtful so thank you either way.”

You shared a laugh, the conversation settling for the loud patter of rain and the rush of feet hitting the pavement. Stepping into the building, you parted to remove your backpack and tote bag, sending them through the x-ray machine for security. You waited to be ushered forward through the metal detector, clearing it without an issue. Gathering your things, you waited for Seokmin, walking side by side through the second checkpoint where you each scanned your badges to pass through the gates.

“Email said we have a lot to do today, is it on SVT or is it stuff regarding the governor?” You asked, letting him press the button on the elevator.

“Depending on how fast you work, we are still running confidentiality on something for the governor and if you get it all done, maybe you can try and go back into finding information on SVT.”

Huffing out a sigh, you pouted. With new elections coming up, you had been swamped with cyber threats and finding the faults in them to send the proper authorities once identities were discovered. Your division worked mainly for the governor and mayor, however you were tasked with deep diving the web for any and all information you could find on the elusive underground group. SVT was hard to track, always covering their behinds and hiding behind thick firewalls that were ever changing. Any given day investigating them was tiring and fruitless.

One of the most frustrating parts of your findings was the encryption integrated with the firewalls. In college you majored in cybersecurity investigation and cryptography, you knew how the codes were written, how to solve them easily, but whoever was running point on SVT’s knew what they were doing and did it well. Each code was unique and almost a thumb print into who the person behind the screen was. You spent years looking over codes from your classmates, you could point out almost all of them just by their coding alone. The code for SVT…it felt familiar, you don’t know how it did but you thought you had seen the encryption code pattern previously and you’ve mainly kept that fact to yourself. Honestly you thought you were just going mad from staring at the screen too long and needing something to keep you focused.

Stepping off the elevator onto your level, Seokmin walked you to your office, letting you unlock the room and flick on the lights.

“I’ll email over what I need from you by the end of the day.” He gave a small wave, flashing a bright smile before making his way towards his office but backtracked and leaned against the door frame for a moment. “I can drive you home later if it’s still raining. Like I said, can't have you getting soaked .”

Fixating your eyes on his, you raised a brow. “I’m sorry, boss , are you flirting with me? On company time?”

“Always, honey.” He left you with a wink and walked off once more.

You hung your coat on the wall hook and pulled out your heels to slip on, knowing if you didn’t do it now you’d forget and you wouldn’t hear the end of it from your older coworker who were sticklers about how you dressed to work. As you sat down at your desk, you turned on your computer tower, one with some of the best specs you knew, seeing as it was fancy government money that provided it. Once you had joked that you would steal it and replace the gaming PC you had with it since it ran so smoothly.

Awaiting Seokmin’s email, you reviewed tasks and projects needing to be finished by the end of the week with your team outside of your work from Seokmin. Simple encryption and reviews were needed in regards to them but it was just a repeat of almost every project provided by the upper management. Occasionally it was different with a breach in security walls and needing to repair and strengthen them but it was more rare than what anyone in the media depicted with multiple teams watching over the servers.

Once the email hits your inbox, you set to work. It was easy work, really only needing to spend a majority of your time layering encryption to protect the assets data. The layer of code took the longest, having to skim through line after line to make sure your work was clean even though it was yet just wanted to double check. With your desire to finish and move from the first task, you skipped lunch and snacked on a protein bar from the top drawer of your desk. At some point you closed your office door and opened the blinds the slightest bit, a signal to your coworkers that you were focused and if they needed you they would need to knock and wait.

Slumping back in your chair, having kicked off your heels and sat criss-cross, both hidden under your desk, you were satisfied with the work you finished. Did it take a majority of the day? Most definitely, but it was done and a quick email told Seokmin you were moving onto the SVT firewall and diving into any dark web clues.

SVT wasn’t your company's main focus. As a subcontractor company under the bureau of investigation, you mainly worked for the state and the governor's office, however with the city and the rings that ran under the night’s sky, your company also tried to assist in searching up any leads on them. If you were to be honest, it was your favorite part about the job. The group had come to light in May 2018 when you were just finishing your second semester of college and while you didn’t condone their actions, you were intrigued by how fast they grew under the police’s nose.

It only further pushed you to top your classes to find a way to work for a division that even looked into them a little bit. You wanted to stay in the city after college and got a job at your current place of employment after finding out you would be getting paid decently. You were overjoyed when you got your first assignment against the infamous group. It felt even more fulfilling when Seokmin, your boss then and still now, complimented you on the work and the speed you got things done.

Speaking of the devil, he knocked on your office door later in the day. You called out for him to enter, taking note of the time close to clock out for the day.

“Anything juicy?” He asked, knowing you well enough to have an idea of what you were already diving into.

You shook your head and looked back towards your screen as he closed the door and rounded your desk. “A forum is making a comment about bringing down their business but I’m not really sure what that is aside from a silly threat they probably wouldn’t take seriously. The profile attached to it isn’t interesting, similar comments are made for other gangs so I’m not really interested in it.”

Seokmin peered over at your screen, watching as you scanned another few comments and huffed.

“I get a headache anytime I try breaching their servers. It’s like they know I’m trying to get it and add another layer to keep me out.”

“Ah, don’t think like that!” Your friend rested against the back of your chair. “Maybe they are just trying to keep their stuff strong so no one gets in, who knows!”

You leaned your head back, looking up to Seokmin who looked down at you with his dazzling smile. Breathing a sigh out from your nose, you closed your eyes. You weren’t satisfied with your findings so far and needed to get something solid to report to your higher boss just to ease the slight obsession you had.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” He patted your shoulder and spun you in your chair, laughing at your sitting pose and the lack of shoes. “Tomorrow can be a new day and a fresh start.”

He gave you little time to get out of your desk and clock out, muttering something about changing your clock out time just a little bit with a wink.

Seokmin, ever the gentleman, something you joked about since he started playfully flirting with you a few weeks into your start at the company. He found your curiosity with SVT interesting and liked you even more when you joked with him in return. Other colleagues within your division were absolutely under the impression the two of you were dating no matter how much you denied it.

In the nearly two years you’ve worked with him, it felt like a blooming friendship since day one. While Seokmin was your boss, he was only two years and some months older than you. He never made you feel uncomfortable or misheard in the mostly male dominated workspace and never let the friendship you nurtured interfere with either of your work. He was a person you could rely on, someone who you didn’t feel like a burden to when traversing adult life or needing help.

Most surprising was how ready he was to be there for you. A year into your friendship he had said that if you ever needed anything or needed help with a situation to give him a call.

You took him up on that offer once last summer when you had a date go downhill and you camped out in the bathroom of a nice restaurant until Seokmin showed up, dressed in dark jeans, a fitted black shirt, and a shiny pair of boots. The guy that asked you out was a major dick that had some very…controversial opinions on women and you didn’t feel safe just walking out of the place alone. You hated that you didn’t notice the red flags prior. Seokmin had promptly escorted you out and into his car, locking it and going back in to pull the man outside to speak. He didn’t tell you what was said between them when got back in the car, but he told you that the guy wouldn’t be bothering you anymore.

In a fit of coping with the situation, you joked the entire way back to your apartment that he was living some double life and was all cool and some hotshot outside of the smiles and teasing you had received at work. He neither confirmed nor denied it, but the next day at work he had brought your favorite morning pastries and coffee with single rose, saying that any man that tried to date you wasn’t worth it. It warmed your heart that you had someone care about you platonically like he did.

He took you home from work, bugging you if you needed to stop anywhere since he was driving you. You insisted that, no, you didn’t need anything and you just got groceries delivered to your house the night before so everything was set. With the best hug you could provide over the center console as your parting gift, you quickly left and hurried your way across the sidewalk and into the apartment building you called home.

It didn’t…seem right. As you tried to process the encryption and the message hidden behind it, you leaned a bit too close to the screen and squinted.

Just a series of coordinates, a date, and time posted? Tonight?

This couldn’t be right but you were unsettled to say the least.

Quickly you wrote down the information on a sticky note, having looked up the location and jotting it down alongside everything else. As fast as heeled feet could take you, you hurried out of your office and down the hall towards Seokmin’s office. A quick peek inside showed him only typing something on his computer and you knocked hastily, trying to catch your breath.

Hearing his signal to come in, you pushed the door open and scurried behind his desk, slapping the sticky-note down on whatever papers were in front of him.

“Good afternoon to you too, what is this, honey?” The teasing in his voice was laced through each word. He sat back in his chair, raising an eyebrow at both you and the note.

“I found this while intercepting some messages between some people while sifting through SVT leads. Do you think it means anything?” Your voice held hope as you asked.

Seokmin peered over the note, moving his head side to side in thought. “I can send it over to my supervisor and see what he thinks. Don’t know if it will be worth it though. Did it come with any message or just this?”

“Just this.”

Nodding, you watched his face morph between two faces you couldn’t properly place but they both faded into a small smile. He gave a small pat to your arm, “I’ll keep you updated on it, try and get some more digging done if you can. It is a Friday though so don’t expect anything from the higher ups.”

You knew it was right and the grimace and roll of your eyes you gave showed just how annoyed you were. When you read over the coordinates and looked it up, you had a nerve wrecking gut feeling that it meant something, even if it was simply a distribution of products. Maybe you could even look into it more yourself…

“But Seokmin-”

He cut you off with a click of his tongue and a stern look. You’ve seen him serious before but never this serious. Seokmin had set his jaw some and squared his shoulders, sitting up straighter in his chair.

“You know how it goes, you give the information, I relay the info, then the feds try to handle it.” He paused, words direct. His gaze turned hard, almost like he could read your mind. “Don’t do anything stupid, Y/N. I know you too well and this doesn’t mean you do more than what your job is.”

Honestly you should feel offended, but staring down at him from your standing position, you could see the tension in his shoulders. You bit at your bottom lip and sighed out your nose. With him holding your gaze, you nodded, letting your shoulders drop and sighing once more.

“I just think it’s really important, I haven’t had this feeling in a while since we found that a few cops aligned with them but were killed not long after we found out and the feds sent people to look for them…”

Seokmin’s face softened, letting the tension ease from his body and he took your hand, gently patting the back of it and nodding along to your words. He had seen how disappointed you were when the department saw the news that the cops died.

“I know, beautiful. Let me pass this on and hopefully they will do something about it.”

Returning back to your office and shutting the door, you sat behind your desk, staring at the clunky screen of your computer monitor. Your mouth twisted and contoured as you chewed on your lower lip, thinking over what Seokmin said. With how your management has worked before, a part of you already concluded that they would think the information was lacking and wouldn’t investigate it at all. They’d probably think whoever found the message was an idiot since it had nothing backing it aside from being in with SVT leads. In a fit of rebellion, you wrote down the information and slid it into your backpack.

You had declined Seokmin’s offer to take your home and opted for the subway, needing a bit of time to think. He had told you that no supervisor took the shred of information seriously, as expected, and that you should simply move on from this lead and wait for another to come forward.

You couldn’t accept it if you were being honest with yourself. Why would all that information, albeit so little at the same time, be sent?

It didn’t make sense, it really didn’t.

Pacing about your apartment, stepping through each room while lost in thought, you debated whether to do something extremely stupid or not.

Tag List is Open! Comment on the BSH Master List to get added!

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readyforthegarden · 2 years ago

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Breakable Heaven - Part One

Pairing: Danny Wagner x Female Reader

Synopsis: Being the maid of honor in your best friends wedding is already stressful enough without the best man being the ex-boyfriend who tore your heart to shreds. Stumbling across a dating app with dates for hire, you take a chance, inviting a perfect stranger to pretend to be your boyfriend for the weeklong celebrations. But how long can the charade last when the champagne starts pouring and feelings start growing?

A/N: I just want to say thank you so much to @joshsindigostreak and @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine for workshopping this idea with me for what feels like a year, and to @gretavanfleetposts and @earthlysorrows for hyping me up when I shared some sneak peeks with them. Love love love y’all!!!

Warnings: flight anxiety, tooth rotting fluff 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

WC: 3904

Airports always made you nervous. The people, the stress of making flights on time, getting through TSA, not to mention innate fear that not only were you going to miss your flight, but that the gate and flight actually never existed.

Adding on top of that the stress of meeting someone new, a complete stranger you had only a handful of phone conversations with, well that made you more shaky than the coffee with two espresso shots you’d picked up on the way to the airport.

Looking around again, you tried to find the face of the stranger in the crowd, recalling his profile picture from the app. The sea of faces that greeted you didn’t match, raising a new fear in your gut: you were being stood up. You wouldn't have blamed them, honestly. It was an entirely insane idea. Hiring a date for your best friend's destination wedding was up there with the stupidest things you had ever done. But the idea of facing your ex, Gavin, during all the week-long festivities alone made your stomach churn.

Hearing your name, your eyes scanned the crowd again, looking for the man from the pictures on his profile. Heart beating anxiously in your chest, it fell as you were greeted with nothing.

“Hey,” your soul nearly left your body as a hand landed on your shoulder from behind. Turning, you were greeted with the man you’d been looking for. “I didn’t mean to startle you!”

“Oh it’s okay.” you waved his concern away, calming down, fanning your face a bit with the tickets clutched in your hand. “I was so focused on trying to find you I didn’t think that you were trying to find me too.”

“Yeah, this place is nuts,” he agreed. “I guess we should properly introduce ourselves. I’m Danny.” he held his hand out, and you met it with your own in a firm shake. “It’s nice to meet you in person.”

“Yeah, it’s nice to meet you too,” you replied back, supplying your own name, though feeling a bit foolish because the two of you had been texting for a week now. But Danny just grinned, his smile slightly crooked. His dark curls flowed from the bottom of his baseball cap, and you had the distinct feeling that if he took it off, he wouldn’t suffer from hat-hair like you would. Not realizing you were staring until he chuckled, you cleared your throat, handing him a plane ticket. “We should head over to get through security.”

The cattle line through security was as awkward as you anticipated in your anxiety. Danny let you go ahead of him, the set path too narrow for both of you to stand together. Stomach churning nervously, you were dying to fill the silence between you two, but there was very little to discuss at the moment. When you did peek back, Danny seemed preoccupied with reading all the signage around you.

When it was your turn to fill your bin with any metal and belongings you frantically tossed everything you had in taking off your shoes and padding in your socks through the metal detector. The agent beckoned you down to wait for your tray as it went through the scanner with your carry on backpack, and you watched Danny go through. He moved effortlessly, like he did this every day. Whether it was vindication or jealousy you weren’t sure, but you felt a tug in your stomach when he took off his cap, his curls bouncing perfectly back into place, not a strand matted down.

“Are you hungry?” you were sliding your backpack back on, wiggling your feet back into your shoes as Danny asked the question.

“I could nibble on something.”

“Great, I’m starving. I woke up late and didn’t want to chance missing the flight.” Danny’s smile graced his face again, and you couldn’t help but feel charmed by it. Maybe your judgment was broken, to feel this confident about a stranger, but Danny seemed completely sincere off the bat. Something that was going to be key to keep up the lie for the next week.

Finding a small cafe, Danny ordered himself a breakfast sandwich and a coffee, asking what you wanted. After a bit of back and forth, Danny insisting he pay for your breakfast, you yielded, ordering a croissant and herbal tea, feeling like you’d had enough coffee this morning. Danny convinced you to take a seat at one of the small tables in the cafe, assuring you that the gate would not magically disappear, and you had more than enough time to get there.

“So, who in this day and age throws a week-long wedding celebration?” Danny asked, a curious smirk on his face as he lifted his coffee cup to his lips.

“Someone whose family hasn’t known what an empty wallet has felt like since the eighteen hundreds.” you rolled your eyes. Your best friend Olivia had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth, though it was rare she acted like it. You hadn’t realized she had any money until high school, when her parents finally allowed you to come over for a sleepover.

Her room was bigger than the floor plan of your childhood home, and you remembered wondering what someone used all of that open space for, but realized as the night went on and the giggles grew louder, it was used to have small dance parties at sleepovers.

“I see,” Danny nodded, wiping his hands on a napkin. “So what I’m hearing is that we should make the absolute best of this all-inclusive trip and open bar at the wedding?” his hazel eyes sparkled with good-natured mischief, even under the shadow of the bill of his hat.

“That’s what I’m planning on doing.” you smiled back, feeling a giggle bubble up in your throat as you picked at your croissant. “No well in my drinks, I’m getting top shelf.”

“‘Atta girl,” Danny laughed. Soon you both finished your breakfasts, the herbal tea calming your nerves some. By the time you got to your gate, there was only a few minutes before boarding started. As maid of honor, Olivia had made sure you and your plus-one had first class seats, which made you so giddy you nearly forgot your anxiety.

“Woah,” you breathed once you boarded, looking at the pod that was your seat. “This is like a whole ass apartment.”

“Never flown first class before?” Danny snickered as he entered his own pod next to yours, dropping his small carry-on pack onto the seat. Looking up, you shook your head. “I think you’ll like it.”

“You fly often?” Danny shrugged as he settled into his seat, moving the pack to the floor by his feet.

“I’m in a band, and we fly around for gigs.” he answered. “I’ve only flown first class twice, but once you do, you never want to go back to economy.”

“Well, it’s good I don’t get to travel often then.” you sniffed, sitting in your seat. There was a gap for a curtain partition between you both, should either of you decide to lean back and take a nap. You occupied yourself with looking at all the buttons around you, fiddling with the air conditioning, anything you could the closer you got to takeoff. When the flight attendants came by and reminded you to buckle up, you took a deep breath, leaning back in your seat and closing your eyes once fastened in.

The pilot came on the speakers, going over the flight details and making her announcements, and you focused on your breathing, in through the nose, hold one two three, out through the mouth. You repeated it over and over through the speech until you were interrupted.

“Are you okay?” Danny was looking at you, forehead creased in concern.

“Oh, yeah I’m fine.” you tried to wave him off, but your shaky hand gave you away. Instead of going back to his own business, he reached out, taking the hand you tried to dispel him with, holding it in his.

“Good, because I am, and I don’t think both of us could survive this flight if we were both nervous.” he laced his fingers through yours, the soft pressure of his hand calming the shakiness of your nerves. He gave you a soft smile, and you caught on to his fib, him trying to make you feel better by pretending to be the nervous one. “Besides, it gives me a chance to practice acting like your dutiful boyfriend.”

“Right, right.” you nodded. “You’re doing wonderful already.” The compliment had Danny giving your hand a small squeeze as the plane began its ascent.

“Tell me more about Olivia and her fiance.” Danny leaned in, his elbow resting on your armrest. “Y’know, to distract me.”

“Um, well Olivia is my best friend. She’s amazing. She’s kind, smart, and supportive.” you smiled thinking of your best friend. “And stunning, like, she should’ve been a model instead of going to school for environmental science. Mike is a great guy too. He wasn’t enamored by her money like a lot of guys were. You could tell the ones that just wanted to be with her for what she could get them, but Mike really cares about her.”

“How long have they been together?”

“About four years, now.” you answered. “They met at a party in our senior year of college. Mike was friends with my boyfriend Gavin, and I brought Olivia, and it was like a movie when they met. They just kind of…stared at each other with these smiles on their faces. Instead of dancing and getting drunk they holed away in a corner of the party until like, three in the morning, talking and getting to know one another.”

“That sounds really sweet.” Danny’s thumb rubbed over the knuckle of yours soothingly as the plane reached altitude, evening out.

“It is. They’re perfect for each other.” you nodded.

“So, what about this Gavin?” Danny quirked an eyebrow. “My competition?” you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“Hardly.” your reply was short, then you quickly supplied. “Not that you pale in comparison I didn’t mean it like that! He just…I’m over him, and I didn’t want to come to this wedding alone and let my loneliness talk me into running back to him.” Danny glanced down at your hands, his thumb still swiping across the skin of your thumb, saying your name to make you look at him.

“As your wedding-week boyfriend,” he started. “I promise to make sure that you won’t even think about your dumb ex-boyfriend, even when you’re standing right in front of him.” he looked up at you with his hazel eyes, the light from your window hitting them perfectly to make them shine.

“I appreciate that.” you could feel yourself blush from the eye contact, before Danny tossed you a wink and sat back in his seat again, hand still firmly in yours.

“Now, let’s see what movies we can watch to keep ourselves distracted.”

The flight was tolerable, Danny keeping your hand in his the entire time, especially when there was some slight turbulence. He continued to say it was he who was anxious, making you laugh again and easing your worries. It actually wasn’t until you were in the towncar on your way to the wedding venue that your nerves started to spike again.

Your name drifted through the air with a shriek, Olivia dashing down the steps of the vineyard towards you. Dropping your bags, you threw your arms open, ready to catch her as she launched herself at you. “I’m so excited you’re finally here!”

“Me too!” Laughing as you swayed under the weight of another human. “I’ve missed you!”

“I missed you more, you don’t even know!”

“It’s been two weeks,” Mike chuckled from behind you both. Olivia let herself down, and once her heels were firmly planted on the pavement, pulled you into another hug.

“The longest two weeks of my life,” she whispered before moving back. Her eyes moved over and up, and you finally noticed Danny next to you.

“Oh, Danny, this is Olivia and Mike. Guys, this is Danny, my boyfriend.” Olivia grinned at your label for the tall man as he held out his hand.

“I’ve heard so much about you guys, thank you for having me.” Danny smiled charmingly as Mike shook his hand. Olivia swatted it away when it was turned to her, pulling him into a tight hug instead.

“We’re thrilled to have you!.” she told him. “You must be something, being kept secret for so long.” When she let him go, Danny slid an arm around your waist smoothly, tucking you into his side as he gazed down at you.

“What can I say? Sometimes when you have a good thing you want to keep it to yourselves for as long as possible.” his eyes shone down as he smiled, making your cheeks blush as you gazed up at him. Damn, he was good.

“Oh you guys are already so cute.” Olivia squealed before her face turned playfully devious. “But now that you’re here I’m going to find out everything about you both. I want every little detail!” What shot a shiver of fear down your spine only made Danny laugh, his hand rubbing your back soothingly.

“We’ll tell you, I promise.” Danny assured her, making her bounce in place with excitement.

“Good! Now come on, we’ll show you to your room!” Olivia looped her arm through yours, effectively tugging you away from Danny and leading you towards the vineyard house. Danny and Mike were left to grab the luggage as she whisked you away.

“That man is gorgeous.” Olivia leaned her head in close, talking softly so they didn’t overhear. “Seriously no wonder you haven’t even soft launched him.”

“He is handsome, isn’t he?” you couldn’t help but giggle. It wasn’t just his looks that made you pick him, but they certainly didn’t hurt.

“Is he treating you right?” Olivia whispered, suddenly over the giddiness and turning serious. “Good looks be damned, if he hurts you I will destroy him.”

“No, he’s been wonderful, Liv, really.” you assured her. “He treats me very well.”

“Good, you deserve to be treated like the goddess you are.” Olivia tightened her grip on your arm lovingly. You glanced behind you, seeing Danny carrying your bag along with his and rolling your suitcase behind him, while Mike dragged Danny’s behind him. They were chatting as they walked and you couldn’t help but think the two men already looked like good friends, laughing as they spoke.

Olivia led you up a flight of stairs and down a hallway, her heels clicking on the white marble floors. The vineyard was exquisite, and definitely something her parents chose and paid for.

“Here it is! The maid of honor suite!” Olivia slid a keycard through the door handle and pushed it open, gesturing for you to step inside. The room was massive, an entire sitting room that was separated from the bedroom by double doors with frosted glass for privacy. There was even a small kitchenette with a fully stocked coffee bar.

“Liv, are you sure this isn’t the bridal suite?” you gasped pacing around the couch to the large picture windows to see your view of the grounds. From your window, you could see the grounds of the vineyard, a luscious lawn sprawling out to a large forest area, a path disappearing into the trees.

“Oh, that’s down the hall and makes this room look like a dump.” her laugh peeled like bells. “You like it?”

“Like it? I love it!” you turned back to her, seeing Danny and Mike enter the room, the former's eyes going wide as he took in the room.

“Wow, this is…huge.” he glanced into the bedroom as he walked further in.

“Only the best for my best friend.” Olivia hummed, smiling as her eyes shot over to Danny. You pursed your lips slightly, knowing she was going to be sizing him up all week. A part of you felt nervous for him, and you had to remind yourself that it didn’t matter what she thought. Once the wedding was over and you flew back home, you wouldn’t see Danny again.

“Honey, your parents should be here soon, we should go back downstairs.” Mike cleared his throat, checking his watch. Olivia nodded, walking over to him and sliding her hand into his before looking back at you and Danny.

“We’ll leave you two alone to get unpacked.” she smiled cheekily. “Dinner is at seven, wear something nice.”

“Thanks Liv,” you waved at her as they left, before she popped her head back in.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Olivia gave you an exaggerated wink before Mike reached back, tugging her out of the doorway and shutting the door for you guys. There was an awkward silence between you and Danny as you were both truly alone for the first time ever.

“This is a really amazing room,” he smiled, checking out the flatscreen that was mounted on the wall.

“Yeah, it is.” you hummed, picking up your bag and bringing it in from the small hallway leading to the door.

“I uh, I can take the couch.” Danny gestured towards the large sofa, his other hand tucking into the front pocket of his jeans. Looking over at the couch, it looked comfortable, but didn’t seem nearly long enough to house his lengthy body.

“I-I don’t mind sharing the bed.” you told him. “It’s so big I don’t think it will be a problem.” Danny nodded

“Only if you’re comfortable with it.” Danny’s brows were creased again, double checking.

“It’ll be fine.” you assured him with a smile. “Besides, I wouldn’t put it past Olivia to get an extra key and bust in here whenever she pleases, and she may think it’s weird that you’re sleeping on the couch.” Danny chuckled.

“We could say we had a fight,” he suggested, though he was already moving his things towards the bedroom with you. “Or that we’re taking it slow.” you paused, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Unfortunately my track record would blow that excuse into smithereens.” Danny laughed, tossing himself onto the bed.

“Oh, it does? I must be the luckiest boyfriend in the world.”

“Yeah, don’t you remember? First date you got lucky.” you sat yourself on the other side of the bed as Danny watched you, a playful smirk on his face. He dropped his jaw slightly, looking fake shocked.

“Must’ve been a really good date.”

“It was pretty good.” you shrugged with a laugh. “You took me to an Italian restaurant.”

“Mmm, molto bene,” Danny replied. “Let’s see, I had the chicken parm, and you had the carbonara.”

“Oh, I do love carbonara.” you hummed. “Part way through dinner, you got marinara on your shirt, and we couldn’t let it set in and stain, so we went to my apartment. You took off your shirt so we could soak the stain and one thing led to another.” trailing off, you looked back over to Danny, who was grinning.

“I cannot wait to tell this story tonight to anyone who asks,” he replied, one hand splayed over his shaking chest while he laughed. “Tell me, was it love at first sight?”

“Sure,” you shrugged, smirking. “But we played it cool for a while, you know, trying to keep it casual.”

“If there’s anything I’m a sucker for, it’s love.” Danny informed you. “I said it first.”

“I’ll let you have that,” building this imaginary relationship with Danny was starting to be fun. “But I’m the one that asked you out in the first place.” Danny leaned over, the hand that was on his chest extended towards you.

“Deal.” you shook his hand before he sat up, moving to his bags. “Alright, let’s get settled in here. We have a lot more ground to cover.”

He was right, an impromptu story-building session of your first date and saying ‘I love yous’ wasn’t going to be enough to get through the week. You had been foolish to think that you’d rely on improvisation and hoping no one asked more than a few basic questions. Grabbing your suitcase you began unpacking your clothes while weaving the webs you and Danny would have to carefully maneuver all week long.

Taglist: (feel free to add yourself!)

@joshsindigostreak @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine @ascendingtostardust @sammysprincess @sammykiszkamyass @belovedsamuel @sunfl0wer-power @indigo-starcatcher @sammyscherub @earthlysorrows @lvnterninthenight @allieisacrybaby @losfacedevil @xserenax-13 @sarakay-gvf @shutupdevvie @myownparadise96 @watchingovergvff @gretavanfleetposts @josiee-gvf @joshkiszkatoothgap @madneedshelp @gardensgatedaisy @myownparadise96 @demonrat444 @dannyandthekiszkas @tearsofbri @paleshadow-ofadragon @happy-harpy-stuff @like-a-woman-in-a-dream @starshine-wagner @objectsinspvce @josh-iamyour-mama @mountain-in-springtime @cal-a-bungaa @capturethechaos @jankandjonch @gvfpal

@allybjt @hippievanfleet @weightofbrokenbells @joshkiszkasbadussy @malany-gvf @ruby0antlers @samofthedawn @sacredjake @aim4thedoublee @diditallforyouu @gvfmarge @highladyofasgard @sammysvanfeet@gold-mines-melting @earthgrlsreasy @mountain-in-springtime @forcebond301 @stardust-and-shadows @llightmyllovee @gretavangroupie @comesofarsomehow @infinisonicosm @indigofallingsky @hellowgoodbye @hearts-hunger @fwzco @dharma-divine33 @lightsofthe-living-gvf @ascendingtothestarsasone @klarxtr @ofthecaravel @musicspeaks @radmads-gvf

#danny wagner #danny wagner x reader #greta van fleet #josh kiszka #jake kiszka #sam kiszka #breakable heaven fic #danny gvf #danny wagner fanfiction

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maccreadysbaby · 4 months ago

Text

OPERATION: ULTRAVIOLET

alex rider + oc insert

tw: none

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

and the truth comes out! kai takes it about as well as we all thought poor dude

part four

❝ MI6 ❞

WEDNESDAY — MAY 4, 2001 — 2:13AM

THE NEXT PLACE KAI FOUND HIMSELF, WAS THE BACK OF A CIA VEHICLE, THEN HIS FATHER'S OFFICE IN MIAMI.

He'd never seen where his father worked before. The building was unlike anything he'd ever seen -- it looked like something out of a movie. It was tall and white, with sharp lines and what had to be hundreds of windows that reflected the Miami skyline and didn't give a single hint about what lay inside.

He was led into the building by a CIA man who never spoke. He looked... well, not like CIA men on TV with their perfectly pressed suits and sunglasses. He was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, with greasy, slicked back hair and a toothpick that never left his lips. Kai guessed he was trying to fit in with the rest of the people in Miami, which made sense if he wanted to be covert. (Why didn't they do that in movies?)

To Kai's surprise, when they walked into the building, they were greeted by... a coffee bar. A nice, modern one, with wood paneling and sleek lights, filled with bustling baristas and people chatting or talking on their phones. Which was not at all what Kai expected.

The CIA man didn't seem phased. He merely walked Kai through to an elevator, where they ascended to the tenth floor.

The doors slid open to a large lobby, with one big, curving desk that had two women behind it, working on computers and talking on the phone. There was a large, backlit sign on the wall behind them that read: CENTURION INTERNATIONAL ADVERTISING.

CIA. How very clever of them.

"Here for Byrne," The man with the toothpick said. The girls looked at him for a moment, entering something on their keyboards. One of them gave Kai a particularly long stare.

Kai wondered what they were thinking, seeing him like that. Of course, none of them knew who he was; he was just a kid turning up with an agent with blood all over his face, dirt all over his clothes, zip-ties on his ankles and no shoes. Did everyone know a child was coming to the office? Had his father briefed them? Or was he a rogue variable that was now freaking out the receptionists?

"I'll take it from here, thanks,"

Kai glanced off to the side when a familiar voice came. A figure moved out from an adjacent hallway.

It was Joe Byrne, his stepfather. He was taller than Kai, but not by much, and his skin was dark as midnight -- another thing that helped their case if people looked into familial relations. He had a ring of white hair on top of his head and a white mustache, his eyes a deep brown, scanning Kai's frame from top to bottom.

Part of Kai wanted to start crying; as a child did when seeing their parents after something traumatic. But the other part of him -- the part that had been trained in secrecy for as long as he could remember -- forced him to stay completely still, and completely blank, looking at his father as though he'd never seen him before in his life.

The agent that had brought him in turned and went back into the elevator, disappearing behind the sliding doors, and Joe Byrne turned back down the hallway. "This way."

Kai followed him without much protest, his eyes lingering on the receptionists as he passed them, working diligently at their posts. Did the CIA really use receptionists like that? Taking calls and sending emails and booking appointments? Or were they just a front incase someone walked in looking for the Advertising company? Did the advertising company even exist, or was it a ghost, too? Like Kai was?

He followed his father down a bare hallway, and through some sort of tube-looking metal detector that closed around him and then let him out again. Then the bare hallway continued back until they turned into a large office with a frosted glass door and the name: J.R. Byrne on the front.

It was much like his office at home. A large, one-way, single panel window behind a big mahogany desk. Bookshelves and wood-paneled filing cabinets lined the walls, and a large rug outlining the desk and three chairs lay spread across the floor; one chair was on the window side of the desk, two sat opposite it.

Joe Byrne closed and locked the door behind them. Kai reached for his arm as he passed, but the man didn't even seem to notice. He simply headed over to his desk, took a seat, and left Kai hanging and confused.

"I need you to tell me exactly what happened," Was the first thing he said. No hi, no are you okay, no do you need anything?

Kai exhaled heavily and took a hesitant seat in one of the chairs across from his father. "I'm… fine, by the way."

Joe Byrne sighed heavily, running a few fingers over his brows. "We don't have time for this, Kai. This is a very severe security breach and I need you to work with me so we can get it closed up before more damage is done. The longer you stay here, the more questions will be asked, the more suspicious you become."

Kai stared at him, dumbfounded. He didn't see his stepfather very much, maybe once every two months, maybe. But when he did, the man usually stayed the night at the penthouse, had dinner with them, and played games with Kai and Lionel until far too late. He laughed and smiled and said extravagant hellos and even more dramatic goodbyes. This... wasn't that Joe Byrne.

This was CIA Joe Byrne. A cold, over-stressed, overworked Joe Byrne that turned off his personal life like a light switch. Kai had never seen that part of him before, and he wasn't sure he liked it very much.

"Dad," He tried, hoping that maybe he could spark just a little of his less concrete-solid side. "I just got kidnapped."

"Malachi," His stepfather breathed, the stress of the whole thing making him look a bit older than he normally did. "I need you to tell me everything that happened tonight."

With a strange, empty feeling settling in his gut -- because he was sitting in front of a man who looked so much like his father but wasn't, at least not right now -- Kai relented.

And he told him everything. Starting with the phone call that he never heard the other end of, going through the fight in the penthouse, the abuse in the bungalow, and his frantic escape. His father was typing on his computer the whole time, maybe taking scarce notes. Kai told him about Sergeant Wilhelm, and about the younger man that was afraid, and the couple whose house he’d busted into begging to use the phone. He didn't leave out any details -- because the CIA would probably figure them out anyways.

“We got recordings of the phone call,” Was the first thing Joe Byrne said after Kai had finished. How they’d gotten the recording so quickly, he would never know. “It was a simple one-line order: You’re going to give us the boy. Lionel was going to shut you in your room with the panic button right after, but he didn’t have the time.”

"Lionel. Where is he? Is he okay?" Kai asked hurriedly, leaning up toward the desk. Joe Byrne merely held up a hand in a dismissive sort of way that did nothing more than irritate him.

“Lionel is fine. Not much physical damage, like you,” He explained. His voice was cool, calculating. “We’ll probably have to speak to that couple at the next-door bungalow again. Find a way to keep them quiet about you. We had Wilhelm and his accomplice brought in, so they won't be an issue anymore."

Kai nodded slightly, sliding further down into his chair.

"But..." His stepfather sighed a long, deep sigh. "There's always the issue of who else knows."

Kai blinked, creasing his brows. "You think other people know about me?"

"We can't be sure. But we also can't write it off," His stepfather said, typing a few things on his computer. "Wilhelm may have only told his son -- that was the young man that was working with him. But it's possible he could have told many people. Maybe he had backup. Maybe he told his whole family. We can't be sure if your name is in circulation or not."

"So..." Kai breathed, fiddling with his fingers absentmindedly. "What do we do?"

"You can't go back to the penthouse," Joe Byrne said seriously, shaking his head, typing on the computer. "In fact, every piece of real estate with my name, or a name in close relation to mine, is no longer a safe location for you."

"What?" Kai ordered, flicking his hands outward. "Where else am I supposed to go? I've been there my entire life!"

"I know. But after what you just went through, it's simply out of the question."

The teenager huffed, sitting back even further in his chair. He knew his stepfather was just being safe, but their penthouse had been built like a fallout shelter, for his safety, and he wasn't allowed to go back? He'd been raised there, since a baby, and he was, what? Never going to go there again?

“What about Lionel?”

“He won’t be staying there either. He’ll be going with you -- I trust him wholeheartedly. He was smart; he locked himself in your room to make a call to us,” His stepfather sighed. “If he hadn’t, Wilhelm would’ve killed him.”

“Is he still shut in there?”

“No,” Joe Byrne said. “I sent someone to get him out.”

“You told someone how to open the door?” Kai asked, miffed, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “You told someone how to open the secret room in the penthouse, and you let some rando agent come pick me up and bring me here in a sketchy black car. For a guy so hellbent on security, you sure seem to enjoy handing out confidential information like candy.”

“The agent who brought you here has no idea who you are. And the agents at the penthouse don’t know you exist,” His stepfather said with a huff. “On our end, your name is as confidential as it gets.”

“Why couldn’t you come pick me up yourself? You wouldn’t have had to get other people involved,” Kai suggested.

“I had important things to attend to,”

“More important things than me?”

“Malachi,” Joe Byrne said, exasperated, his dark eyes searching the teenager’s face. “I was distributing agents to take care of you. I don’t work in the field.”

Kai scoffed, looking down at his lap and fiddling with the bottom hem of his t-shirt. Something like hurt ripped through him. His father wouldn’t even come onto the field for his own son?

Kai sighed. “I like the other you better.”

“What?” Joe asked, incredulously.

“I asked where I’m going now,” The teenager lied, knowing good and well his father had heard his previous statement and deciding to let it hang in the air.

His stepfather stared at him for a few moments too long, a slightly irritated look on his face, before he relented and exhaled. “Well, Kai… I think it might be safest for you to leave the country entirely.”

Kai’s mouth fell open in an instant, and he froze, his eyes flicking up to his father suddenly. “What?”

“I know, I know,” Joe Byrne started. He opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out a file, stamped with red ink across the front that Kai didn’t focus enough to read. “I have something I want to share with you, Kai. I know you heard that I fired Sergeant Wilhelm.”

“Okay?” Kai pressed.

“There’s a reason your training is ending so soon,” He said, sliding the file across the table to him. It had two strings of words stamped across the front: OPERATION: ULTRAVIOLET, and TOP SECRET.

Kai merely jabbed a finger at it. “What’s this?”

Joe Byrne sighed deeply, lacing his fingers together and resting them on the table. “Kai, your training has always, always been to prioritize your safety. You being able to defend yourself in situations like what happened tonight is the most important thing I’ve ever taught you.”

“The most important thing Lionel ever taught me,” Kai mumbled under his breath.

Joe Byrne ignored him. “But your training was preparing you for something else, too.”

Kai looked up at him, scanning his grizzled features with curious eyes. “Something else?”

“Well… it has always been my hopes that, one day, you would work for me,”

Kai just stared at his stepfather, face blank, completely speechless. For five seconds, then ten. “You mean… for the CIA?”

“A field agent,” Joe Byrne nodded. “A spy. It’s all in that file.”

So, it was never really about his safety? About his protection, but about his father’s work? He wasn’t being trained because his father cared about him, but because he cared about his own job?

“No,” Kai ordered, shoving the file away. “I want to hear it from your face. You’ve been training me, my entire life, to be in the CIA? Without telling me?”

If he was only doing it for his own job, did Joe Byrne care about him at all?

“Kai,”

“What is it, when my parents died you looked at me and instead of seeing your future child, you saw your job?!”

“Malachi, stop being so childish!” Joe Byrne ordered loudly, and Kai huffed, sinking further down in his seat and opening and closing his mouth a few times. Nothing ever came out. “The world that I am a part of isn’t always clear. There's no black, and there’s no white -- only gray. You’re either in or out. I never wanted to live a double life in front of you. I didn’t want to switch from the white to the grey, from father to agent. I always knew that, as soon as I could, I wanted you in the gray with me.”

Kai huffed loudly. “You failed. The whole don’t want to live a double life thing. You failed.”

“I know,” Joe nodded. “But there was no other way.”

“Telling your own son the truth may have been a good place to start,”

“I’m telling you now,” His stepfather said, nudging the file back toward him. “It’s all in there. The CIA’s plan to create an agent who’s untouchable. Unreachable. Invisible. Ultraviolet.”

“A minor,” Kai stated simply, not even bringing his eyes up from his hands.

“Yes,” His father replied. “Children can go places adults can’t. They can get out of situations adults never could. They can be untouchable.”

“Why me?” Kai questioned, picking at his fingernails for no apparent reason. “Why not someone else?”

“Because I could get you in the gray that way,” His father stated simply. “We could be in the same world.”

Kai looked down at his feet, whispering: “What if I don’t want to be in the same world?”

Joe Byrne said nothing.

Then he sighed. “I planned to propose the idea to you in the morning over a surprise breakfast, but it seems our plans got… shuffled. I have a first operation in mind for you that will be kicking off in a week, maybe less.”

“No,” Kai shook his head. “No, I don’t want to do it.”

“It will get you out of the country, and into a safe place,” Joe Byrne continued. “You already showed me you can handle yourself in intense situations.”

Kai looked down at his hands that were starting to shake again from the stress, the shock, the anger. “No. I want to stay here with you.”

“Staying here with me might just be the most dangerous place of them all,” His stepfather sighed, running a hand over his face. “There is another young agent. Fourteen, like you, working for British Intelligence; MI6. He’s going to go with you. His name is Alex Rider-”

“No!” Kai ordered loudly. “No, I’m not doing it. I just want to go somewhere safe, with Lionel, and I want to stay there, and I never want to see your face again.”

“I’m not asking you, Malachi!” Joe Byrne shouted, slapping one hand down on the desk to emphasize the word asking. Kai merely stared at him, his words hanging in the air like a thick fog. “The operation is investigating a summer camp in the Australian outback. Our friends in the UK are expecting you and you are going.”

His father produced another file from his drawer. On the front, it said: Alex Rider. He laid it atop the Operation: Ultraviolet file, and then grabbed another. This one had no name, but Kai assumed it was about whatever they thought was going on in Australia.

“Take them and go back to the lobby. Lionel is coming to get you. You’re flying out to London at eight -- MI6 will brief you there,” Joe Byrne ordered. “Good luck.”

Kai stared at him. “Dad…”

“Good luck, agent,” He said, sharper. “Dismissed.”

“Dad!”

“Dismissed!”

Kai stared into Joe Byrne’s dark brown eyes for a few moments more, but he never recognized them.

He rose from his chair with purposeful attitude, making the thing squeak onto the hardwood with a harsh noise. Kai swiped up the files and turned for the door. “I hate you.”

“What did you just say?” His father demanded, softly.

Kai didn’t even look back at him. He swung the door open and stepped out. “You heard me.”

And he closed the door behind him.

Maybe he wouldn’t have left that as the last thing he said to his father… if he’d have known what was going to happen in Australia.

—

tag list!

@skylathescholarly @flyrobinflyy @mcskullmun

#alex rider fanfic #alex rider #joe byrne #alan blunt #tulip jones #oc; kai #oc; kai blackwell #oc; malachi blackwell #oc; hugh #oc; hugh waters #ov; leon waters #oc; kane #oc; kane bailey #oc; lionel #oc; lionel farara #mb; operation: ultraviolet

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chicago-pd-is-weird · 11 months ago

Text

Jay and Mouse (Platonic) Oneshot

Requested by @windshield91

TW: PTSD, angst, some gore/violence, mention of wanting to die at the end

(Based on one of the episodes of CPD - the one early on where Jay is kidnapped and beaten.)

“Send a lone officer, unarmed, with the box. That’s what he said,” Hank repeated to the unit with a sigh.

All of the officers in his unit volunteered, each raising their hands. He would've sent Erin, but since she had given her badge up, he had no choice. Standing among the detectives and officers in his unit was the next person Jay cared the most about. An old friend from the Rangers. When Hank made eye contact with Mouse, they had a silent exchange.

Hank looked up at the rest of his unit with a nod. "I want everyone to start making fake CI files."

Hank then walked into his office, Mouse quickly following and shutting the door. "You know you have to send me."

"And you know, technically, I can't." Hank sat down at his desk with a sigh.

"I will sign whatever waiver I have to, saying that this is my own will and that I accept the risks. Because if you don't let me go, I'm going to do it on my own. I was in the Rangers. I know how sting ops are done."

"I am not doubting you, Greg," Hank said softly. "I know you're the best person for this."

He was taken aback when Hank used his real name, but nodded quickly. "Then you know I have to go. I will sign anything you want."

Hank sighed again, debating it in his head. In the end, he didn't care how it happened - he needed to get Jay back. He looked up at Mouse, then nodded. "Alright, let me get some paperwork together. We'll work you as if you were a CI going for a sting."

Mouse waited eagerly beside the box, looking around. He could barely make out where the rest of them were hiding. He was nervous, but felt a little safer with the shank Al had given him. It wasn't much but it was sharp and wouldn't be detected by a metal detector.

When a second car came pulling up beside his, Mouse grabbed the box, which was fairly heavy and bulky. He looked at the men as they rolled down the window. “Put it in the back.” A man got out, scanning him for weapons, then opened the back door.

Mouse cocked an eyebrow, looking at them. “Where’s the hostage?”

The man closest to him shook his head. “Put the box in the back. You’ll get instructions on your guy after we verify the files.”

“I’m not doing that,” Mouse replied, shaking his head. “I need proof of life first.”

The man scoffed. “Fine. Get in.”

Mouse debated whether he should or not, but he was desperate to get his best friend back. Besides, this seemed like small potatoes compared to his time with the Rangers. After a moment of internal deliberation, Mouse got into the car with the box of files, riding to wherever they might’ve taken him, trusting that the team would follow or find him again, hopefully with Jay.

When they arrived at the house, more like mansion, they led Mouse inside. He looked around, scoping everything out, planning potential escape routes. He put the box on the boss man’s desk. “I’d like my guy now.”

The boss tsk’d his tongue, shaking his head. “Relax, have a little fun. Want to take a line? On the house.”

Mouse glanced down to the cocaine on the man’s desk, shaking his head. “I’m good. Where’s Jay? Or I will walk out of here with the box right now.”

The boss man nodded to one of his guys, who opened a door. Jay was pushed through and forced onto the couch, though Jay wasn’t quite strong enough to argue at the moment. Mouse’s eyes widened and he ran to him. “Jay, hey man, it’s me.”

Jay looked up at Mouse, confused. “Greg…?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Come on.” He helped Jay stand up, but they were stopped by some of the men.

“Not so fast,” the boss said, handing the box of files to another man, who took it away. “We’re going to verify those files before you leave here.”

A pit dropped into Mouse’s stomach. He knew those files were completely fake. Jay was forced back to the couch and Mouse was forced to sit as well, discreetly grabbing the shiv on his way, holding it in his hand so they couldn’t see it. He knew things were going to go south, fast.

“Greg…” Jay mumbled. “Why are you here?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Greg replied, looking at Jay again. “How bad is it?”

Jay hummed, closing his eyes, then opening them again. “Six.”

“No danger zone then. We’re good.”

“Yeah, man… We’re good. Just like old times.”

“Yeah,” Mouse replied, letting out a breath as the man came back angrily.

“These guys are prisoners in different states! No way they’re CIs for Intelligence!”

The boss man stood, shaking his head. “Kill them both; make sure they suffer. Kill the tall one first and make the smaller one watch.”

“Now,” Greg said, Jay and him springing up from the grasp of the men. Jay tackled one of the men, Mouse tackling the other. He used his shank to stab him repeatedly in the abdomen, giving a final blow to the neck.

Meanwhile, Jay was doing his best, but was pushed off in his state. Mouse tackled the guy after Jay was pushed to the ground, stabbing him repeatedly in the chest and abdomen as he pinned his arms down with his knees.

Jay coughed and regained himself just in time to see a gun being pointed at him. The boss man had gotten to him first. When Mouse got up and turned, he stopped cold, letting out a breath.

“Drop it,” the boss said.

Mouse dropped the shiv, breathing heavily as he looked at the boss. He must’ve looked like a lunatic, blood dripping from his hands. He got a glimpse of himself in the mirror behind the man, but all he could see was his camouflage outfit, his helmet, and the blood of his brothers on him.

“Now, I’m going to kill you both, to make an example of you to your boss. It’s unfortunate he sent you with fake files. Otherwise, you’d be walking out of here with him, right now.”

Mouse didn’t say anything, breathing heavily. He could see the dark room. They’d been there before. He could see his brother in arms, Michael, beaten, on his knees, a gun to his head. He could see the man above them, the terrorist, holding the gun, just waiting to squeeze the trigger. He could see everything, just as it played out the first time.

But he wouldn’t let it happen again. Not to Jay. Not to his best friend. The one who helped him turn his life around. The one who he looked up to like an older brother. The strongest man he knew. Mouse, while the boss man was talking and taunting him, lunged forward, grabbing his arm. He pushed the gun up, higher, just as it went off. It missed Jay, and Mouse tackled him, wrestling for the gun. Then, he finally got it turned toward him. “I hope you rot in hell!” Mouse squeezed the trigger, the gun hitting the boss man’s heart. He was dead almost instantly.

Mouse got up, blood staining his clothes. He breathed heavily, stumbling with the gun over to the door, opening it. There stood the rest of the Intelligence team, long guns and pistols in hand. Mouse nodded. “He’s inside.” Then, he stumbled out, being caught by Hank, who took the gun from him.

“You okay? You hurt?” Hank asked, looking Mouse over as he tucked the bloody gun into his pants for the moment.

“No.” Then, Mouse continued past him, out to the front steps, easing himself down on the side, out of the way of the people coming in and out.

—

When Mouse was discharged from the ER, he went straight to Jay’s room. He was also being discharged. He walked in with a small knock on the doorframe. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Jay said, nodding to his friend. “I saw that look in your eyes in there.”

“Yeah,” Mouse said with a soft shrug.

“What did you see?”

Mouse sighed. After a long moment of silence, he spoke again. “Michael.”

Jay met his eyes, shaking his head. “That wasn’t your fault. It was an impossible situation with no backup.”

“Maybe if I’d had the balls to do what I did today, he’d still be alive. His wife would have a husband and his little girl would have a father.” Mouse couldn’t help but tear up, looking away from Jay.

“Greg, it wouldn’t have helped. The terrorists aren’t as cocky as these low-level scum. These guys are sad excuses for criminals. Most don’t have the balls to do what needs to be done. He was going to keep mocking you and taunting you.”

“I wasn’t even listening. I didn’t hear anything he said.” Mouse shrugged.

“Greg, the guy who murdered Michael wasn’t like that. He was going to shoot you, too.”

“I froze. It’s my fault. I saw Michael’s eyes as the bullet went through his skull, Jay. I saw the life leave him. His soul separate from his body.”

“That guy was a terrorist. He wasn’t like the guy today. If you had lunged forward, he would’ve shot you, then Michael, and you’d both be dead.”

Mouse shook his head, leaving the room without another word. Jay tried to follow, but was caught by Will on the way. Mouse left the hospital and walked down the streets of Chicago, hoping some stray bullet would end his pain right then and there.

#chicago pd #chicagopd #hank voight #sargent hank voight #sergeant hank voight #cpd #one chicago #jay halstead #detective jay halstead #mouse #greg gerwitz

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oceansssblue · 1 year ago

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~ [MAGICAL CREATURES SERIES] – THE BAD BATCH AU (N4)

Pt1. "THE SMELL OF FIRE" HUNTER/PHOENIX!OFC

THERE'S SOMETHING STRANGE HAPPENING IN THE SMALL MOON PLACED ON THE EDGES OF THE GALAXY WITH THE UNKOWN REGIONS. THEIR PEOPLE ARE RESERVED AND SECRETIVE; TRYING TO APPEAR NORMAL, THOUGH HUNTER HEAVILY SUSPECTS THEY AREN'T. HIS NOSE EASILY PICKS UP THE SMELL OF ASH AND FIRE.

WARNINGS (pt1): TALKS OF HUMAN SACRIFICES WHEN CHARACTERS BOUND WITH ROPES 💔, AND A VERY LIGHT HINT OF (SEXUAL) TENSION 🔥.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

When Tech had warned them they were going to have to make an emergency landing on an undescripted planet on the very limits of the Outer Rim with the Unkown Regions, Hunter had imagined one much more different than this. The small moon looked unusual, yes, with it's almost sparkly silvery sand covering miles and miles of its surface; vibrant blue flowers and trees, and waters as black as coal. Still, it was sand, trees and ponds; not that much further apart of what he had already seen before, if only in another range of colour.

"I must say I feel pleasantly surprised with our luck right now" Tech's voice seemed unusually loud in the quiet of the forest, not an insect to be heard even with Hunter's developed senses.

His brother couldn't stop pointing his long ago self-made detector everywhere around them, constantly scanning their surroundings while he recorded everything with his helmet. Even if slightly tense at the uncertainty that the moon held for them, he looked as happy as a child in a candy shop; his curious mind ecstatic to find new and unresearched territory to explore.

"Crashing into a mystery planet in the Unkown Regions is luck for you?!" scoffed Wrecker, evidently not as excited as the goggled clone.

He wasn't afraid per se, but he didn't like this. Their ship was broken beyond some quick repairs, they knew nothing about the strange moon or the creatures that lived in it and they had no way of comunicating with the rest of the galaxy. They were fucked, to sum it up. Karking pirates.

"Well, you have to admit it's incredibly lucky we have landed on a planet biologically compatible with human life" Tech shrugged, his eyes still flickering over every tree and flower. "Breathable atmosphere, decently similar flora, and several bodies of water. Remarkable, if I may say".

Wrecker muttered a piece of his mind and dropped back into silence, following the line commanded by Hunter.

The long-haired clone couldn't help but feel wary. Not only because of their situation per se; but because of the slightly different gravitational pull on the moon and the lack of stimuli around him. His senses were so developed it was extremely rare for him to just not hear something, feel something; and yet, in this unkown planet, they seemed strangely muted. Apart from their own steps and chattering, he couldn't hear anything else. No insects, no animals, no wind brushing against the flowers and trees. No rush of water, either; permanently calm and almost frozen in place. He didn't like it one bit.

"Don't touch that" he almost barked to Omega, watching her move almost hypnotized to grab a vibrant electric blue flower with the corner of his eyes. "Don't touch anything".

Omega's hand dropped to it's original place and her eyes switched back to Hunter. She pouted.

"But it's so pretty!"

Tech hummed in agreement, yet backed Hunter's warning.

"That is precisely why you shouldn't. It is a common well-known fenomenon amongst the plants of the Outer Rim. The more vibrant the colour and eye-atracting the flower looks like, the higher the probabilities of it being venomous or lethal" he explained, his voice turning distracted at a new species of taller trees in front of him. "I suppose it works mainly on insects or birds; though I guess sometimes humans aren't that much more intelligent".

Tech patted Omega's shoulder amicably –not at all consciously using his words to make a jab at her–, and resumed walking. Omega roller her eyes.

All thoughts about blue flowers and their level of intelligence extinguished with Hunter's sudden stop and raised fist. The sargent frowned, slightly turning his head to the right towards the origin of what he had supposed to be a fluttering wing. His eyes scanned the flora around them. He couldn't see anything past the first line of trees.

His sight unuseful, he closed his eyes and listened in. Nothing; yet he felt there was something there, waiting, looking.

He focused on his third sense. He had already grown fairly used to the sweet smell of the blue flowers and the general metalic hint of the moon's ground; but that... It was the first time he smelled that; ash and fire.

"Ready your weapons. Slowly" he ordered, muscles tensing.

They barely had a second to blink before dozens of natives dropped to the ground around them.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Hunter was scared. It wasn't a new feeling for him, really; he was a brave man –which clone wasn't?–, but there had been countless of times when he'd been scared of losing his brothers. Of dying. This was a different type of fear, though. It was one laced with uncertainty and terror. Even in battle, when one of them were compromised, they had the others to back them up. They knew what to expect. How they were going to die, if it came to that. The worst thing about their new situation was that they knew nothing at all. Ignorance was the reason why his heart had sped up significantly and he couldn't stop analysing the people in front of him.

"This vaguely reminds me of a book I read about the traditions of some ancient species in the Before" Tech whispered, his mind working nonstop even when tied up to a tree like the rest of the Batch. "Some cultures used to sacrifice living beings in order to apease to their gods. They believed it granted them protection, better harvests, or simply soothed their anger".

Wrecker squirmed in place. He usually would have been able to break through his bindings in a blink; but the rope this people used was made of some sort of intertwined roots surprisingly resistant to his efforts to free himself. Plus, their captors had noticed the obvious difference in strength between himself and his brothers; and had duplicated the ropes around him.

"Surely no-one does that anymore, right?" He chuckled, nervously.

Tech hummed. His eyes focused on the humanoids in front of them. They had black stripes painted on their pale grey skin; the dark, matted colors a sharp contrast to the vibrants reds and oranges of their long hair. Their eyes were completely black as well, no difference between iris, pupil or sclera; giving their appearance an almost demonic look.

"Actually, it is still a practice used in some planets of the galaxy" he answered. "Considering we are delving into the Unkown Regions and following my suspition that these creatures don't seem to hold much knowledge of technology and heavily relay in what nature offers them, I wouldn't discard the option".

Omega's eyes searched for Hunter's in fear; the man only throwing her a silent look that gave her no comfort at all.

Studying them, Hunter understood how they had stayed hidden from his senses now. These humanoids –because they did have a similar shape, even if their body proportions weren't exactly the same– danced through the sparkling silver ground; thin slender agile bodies almost looking as if they didn't really step in the floor before taking their next stride. They were fast and noiseless, too. He wondered if it was a trait from their species or if they had learnt to move like that because they weren't the only natives they had to worry about. Their sudden arrival opened a wide range of possibilities.

He prayed for Tech's comment to be just one more of his curious facts instead of reality. He didn't like the idea of his family being used as a sacrifice.

Suddenly, the natives around them whispered to each other –in a quiet hissing language that Hunter didn't recognise at all– and the crowd parted to show two aproaching figures calmly walking towards them.

The first one was a man. He looked old; much older than the rest of his people, at least. Hunter had no way of knowing about their real lifespan.

His skin was paler than the rest of the natives; drier, too. His orange hair travelled in small multiple braids towards his hips; lower body covered in thick black fur –he guessed that answered the question about them being the only intelligent creatures there– decorated with light blue accents. He wore small pouches on top of it; tied together with a thin rope.

The black marks of his face and chest were more intrinsecate than the rest; swirls and dots interlacing with plain stripes. His body seemed thinner –and therefore, more fragile– than the humanoids around him. The most noticeable aspect about him, however, was his eyes; shinning in electric orange, and staring straight at him.

Hunter shuddered.

The clone took in the way the rest of his people stepped aside and firmly, slowly nodded in his direction in a sign of respect. The same greeting was throwed at the person walking behind him; though Hunter couldn't clearly see him yet, his body covered by the native closer to them.

"Hun... Hunter?" Omega whispered, trembling in place.

All eyes were now focused on the humanoid with the orange eyes; who had stopped in front of the blonde girl. The old native opened one of his pouches; dipping his fingers in black before taking them to her face. Omega whimpered and trembled harder. Hunter's heart squeezed. His own body tensed and he had to put all his efforts to wait through the scene and remain calm. He would have given everything to hold her right now.

"Breathe, Omega" he told her, his deep voice capturing everyone's attention, making his skin crawl. "It's just paint. Close your eyes".

The blonde did exactly as he told her; taking a deep shuddering breath in and removing her sense of sight from the scene. She tried to imagine being somewhere else –in the Marauder, watching the hyperspace lights through the window– while she felt the man's thumb and index fingers carefully crossing her face.

"I wouldn't worry about it right now" Tech whispered, as the creature moved to recreate the painting on Wrecker. "It seems they are marking us with the same designs as themselves. That can be either very good or... very bad."

Tech patiently waited while the old humanoid took his time on him. A small noise of protest escaped his throat when he took his goggles away; examining them curiously like a kid with a new toy before pressing the paint on his skin, and returning their place on his head. He relaxed and hummed, thoughtfully. He took that as a sign of the natives not having a directly ill intention with them. If not, why bother giving him his goggles back?

Hunter, tied up the furthest to the left, was the last one to be marked with the black stripes. His ears picked up a small muttering coming of the creature in front of him; a pray of sorts, perhaps? It didn't look like he was trying to comunicate with him, that's for sure...

Once the humanoid with the orange eyes stepped back, seeming satisfied with his job, Hunter's attention was finally drawn to the second figure. He felt inevitably enthraced with her appearance. She had the same pale grey smooth skin as the rest of her people; long thin arms and legs and a toned stomach without a belly-button to match. The only thing covering her was another piece of black fur half stitched with blue thrails. It hanged low on her hips; leaving her small but rounded breasts exposed. Apparently, these people didn't consider them sexual zones. Her marks weren't black, though; but as red as her hair, which started at a dark scarlet tone at the roots and blended into a fiery rich colour at the ends. Her eyes were neon red as well; shining brightly in the darkness of the night. He could see a hint of small pointy fangs resting on top of his lower lip. She looked dangerous; and yet, Hunter's cock inevitably turned half-hard at the sight. He convinced himself it was just the adrenaline.

He couldn't stop looking at her while she carefully analysed his sister and brothers. Her people seemed to hold her breath; as if the final veredict of the Batch's destiny relayed on her. She had to hold some sort of position amongst them; if only for the obvious physical difference between them. Her eyes and the old humanoid's were the only exceptions to the otherwise black ones. She... Felt different too, as well; in ways Hunter couldn't begin to explain.

Either way, if the life of his family was in her hands, he wasn't going to stand by and watch them end.

"We are not looking to cause trouble around here" he spoke up, firmly. Her neon red eyes inmediately snapped towards him. He breathed. "We are not a threat".

The humanoid woman approached him; in the same quiet elegant way he had seen his people move before. She stood in front of him; their bodies only separated by half a meter now.

She studied him. Their stares clashed; Hunter's still slightly dilated pupils fighting of the intensity of her burning red eyes. His posture, his muscles, were completely tense. It felt as if she was scanning his soul with just a glance. Hunter had to follow his own previous words when the humanoid slowly moved to carefully hold his jaw in her hand; closing his eyes and trying to breathe calmly through his trembling body. She felt... She felt...

Hunter felt her warm –almost burning– fingers tracing delicately –gently, curiously– the skin of the tattood side of his face. He sighed in relief. She probably only found it interesting; as he had marked his own skin with blank ink as well, similarly to how the natives painted theirs.

Her hand dropped, and Hunter could feel her take a step back, away from him. He had to pull his courage together to open his eyes again.

The woman slowly walked back to Omega. She hold her chin in her hand, this time; staring into her eyes as if she were deciding something about her. She seemed to find what she was lookinh for; and made a small gesture to the natives behind her.

The Batch watched helpessly as they untied a trembling, terrified Omega and started to drag her away. Anger and hate rushed through Hunter's veins. He made a harsh tug against his bindings.

"Get away from her!" He hissed, fighting against his ropes with all he had, trying futibly to break through. "Omega!"

"H-Hunter!" She called his name back, half-screaming, tears rolling down her cheeks.

The mysterious native woman followed her, glancing back at him. She seemed to have noticed the bond between them, the father-and -daughter-like connection; intrigued by it.

"Please" he whispered to her.

Her red eyes locked with his once again. Energy pulsed between them. She felt... She felt more than human, more than humanoid, more than... Real. She felt almost like its own, unexplicable, burning light; a powerful, mysterious energy like the Force itself, or something close enough. She was different from her people, as well. Unique. Hunter hoped she wasn't the godess the natives where trying to apease.

The woman wordlessly turned around.

The Batch's worried eyes couldn't do anything else but watch them take Omega away.

END OF PART 1

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

PART 2 LINK HERE:

BOOM! THERE WE HAVE THE FIRST PART OF HUNTER'S SPIN GUYS!

REMEMBER I'M DOING A WHOLE SERIES OF MAGICAL CREATURES/TBB CHARACTERS. YOU ALREADY HAVE WRECKER'S TWO-SHOT STORY POSTED, AND THIS IS THE NEXT ONE I'M CURRENTLY WRITING.

AFTER I FINISH THIS, WHICH I THINK IT'S GONNA BE A FIVE CHAPTER STORY –WHOOPS, ONCE AGAIN I FAIL TO WRITE A SINGLE ONESHOT– I'LL MOVE ONTO TECH/SIRENOFC! & ECHO/FAIRYOFC! AND CROSSHAIR/VAMPIREOFC! STORIES.

THIS STORY IS GOING TO BE A MIX OF MYSTERY AND ROMANCE. I'M STILL DECIDING IF I'LL ADD A SMUTT PART OR NOT. WE'LL SEE.

IF YOU'VE LIKED IT, LET ME KNOW! IT MAKES ME REALLY HAPPY AND I GET MORE MOTIVATED TO KEEP WRITING. ALSO, IF YOU WANT ME TO TAG YOU ON THIS STORIES' NEW CHAPTERS, LET ME KNOW AS WELL!

AS ALWAYS, REBLOGS ARE DEEPLY APPRECIATED.

SEE YOU ON THE NEXT ONE!

Xx,

SKY.

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ceasarslegion · 28 days ago

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Hi!! I'm going to be going on my first flight soon, and I'm EXTREMELY nervous about it, and I would genuinely love to hear your comprehensive breakdown on how airport security works both in general and in specific with trans people (I'm also trans, so I'm just generally interested in this), but it would help my anxiety to know what to vaguely expect. (Although I don't know if it'll be fully accurate because I don't know if theres a difference between US airport security and Canadian, because I think you've mentioned being in Canada????. Sorry that this ask is so long, I'm a rambler)

Hi, hi!! No need to be apologetic or nervous at all, flying isn't something most people do regularly and when the regulations are constantly changing in response to other incidents or threats or just efficiency feedback its easy to feel overwhelmed by it! Im also TSA-certified, so I can tell you how it works in the states as well.

The biggest thing to keep in mind is that we just want to make it smooth and quick for everybody, and if we start getting short or seem to be irate, its not because of you. It's because we deal with thousands of people per day and only about 20% of them actually listen to the things we tell them to do an equal number of times. If you ever wonder why we tell you one hundred million billion times to take out your laptop its because people STILL leave them in and then try to claim no one told them to take it out when they end up at bag search. Its because we get 500 people minimum a day whining about "radiation" and "facebook said-" when they get to rhe body scanner. This job is a test of patience and strength that could move mountains. We are irritated at the general state of things, but if youre someone who listens to our instructions and treat us like people instead of standees or robots, we will grovel for you.

For the actual process, if youre in the states, the longest part is always waiting in line. There'll be an officer at the front to scan your boarding pass the first time and then direct you to either the main line or the priority lane depending on if youre a regular passenger, someone who paid for a line jump, or someone with a disability, children, or generally in need of extra help. After your wait, there'll be another officer to scan it a second time before you get into the security line. In the states, they usually ask for your travel document (ie, passport), and then take a photo of you. Then they'll tell you which security line to jump into.

When you get to the bins, the general rules for the US are shoes come off, outerwear like jackets, belts, and anything in your pockets. Local rules change airport by airport depending on what equipment they have available, so just listen to the officer in front of you do their spiel of what you need to take out of your bag, if anything. Medication doesnt count towards any liquid regulation, so if you have liquid medication that's over 100ml, dont worry about it. They'll just pull your bag and test it, they wont take it away from you.

I WILL however warn everybody that there is a lesser-known universal regulation against inorganic granular substances greater than 350 grams in volume (about what can fit in a pop can). This one is non-negotiable, medical or not. We dont make that rule, thats INTERPOL, so please dont come at us for something we didnt decide, we have to feed and house ourselves, but you can be informed. The main medical thing I see get taken away with this are weighted comfort objects for autistic people and granular medications with zinc in them. This rule is JUST for carry on, you can check a bag with them inside it and be fine, so if you have either of these things, please just check your bag.

After youve put all your stuff in the bins and pushed them onto the rollers, you can walk over to the body scanner. Usually theres a scanner and a metal detector. There will be an officer there to tell you which to go into. The metal detector you just walk through normally like a door, the body scanner will have markers on the ground to mark where to put your feet, and a silhouette facing you that you'll just have to mirror the pose of until youre called to the other side. If you beep on the metal detector, theyll scan you. If you dont, life is good. If you get an alarm on the body scanner, they pat down that area, if you dont, you go on your merry way.

IF you get a crotch or chest (if you have breasts and/or identify as femme), theyll usually try to get rid of the alarm by giving you another try and telling you anything you should adjust on your clothing. Contrary to popular belief, we dont want to touch strangers' crotches if we can avoid doing so. If the alarm persists, don't freak out. You have the right to request an officer of the gender you feel most comfortable performing the search on you, including requesting officers of a certain religion (we get Muslim women requesting other Muslim women officers a lot), or even a trans officer if you're trans. I cant GUARANTEE there will be one available, but it is something you have the right to ask for and get if they can accommodate it. You also have the right to ask for a private search room, and a witness to come with you or watch, like a family member or friend. The search also never goes under clothing, and theyll show you how its done on themselves before they come anywhere near you, we dont have the clearance to perform strip searches and that is WAYYY above our pay grade.

If your bag gets cleared by x ray, you can take your stuff and go. Youre all done! If anything ends up on the search side though, just go wait in the queue at the bag search station until your bag is pulled, identify it and yourself as the owner, and watch them search it. 99.9999% of bag searches i perform are nothing, its usually just the way things are lying around (it AMAZES me how sketchy passengers can make their bags look with nothing at all). If they pull out a non-permitted item, you still have the option to check your bag if you wanna keep it. If you say you wanna check it, theyll escort you back out and you go back to your airline and tell them you wanna check another bag, then go back to security and just do everything again.

Quick hack: if youre VERY NICEYS to us at bag search, where we get the most Karens and Kevins, and you need to be escorted out, we will usually tell the officer out front to put you into priority when they see you again. If youre meanies, we'll make you wait in line again. Be niceys and we will do everything we can for you, because 80% of passengers are just turbo-assholes who accuse us of everything under the sun that ends with -ism.

If you get pulled for a random bag check, dont worry either. It actually IS random, I cant tell you how we do it otherwise people can use it to avoid it, but the world is a lot more diverse than people think and airports are microcosms of that. The majority of people are not white, cishet, able-bodied men, so in a truly random pull of people, most people are not going to be white cishet abled men.

For trans people specifically, I actually dont have a lot to add. Most of it is that because the body scanner looks for concealed items under clothing, it alarms on packers and breast augmentations. If you can remove those, put them in your bags and go through without them. It's not after you for having those things, it just sees a concealed item of significant size and its whole job is looking for concealed items. I can tell you right now too that we see so many people, so many bags, so many sex toys and kink gear and odd items and everything you can possibly think of that we will NOT remember you or your bag. A packer or a breast attachment is baby shit to me if im on x ray or bag search. It leaves my brain and ceases to exist the moment I clear that bag, and you also cease to exist the moment you leave my field of vision. When you deal with 14,000 people per day you develop the object permanence of an infant. The only passengers I ever remember are the ones who make my day brighter, and the ones who I want to beat the shit out of. If youre just a face in the crowd I will not remember you at all. So if youre going to be remembered it'll be because you either made that officer smile, or because you made them want to bite you. Not because of anything youre traveling with.

ALSO!! If you do get a bad officer, because they exist in every workplace, there are complaint lines you can contact. Try to get the name on their uniform, note the time, the line, and what part of the process you were on, go to the TSA website and file a complaint against them with your boarding pass attached. They'll go back through the CCTV footage and investigate the legitimacy of the complaint to determine if that officer needs disciplinary action and if you are entitled to any compensation for their actions towards you. Even better if you can get their badge number but it is a massive string of numbers that I dont expect anyone to remember. This is also relevant if something of yours gets broken in the screening process. If its no ones fault or an honest mistake, it doesnt come out of our pay, so dont worry about our rent if someone like, accidentally drops your laptop and it breaks while swabbing it. It does come out of our pay if we did it on purpose or through sheer carelessness, but thats the only time it does.

#transgender #trans resources

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halofanfiction · 9 months ago

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Halo: Last Stand at Thermopylae

Chapter 1: Arrival on Thermopylae

Master Chief sat in the back of the Pelican, the engines humming as the craft descended through the thick, storm-ridden atmosphere of Thermopylae. The planet’s surface came into view, a barren landscape of jagged rocks and dust storms. This wasn’t a world anyone fought for because they wanted it—only because it held something vital.

The hologram of Commander Lasky flickered to life on the heads-up display inside Chief's helmet. "Chief, the Covenant is closing in fast. Intelligence reports indicate that the facility in the Thermopylae canyon holds research that could turn the tide of the war. It’s your job to make sure they don’t get their hands on it."

Chief responded with a curt nod. "Understood."

"The scientists can’t be evacuated in time. Their experiment is still days from completion. Until then, you and the Spartan team are all they’ve got."

Master Chief glanced out the viewport as the Pelican neared the narrow canyon that served as the UNSC research base’s last defense. It was a natural choke point, with towering cliffs on either side, a perfect place to make a stand.

The Pelican touched down in the clearing, and the ramp lowered with a hiss of hydraulics. Chief stepped out, his boots sinking slightly into the dust. Ahead of him, 29 Spartans were already waiting, standing in formation. Their armor gleamed under the hazy sunlight, a silent, powerful force.

As Chief approached, a figure stepped forward from the group. Spartan A-217, a battle-scarred veteran, greeted him with a sharp salute. "Master Chief, welcome to Thermopylae. We’ve been prepping the defense, but the Covenant are getting closer by the hour. We’ll be seeing them soon."

Chief’s visor turned to scan the area, noting the heavy turrets, barricades, and sniper nests set up along the canyon walls. Every Spartan was armed to the teeth, but something in the air felt off—like a storm waiting to break.

"We’ve got a one-way canyon to defend," Spartan A-217 continued. "No retreat. No escape. And if the Covenant breach our line before the experiment is done, the war is lost."

Chief said nothing for a moment, taking in the situation. He knew what was coming—waves of Covenant troops, artillery fire, and a fight that would likely end in blood. But for him, there was no hesitation, only the mission.

"Then we hold the line," Chief said finally. "We buy time."

The words were met with a grim silence from the Spartans. No one needed to be told what that would entail.

Inside the research facility, Chief and a small group of Spartans met with Dr. Sorensen, the head of the scientific team. The lab was bustling with activity—holographic displays flickered, diagnostic equipment hummed, and scientists moved from station to station with hurried urgency.

"Master Chief," Dr. Sorensen greeted, her face lined with exhaustion. "I wish I had better news, but the experiment won’t be ready for another 72 hours. If the Covenant break through before that… well, you know what’s at stake."

Chief’s gaze fell on the equipment scattered across the lab. "What are you working on?"

Sorensen hesitated. "I can’t give you all the details, but it’s a weapon—a breakthrough in energy manipulation. If we succeed, it could give the UNSC a fighting chance against the Covenant fleet. But it’s delicate work, and we need more time. Without it, Earth and the rest of the colonies may not survive the next Covenant offensive."

Chief gave a slow nod, his mission clear. Protect the scientists. Protect the experiment. Hold the line at all costs.

With the situation laid out, Chief regrouped with the Spartans. The sun was setting behind the canyon walls, casting long shadows over the base. The quiet before the storm was unnerving, even to the seasoned warriors.

"We’ve set up automated turrets, motion detectors, and explosives along the pass," Spartan A-217 reported. "It’ll slow them down, but if they throw enough at us…"

"They will," Chief replied. He checked his rifle, the familiar weight in his hands grounding him. "How many waves can we expect?"

"Intel says they’re deploying a full invasion force. We’re the only thing standing between them and the facility."

Chief looked at the other Spartans, scanning their faces behind the visors. Some were seasoned veterans, others younger, but they all shared one thing: the resolve to stand, no matter what. He admired that, but he also knew what that resolve would cost.

"Get some rest," he ordered. "We start soon."

As the Spartans dispersed to their stations, Chief remained, standing at the canyon’s mouth, gazing out at the darkening horizon. He’d faced impossible odds before, but this felt different. There were no reinforcements on the way, no fallback plan. It was just them and the Covenant.

And when they came, there would be no mercy.

Chapter 2: The Siege Begins

The canyon was unnervingly quiet. Dust swirled in the wind, and the Spartans moved silently as they fortified their positions. Master Chief observed the operation with a practiced eye, ensuring every last detail was accounted for. Automated turrets lined the narrow pass, their barrels sweeping the horizon. Sniper nests were perched high in the cliffs, giving the Spartans above a clear line of sight to rain fire down on the Covenant forces below. The chokepoint was fortified, but it would be tested soon.

Chief stood near a holographic map of the area with Spartan A-217, who was overseeing the placement of explosive charges along the canyon walls. "If they send in heavy armor, we’ll collapse part of the ridge and funnel them into the kill zone," A-217 explained, pointing to key spots on the map. "But that’ll only slow them down. We’re looking at hours, maybe days of this."

Master Chief's voice was steady, focused. "We hold as long as necessary. No Covenant gets through. Not while the experiment is still active."

Nearby, Spartans triple-checked their weapons, syncing up with the base’s defense network and laying out additional traps along the canyon. The atmosphere was tense but controlled—a quiet storm ready to break. They were all aware of what was coming. But no one spoke of it.

It started with a low rumble, felt more than heard, as the ground began to tremble beneath their boots. Master Chief looked out across the canyon mouth as dark shapes appeared on the horizon. The Covenant fleet had arrived. Dropships hovered above, descending slowly, ominously, as the vast invasion force began its approach.

"Eyes up," Chief’s voice came over the comms. The Spartans immediately snapped into position, weapons ready. Every sniper had their scopes trained on the incoming drop pods, fingers itching on triggers. There was no panic, no hesitation—just quiet focus. This was what Spartans were made for.

Through his HUD, Chief saw the first wave of Covenant infantry hit the ground—Elites, Jackals, and Grunts swarming from the dropships like ants. A moment later, the valley erupted in fire.

"Engage," Chief ordered.

The Spartans opened fire in perfect unison. Bullets, energy rounds, and explosions lit up the canyon like a battlefield straight out of hell. Plasma fire streaked toward the Spartan positions, but their shields held. The Covenant forces marched forward, relentless, but the kill zone was working just as planned. Elites fell by the dozens, caught in crossfires from the cliffs, and Grunts exploded in bursts of energy as they stepped into the trap-laden pass.

From his elevated position, Master Chief fired precise bursts, picking off Elites and Jackals attempting to coordinate the attack. His motion tracker flashed—an incoming Banshee strafing the ridgeline. He pivoted smoothly, launching a rocket that collided with the Banshee mid-flight, reducing it to a flaming wreck that spiraled into the canyon below.

"First wave down," Spartan A-217 reported over the comms, voice steady. "But that was just a probe. Bigger ones are coming."

The quiet between waves was eerie. Bodies and debris littered the battlefield, smoking craters marking where plasma mortars had hit. The Spartans didn’t relax; they knew the worst was yet to come.

"Status on Covenant movements?" Chief asked, scanning the battlefield for any sign of the next assault.

"Scouts show heavier units on the way. Wraiths, Hunters, and more dropships inbound," Spartan A-217 replied.

Chief clenched his rifle tighter. He knew the Covenant would adapt. They always did. Their tactics were shifting—hunters were now advancing in tight formations, using their massive shields to cover Elites, while Wraiths rumbled into position behind the infantry, preparing to rain artillery fire on the Spartan lines.

"Get ready," Chief said. "They're bringing in armor."

He checked the explosives they’d planted earlier, syncing the detonators to his HUD. The Covenant didn’t know what they were walking into.

The Wraiths started their assault, launching glowing plasma mortars high into the sky, their arcs deadly and precise. Explosions tore into the cliffs, sending rocks and debris raining down on the Spartans' positions. Master Chief saw a turret go down, its operator vaporized in a direct hit.

"Now," Chief commanded.

In unison, the explosives along the canyon wall detonated. The deafening roar of the collapsing ridge echoed through the canyon as tons of rock and debris crashed down, crushing Covenant forces beneath it. The Wraiths were temporarily halted, forced to navigate the rubble. It gave the Spartans precious seconds to regroup.

But the Covenant, undeterred, pressed forward.

With the choke point breached, the Covenant switched tactics again. Elites and Brutes surged toward the Spartan lines, backed by towering Hunters with fuel rod cannons glowing ominously.

"Keep them back!" Chief ordered, moving to the front lines.

Plasma grenades detonated around him as Covenant forces tried to overwhelm their positions. Master Chief charged, a blur of motion as he closed the gap, smashing into a Brute with a devastating punch that sent the creature sprawling. He pivoted, unloading a burst of assault rifle rounds into an Elite at close range, the alien’s shields flickering out just before it collapsed.

The Spartans fought like a well-oiled machine. A team of three Spartans cut through a pack of Grunts, their synchronized movements making quick work of the alien fodder. On the cliffs, snipers were thinning out the advancing infantry, but they were starting to run low on ammunition.

"Chief, we’ve got a Wraith closing in on the right flank!" A-217 called out over the comms.

"I’ll handle it," Chief replied.

Without hesitation, Chief grabbed a Spartan Laser from a fallen comrade. He sprinted toward the Wraith, dodging plasma blasts and incoming fire. He slid into cover behind a boulder, the Wraith now in his sights. As the laser charged with a high-pitched whine, Chief popped out of cover and fired. A crimson beam of energy seared through the air, cutting through the Wraith’s armor and igniting its fuel core. The massive Covenant tank erupted in a ball of fire, lighting up the battlefield.

Despite the Spartans' heroic efforts, the Covenant kept coming. Wave after wave of infantry, vehicles, and airborne units assaulted their defenses. Plasma fire lit up the sky, and the canyon walls echoed with the sounds of battle.

As night fell, the battle showed no signs of letting up. The Spartans were holding, but just barely. Ammo was running low, and the automated turrets were malfunctioning after taking repeated hits. Chief knew they couldn’t hold forever—but that wasn’t the mission.

He checked the timer on his HUD: 48 hours left for the scientists to complete their work. They still needed more time.

Over the comms, A-217's voice cut through the noise. "Chief, we’ve lost Spartans on the ridge. We’re down to 20."

Chief acknowledged, but there was no room for hesitation. "We keep fighting."

As the next wave of Covenant forces prepared for another assault, Master Chief readied himself. They were going to be tested like never before.

And this was just the beginning.

Chapter 3: Attrition and Sacrifice

The battle had stretched into its third day. The constant barrage of Covenant forces was relentless, wave after wave crashing against the Spartan defenses. The once sturdy fortifications lining the canyon had been reduced to smoldering wreckage. Bodies—Covenant and Spartan alike—were scattered across the battlefield. The air was thick with the smell of plasma burns and scorched earth.

Master Chief hadn’t slept. None of them had. Time had blurred into a single, long assault, a trial by fire designed to break even the toughest of warriors. But Spartans didn’t break.

Chief crouched behind cover, plasma fire sizzling over his head. He glanced at his motion tracker, the red dots swarming like angry wasps. The Covenant were pushing harder than ever, seemingly endless. But he could feel the attrition taking its toll. Their lines were thinning. The Spartans were down to 14 now, spread across the canyon in small, specialized units.

"We're getting low on ammunition," Spartan A-217 reported through the comms. "One more wave like that, and we're in trouble."

Master Chief gritted his teeth. The Covenant was bleeding them dry, testing every possible weak point, and the Spartans were running out of options. There was still no word from command. The only thing that kept them fighting was the countdown on Chief’s HUD: 24 hours remaining until the scientists completed the experiment.

They just had to hold out for one more day.

"Resupply at station Gamma," Chief ordered. "We make every shot count."

Despite the grueling conditions, Chief never wavered. Every time a Spartan fell, he was there, rallying the remaining soldiers, leading from the front. His presence was more than just tactical—it was morale-boosting. The Spartans knew they were fighting a losing battle, but as long as Chief was with them, they believed they could win.

In the heat of battle, Chief moved through the lines, coordinating defense efforts. He directed snipers to target Elite commanders and kept the heavy gunners focused on the advancing Wraiths and Hunters. He shifted Spartans into tighter formations, pulling them back when the Covenant overwhelmed key positions, and rotating those on the front lines to give them moments to recover.

"Keep focused. Stick to your zones," Chief said calmly over the comms, his voice cutting through the chaos. "We hold this line."

One Spartan—an eager but young warrior named M-198—was pinned down behind cover, struggling to get a shot off as Jackals advanced toward his position. Chief sprinted across the battlefield, taking out two Jackals with pinpoint shots before covering M-198.

"On your feet, Spartan," Chief said, helping him up. "No time for hesitation."

M-198 nodded, his courage renewed. "Yes, sir."

As the Covenant's relentless assault continued, the Spartans knew sacrifices had to be made to protect the facility and the experiment. One such moment came when a Scarab—one of the Covenant’s towering, spider-like assault platforms—entered the canyon. Its massive energy cannon hummed ominously, preparing to decimate the remaining Spartan forces.

"Scarab incoming," Spartan A-217 shouted over the comms. "That thing will level us if it gets any closer."

Chief assessed the situation. The automated turrets had been destroyed, and their heavy weapons were running low. There was only one option.

"Spartan Y-086, take your squad and hold that thing off," Chief ordered. "You know what to do."

Y-086—a Spartan with a reputation for fearlessness—didn’t hesitate. She rallied her squad, knowing full well it would likely be a suicide mission. They made their way through the wreckage, moving toward the Scarab’s legs, their weapons blazing.

The battle turned into chaos. Y-086 and her squad leapt onto the legs of the Scarab, attaching explosives to its joints, all while dodging the Covenant infantry and the Scarab’s defensive turrets. One by one, the Spartans in her squad fell, but Y-086 pressed on. With a final, heroic push, she placed the last charge on the Scarab’s main cannon.

"Charges are set!" Y-086’s voice crackled through the comms. "Finish the fight."

Chief barely had time to react before the explosion ripped through the Scarab. It collapsed in a heap of twisted metal, its massive frame crashing to the canyon floor. Y-086 and her team were gone, but their sacrifice had bought the others time.

Chief stood silently for a moment, watching the burning wreckage. "You did well, Spartan," he muttered, though no one could hear.

The hours dragged on. The Covenant, despite their heavy losses, showed no signs of letting up. With each passing wave, they sent more advanced units: Elite Zealots, Brute Chieftains, and aerial Phantoms strafing the Spartan positions. The once well-fortified defenses were now crumbling, and the Spartans had been forced to fall back to the last line of defense in front of the facility’s main entrance.

Chief’s visor flashed red. Only 9 Spartans left. The Covenant numbers were overwhelming them, and there was little room to maneuver. Plasma fire rained down from every direction, and the air crackled with the constant sound of explosions.

"We’re running out of time!" Spartan A-217 yelled through the comms, ducking behind a piece of fallen rubble as a plasma grenade detonated nearby.

"Hold the line," Chief responded, his voice unwavering. "We can’t fall now. Not this close."

Despite his calm tone, Chief knew their situation was becoming more dire by the minute. The Covenant was tightening the noose, and the Spartans were almost out of ammunition, explosives, and soldiers. Even with all of their training, courage, and resilience, they were mortal.

Chief glanced at the timer in his HUD: 12 hours left. The experiment was almost complete, but the Covenant was bearing down on them with renewed ferocity. He turned to Spartan A-217, who was clutching a plasma burn on his arm.

"We need to buy more time," Chief said. "We can’t let them breach the facility."

"We’re running out of Spartans," A-217 grunted through the pain, glancing at the few remaining soldiers still fighting.

"We’re not out yet," Chief replied. "We’ve been through worse."

As the next wave of Covenant soldiers poured into the canyon, Chief led the charge, positioning himself at the forefront of the battle. His assault rifle barked as he unloaded into an advancing group of Elites, cutting them down one by one. Behind him, the remaining Spartans fought with everything they had, every movement precise, every bullet counted.

One Spartan—L-054—was critically injured, pinned down by a group of Brutes. Chief made his way to her position, dispatching the Brutes with ruthless efficiency. He knelt beside her, quickly assessing the damage.

"Can you fight?" Chief asked, his voice steady.

L-054, bloodied but defiant, nodded. "Not leaving this fight, Chief."

Together, they pushed back the Covenant, holding the line as long as possible. But even with all their efforts, the Covenant kept coming.

By the end of the day, only 3 Spartans remained: Master Chief, A-217, and L-054. Exhausted, wounded, and low on supplies, they stood in front of the facility’s entrance, the last line of defense between the Covenant and the critical experiment inside. Plasma fire lit up the night as Covenant forces regrouped for what would be their final push.

Chief checked his HUD. 6 hours left. They just needed to hold on for a little longer.

"We're not done yet," Chief said quietly, determination clear in his voice.

A-217 gripped his weapon, his breath ragged. "Let’s finish this."

The Covenant was preparing for their final assault, and the Spartans—though diminished—were ready to face them head-on. They would fight to the last soldier, for the mission, for each other, and for humanity.

Chapter 4: The Final Stand

The canyon had grown eerily quiet, the lull before the final storm. Master Chief, Spartan A-217, and Spartan L-054 stood in front of the shattered remains of their fortifications, the last defense between the Covenant and the research facility. Behind them, the entrance to the facility loomed—silent and unyielding. The countdown on Chief’s HUD showed 6 hours left until the experiment would be complete. Just a few more hours, and the scientists’ work could shift the tide of the entire war.

But between them and victory stood the full might of the Covenant’s invasion force.

Chief checked his assault rifle. Ammo was dangerously low, and L-054’s injuries were critical. A-217, though still standing, was clearly running on fumes, plasma burns covering parts of his armor.

"We’ve been through worse," Chief said, breaking the silence. His words weren’t just for the other Spartans—they were for himself. There was no margin for error now.

L-054, her breathing labored but her resolve intact, nodded. "We’re not done fighting."

The motion sensors in Chief’s HUD flared to life. The Covenant were on the move again, closing in for their final assault.

Chief tightened his grip on his weapon. "Stay sharp. This is it."

A low rumble echoed through the canyon as the Covenant forces began their approach. Phantoms hovered overhead, dropping more Elites, Brutes, and Grunts into the pass. Banshees screamed across the sky, strafing the Spartan positions. At the center of the onslaught, a towering Covenant Scarab rumbled forward, its massive energy cannon aimed squarely at the facility.

Chief scanned the battlefield. They were outnumbered, outgunned, and out of time. But that had never stopped them before.

"Pick your targets. Make every shot count," Chief ordered over the comms.

A-217 and L-054 took up their positions, each Spartan preparing for their last stand. As the Covenant advanced, the Spartans opened fire. L-054, despite her injuries, took down a charging Brute with a well-placed shot, while A-217 blasted an Elite from cover with his last remaining rocket. But there was no denying the overwhelming force coming their way.

The Scarab fired, its massive energy beam scorching the ground near the facility. The shockwave knocked L-054 off her feet, her shields flickering out. Chief rushed to her side, pulling her into cover just as plasma fire peppered their position.

"I’m good," L-054 said, though her voice was strained.

Chief nodded and handed her his last energy sword, salvaged from a fallen Elite. "Use this."

She took it, the blade humming to life. "Thanks, Chief."

The Covenant swarmed them, plasma fire lighting up the canyon in an all-out assault. The Spartans fought fiercely, their skills honed by years of battle. Chief moved like a force of nature, taking out Brutes with ruthless precision, ducking between cover and returning fire at every opportunity. But even his armor couldn’t withstand the onslaught forever.

A plasma grenade landed near A-217’s position. He dove to the side, but the blast caught him, sending him sprawling. Chief saw him go down, struggling to rise as his shields flickered weakly. The Covenant troops were closing in on him fast.

Chief charged forward, cutting through the enemy with controlled bursts from his rifle. He reached A-217 just as an Elite raised its energy sword to strike. Chief blocked the attack with his forearm, grabbed the Elite by the neck, and snapped it with a single twist.

A-217 coughed, blood trickling down his face inside his cracked visor. "Guess we’re really pushing it now, huh, Chief?"

"You’re still breathing," Chief replied, pulling A-217 to his feet. "That’s what counts."

Together, the remaining Spartans continued to fight, their resolve unwavering. Plasma grenades and fuel rod blasts exploded around them, but they held their ground, determined to give the scientists inside the facility every last second they could.

Despite their fierce defense, the Covenant forces were closing in fast, overwhelming their final position. The Scarab’s energy cannon fired again, and this time it was a direct hit. The facility’s entrance shook, debris raining down as part of the structure began to crumble.

"They’re getting too close!" A-217 shouted over the comms.

Chief scanned the battlefield and saw the Scarab moving into position to deliver the final blow. Its massive cannon hummed, preparing to destroy the facility—and the critical experiment inside.

"There’s no time," L-054 said, her voice strained but resolute. She activated the energy sword in her hand, the blade crackling with lethal power. "I’ll take care of the Scarab."

"You can’t—" A-217 started, but L-054 cut him off.

"We don’t have a choice."

Chief understood immediately. "Go."

Without hesitation, L-054 sprinted toward the Scarab, using the wreckage and debris as cover to close the distance. Plasma fire rained down around her, but she was relentless, determined. She leapt onto the Scarab’s leg, climbing swiftly despite her injuries. The Covenant troops on the Scarab opened fire, but L-054 was faster, ducking and weaving her way toward the core.

When she reached the Scarab’s central power system, she plunged the energy sword into its reactor. Sparks flew as the blade sliced through the alien machinery, triggering a massive overload.

"Do it now!" L-054’s voice crackled over the comms.

Chief and A-217 watched from the ground as L-054 detonated her last remaining grenades, taking out the Scarab’s core in a brilliant explosion. The blast was enormous, the entire Scarab collapsing in a fireball of twisted metal.

L-054 was gone.

A-217 stood in silence, his head bowed. "She bought us time."

Chief nodded, staring at the wreckage of the Scarab. "She did what Spartans do."

With the Scarab destroyed, the Covenant forces reeled. But they weren’t done yet. Phantoms circled overhead, and waves of Elites and Brutes charged forward. Chief and A-217, the last two Spartans standing, fought with every ounce of strength they had left. Their armor was cracked, their ammo nearly gone, but they didn’t stop.

The timer on Chief’s HUD read 1 hour remaining. Just one more hour until the experiment was complete.

A-217 took position beside Chief, firing his remaining rounds into the advancing Covenant. "Think we’ll make it, Chief?"

Chief reloaded his rifle with his last magazine. "We don’t need to."

The Covenant pushed harder, their sheer numbers threatening to overrun the facility. But as the final minutes ticked down, the sky above the canyon began to darken. Not with Covenant dropships—but with UNSC reinforcements.

A squadron of Pelicans and Longswords appeared over the horizon, raining fire down on the Covenant forces below. The Phantoms were torn from the sky, and the ground forces were decimated by the sudden onslaught.

Chief looked up, recognizing the unmistakable shape of the UNSC Infinity as it descended into the atmosphere, its cannons blazing. Reinforcements had arrived.

As the Covenant forces were obliterated by the UNSC’s airstrikes, Chief and A-217 lowered their weapons, exhaustion finally catching up with them. The experiment had been saved, and the reinforcements had arrived in time.

A Pelican touched down near them, and a squad of Marines rushed out, securing the area. Commander Lasky’s voice came over the comms.

"Chief, you did it. The experiment is complete, and we’ve broken the Covenant assault. Get those scientists out of there. You’re coming home."

Chief looked at A-217. "We lost a lot of good Spartans today."

A-217 nodded, his voice heavy. "Yeah, but we saved the future."

Chief stood in silence for a moment, remembering L-054 and the others who had given their lives for this moment. Then he turned toward the facility.

"Let’s get them out."

#halo #fan fiction #master chief

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