#by the way. the last two routes i did today alone | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

billthedrake · 9 months

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Note: This is a hypnosis story co-written with @josmith1718

THE PROTOCOL (CHAPTER TWO)

The next day, Dad and I had a lazy Saturday. I usually woke up early, but I slept like a log especially after dad's insatiable appetite after being under. I woke up and saw I was in bed alone. I stretched and made my way downstairs. I was wearing only boxer briefs when I came to the kitchen and saw dad making a whole breakfast spread, "Morning, bud. Can I get you anything to drink?"

"Morning dad, what time did you wake up?"

"I've been up for a while. Woke up so refreshed." He smiled and gave me a kiss before asking me again, "Drink?"

"Uh, I'll have some orange juice."

"Okay bud, sit down, I'll get it for you."

Dad was very happy this morning. He was wearing an old baseball tee and shorts that were being eaten by his ass. I was spent from last night but seeing the sex god in this kitchen making me breakfast was giving me a second wind.

"Here you go son. What do you say we have a nice cookout today? Weather should be good; we can put some steaks on the grill and have some beers."

"Sure dad, but you are in the sun all day, I thought you would want to spend some time in the A/C."

"Well, we could do something else if you want." He smirked as he saw my hardon.

I reached down and tugged at my loose shorts, playfully showing off my endowment to Dad, but also pinching the base a little bit to tame the beast.

"It'll probably be better if I wait." I said.

"Waiting isn't your strong suit, buddy," Dad smirked.

"Nah it isn't," I admitted. I was about to ask whose fault that was but I reflected at how great my father was. I was the luckiest guy in the world. "So... cookout?" I asked. I knew if we stayed in that kitchen, I'd be initiating sex. And last Saturday we didn't leave the house till after noon...

Dad went to get dressed to run his errands to the grocery store. I offered to hit the hardware store for charcoal and some other stuff we needed. Surprisingly, bagged ice is cheaper there, too, so Dad asked me to get a bag or two so we could set up the cooler for the beer.

I was in and out of the big box store pretty quick. I don't know if it was the hypnosis, but I was in a weird mood that morning. Almost giddy with excitement of seeing if Dad was gonna put out for me later, really put out. Maybe I had some misgivings, too. I mean, Dad had brought up the hypnosis route and found the Company, but maybe I was too excited by the idea of reprogramming my loving father.

As I tossed the stuff in the back seat and as I started the car, I wondered about maybe my approach with fucking Dad was wrong. Maybe it wasn't just mental. Hypnosis was one thing, but he would need to get used to having something in his hole.

I took a little detour home, to where one of the adult sex stores was. Hopefully the ice wouldn't melt too much. I'd only been to this store a couple of times, the first time when I turned 18 and a buddy dared me to go as some sort of stupid high school ritual. The other was soon after that, when I heard a rumor you could get a no-strings blowjob in one of the booths. I went in, but chickened out.

Now, I went in and made a beeline for the vibrators and butt plugs. I was not a small fry and Dad would need some practice, even if he was under when I used the toys on him.

I found a beginner sized dildo and picked up an enema bag. I looked for a smaller sized butt plug. Even the smallest looked like it might be a challenge for a newbie at bottoming, but I picked it up too. With a naughty thought I eyed one of the bigger plugs. It would take a hell of a lot of hypnosis to get my tight virgin father to fit that inside him. But the idea turned me on like mad so I bought it too.

I made my purchases and headed back home. Dad was already putting away the groceries in the kitchen, as I went upstairs with my toys and hid them until I needed them.

I'd barely stashed them in the back of my sweaters in the closet when Dad walked into our bedroom. "I'm gonna hit the gym, Kyle," he said, peeling off that baseball shirt. God, here comes my hardon again. But Dad seemed oblivious to that as he went to root through his drawer for his workout gear. "I'll fire up the grill when I get back, OK?"

"Yeah, Dad," I said.

He grabbed his stuff and then paused to look at me. Maybe he wasn't so oblivious to my excitement after all. With a grin he sauntered over and stepped up to me, leaning forward to kiss me gently. It was hot, a lot of soft tongue as Dad and I made out in our bedroom.

His free hand was on my flank, feeling up my muscle beneath my T-shirt. "Nice, son," he grinned. "I can tell you've been hitting the gym too, buddy," he smirked. I worked out during my lunch hour at a corporate gym near my office. I usually enjoyed taking Saturday off.

"Gotta keep up with my old man," I smirked back. I reached down to undo my shorts, but Dad stopped me.

"Save it, buddy... it'll be worth your while, I promise." With that, dad pulled my shorts up and gave me a parting kiss, “Try to keep your hand away from that dick.” He said as he left the room. I did not know it was possible but I was even harder at that comment.

***

The food smelled great as dad sat next to me to let the meat cook on the grill. He had continued to wear the same workout clothes except for the sweaty shirt. He was showing off a good pump, I'd say, his perky nipples saluted me and his calves looked exceptionally delectable. If I was not so hungry, I probably would have tackled him as soon as he walked through the door.

"So how do you feel about the hypnosis, son?" Dad asked as he took a sip of his beer and sat next to me.

"I was hesitant at first but if it makes you happy, Dad, I'm game but, how about you? Did you feel different when you were under?" I asked. I kept putting the old man under and never even thought of asking if it was enjoyable.

"Not just me, son. Remember what you told me, if we're both not into it, we don't have to do it." He held his gaze on mine, "But I will be honest, if it'll help us... me... I want it."

I nodded and smiled at him. He reached and patted my thigh before answering the second half of my question.

"And to answer your question, I didn't feel anything. It felt like I fell asleep and when I ‘woke up' I felt refreshed. I hope it can help me to be able to give you what you want but if not, it's helping me to feel relaxed at least."

"Did you remember what you did when the man from the Company put you under?"

"No. We were talking and then he was telling me we were done. Whatever I did, I don't think it was embarrassing but I did feel good afterwards."

We ate, we tanned, and we had some more beers. It was a nice relaxed way to spend the weekend. Dad worked hard and in my own white collar way, I worked hard too. It was nice to lie in the backyard and think about nothing.

I had my eyes closed and tried to keep everything out of my mind. I just heard the sizzling of the grill, dad whistling, the light chirping of the birds. Suddenly, I began to think about the hypnosis and started throwing wood. It was a hot idea, having my dad do anything I wanted, bend over, and let me rim him or ask me to fuck him as matter-of-factly as he did when providing me with his oral services. I was maybe hoping it was a one session kind of deal and then Dad would be lifting his legs for me. Yet, he'd put off sex, even more than normal. I wondered if he needed more reinforcement or if I needed to expedite the process.

The more I thought about it, the more I decided I'd put him under again and take dad back to the white hallway. As soon as we went inside, I was determined I'd be putting him under again. I wanted to get in his ass but didn't want to do it prematurely. As I went through the motions of helping him clean and put away things, I was formulating a script in my mind of what I was going to say and do. I had to think of the Protocol the Company provided, and how reinforcement could help tap into Dad's inner psyche.

"That was great." Dad said as we were putting away the last of the leftovers in containers. I admired his hairy frame now that he had gotten a tan on his chest and back. A shame he didn't go shirtless at work, I'm sure he'd get more contracts showing his body off and he'd had an overall tan.

"You are the grill master, dad."

"You flatter me buddy." Dad rubbed my shoulder, as he stepped by me. I watched him walk down the hall, and even as he was out of my sight, the sound of the door closing suggested to me he was taking a piss.

It seemed the perfect chance to catch him unaware. That approach seemed to work the first time and if he was easily put under then, it should be no issue now. I put the food away as quickly as I could and then I walked down the hall to wait outside the bathroom for him to come out. I heard the flushing of the toilet followed by the start of dad washing his hands and whistling as he cleaned up.

"Hey buddy... you gotta go...?" Dad began as he opened the door but at the sound of me saying “power down” he stopped mid-sentence. He went from animated to emotionless in one swoop. His face was drained of emotion, his arms fell to his sides, and he looked past me, as though there was a point behind me, he needed to concentrate on.

"How are you feeling?" I asked.

"Relaxed..." Was dad's monotone response.

"Remember what I told you about Kyle?"

Dad nodded and said "Yes..."

"Repeat to me what you learned about Kyle and what you need to do."

"Kyle does the fucking, to show him I love him, I have to let go and give him what he wants..." He responded. Once again, I smiled, "What does he want?"

"To fuck me." Dad responded, determined. As he finished his thought, I saw how he began to breathe a bit faster, and his cock began to swell up. The shorts he was wearing were flimsy and nothing hid what was happening down there.

"That's right. When this finally happens, you will give him happiness and he, in turn, will bring you pleasure. Your son will be happy, and you want to make your son happy right?"

"That's all I want, my boy to be happy." He was more determined with his response.

"Extend your hands and hold on to me, we are going back to the door in the white hallway." He extended his hands and I reached with mine. I held on, feeling the dampness on his skin.

"Walk with me as I count to five. Once I reach five, we'll be at the door."

"One... we're walking down the corridor," I slowly walked us to the bedroom where I had stashed the toys I would be needing, "Two... you are feeling relaxed and calm knowing your son will never cause you pain or hurt you," I passed a couple of framed pictures of us at a camping trip and from both of my graduations, "Three... you are closer to the door, remembering what you saw there, getting you excited..." At the threshold of the bedroom, I said, "Four... the door is at arm's reach, you want to open the door, right?"

"Yes, I want to open the door." Dad responded a bit breathlessly.

"Good... five, reach for the doorknob and open the door. What do you see?" I let go of his hand momentarily and saw him reach to the imaginary door to open it.

"I'm in bed with my boy... He is on top of me, getting ready to fuck me... My son looks happy..." Dad began to smile warmly as he saw the scene.

"He is very happy, but you can't bottom for him yet, why?" I caressed his hand.

"Men don't get fucked." Again, determined. I knew we would need to work on this now if we were going to get anywhere.

"Look at yourself, Brian. You are a man. Look at your muscles, your hairy torso, strong legs, are you not a man?"

"Yes, I'm a man."

"Keep looking at the scene in front of you, is your son inside you, fucking you, making you feel good?"

"God... yes, he is fucking me, making me feel pleasure." He tightened his grip on my hand and his breathing increased. He wanted to be able to give his boy this, the pleasure that he would experience was secondary at this point. All he wanted was to be a good daddy and take care of his boy's needs. He wanted what he saw.

"And as he is doing this... are you changing at all?" I asked, looking at dad's face to see if there was any resistance to what I was inferring.

Dad looked confused at this. I continued to caress his hand and pushed on, "Did you become less of a man?"

Again, confusion, his brow creased as he thought of it. I answered for him, "No you didn't. Look, Kyle is still fucking you, bringing you pleasure. He is fucking a man, not a woman. Say it, Kyle fucks men."

"Kyle fucks men..."

"Again, with conviction."

"Kyle fucks men." I moved his hand to my cock, and I moved my free hand to his, "Hold Kyle's cock and ask him who he fucks."

Dad looked at me as though trying to look through a fog and asked, "Who do you fuck?", his hand lightly gripping my cock like he did when he was ready to give me a handjob. I fished out his cock and began to match his grip and stroking motions as I answered.

"I fuck men, dad, not women, just men. Hairy, muscular, masculine men. Men that work construction, that have a tan from being in the sun working hard, muscles from moving heavy things all day." I said this as I stroked him.

"God, son..." he whispered to himself.

"Brian, who is getting fucked on the bed?" I asked, getting a thrill calling him by his name.

"I am..."

"Are you a man?"

"Yes..."

"So, say it, I'm a man that gets fucked."

Dad's voice was direct and unwavering. A pure expression of his unconscious. "Men don't get fucked."

Jesus Christ. Back to square one.

I let go of his dick and thought for a second. What would the Protocol suggest? I don't even remember where the idea came from, but I remembered something about triangulation. Shifting the focus. "Brian.... Listen carefully to my voice.”

Dad looked at me with unwavering concentration.

"You are past the white door now... where only my voice matters."

"Your voice."

I felt his grip on my cock get tighter, now playing with it, then stroking it. Fuck, this felt good.

"When you are awake, Brian, and you worry about not being a man, you can listen to my voice and it'll relax you, helping you let go for your son."

I spread my legs and let Dad openly stroke me. The more I talked the more eagerly he tugged at my dick. "You know what that voice will be telling you?"

He shook his head no. Like an eager student studying for a test. Aww God, his hand felt amazing. This man, even under, only had one mission and it was to bring me pleasure. I had to bite my lip and take a deep breath before I continued because I didn't want to shoot yet, I needed to see this through.

"That voice will be telling you that anytime you don't feel like a man, to think instead about Kyle. Your son—" God, Dad's hand was driving me crazy. I wasn't normally a hand job guy, but this head fuck was messing with mine in its own way. "—and how manly he is." I finished my train of thought in a raspy voice.

"Yes, Kyle is a man." Dad responded determined, proud even. The same way he would when bragging to his buddies about me for something.

"Good," I said. "And because Kyle is a man, you do not have to worry about yourself. Just listen to that voice...Dad." My breath was getting shorter. I reached out and began stroking Dad's cock as he did mine.

"What does that voice say, Dad?" I stopped calling him by his name and reverted back to ‘Dad.' I wanted him badly and calling him Brian, while naughty at first, was not as personable as ‘Dad.' The man raised me, taught me so much. Now it was my turn to return the favor, as it were, and teach him new things. Things that would bring him pleasure.

"That voice is saying Kyle is a man." He was sweating a bit, his nipples were perky and his cock throbbed in my hand.

"What do men do?"

"Men fuck.”

"What is going to help you be able to be your son's bottom daddy?” I was stroking dad hard, and he was too, we were both lost in the moment. I don't even know when it was the last time, I called dad ‘daddy' but I had just said it and if I was not in the edge of shooting, I was when dad responded.

"Listen to the voice... allow Kyle to make me his bottom daddy." The combination of seeing dad zonked out, his words and his hand on my cock, I shot my load, some of it landing on his hand and floor. Dad, in turn, shot all over my hand. Like father like son, both shooting our loads at the idea that I needed to fuck him, and he was going to allow me to.

We were both breathing hard and as we both caught our breath, I looked at dad and with some clarity instructed him to close the door. Dad used his free hand and simulated closing the imaginary door. I continued, "You are a man that gets fucked, keep that in mind. You still can't bottom for Kyle, but you want to, desperately. You want to get pleasure, you want to make Kyle happy, but you need to prepare for it. You will ask Kyle to help you. It'll be scary but put your trust in your son, he loves you, he is here for you, he is going to make sure everything you do for him, is returned with pleasure tenfold."

"I trust my son." No hesitation at all. That made me really happy that dad have trust in me.

"And he trusts you. He loves you very much." I kissed his cheek and felt the stubble, it was the weekend he hadn't shaved since Friday.

Dad smiled and continued to stroke my spent cock, bringing it back to life, "Once you come out of this state of relaxation, at some point tonight you will ask your son to help you. You will ask him what you need to do, what can you do to get ready. You will only feel pleasure once it happens. This pleasure will make you feel comfortable getting played with and fucked by your son, Kyle. Understood?"

"Yes... I want that... I want Kyle to play with me..."

"He wants to play with you too. Now, you are going to wake up when I count to three. When you wake, you will not realize you were under but will retain all instructions and suggestions. You will also not find it weird that we are here covered in cum. You will find it hot and want to shower off the remnants of it before we head downstairs, and watch T.V. Understood?"

"I understand."

"Good, let's wake up. One... Two... Three..."

Life came back to dad's eyes, and he smiled when he saw the mess we had made, "Shame I didn't get that load in my mouth but can't cry over spilled milk, right buddy?"

I smiled and he closed the gap and gave me a kiss, "Let's hit the showers, son." I nodded and followed him as he dragged me to the bathroom without letting go of my cock.

We showered, made out under the running water, and then saw a bit of T.V. before we called it a night. As we were getting ready for bed, dad looked at me intently, "I love you so much, buddy."

"I love you too dad." I smiled and threw a pillow at him. He caught it and then stroked it a bit, almost as if he was arming himself with courage.

"I really want to give you everything I can, son. I'm a man and I shouldn't be scared to ask for help so here it is.” He took a deep breath, “Help me."

"Dad, anything you need, you know I'm here for you." I responded. I sat on the edge of the bed and dad came to my side and sat next to me.

"I want to be your bottom and I need to know how to do that. I don't know if hypnosis will help but in case it does, I need to prepare myself... but I don't know what I should even do first." He sounded determined but innocent all at once. I bit my lip as he said that, damn, I was once again throwing wood.

I moved a bit, trying to hide what was growing between my legs and at first, I was not sure if dad noticed but he definitely did when he got up and used my name, "Come on Kyle, I need your help. Tell me what I need to do to prep for when I finally give it up." He sounded annoyed that I would choose his vulnerable moment to be a horndog.

"Sorry dad...” I grabbed a pillow and put it over my crotch, “You need to clean yourself out and then practice. It's not much to it. Here..." I got up, covering my crotch making dad more annoyed.

“Take the pillow off, I already know you're horny,” he growled softly.

I blushed and nodded and went to get the toys. I pretended to take a while to look for them as though they were there for a long time and brought out the enema bag, "Here you go dad, this is an enema bag, you use this to clean yourself out."

"So...I fill this with water and then..." He mimed it not wanting to say it, blushing as I nodded my head.

"I can help you if that would—"

"I'll do it alone buddy. We may shower together but I draw the line with you watching me shit out poop water."

"Alright, I'll be here dad. Take your time, it's not a race."

"How long do I do it for?" He asked as he walked towards the bathroom.

"Until the water you push out is clear."

Dad was gone for a while. My cock deflated as soon as he left. Dad's mere presence had that effect on me. He could be standing perfectly still and I'd want to jump his bones. As he cleaned himself, I ended up working on emails and getting them scheduled to be sent out Monday morning. I even folded some laundry as he stayed in the bathroom. I didn't hear much other than the occasional flushing. After a little over half an hour, I heard the toilet flush again and dad come back to the room as I was putting away some clothes.

"If we were to do the deed, I'd have to do that every time?" He was red and sweating. God only knows what he did in that bathroom, but I didn't think it would take that long.

"We can get a bidet and a proper douche, you know, to be cleaner down there." I smiled at dad.

"Fuck, buddy... I have never been in the bathroom this long ever but honestly, I never felt so clean." I couldn't deny my need to be with dad. I grabbed the folded clothes still on the bed and put them on the chair in the corner of the room and ran towards dad. He held me and we began to make out. He held me tight, his shirtless frame on my clothed one. He pulled the shirt off and I began to play with his hairy chest.

As the kisses became more needy, my hands began traveling slowly down towards his ass, something he would not let me do before. The man had his hangups and one of those things was not getting near his hole. I kissed, sucked, touched, caressed and loved every part of my dad's body but his ass... that was something I wanted to explore at length but never could.

"Son..." He began as my hand caressed his ass.

"Dad please, I won't go in, I just want to touch it." I said, going back to kissing him deeply. Dad moaned into my mouth and let me explore. Fuck, that furry ass was making me bone something bad. Dad slowly lowered my shorts and began to play with my cock, "Fat executive cock..." he hissed.

We were both enthralled by what we loved on each other's bodies. I scooted up in bed and let Dad suck my dick some. I had to urge him to go slow at times and finally pulled him off. I didn't want to cum in his mouth, though I could read Dad's desire to get off that way. He loved having my dick in his mouth and loved swallowing my cum.

I got back down so we were face to face, naked in bed together. But as I got on top of him, almost a classic missionary position, I felt Dad's body jerk and shiver beneath mine. Like he got a cold spell.

"You OK, Dad?" I asked.

He nodded, gulping. "Yeah, son... it's just... fuck!"

He got another shiver. I realized it was the hypnotic suggestion, giving him that excitement when I was on top of him. I humped his cock and we made out. Dad was moaning into my mouth and clutching at my back and then my arms. Pulling me in, wanting nothing more than my weight on top of his.

"You're such a fucking stud, son," he whispered as we finally broke that kiss and looked into each other's eyes. Dad was vulnerable and yet totally alive. Turned on. Fuck, this was gonna happen. Maybe I wouldn't even need the toys.

I kissed my way down, feeling my father shiver as I enjoyed the feel of his fur and his aged brawn. I went further, pushing Dad's legs back. That didn't get resistance but almost immediately his hand was on my head, stopping me.

"Can't son," he said. Not apologetic. Like, freaked out just from the fact I was gonna rim him.

Goddamnit.

"Power down," I said.

Dad's body relaxed, almost to the point of going limp. I even had to hold his legs in place, splayed back. I could see his squeaky clean pucker. Maybe this wasn't the Protocol, but I wasn't gonna waste a clean dad hole like this. Not after dreaming about it all day.

"When you were awake, how did you feel Brian?"

"Horny... then nervous."

"I understand... but, I'm going to share a secret with you that'll make the nerves fade away. You want that, right? You can speak freely”

“Yes, I don't want to be nervous for my boy.” I smiled. It must be hard for him. A man that has lived so long with this notion and wanting to get rid of it, knowing that it'll be a pleasure for him and his lover but unable to.

“Can you keep a secret?" I whispered, looking up from his hole. Damn, I wish I didn't have to do this right now. I was ready to rock his world. Nevertheless, I persisted.

"Yes." His voice was quiet, obedient, determined.

Damn, I was rock hard. This whole thing with dad recharged me in a way that I was ready to shoot again if dad helped me out. "You are a special man, Brian. Some men only have one pleasure spot. Their cocks. You have four."

"Four?" he said, a bit surprised with a hint of confusion.

"Yes, four. You've already found two. Your cock, and the back of your throat." I reached and caressed his cock a bit.

Dad's dick surged hard again when he felt my hand and my voice, the words and their meanings sinking in.

"You like when Kyle tickles the spot in your throat, don't you Brian?"

"I do," Dad answered.

"It's pure pleasure for you."

"Yes," he said.

I ran my fingers along his leg hair as I scooted in. Dropping my voice to an even more suggestive register, I continued, "You have a spot like that deep inside you, Brian. Deep in your ass."

His face grew questioning, but he nodded.

"So deep only your son can reach it. Kyle is the only man who has the key to unlock that spot for you."

"Kyle is a man." No hesitation.

Fuck, my cock just spurted some pre on to dad's furry belly.

"You know why he has that key?"

"Because Kyle loves me." His smile grew with his response. I loved this man.

"Yes, Kyle loves you and he wants you to feel that intense pleasure deep inside you."

"I am a lucky father."

"You are a lucky man, Brian. Because you have one more pleasure spot. Your asshole craves stimulation."

"Stimulation."

"You want Kyle to make that spot feel good, too."

"Yes."

We'd see if this works.

"Ok Brian, continue to listen to my voice. I am going to count to three. You will not realize you were under, but you will continue to follow all suggestions and instructions while you were in this state. Once you wake, you'll feel alive and happy and allow your boy do what he wants, you trust him. You want this. Understood?”

“I understand.”

“Let's wake up, handsome. One... two... three...”

Dad's body tensed beneath mine and he let out a breath. It took him a half second to refocus, but he smirked at me.

"You're hard as a rock, buddy," Without missing a beat he responded as though he hadn't been under.

I nodded. "You get me that way, Dad." I attacked his chest again with my lips then started the process of kissing lower. We'd see if this worked. I slowly got to his cock, kissing it before I went lower.

Dad was hesitant, I could feel his body stiffen but then I pulled his legs back again and he let me.

I saw my prize, that beautiful daddy hole winking at me, inviting me to love it. God, I wanted that more than anything, to show how good my tongue could feel in there... before something bigger went in.

"Son please..." He whispered. He knew it was going to happen and was nervous.

"I'm here dad, please trust me, let me make you feel good just like you make me feel good."

"I trust you son... I trust you completely." He bit his lip before reaching for his legs and raising them on his own.

"Aww fuck, dad..." I said and before he changed his mind, I dove into his ass and began to kiss it. I was in heaven, after so many years, I was rimming him, and it was amazing.

"My fucking God!" Dad cried. Unprepared for the sensations, he let out a moan and spread his legs wider. "Kyle! Buddy!"

"Yeah? Like your son eating this ass?" I asked as I pulled back to look up his furry beef and into his handsome face.

"I think so..." He opened his eyes, then watched as I dipped back in again to lick his entrance. "Yeah... that's it.... I love it, son. Keep going, eat your dad's ass, buddy."

"Thank you, dad, thank you," I muttered into his hole. I responded enthusiastically and began to really eat him out. Dad was moaning, his nipples were hard, his cock throbbing. The man had denied himself this feeling for too long, and I was happy and lucky to be the one giving him this pleasure.

"Eat me out, son, God your tongue is slithering in there." He was now bucking his hole against my face, almost riding my mouth. I still didn't know how much of this was the hypnotic suggestion or his body naturally feeling good from my hitting his spot but either way, I was not going to question it. Right now, I was going to enjoy myself and really give dad the full experience.

I moaned and nodded, really pushing my tongue into that nice, clean hole, wiggling it around before retreating to tease the pucker.

"My executive stud," Dad grunted, "Showing his dad how good it is to have him playing with his ass."

‘His ass,' fuck that made me double my efforts before I reached for his cock and began to play with it.

"Yeah buddy, play with it, that ass is yours, all yours stud. Fuck, you got me so hard, son." Goddamn, my father was contracting his abs and thrusting that vulnerable cherry hole up against my munching mouth. This was out of control in the best way.

Thank you, Tech Bro, I was getting everything I ever wanted. Never would Dad have let me do this before, and now he was encouraging me to play with his amazing dad hole. This guy at the Company knew what he was doing, and Dad and I were proof of it. I would recommend the service to however many people I could and leave a great Google review.

My man was now a moaning mess, sweating profusely, his nipples hard, his cock dripping precum, I wanted to concentrate on his pleasure and not mine. My cock would explode in my shorts for all I care if it meant that dad would love this enough to let me play in there whenever I wanted.

I pushed my tongue deeper in there as I felt his hole begin to open and suck on my tongue.

"I'm on the edge, buddy... ready to cum for my executive stud... shoot for my boy..." That was hot, I got off his ass and crawled until I was on top of him, "I love you dad, so damn much."

"I want to shoot my load for you, I want to give you my load, buddy."

"Shoot for your son, dad, shoot for your man." I kissed him again. He didn't object to tasting my lips fresh from his ass. I slipped Dad some tongue before pulling back. I wanted to rim him more.

Going back to his ass, I doubled my efforts, just as my hand gripped his cock as I began to stroke him.

"Give me that load, dad, shoot for your stud, show him what a good dad you are."

"Fuck son, fuck, fuck, eat me out.... You're working my spot, son," Dad grunted.

I nodded and increased the speed of my strokes. A combination of my tongue work and my hand on his cock, Dad moaned and then I felt his cock expand and shoot his load. I continued to stroke until I felt dad's hand on mine.

"Fuck, son...fuck..." He was shaking. I kissed his ass one last time before I let him lower his legs. Scooting up, I lay next to him, my cock hard as steel. We were both catching our breath. Dad had his arm over his eyes, like he was recovering from a marathon.

"Fuck..."

"How do you feel dad?" I asked as I laid my hand on his chest. His hairy chest was damp from the sweat, and I could feel his heart beating hard.

"Damn..." He responded before he laughed, "That was... amazing. So intense, I never... All I can say is.... fuck..."

I smiled and grabbed his head. He lifted his arm and looked at me, "Was it everything you hoped for?" He asked in a sultry voice.

"And more, dad, c'mere." He smiled and we kissed. We stayed kissing until he realized I had not shot, "You didn't cum?" He asked concerned.

"This was about your pleasure dad." I responded honestly.

"I'm such a lucky bastard. Let's get in the shower, son, I'll take care of you there."

***

Before bed, I pulled out the dildo I'd purchased.

"What's this?" He asked, chuckling, nervous as he saw me bring the thing out of the packaging.

"You washed yourself, now, we need to train your ass to get used to having something up there."

I was undeterred and I looked at him before saying, "Trust me, dad."

He bit his lip and nodded, "How do you want me?"

It was difficult but after rimming him again, to calm his nerves though it was more for me, I lubed him up and ran the dildo along his ass lips.

"Oh!" he grunted. I grinned and gave him a determined look as I ran the toy over his sensitive spot. The more I ran it over his ring, the more he seemed into it, and I watched him get a boner again. I took the cue to push it in. It wasn't too big, but it was enough.

"Easy son, I'm cherry back there." He urged, reaching down to grip my forearm. Dad has a strong grip.

I nodded and concentrated on just the inner part of his sphincter, eventually working an inch in and out, giving my old man time to get used to it. All in all, we both worked to get this next step completed. A compromise between my desire to see Dad penetrated and his desire to focus on the pleasures in his anus itself. We would both get a good night's sleep after our efforts this evening.

I was getting hard, and I stroked my cock in one hand while I used the other to diddle his hole.

Dad let out a grunt and another inch of that fake cock slid inside him. The suddenness tripped my wires.

"Fuck!" I gasped as a load shot out. Since Dad had sucked me off an hour before, it wasn't the heaviest cum, but it was bigger than I expected.

I thanked him with a kiss and pulled out the dildo, laying it on the nightstand.

"That was incredible, Dad," I muttered as he pulled my body to his, “I'm glad bud... and it was good for me too.” We fell asleep soon after, dad holding me in his arms.

#drakestories

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thebunnyslibrary · 7 months

Text

Bucky Barnes Valentine's Drabble ❤️

wc. ~1500

pairing. Bucky x Curvy!Reader

summary. Reader is alone and in the gym on Valentine's Day of all days. Until the man of her dreams Bucky Barnes wanders in and offers to be her sparring partner...

an. I had a last minute idea for a drabble......that then morphed into TWO ideas!! Bucky is first up and I have another idea with Loki that I should hope to finish in the next couple of days. (PS I haven't forgotten my last Ficmas fic. I just kind of hit a wall and i'm still struggling to get over it. Maybe this will help.)

Also big shout out to @chasingmidnights for helping inspire me today ❤️

Going to the gym wasn't exactly your first choice of things to start your Valentine’s Day; but here you were. You preferred to come early early, still dark out early, for two reasons. First for being a bit of an early riser yourself. Usually not as early as you were today, but enough that in the summer, you were able to hear the birds sing at breakfast.

The second that there were less people to stare at you. Confident as you were in your curves, the world had not gotten used to the idea of fat people working out in gyms NOT to lose weight add you’d rather not start today, of all days, that way. Valentine’s Day. You had no real hatred for it. But you did get a little jealous sometimes when you walked in the office and saw so many other desks littered with flowers and candies. But you couldn’t recall a time someone had sent you so much as a single rose.

This year, you’d decided to take the self-care route. You’d ordered takeout last night and tucked it away in the fridge for tonight, along with a slice of your favorite cheesecake from the old-fashioned delicatessen down the street (family owned since the days Tony’s father running Stark Industries). You’d chosen not to weep for your singleness but instead use it as a night of rest and recovery. A good meal, a nice book and your favorite vinyl record along with a long soak in the tub were you self-loves tonight…and your now charging vibrator would take care of the other kind too. You just had to make it through the day.

Even though you were a desk jockey, there was a physical exam all SWORD agents had to pass. You weren't extraordinarily physically gifted, but you could kick but in Just Dance when you wanted to. Unfortunately, the virtual reality sparring simulator at the Avengers compound certainly wasn't as fun as silly dance moves to 70s music in your apartment You knew sparring with the examiner wouldn't be like this, but you had no one else to spar with. And that was where Bucky found you.

"If you'd like I can practice with you, agent." He’d startled you as you quickly removed the virtual reality headset and turned to see him standing there. It was amazing how well he fit into modern clothing. He was wearing a sleeveless shirt, showing off this metal arm. You’d never seen his arm this closes and you were in awe of the Wakandan craftsmanship. You'd long admired the former assassin, but never thought in a million years he'd notice you. He was the dark contrast to Captain America, the golden boy. Both were incredibly handsome but there was something mysterious about him that drew you to him. You could easily see why he’d been a lady’s man in the 40s. And you were just a desk clerk. You couldn’t compete with the women, all of whom looked like super models, that threw themselves at him.

You looked around, not seeing any one else and turned back to him, standing there and looking at you, a genuine smile on his face. You nodded and quietly responded.

"Uh...yeah. that would be nice."

Sparring with Bucky gave you a much better experience. Being able to actually fight someone who was there instead of just a simulation felt great. Even though you were sure Bucky was taking it easy on you, you were a lot stronger than you thought, not to mention quick. You were able to duck and dodge and lay a few quick jabs to his chest. And that was nothing compared to how confident you felt, and how good Bucky looked. He seemed to be enjoying himself, a smile never leaving his face. Once or twice you’d stared a little too long and he’d gotten a few jabs in, but you recovered quickly.

At one point he had his arms around you in a hold and you were amazed how warm he felt. His chest brushed against your back and you let out a little gasp that you prayed to God he didn't hear. But you saw the smirk play at his lips.

"Sorry, doll. I run a little warm cause of the serum."

"It's alright.” You said, sheepishly. “Your touch actually feels nice." You bit your cheek as you realized how wrong that probably was to say. To your surprise, Bucky didn’t mention it.

"Well the best way to pass a test is with the proper tools. Not with Tony’s toys." He said, rolling his eyes. “And your touch feels good too.” You raised your eyebrows in surprise before he continued “You’ve got a good strong grip.” He shot you a wink and you couldn’t begin to process what he meant when the sparring resumed. Bucky and you trained for a good hour or so and by the end you felt much better about the exam.

Bucky also took the time to show you a few new self-defense maneuvers. He was demonstrating a quick way to hit someone in the gut before raising your hands up to hit them in the face.

"It's one fluid movement." He guided your arms. By now you were CERTAINLY used to his touch. Especially in moments like now where you when his arms where wrapped around you to guide you. You'd never felt more safe and secure.

"Like this...." You jabbed your elbows backwards before swinging are your arms up, hands closed together and you FELT the contact against Bucky’s nose as you'd executed the move perfectly. But your pride turned to panic as Bucky grunted, then started a fit of coughing as you realized what you’d done.

"Holy shit. Oh my God. I mean... oh shit. Uhm. Captain America is gunna kill me.... Sargent Barnes uhm...sir...?? Are you okay??"

Bucky coughed a few more times, before his breathing finally shallowed. His hand was clutch his nose, now paying attention to that and feeling to make sure it wasn't broken before he finally spoke to you.

“Well doll, I certainly didn't expect you to knock the wind out of me twice in one day. But I'll take it. And you can just call me Bucky.” He said and you felt like you were going to faint. Had he just said what you thought he did?

"Wha...what...? Twice?" you said in disbelief.

“Sure doll.” Bucky admitted. “First was when I walked In here today. Though I have to say you've done it a few times before that" he admitted. “Like the other day when I dropped off that paperwork and you looked so beautiful in your blue dress.” He bit his lip, recalling the memory.

“You're not. You're not serious, right?” He couldn’t be.

“Yeah. Uhm. I am doll. I’ve been wanting to say something for a while but I was worried you were scared of me.” Your heart twinged a little and you gently placed your hand on his mechanical arm.

“Not at all Bucky. In fact, I’ve liked you for some time as I just…didn’t think you’d notice me. You could have any girl you want and I’m just a desk clerk.” You said. “Not a supermodel or a superhero. Or anything special."

“Hey listen to me. You’re absolutely gorgeous doll. Why do you think I’m the one that’s always bringing you everyone else’s paperwork.” You thought for a moment before you realized it was true. You’d never noticed it but while you often saw other Avengers dropping off work to someone else, whenever something had to come to you, Bucky was always the one to bring it. “It’s the highlight of my day when I get to see you. His words, full of honesty and admiration made your heart swell. He placed his flesh hand over yours and squeezed it tight. You gazed into the crystal blue pools of his eyes as he broke the moment.

“Besides everyone knows it’s desk clerks that makes the world go round. Trust me, My ma worked as a secretary for a while. The stories she could’ve told.” You both laughed at that and you loved his laugh. You weren’t sure you’d ever heard him really laugh before. It wasn’t as deep or boisterous as Thor’s. Rather it pattered and reminded you of summer’s rain on a wooden roof. And you loved the way his shoulders shook, even if it wasn’t that big of a laugh.

“Listen, doll, I know it's super last minute...and if you didn’t already have plans tonight… I We'll never get a reservation anywhere. But you could come back to my place and I could cook you dinner? Maybe we can watch a movie?” Bucky asked. You smiled and happily replied.

“It's a date.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes fic #drabble #Bucky Barnes Drabble #Valentine's Day #Valentines Day #valentine's day fic

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thatmrmiller · 1 year

Text

Give an Inch, Take a Mile

Pairing: Dark!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut, Dead Dove Do Not Eat. Death, alcohol consumption, drugging, manipulation, significant age gap, noncon, virgin!reader, forced breeding, likely other very dark themes throughout. Read on at your own risk.

When Joel found out your dad had left you here alone when he went on a supply run, he checked in on you now and then.

It was relatively innocent at first, partially out of genuine concern.

The more he dropped in, the more this changed. He started to grow interested in you in a way he wasn’t before, noticing things like your wide eyes and mature figure.

He wasn’t sure how old you were. Probably in your 20’s, but things were different here in the QZ. People didn’t experience as much as they used to. So you likely seemed younger than you would be for your actual age in the outside world.

He came to the door one night after curfew, knocking quietly to avoid drawing attention. You answered in sleep shorts and a large oversized tshirt. Probably belongs to your dad.

“How you doin’, hm?” He asks, leaning against the doorframe intrusively.

“Fine, Joel, thank you for checking on me. But its late.” You rubbed your eyes a little. He found it quite endearing.

“I know that darlin’, past curfew, you gonna leave me on the step for FEDRA to find me?” He challenges, his voice remaining soft and gentle.

“Um, no.” You say, frowning a little and moving out of the doorway and allowing him access to your home. You don’t know why he does this, you don’t know if your dad asked him to.

You don’t think so, your dad trusts you and plus, you don’t really know Joel that well. There are other friends of your dad’s who you would be more comfortable checking in on you.

He settles himself onto the couch without permission and you watch him carefully. He reaches into his jacket and removes a small pocket flask.

“Come sit.” He beckons you to the sofa.

It’s a little unnerving, the way he comes into your home and commands the space so easily like it belongs to him.

You perch nervously on the edge of the sofa trying to keep your distance from him.

“When did your dad say he would be back?” He asks you kindly.

“Saturday at the very latest.” You respond quietly.

“And what day is it today?” He muses.

“Tuesday.” You murmur.

He hums in response.

“I know that route well.” He says. “Never known someone to take this long. It’s an easy one.”

You frown at him. Obviously, you were already aware that he was late and you are nervous about his return. You don’t know why he is telling you this, as it only serves to make you even more anxious.

He smiles at you but it doesn’t reach his eyes and is a bit unsettling. “I’m sure he’ll be back soon, honey.”

You don’t answer. He continues drinking his whiskey in your living room even though you don’t talk to him.

After a while, he gets up to leave. “You need anything?” He asks.

You do actually need more food, but you don’t want to rely on him, so you tell him no and he leaves. You would find some other way.

Another week passes of Joel dropping in every few nights. You managed to get some rations without telling anyone that your dad was gone, as you knew that made you more vulnerable. It seemed only Joel knew you were alone.

He hadn’t brought up the topic of your dad since last time, but he did tonight.

“He been gone two weeks now, sweetheart?” His tone is like a question but he obviously already knows the answer.

You don’t answer him.

“Aren’t ya’ gettin’ worried?” He presses.

“Obviously.” You murmur back.

“What was that?” He says, turning his head. You had noticed he had a good ear and a bad ear.

“I said, obviously.” You repeat with more attitude.

He laughs a little at your tone. You don’t like the way he acts towards you a lot of the time, talking down to you or chuckling away to himself like you were a child.

“Whose gonna keep you out of trouble then, huh?” He says, taking a sip of his drink. He is always drinking.

“No one else.” You say. “He’s going to come back soon.”

He pats at your thigh. You almost shiver at the feeling. He’s never touched you before.

“Yeah. I’m sure he will, sweetheart.” He says, with that wry smile again that makes you shift nervously in your seat.

He doesn’t remove his hand from where it rests on your thigh. You sit in silence until he leaves.

You dream of him that night. You dream of the feeling of his hand touching you like that, and in other places too. In your dream, you are crushed by his scent and his heat, all overpowering and overbearing.

You wake up a little ashamed and confused.

Nearly four weeks since your dad left, and Joel is round nearly every night. You have started to get used to his company. It’s at least a little bit of a distraction from the sadness that has enveloped you, the worry that consumes you each day for your father, the guilt and torment you experienced when you felt your hope resigning itself to grief.

Joel brings food and other small things for you, books, usually. You sit and read, and he drinks, usually in silence. It starts to become slightly comfortable. Or at least, it is no longer necessarily uncomfortable.

The next day, Joel arrives around noon with a solemn look on his face. He was supposed to be on shift burning bodies.

“I think you should sit down.” He says, guiding you by your lower back to the sofa.

You follow his instructions, crossing your legs, tucking them under you and looking at him, expectantly.

“It’s about your father, sweetheart. You know I was dealing with the bodies today. Well-“

“No.” You cry out.

He pats your head, an awkward rehearsed move that shows no compassion.

“I’m sorry.” He says, but he doesn’t sound very moved.

You wail and he sits down beside you. You feel weak as he pulls you closer to him until you’re almost on his lap. You appreciate the feeling of his arms around you, you think he really is trying to be sensitive, until you feel his erection pressing into you.

How can he possibly be having that reaction to you wailing in his arms? You try to push him away and crawl away from him but he locks his arms tighter around you, keeping you stuck there. You try to free yourself again but you hear him grunt slightly and realise that the feeling of you wriggling against him must be pleasurable.

Because of that, you resign yourself to sitting still in his lap and even let him stroke your hair and kiss your head gently. You eventually drift off to sleep, having exhausted yourself from crying.

After that day, Joel starts coming over straight after work, not bothering to wait until its dark before joining you in the late evening.

You struggle with your grief, barely eating or sleeping. Never reading. Most days you sit near the window and just look out. Joel drinks on the sofa. Some nights he offers you food, and most nights he leads you to bed. You stay where he puts you in your room, but usually you don’t sleep.

You’re not sure when, but he starts sleeping over. First on the couch and then more often, in your father’s room.

One day you ask him why.

“You should have someone here to watch you. Keep you safe.”

“I don’t need someone to watch me. I’m not a kid.” You protest.

He looks you up and down and smiles. “Of course you’re not.”

He comes towards you and kisses your head. You have gotten used to him doing this and while you don’t like it, you don’t bother trying to avoid it any more.

Slowly you begin to start keeping yourself busy. You start preparing food for him, just for something to do. He never thanks you verbally, but you assume that he is showing gratitude when he sits with a hand on your thigh.

One night after he eats, he offers you to drink with him. You have tasted beer before, but not whiskey. You don’t like the smell of it.

He encourages you and you eventually give in, taking a sip. It makes your throat burn and churns your stomach.

You shake your head when he offers you the glass again, but he puts it in your hand somewhat forcefully.

“Come on. It will make you feel good.” He urges.

You don’t know how that could be true but you don’t have the energy to argue so you do as he says anyway.

You continue to sip at it and force it down, pushing the glass back towards him when you are done. He fills it up.

“No.” You say, but he ignores you and slides you the now full glass again.

You haven’t been drunk before. Your dad was quite protective and would never have let you go to one of the illegal bars inside the QZ where people like him and Joel did business.

He offers you a book, and you take it. It’s a welcome distraction from the strange feeling coming over you, but you can’t really focus on the pages.

He must notice, asking you how you feel.

“Weird, I guess.” You admit.

He just nods.

“Take one of these.” He says, offering you a packet of pills from his pocket.

“No.” You say.

“It will make you focus again. It stops you from feeling weird.”

You aren’t sure how that might work but he obviously knows more about this than you and you don’t want to seem stupid so you choose to believe what he says and you take one.

He tells you to wash it down with the rest of your second glass of whisky.

After a few moments, your focus on the book is even worse. The words are blurred and you feel tired. You put it down.

“It didn’t work.” You say. Your voice sounds different, quieter.

He hums. “Strange.”

He lifts your legs and places them on his lap. Your body feels unusually pliant, like you don’t have much control over the way he moves you.

You wriggle and you feel him harden under you. You try to take your legs away but he holds an arm over them so you can’t.

His other hand moves up your leg. You are just in shorts so most of your leg is bare. His touches start gentle, drifting across your skin, almost tickling, but then he starts to grip you harder.

You can’t form words to ask him to stop, you feel like the connection between your brain and your body is broken.

He lets go of your legs and you try to move them but you don’t have any strength. His hand that is on your leg travels closer and closer to the hem of the shorts, eventually slipping under them and touching at your underwear.

You want to yell, to tell him to get off. No one has touched you like this before. But when you open your mouth only a feeble moan escapes you, and you realise you are unable to form words.

He presses at your underwear and you feel it start to dampen. It must be involuntary because you know you don’t want him touching you in this way.

You hear the sound of a buckle and look down to see that his free hand is taking off his belt and unzipping his jeans.

He takes out his cock, it is large and aggressive looking, with an angry red tip and prominent veins running down its length. It looks like a tool to cause pain, not pleasure.

He continues to touch you, only through your panties, and begins to touch himself simultaneously.

He rubs up and down the shaft of his cock roughly, and the pressure with which he is touching you becomes rougher too.

A different sensation runs through you and you look down to see that his hand has now slipped inside your underwear. You raise a hand to try and push his away, but you find your muscles are weak and you don’t succeed. Your hand falls back to your side.

He starts to grunt loudly and then something warm trickles onto your legs. It’s his cum, spurting and leaking from the tip of his cock all over you. He continues to play with your pussy for a few moments before taking his hand away.

He doesn’t bother to clean up your legs, he just supports your weight and takes you down the hall in the direction of your bedroom. He deposits you onto the bed, covers you with a blanket, and leaves.

You couldn’t really remember what had happened that night, you just remember what felt like falling asleep on the sofa.

Joel started to be more and more close to you afterwards though, all the time. Pressing into your ass when you stood in the kitchen. Guiding you onto his lap when you were on the sofa together. Sometimes, when he took you to bed, he stayed in your room. You just accepted this new way of him behaving, you knew that without your dad here, you were powerless to stop Joel.

He tries to encourage you to drink whisky with him more often, but you refuse with more conviction now after the unusual night you feel as though you had last time.

You are reading and your eyes and head start to hurt so you put your book down.

“What’s wrong?” He says.

“Headache.” You respond, closing your eyes.

You hear him rustling in his pocket and then he offers you a pill. You shake your head.

“It’s just pain medicine.” He says. “It will help your head.”

You say no again but he goes to get you water and then hands it to you along with the pill.

“It’s just pain medicine.” He says again.

He stares at you intensely and you agree to take it. He only looks away after he sees you have swallowed it.

To be honest, he was telling the truth about the fact that it took the pain away. But it replaced it with that uncomfortable fuzzy feeling you remember from before.

The next morning, you woke up in your room alone. But you were wearing different clothes from the ones you had on last night. You try to avoid him for the rest of the day.

One night, you have a nightmare. He storms into your room when you yell out in terror.

You find yourself apologising to him for disturbing him.

“Don’t apologise, sweetheart. I’ll stay, make sure you’re OK.”

“No, Joel, I’m fine.” You say, but he ignores you and climbs into your bed anyway.

You don’t know how long you have been sleeping when you are awoken again. He is sliding your shorts off of your legs.

“What are you doing?” You say.

“They’re uncomfortable.” He asserts.

“No, they’re not.” You respond, but he keeps going anyway, taking them all the way down your legs and then tossing them on the floor.

The length of his manhood presses into your asscheeks, now only covered in flimsy underwear. You try to ignore the feeling, especially when he locks his arm around you to try and keep you pressed closer to him and starts shifting his lower body, grinding against you.

He stops and eventually you fall asleep. Next time you wake up, it’s because he is touching you. His hand is stuffed inside your panties and he is rubbing you, sticking fingers inside you, touching you everywhere he can reach.

You say no and try to grab his wrist to take his hand away.

“Come on, baby.” He says. “I’ve got to look after you.”

You don’t know how that’s related to what he’s doing, and plus you never wanted him to ‘look after’ you anyway.

“I care for you. I go to work to bring you food. It’s only fair, come on.”

You struggle against him again but his grip is like a trap, the more you fight against it the tighter it becomes.

He starts to pinch and nip at your clit, rolling it between his thumb and finger. It’s such an intense feeling that a little cry escapes you.

He groans loudly in response to the sound you make and presses his erection harder into your ass. You feel grateful that at least he isn’t trying to put it inside you. You suppose you can put up with the touching as long as he doesn’t try that.

He takes his hand away from you and lets go of the tight grip around your middle. He takes your underwear off entirely. You try to protest but he just shushes you. He spreads your pussy and spits, a large amount of saliva landing on your folds and dripping down. It feels dirty and intimate. You didn’t want to do this with Joel, but you didn’t know how to get him to stop.

He uses his hands again, spreading the spit around as lubrication, and it made filthy sounds. He then put his fingers inside you, three long thick ones that stretched you out and hurt a little. He hammered them into you for a few moments, the force of his arm pushing you up the bed and making your shirt roll up. With his other hand, he grabbed the hem of your shirt and pushed it up roughly to expose your breasts. You weren’t wearing a bra and he stared at your nakedness, his mouth falling open and his eyes grew heavy and hooded as he looked at you. He was rubbing at his own cock through his boxers.

He started to play with one of your breasts, twisting and pinching at your nipple. It hurt a little and you squirmed, you don’t know if he saw that as a sign of pleasure or pain, but he kept doing it anyway.

With his other hand he started applying pressure to your clit, rubbing in circles. Then he let go of your breast and took his cock out from his boxers, you looked away. He grabbed your chin and forced your gaze back in his direction.

He fisted himself and continued to rub at your clit and finger you. It didn’t feel good but your body was having it’s own reaction, a knot of tension building inside of you that you had felt yourself a few times but never with someone else.

You couldn’t help but start to pant and whine a little as the feeling started to overwhelm you. This emboldened him and he paid more attention to the hand that was on you, rubbing your clit vigorously, making you clench and shake under him.

You wished you could stop it from feeling good, you wished you could inhibit your body’s natural reactions as you knew if he got any sign that you enjoyed this that he would start to do it more frequently.

But you couldn’t stop that tension building low in your stomach, your legs seizing up and then it snapped with a cry and you felt your orgasm coming over you.

You clenched around the fingers he had inside you, gripping them tightly. He grunted and spilled his load of cum all over your stomach and cunt.

He plays with it a little, spreading it all over you. You find it disgusting and a little animalistic. You try to get up to leave and clean yourself off but he grips you tightly and doesn’t let you get out of bed.

Joel does this with you twice more before trying anything else. You had grown numb to it and let him do as he pleased without protest. You started to believe him when he said he deserved to get to do this because he earns you your rations and brings you things he trades especially for you. His gifts become more valuable, rarer items like scented soaps, even a perfume.

You know he is trying to earn your favour, that there is no real kindness in his actions, but you do start to appreciate them for some reason.

He has taken to sleeping with you every night now. On the nights when he doesn’t touch you, he usually holds onto you and jerks off, sometimes when you are awake and other times when you are sleeping and you only notice in the morning.

He tells you off for wasting water when you try and wash the sheets every day.

You are both still a little damp from showering, his curls slicked back with water and your wet hair splayed out on the pillow beneath you. You lie there as he kisses and licks at your neck, chest and stomach. He starts to go lower, putting his hands to your underwear. You reach out to push him away but he lets out a disgruntled sound, practically a growl, so you stay still again.

He takes off your underwear and then his own, and situates himself between your legs. You try not to look at him as he ducks his head down between your legs, his stubble burning your legs as he inhales your scent deeply and licks at your inner thighs. He has never used his mouth on you before and you try to squeeze your legs together to stop him, but his hands reach up to pin your legs down and keep them spread.

He kisses and licks at your cunt hungrily. When you reach out to push his head away, he gives a harsh slap to your clit and you cry out, so you stay still and let him continue his actions.

After a while, he uses his fingers. It hurts less than usual, but you still don’t like it. Then, impatiently, he stops and moves up, positioning his cock between your legs.

He starts to grind it against your cunt, gathering up all the wetness and then rubbing it down his shaft. He nudges it at your entrance and your hands fly out to his chest to try and push him away.

“No, I’ve never- I don’t-“ You begin to protest, but he interrupts you.

“That’s a good thing, sweetheart. You’ve saved yourself for someone who cares about you.” He says.

You think the opposite, but he pins your hands above your head and continues to massage your folds with the head of his cock. You are worried that if he does this, it will somehow connect you to him forever.

When he breaches your entrance, it hurts. The stretch is unlike anything you have ever felt and you don’t like it. You feel tears forming in your eyes as he continues to push in, forcing you open.

As one rolls down your cheek, he leans down and licks it. He is grinning. He likes that he has made you cry.

You focus hard on not crying so he can’t enjoy it, holding your breath and trying to withhold your tears. But this makes you wrack with a sob, his pace increasing furiously.

He watches in delight as you cry and sniffle. Everything about this is wrong. It hurts as his stubble scratches at you when he leans in close, the force of his cock driving into you is too harsh, the grip of his hands on you is too rough.

He indulges selfishly in his own pleasure and it hurts. You assume he likes the sounds you make so you try to be as quiet as you can. The only sounds are his grunts and the wet skin slapping together.

You expect him to pull out eventually and jerk off onto you like usual, but it goes on and on and he doesn’t stop. He becomes particularly forceful and then stops suddenly with a loud groan and you feel his warm hot cum releasing inside of you.

You cry, understanding what he has done.

He rolls off of you and you lie in silence for a while.

“Can I ask you something, Joel?”

“What is it?” He says, uninterested.

“If my dad died out on the supply run, how’d they have his body here. Don’t they only have people who die inside the QZ.”

He flashes that wry expression. That deceiving smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. That unnerving, cold look that still makes your skin crawl.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I don’t have all the answers.”

Something in your gut tells you not to believe him. You start to wonder if your dad had made it back, after all, and met his fate inside the walls of the QZ.

There would be no way for you to find out.

A/N: Thanks for reading!

#joel miller smut #tlou smut #joel miller fanfiction #dark!joel miller #dark!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller fic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you

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dira333 · 11 months

Text

Date Nights with Bakugo Katsuki

From the Date Night Series

Katsuki is an early riser. You’re not.

He wanted to start early, get going before the sun’s even out and you couldn’t refuse him.

Not when he’s got that eager glint in his eyes.

You’re regretting it now, trying to stay awake in the car - it’s old and beat up but it’s his - as he talks about the route you’ll follow today.

You’re only half regretting it though, because he’s so much calmer in the mornings, even humming to himself as he drives - but that could be because traffic is way less insane at this ungodly hour.

At some point, you must have fallen asleep anyway, because you’re tickled awake by him, his laughter your alarm tone.

“You snore.” He tells you and you blink up at him, retort ready on your tongue when he adds cheekily. “It’s cute.”

He takes it easy on you at first, walking so slow you can easily sip the coffee he’s brought with him.

But once the caffeine hits and you’re itching to move, the competitiveness setttles in your veins. You’re too much alike that way.

…

“Oi! Watch out.” He calls out when you skip entire steps on the stairs cut into the stone. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

You stick your tongue out at him but stop at the top to gloat.

“Oh, look.” You point at something over his shoulder. “But be quiet.”

He turns but is unable to spot it.

“There’s a rabbit. See? He’s probably going to work.”

“Rabbits don’t work, idiot.”

“Uh yes, they do. How do you think they support their family? With handouts? I don’t think so.”

There’s a mix of exasperation and fondness on his face when he asks.

“Oh really? So what do they work, huh?”

“He’s probably off to do some quality control on the carrot farmers, but we can’t discriminate. He might also be a banker.”

“Nu-uh,” Katsuki plays along as he pulls you with him along the trek, your fingers laced together as long as they can, “He did not wear a suit and tie. But he might be a tattoo artist.”

Katsuki is an early riser. You’re not.

By now you’ve mastered the art of dressing yourself half asleep, dozing off the moment your body’s in the passenger seat of his car - brand new and paid for with his latest ad campaign about workout equipment.

He’s got your hands in his, resting them on his thigh as he drives through the early morning, listening to your snoring.

You’re tickled awake, your hands finding his hair on muscle memory alone, pulling him towards you.

“Five more minutes.” You mumble into his neck. He lifts you out of the car with ease.

There have been hikes where he carried you until you were awake enough to walk.

He’d do almost anything for you but waking up later isn’t one of those things.

Today you’re sipping your first cup of coffee - two sugars, cream and some cinnamon - as you stroll down the first part of the hike.

He’s picked a route that starts off easy and you quite enjoy the serenity of the morning, his hand in yours, as he talks quietly about things that are on his mind.

The new recipes he wants to test. A new workout regimen he’s thought about doing. Kirishima’s upcoming wedding and Eri approaching her graduation at U.A.

Some things you’ve talked about before, during the week or your last hike but there’s a beauty to his rare calmness that you never want to miss.

There are days where you feel like racing him up the mountain and there are days where you want to capture every flower you pass.

You’re in the mood to savour it today, with fall approaching the changes in nature are obvious.

“Come on.” He tugs at your hand when you’ve taken twenty pictures of a particularly colourful set of trees, their leaves a cascade of red and yellow. “The lake’s just around the courner.”

For the two of you, hiking is more than reaching the top of whatever mountain Katsuki has picked for the week. It’s more than pretty views on the way to the top or a chance to show the other who’s boss.

There’s something about the tranquility of nature that sets both of you at ease, allows conversations to flow naturally.

One moment you’re discussing the job options of wild rabbits, the next you’re pondering the names of your future children.

And it wouldn’t be Katsuki if he had not packed your bags with a feast for when you reach the top, as usual the only one’s up there.

You watch him open tupperware containers and bento boxes, sip on a sports drink and tell him all about the week that’s lying ahead of you.

“I’m meeting with your mother on Saturday.” You remind him, trying to sneak one cherry from the little bowl and failing.

“Why? We’re going out with the gang on Saturday. I’m not going without you.”

“Yeah, but she’s persistent and Saturday’s the only time that fits both of us. You’ll be fine without me.”

He huffs in annoyance before trying a different route. “What are you going to do when she asks why you’re not drinking? You should push it another week and then we can go together.”

You laugh at his poor attempt and crawl into his lap, forcing him to put the thermos filled wit coffee away.

“Or,” you tell him, pinching his cheeks, “I can go with your mom and you with your friends and just a week later we can surprise them with the news. I’m going to tell her that I’m doing a new diet or something.”

“She’s going to know.”

“Would that be so terrible?” You ask, kissing his nose when he’s grumbling instead of answering. “We’re almost at the three month mark anyway. And it would be just your parents, god knows mine wouldn’t notice it anyway.”

His hand moves to your stomach, warm and heavy through the fabric of your shirt.

“Fine,” he huffs eventually. “But I want to be the one who tells her.”

My Kofi if you want to tip me

#my hero academia fanart #my writing #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #kacchan x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugo imaine #mha writing #mha imagine #mha fluff

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that-angry-noldo · 6 months

Text

Finrod was not feeling well.

Everything felt too bright and too dull at the same time. He managed only to drag himself to the window and close the curtains, and then to drop back into his bed; covered himself in all the blankets he could gather and still felt awfully cold and dizzy.

Outside was raining, and the weather made his bones ache with pains of past life, and the scars on his chest and hands began to itch. It all made Finrod want to become very small and very little and to be far, far away from everything.

He shut his eyes. There were things he needed to do today, he knew; visitors he had to take in, old acquintances from Nargothrond who he agreed to meet with today. But he was feeling awful, and the thought of getting up and facing other people made him almost want to sob.

He felt very immature, and very foolish. But his body was weary, and refused to get up. It was as if he was chained all over again; familiar hopelessness settled into his chest, and he shuddered.

The clock on the wall said it was just the time for breakfast.

His house was a quiet one, in the more secluded part of Tirion, and he lived alone. His parents' palace was always open for him; but it could grow busy, and he loved to have a place to himself. Now he regretted the decision to spend the week here. He wasn't feeling well from yesterday; he was caught in the rain returning from the market, and spent the evening shivering, but he did not think the sickness would get to him in the night.

He was only bitter it happenned now, when he did not even have a messanger to inform the people he invited he was in no state to see them today. He thought of reaching out to Finarfin, or Eärwen; but his mind was too weary, and his thoughts too tangled.

The last thing he remembered was his eyelids growing more and more heavy, and his skin getting more and more hot; until his eyes finally shut closed, and he gave in to the uneasy sleep that found him.

***

He woke up slowly to the sound of someone's voice calling him.

"Good," it crooned, and it was soft and soothing and familiar. "There you are."

The rain was still falling outside. Finrod opened his eyes; saw Finarfin looking right back at him, brushing his hand at Finrod's forehead.

Finrod clasped his father's hand, feeling weak and very tired, and pressed it to his face.

"Atya," he mumbled. Finarfin sat by his side; put his head into his lap. Finrod sunk into his presence; noted dully the clatter of kitchenware coming from downstairs.

"Hush," Finarfin said, and lifted Finrod's head ever so slightly, pressing a glass with something warm to Finrod's lips and coaxing him to drink. It was warm soup, Finrod registered; and felt some warmth return into his bones. "I was right to worry about you today. I'm glad your mother and I decided to take a longer route on our way from the palace and check on you."

"What hour is it?" Finrod mumbled, and tried to sit up—but Finarfin held him down softly, and Finrod had no strength to fight back. "I had—I had a meeting today."

"It is way past lunch," Finarfin said. Then, slipping into Finrod's thoughts, his voice softening: "Your meeting is tomorrow, jewel. You need not worry; I will make sure it is moved a day or two if you do not feel better, yonya."

"Oh," Finrod said, and felt the tips of his ears grow red with embarassment. "Oh. Alright."

He heard Finarfin's quiet laugh, and closed his eyes. "I wil sleep some more, then," he mumbled. "Thank you."

"Always," Finarfin murmured in response, caressing Finrod's hair. "Sleep well, yonya."

He started humming a quiet melody; it wrapped over Finrod, and ran over the edges of his mind, and soothed the fever just a little bit.

Finrod drifted away, and dreamed of sea, and sea-shells, and crabs hiding between the rocks, and for a moment forgot about the fever and pain, both past and present.

#finrod #finarfin #silmarillion #silm fic #for the purposes of this fic. the elves have human immune system #tolkien

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ikeromantic · 25 days

Text

That Foolish Organ

A Chevalier Michel fanfiction. Approx. 3400 words. This scene takes place in Chapter 18-19 of the main route and is told from Chevalier’s POV. Part 16 of a series.

Chapter List

Newly carved memorial stones reflected the afternoon sunlight, the sheen on their surface a contrast to the worn stones from older conflicts. There were hundreds. Knights that gave their life to the service of the royal family. The Hill of Remembrance. Chevalier watched as the families and friends of the dead placed their tokens beside the memorial for their loved ones.

Some of the mourners spoke a few words, others only knelt in silence. The prince stood with his head bowed. His presence was the only acknowledgement he could give. What use, words? Tears meant nothing. He had no regret for his actions.

He was not unaware of the looks directed his way. Awe and hate in equal measure. These deaths were on his head. The grieving knew it as they knew the beat of their heart. Every tear shed for the lost, held in his cup. The weight of it would be too much to bear, for anyone else. The ceremony ended, and the last of the mourners went home.

He could have left then, perhaps should have, but his eyes lingered on the most recent memorial stone. Each name, a life ended in his service. He would carry them into the future, etched on his soul. No sacrifice without purpose.

Chevalier saw her before she saw him. Walking up the hill with a bouquet of white roses clutched tight in her hands. At this distance, he could just make out her expression. Her lips were set in a small, thoughtful frown, eyes damp, but her shoulders were squared and her chin held high. Emma. The Belle came to honor the dead. Yves stood by her side, his prim expression set in lines of disapproval.

He turned away from them.

“This is unusual. Prince Chevalier never . . .” The words drifted across the hill to his ears.

“I wonder what he’s doing here?” The Belle’s voice carried to him, though he wished otherwise. Yves’ reply did not. Then, “Prince Chevalier!”

He was tempted to ignore her. To pretend he had not heard anything. After their conversation the previous night, there was no purpose to wasting more words. But he turned, his body obeying the dictates of his heart over those of his head. Chevalier steeled himself for the onslaught of her tears. “Did you two come here to pay your respects?”

“Yes.” Emma nodded emphatically.

“What about you, Prince Chevalier? Did you also come to mourn the fallen knights?” Yves cocked his head, causing a lock of hair to fall into his eyes.

Chevalier snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. I would never do something so unproductive.”

Yves narrowed his eyes. “Unproductive? That’s hardly how I would put it!” The anger simmering below his voice was impossible to miss. “If I recall correctly, the knights who were mourned today swore their allegiance to you.”

“What of it? That is all the more reason it is unnecessary to mourn them.” He glanced down at the memorial stones. “Most likely knew when they began their service that they might die in battle. Standing here grieving and moaning over them is the height of stupidity.”

The fifth prince clenched his hands into tight fists, knuckles white.

Chevalier was expecting an emotional outburst from his younger brother, but the Belle intervened. “Yves, thank you for showing me to this place.”

“Emma?” Yves’ expression shifted to one of uncertainty.

“If it’s ok with you, I’d like to have a few words with Prince Chevalier, alone.” She patted his arm reassuringly, and Yves’ hands relaxed.

Chevalier turned away, feigning disinterest.

“But . . .” The fifth prince hesitated, the indecision audible in that one stammered word.

Emma took a deep breath, shifting a step away from Yves. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

“If that’s what you want, I’ll do as you ask. But don’t hesitate to shout for me if you want, ok?”

The ability of this plain, foolish peasant girl to turn the hearts of even more foolish men irked Chevalier in a way he could not quite put a finger on. Even haughty Yves was willing to - what? To fight him? It would be laughable if it were not so earnest.

“Thank you Yves.” Emma said nothing more. Yves’ retreating footsteps were the only sound for a long moment.

“I think it would have been in your best interest to leave with him,” Chevalier said softly. He did not turn to look at her.

“I still have something I need to do,” she countered. There was that familiar steel in her voice. He heard her walk slowly toward him until she stood at his side. Her head was bowed, eyes fixed on the memorial stone. “Prince Chevalier, what is it you are doing here?”

Chevalier glanced at her from the corner of his eye. In profile, her expression was one of curiosity, concern, and deep, inner conflict. “I have no obligation to tell you.” He paused, then, “If you have the time to engage in idle conversation, maybe you should do whatever it is you came to do instead.”

He turned abruptly, only realizing he was leaving when his feet led him away. His thoughts felt disorderly around the Belle these last few weeks. His actions and his mind out of alignment. An interference between them in the shape of a heart.

“Wait!” Her slim fingers grasped his cloak.

Chevalier turned his head to regard her with an icy gaze. “What? Your business is with the monument, not me. Correct?”

“That may be true. But -”

“Then don’t waste my time. I thought I told you last night to stay out of my sight.” He watched her reaction, emotions spilling across her face and form in turbulent sequence.

She nodded, but did not let go. “If we part now I - I’ll never know what you were doing here.”

Chevalier raised a brow. “Is that a problem?” This went beyond her duty as Belle. Beyond whatever . . . relationship? . . . acquaintance they had.

“If you don’t like it, shake me off.” Emma’s defiant gaze met his, fire to his ice.

He pulled the cloak from her grasp and turned to fully face her even as she shrank back from the violent rejection of her touch. “I dislike speaking to someone with my back toward them. That said, why do you want to know the reason I am here so badly that you would physically stop me from leaving?”

Emma’s lips parted, then closed, as she decided how best to respond. Finally, “There’s no deep meaning to it or anything. It just doesn’t seem like you’d be in a cemetery without a reason, so I got curious.”

Chevalier snorted again. “If it was mere curiosity, you wouldn’t have such a serious look on your face.”

“I- I do not-”

He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger, daring her to keep up the pretense. “I’ve told you before. Your thoughts show on your face.” Chevalier watched another internal battle in her eyes. A slight smile lifted one corner of his lips. “You’re the only simpleton who’s ever decided that I am a person. My guess is that you’re in low spirits because you know now that I am a merciless beast. But you can’t bring yourself to completely write me off as such. You want to know why I’m here because you hope to find my nonexistent human heart.” He took a breath, ignoring the way his heart drummed in his ears. “Am I wrong?”

She let out a shaky breath, unable to reply.

Chevalier let her go. He poked her forehead ungently. “You are incredibly foolish.” And stubborn.

“Ha.” Emma rubbed the spot on her forehead. “I agree.”

“Yet you still want to ask?”

“Absolutely.” Her gaze was serious and solemn. Troubled waters.

It would be so easy to dismiss her. To walk away. End this . . . whatever it was between them. Prove once and for all that he was only the Brutal Beast. Only. Chevalier wanted her to see him, the truth of him. To decide, when he was laid bare, whether or not there was any heart beating within his chest.

He knelt in front of the stone monument, eyes downcast. “I wanted to see these names.” He traced the sharp edges of the letters with a fingertip. A sudden skirl of wind ruffled his hair, tossing white rose petals into the air to drift in the space between them. “Remembering the names of those with no value to me is unnecessary, but I make sure to memorize the names of every single person who has worth.”

Emma took a sharp breath. “What? Why?”

“The responsibility for every death in battle lies squarely on the royal family’s shoulders. It’s the duty of royalty to carry on the will of those who died before they could see it fulfilled.” Chevalier heard the words from his own lips, the first time he’d bothered to say it aloud for someone. “Allowing their deaths to be in vain would be an affront to those who utterly devoted themselves to the kingdom. That holds true not just for the knights who died, but the citizens as well.”

He glanced up at her then. “And that is why I memorize their names. To carry their legacy into the future.”

“But, but you said - before, you said that the dead weren’t useful to you.” Emma’s voice sounded small and lost.

“What I meant was that time spent mourning them was better spent doing something useful. I have no business with the dead but carrying on their legacy is essential.” Chevalier awaited her judgement.

The Belle’s mouth firmed, her shoulders rising. “Prince Chevalier, you only dismiss the human heart as unnecessary. That doesn’t mean you don’t have one at all.”

“Hmph.” He stood, a slight smile on his lips. “Even if I do have a human heart, it is meaningless.”

“How so?”

He looked down at her, wondering what it meant that the pure-hearted, clear-eyed Belle would say such a thing. A heart was a weakness. A flaw. Like a crack in castle walls, it could not be allowed to stand. “I may have a heart, but it’s never felt necessary to me. If I cast it away, the result is the same as if it never existed in the first place. The core of the Brutal Beast won’t change.” Chevalier brushed a bit of hair back from her face. “The miracle you’re hoping for won’t happen.”

Emma trembled under his light touch. “What miracle?”

The truth lay in the depths of her gaze. A truth neither of them could acknowledge. He turned it aside, a half-truth. A partial lie. “As Belle, you wish for me to meet the people of this kingdom halfway, don’t you?”

“I, well . . .” She took a moment to collect her thoughts. “So, from here on, you’re not going to change the way you are? As a ruler?”

“Correct. It would be a different story if I saw necessity in meeting the people halfway, but there is no logic in doing so currently.” He let his hand fall away from her. “If you can’t stomach the way I do things, just choose a different prince to be king. The fact that you haven’t, and what’s more, have pinned your futile hopes on me . . .”

Chevalier paused. The truth faced him still. He could not ignore it. “Even for a more foolish reason.”

“What? What are you even talking about?”

He slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. Her heart was beating so hard that he could feel it against his chest.

“P-prince Chevalier! What are you -”

“There’s a reason that is even more important to you.” He watched the heat spread through her cheeks, sparking in her eyes.

Emma tried to feign indifference. “And that reason is?” Her body gave her away, every line of her molding itself to him.

“You don’t know?” He leaned toward her, letting his lips graze her ear. Desire pounded through his veins. “You want me to love you. That’s why you’re searching so hard for the human heart in me.” Chevalier could not help the smirk that turned his lips up at the corners. “Am I wrong?”

“I - I -” The tension in her eased as she took a breath. “It’s . . . really short sighted of me, isn’t it?” Her gaze met his as she leaned back to regard him. “You’re royalty. You live in a completely different world. And, after the rose loses its last petal, we’ll never see each other again. But still, I -”

Chevalier studied her. The mixture of love and loss. Hope and regret. “Even while fully aware of the foolishness of it, you can’t separate your mind from your heart. It’s difficult to be a decent human being, isn’t it?”

She looked away. “I wish I could live my life as skillfully as you do, Prince Chevalier.”

“No one would call someone with the ability to detach themselves from their own heart a ‘person.’ The way you are right now suits you more.”

Emma placed her hand lightly on his cheek, though she still would not meet his eyes. “But, Prince Chevalier, you are a person.”

“This? Again?” He frowned.

“Look. If you can completely detach yourself from your heart, as you’ve said, then how do you explain yesterday?”

Chevalier could not reply. She was right, of course. Seeing right through him, to the heart he denied and the emotions he eschewed. Which of them was truly the fool now?

Emma’s gentle smile returned to her lips. “At the very least, it didn’t seem to me that you were able to separate yourself from your emotions.”

“Back then,” he cleared his throat, “for a moment, only, unnecessary emotions manifested themselves.”

“Unnecessary emotions?” It was her turn to raise a brow.

“The most unnecessary emotion of all, which I, as a ruler, ought to cut myself free of. And I’ve failed.” The confession took the breath from him. His skin felt tight, and too hot. His chest hurt as if bruised.

“You mean . . .”

Chevalier interrupted her before she could continue that line of thought. “I can cut myself free of it now, though. It’s not that powerful.”

“Oh.”

He let go of her and took a step back, searching for that icy calm he needed. “It’s pointless to get your hopes up. There are many different emotions, but among them, love is especially unnecessary.” Memories of his mother’s tears, his father’s hopeless rage, welled up in him. Chevalier crushed them down ruthlessly, as he had learned to do.

“Nothing good came of it in that book about King Arthur you brought me, right? A knight gone mad with love brought the downfall of the kingdom.” He paused, wondering if she understood. If she saw through his words to his heart. “Something like this happening in reality, a wise king being swayed and corrupted by love? It is no laughing matter.”

Emma nodded slowly. “That may be true but -” The words seemed to still her lips, unable to agree or disagree, though the desire to argue with him was clear.

“I think your viewpoint is opposite mine.” Chevalier’s smile turned bitter.

“So you remember?”

“Indeed. I’d never heard a woman utter such nonsense as you do. When I look at you, I can assert that love really does have no value.” The pain Emma’s love caused her was written in the dampness at the corners of her eyes, and in the desperate rhythms of her heart. It brought her nothing good.

She gasped. “What? Why?”

“Tell me, what do you gain by loving me?” Chevalier wasn’t sure what answer he wanted to hear. “Because of your position as Belle, any feelings you have may affect your ability to judge with impartiality when choosing the next king. And if I’m not mistaken, Clause 99 of your covenant warns against harboring these feelings.” His eyes narrowed. “Despite all of that, you still believe there’s value in love?”

“Yes.” She smiled at him, a gentle, sad curl of her lips. “I do.”

Chev frowned. This was irrational, even for her. “Is that so? Then can you demonstrate the value of holding onto these feelings you clearly should not have? Can you show me the grounds on which you can say that it is better to feel these emotions that to cut yourself off from them?”

He waited for an answer, but she was silent. “If you can’t reply, that itself is my answer.”

“No. Wait.” She held up a hand. “Just as you said. I don’t know the value of my feelings yet. And I know the correct thing to do is to forget them because they are prohibited for the Belle.”

“Indeed.” Chevalier nodded.

“But my firm belief is that holding onto them is worth more than letting them go. There’s no way these feelings that make you so precious to me are worthless.” Her expression dared him to disagree. “I can promise you this. Even if it takes me until the day we say goodbye, I will find an answer to your question.” Her eyes held his gaze. “Will you stay by my side and watch over me as long as time permits us?”

Silence stretched between them for countless heartbeats. Chevalier did not know what to say. She was proposing madness. Setting herself up for more pain and sorrow. And for him, what? What use, this love? But he could not simply say no. His mouth would not form the words, nor his breath give them voice.

“Supposing you do . . . demonstrate its value. And I accept this love. The time will still come when we will have nothing more to do with each other. It should be irrelevant to you if I remain a beast who cuts himself off from love. Knowing this, would you still want to search for an answer?”

“Yes. I will.” She sounded so certain. Sure of herself. “When you smile in a human way, that’s the Prince Chevalier that I love. Even if I am not there to see it.” Her voice was thick with emotion, heavy with the weight of it.

“I don’t recall ever smiling like that.”

Emma’s gaze pinned him in place, piercing him. “Sometimes you do. It’s such a gentle, happy smile.”

Chevalier looked away. He could not see her like this, overwhelmed by this senseless, foolish, mad love. This was no novel with a happy ending. Emma would only end up hurt, and for nothing.

“That’s why, even after we part, I hope for a future where you will still smile like that. A future where the Brutal Beast is also a man.” She still held onto her small, sad, smile, but her breath shook with the effort.

“You’re far too devoted to this. I can’t understand it.” He shook his head, trying to dislodge her voice from his thoughts.

She gave a slight shrug. “Doesn’t that happen in a lot of love stories? A character wants the person they care about to be happy. They want them to smile.”

“Even if you’re not there to see it?”

Emma did not hesitate. “Yes. I have no doubt about that. Even after we part for the last time, my feelings won’t change.”

Could she truly mean it? There was only one way to know. It was the practical choice, or so Chevalier told himself. The only way to see if perhaps . . . maybe . . . there was some value to this warmth that filled his heart - that foolish organ - to bursting. “Very well. Prove to me that love has value. Maybe I will change my mind.”

“Thank you. I know I can prove it to you. Just wait and see.”

He hoped she was right, even if his mind told him logically this could only end in tears for her, or worse. “I hope you know, I still think this whole idea is foolish.”

Her voice was tight with held emotion, her feelings slowly overcoming her composure despite her best efforts. “Do I exasperate you?”

“Indeed. More than you ever have before.” He sighed and lifted a hand to her. “You really are so . . . foolish.” His fingers caressed her cheek and found a tear there that had slipped free from the corner of her eye. “Your smile does not fool me.”

“I . . .” She struggled to control herself, and failed.

Though he knew he should walk away, he pulled her close again, and let her hide her face against his shoulder. He did not know how to comfort her, but he tried. Stroking her soft hair, rubbing her back as she sobbed against him. “No one will ever be as much a fool as you are.” Making herself cry. Making his chest ache.

This could only end in tragedy.

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri chevalier #chevalier michel #fanfiction #otome #fanfic #otome guys #cybird otome

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insert-witty-user-name-here · 9 months

Text

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @loki-is-my-kink-awakening (two weeks ago but), thank you 💖 Currently in a writing slump so don’t have any active WIPs to share (beyond a vague list of bulleted ideas).

But thought I’d use the opportunity to share a scene I cut from one of my fics last year. The scene didn’t fit with the story but, hey, I find it silly and cute so I wanted to share it.

No pressure tags to @dewdropreader @lgwilt @blackbirdofasgard @mirilyawrites @dreamycloud @queen-of-meows @mimisempai @rins-love-wins and @loki-is-my-kink-awakening (right back at you!)

Mobius and Loki have wrapped a mission with Tony Stark and Pepper Potts…

Mobius took a sip of wine and looked at the dark blue ocean below him. The view was gorgeous. Maybe he should get that infinity pool for their vacation home Loki was always going on about. The god would definitely be demanding a remodel after seeing Tony Stark’s home now anyway.

“That was a clever trick you pulled today,” Pepper said, coming to stand beside him. “How did you know to bait Slattery with an unfinished Shakespeare manuscript?”

“Oh, I know you probably can’t tell from my youthful glow, but I’m a lot older than I look,” Mobius chuckled. “I’ve run into a few Trevor Slatterys in my time. They’re surprisingly opportunistic. Figured besting Shakespeare would be too hard for him to resist.”

“Hm, I see Loki’s not the only clever trickster around. You make a good pair. I imagine he keeps you busy.”

“You have no idea.”

“Tony thinks you make a good pair too. Although, he thinks it's because you’re opposites.”

“You don’t?” Mobius asked, turning to face Pepper.

Pepper shook her head. “No. I think you make a good pair because you’re more similar than you appear. You give him hope that things can be different, see the good in him he doesn’t see himself. And, I suspect, he does the same for you.”

A contemplative silence filled the air between them. Mobius looked towards the horizon. The stars were only just beginning to appear in the purple twilight sky. A billion worlds in this timeline, safe because of their actions today.

“Well then,” Pepper continued, “shall we see how our boys are doing? I’m a little nervous leaving them alone so long.”

“Loki won’t hurt anyone.”

“Oh, it wasn’t him I was worried about.”

The pair made their way downstairs to Tony’s workstation where, sure enough, they found the two embroiled in a heated argument.

“No, stop. Don’t touch that!” Tony swatted Loki’s hands away from some odd-looking contraption on the table before them.

“I’m not going to break anything,” Loki huffed.

“Says the guy who destroyed half of New York City.”

“I’ve already apologized. Twice! Now, will you just-”

“Ack! I said no touching!”

Loki rolled his eyes and stepped away. He raised his hands in mock surrender before he flicked his wrist. In a flash of green magic, a piece connecting two parts of the invention fell and was replaced with a glowing piece of metal from across the room. The machine buzzed to life.

“There,” Loki sighed, “see. It works.”

Tony gazed wide-eyed at his invention with a cock of his head. “Now that. Hm.” He looked down at his tablet. “I hadn’t…. These readings… How did you do that?”

“You Midgardians have such a narrow view of science,” Loki grumbled. “I simply harnessed the power within the system you built and re-routed it through a more malleable conductor. Without the restraints, the energy can flow more freely, giving life to itself, creating an indefinite loop.”

“Huh. That… that works.”

“Obviously or I wouldn’t have done it. Where I come from, magic and science are one and the same, and I happen to be an excellent mage.”

Tony glanced back at his tablet once more before he returned his gaze to Loki. His eyes glistened with barely restrained excitement. “Okay smartass, how would you fix this?”

Tony steered Loki to the back of the room where a suit labeled Mk 22 took a few unsteady steps and collapsed in a heap of metal. Loki tilted his head in eager curiosity and began to work. Magic swirled around him while he murmured explanations to Tony who seemed to hang on every word. It wasn’t long before the two were lost in their own world, debating and testing theories far beyond anyone else's understanding.

“You’re right,” Pepper chuckled beside Mobius, “they are cute together.”

“Huh, what was that Pep?” Tony asked.

“What are you two talking about?” Loki interjected.

“Oh, did I show you their wedding photo?” Mobius asked, fishing his TemPad out of his pocket. “Adorable.”

He pulled up the photos he’d saved from Timeline 465281 and passed the TemPad to Pepper.

“Mobius, whose wedding photo?” Loki repeated while he and Tony approached hesitantly.

“Aw, Tony! You’re so happy, look!” Pepper shoved the TemPad, equipped with the wedding photo of Loki Odinson and Tony Stark, into the Avenger’s face. Tony’s complexion grew worrying pale while Loki’s face took on a distinctly green hue.

“I’m sorry,” Tony began in a choked voice, “but in what universe-”

“Universe 465281 apparently,” Pepper supplied, scrolling through more photos. “You two get your puppy to be ring bearer?? How cute is that?”

“Might I inquire the location of the nearest restroom?” Loki asked. “I suddenly feel the urge to vomit.”

“Nope, not in my restroom you’re not," Tony said. "Actually, I think it’s time for you to go. You’ve overstayed your welcome.”

“For once we are in agreement.” With a poof of magic Loki was dressed back in his standard TVA suit. He straightened his tie. “Tony, I say this with the deepest sincerity, please try to keep out of trouble. I'd really rather not be called in to save you again."

“Right back at you, Bambi,” Tony quipped.

“Ugh, I’ve already told you,” Loki seethed, barely restrained magic sparking at his fingertips, “I don’t like that-”

“Okay, let’s go.” Mobius steered Loki towards an already open timedoor. “Pepper, Tony, a pleasure. We’ll keep an eye on your timeline for a few days. Who knows, maybe one day we’ll cross paths again."

“Yeah, no. If I have any luck at all, see you never. Buh-bye now,” Tony finished.

Mobius and Loki stepped back to the TVA. Mobius turned laughing, ready to apologize for keeping the information about Timeline 465281 a secret, but found himself suddenly wrapped in a tight hug from the god.

“Oof, hey there Lokes. I know I get jealous sometimes but, trust me, I’m not concerned at all about you running off with-”

“Are you okay?” Loki interrupted quietly. He pulled back with an examining gaze. “What do you need from me? I know today was difficult for you.”

Mobius’ heart softened at the compassion on Loki’s face and he pulled Loki in for another hug. His headache had long since subsided but his brain was still foggy and he felt more exhausted than he had in months.

“I’ll be alright. Thank you Loki. Thank you for seeing what I have a hard time seeing myself.”

Loki tightened his arms around Mobius and laid a kiss to his brow. “I’m just glad I was there to help you today. You are there so often for me, please don’t shut me out anymore. I want to be here for you. We all want to be here for you; you’re not alone anymore.”

“I know.”

The TemPad in Mobius’ pocket gave an obnoxiously loud trill. He’d never heard that sound before. Mobius flinched and pulled it out of his pocket, what was going on now? He let out a soft chuckle of surprise when he saw the message that flashed across the screen.

728 hours worked. Caseload for Agent MMM5313 frozen. Mandatory vacation required.

“Well,” Loki smirked, looking over his shoulder, “I see B-15 is putting her Deputy Director privileges to good use. You’re not going to try and argue with her on this, are you?”

“No,” Mobius laughed. “I’m not. She’s right. I could definitely use a vacation.”

“Well then Director,” Loki hummed. “Where shall we go?”

“You know… I was thinking you might be right about a remodel to our vacation home. What do you say we give Stark a run for his money and see who can make the best Malibu beach house?”

#literally just something random silly and fun #wip wednesday #loki series #loki #mobius m mobius #lokius #frostiron #(<- kinda it's referenced anyway)

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soaps-hoe-141 · 1 year

Text

Drowning In The Depths

Part 2

Pairing: Price x Male!Reader

WC: 9.4k

Synopsis: Feed on the pining my lovely and supportive readers

Warnings: A sprinkle of NSFW with a two side orders of gore and violence please

He'd been hoping he'd get to at least make it to his office before he was assaulted by the two Sergeants who were much too interested in his personal life for their own good. It was Soap who looked over the back of the couch first when the door shut behind him. Blue met blue as Price halted in the doorway and looked up at the TV show they were watching. It was the quickest decision he'd ever made when he turned to disappear down the hall to his office though the Scottish native was bounding over the back of the couch and blocking his way.

The beaming smile was casting up at him, more like a promise of frustration than a smile to him at this point in the day. Without missing a beat he turned to take a different route but Gaz was already standing there behind him blocking his second exit route. Annoyance welled in him, his hands shoved in his pockets and his fingers wrapped around the note you'd left him on the door as if it would lead him to you. Like if he ever lost it he'd lose a tether on life that he never even knew he needed.

Soap's eyebrows jumped before he asked, "So Price, how'd it go last night?" His own brunette brows lowered so far his blue hues were barely visible now, "You get that lad's attention? We saw you finally leaving the bar with him. Couldnae do much better than that," the Scottish accent was thick enough he could barely understand him at this point. The suggestive tone slipping into his words was so grating on his nerves he swore he could have decked that face then and there.

The Captain felt his hands tense around the note. Couldn't get much better than that? Was this wanker serious? His chin lifted, fixing his dark look on the Sergeant before answering, "Get out of the way Soap. I've got paperwork to do. I don't have time for this right now," his voice was deeper, nearly threatening but both of the Sergeants were too busy trying to pull details out of him to realize. They didn't see the building frustration and how close he was getting to unloading his lack of sleep and his quietly working jaw that had his beard and mustache twitching along with it. The two certainly didn't see his fingers running over your note shoved in his pocket and already beginning to fray the edges.

The Sergeant behind him was next to the line, and even without turning around he could hear the smile in his words, "Come on Cap, tell us how it went. You've been staring at the guy for three months now, even Ghost could see it and he's nearly blind without a scope."

There was a weight settling on his shoulders, accompanied by a dark look that was about to ignite into an explosion. "Leave it alone Sergeants, I've got-"

They didn't even let him finish before Soap was teasing him again, "Captain you aren't getting out of this. Was it good at least? Ah shite was it bad? There's no way it was bad."

"Bloody hell I hope not," Gaz mumbled in response to the invasive questions currently pouring out of the Scot. Did they ever shut the hell up? No, no they didn't.

Funny enough it was Ghost who saved him from the two, standing with his hands shoved in his hoodie pocket. The quiet stare had Soap clamming up and when the other stopped talking Gaz went quiet as well. "Come on, we have a new set of recruits coming in today." Both of the men slipped off behind the Lieutenant leaving Price alone finally. Bloody hell the quiet was invigorating, he took a deep breath using a few precious seconds to calm himself back down after the two men had poked and prodded the bear. Then he was heading off down the hall to his office, trying to get the sound of your precious little moans and whines out of his ears.

It wasn't until he'd sat behind his desk that he pulled his hands from his pockets. He tossed your note onto the desk, elbows resting on the hardwood as he leaned his face into his palms. Your face flashed behind his eyelids and he let out a sigh, hands running behind his head to lace his fingers together. Soap's questions about you rattled around in his mind, turning his subconscious into a minefield of memories that had his blood pressure skyrocketing. Had you been bad? No absolutely fucking not and that was more than half of the problem. He wished you had been bad, wished you had made him feel like shit so he could regret bringing you home in a way that wasn't like this.

No you just had to be stuck in his head, with your red face and pleading voice filling his mind so completely he didn't even hear the door open. Not until a feminine voice said, "Captain?" His eyes shot up, hands sliding to the back of his neck as he looked up to find Laswell's eyes. She stepped inside, her eyes narrowing at him as her arms crossed, "Why do you look so tired, John?"

He groaned and sat back in his chair, hands falling to his lap while a look of defeat took over his face, "Bloody hell not you too Kate."

A sigh left his chest even as she smirked at him and asked, "Late night then, John?" She looked so smug, so annoying with that stupid little smirk on her face that made his blood boil.

Blue eyes closed, his head shaking before he muttered out, "Very late night Laswell. So please, just let it go."

The woman was still smirking when he opened his eyes, hell she hadn't even moved save for one hand which was now open like she was counting something. When her fourth finger unfurled she found his gaze again, "So future Mrs. Price number…four? Yeah number four."

His head cocked to the side at that and he scoffed before shooting back with a scathing tone, "I've only been married twice before Kate. And I wasn't with a woman last night so no missus anything," he reached under the desk, turning his computer on before she took another step forward to sit halfway up on the desk.

Kate turned the monitor off before the screen lit up, keeping his attention forcefully and she held his very frustrated gaze, "So a future Mr. Price then?" When he didn't answer her mouth turned up in a smile, "Oh yeah, definitely a future Mr. Price. You've always been too emotional when it comes to these things John."

"No, there isn't going to be a future mister or missus Price, Kate. Never gonna see him again so just let it go, ok?" He pressed the power button on the monitor, the screen lighting up in front of him as he tried again to get to the paperwork that awaited him. He didn't look up at her but he did see her hand shifting towards the note that laid ominously on the desk and before she could reach for it he snatched it up, hiding it in his pocket again. "Leave it alone, Laswell," his voice had dropped nearly an octave, returning to that threatening tone he usually saved for the worst of humanity.

The blonde woman sighed and relented, "Ok, ok, I'll leave it alone. Come on though, we have a mission brief. There's a new bomb guy on the circuit making the rounds in eastern Afghanistan and Pakistan." Price was quick to his feet then, eager for a distraction from the man he couldn't quit thinking about. He nodded as he shut the computer back down and followed her through the halls to the mission briefing.

-------

"Bloody hell, Marine," his hips bucked up from the bed, burying himself into the slick heat of his hand. You stood at the foot of his bed with his shirt on while he had yours in his free hand, fingers curled tight into the black fabric as he held it to his face. He'd found the shirt a couple weeks after he'd come home from a mission in eastern Afghanistan. It was on the floor of his garage and he'd thought it was his until he picked it up and smelt you all over it, he'd never forget that smell.

Your sweaty musk had overtaken his thoughts for far too long. He'd gotten drunk on that scent after he'd fucked your drooling mouth and when he'd buried himself deep inside of your tight walls. Fuck you'd felt so good, made him feel like a King while he was driving into you, sending him to near madness with your mouth as you moaned around his cock. Sucking him down your tight throat like his dick was an all you could eat buffet and you were a man near starved.

Another deep breath in and your smell coated his senses, he was moaning into the fabric to muffle himself and sounding like he was the one choking on your length. Christ he had been choking on it at one point. Making you feel so fucking good, too good he'd realized after a few tries to push his thick fingers inside of you. He'd had you so overstimulated you couldn't relax a single muscle. Not until you'd turned over, obeying him without a thought. So obedient, he could have said anything then and you would have done it. He'd massaged the tension out of each and every muscle. Taking his sweet fucking time with you before his tongue had slipped inside you and you’d clenched so hard at the intrusion.

Shite, his fingers tightened around his length, working steadily over the hardon he’d had for what felt like hours now just thinking about you. Every thought was you, the way you’d looked when he impaled you, the taste of your mouth, your perfect fucking body that fit so snugly against his. He twisted his wrist at the tip like you had, squeezing just a little bit harder at the base just trying to draw this feeling out like he'd been able to with you

Christ you had been an expert in him in a matter of minutes, if only you were really still here. The things you could have done to him with two months of research time, the things he could have done to you. His muscles tightened at the thought, abs flexing hard and his breath catching. His eyes flicked back down to the end of the bed where the image of you in his shirt still danced tantalizingly out of reach. "Oh fuck," his head fell back against the bed, his entire body tensing as he painted his hand and stomach.

Fingers released the hold on your shirt, letting it fall across his face as he fought to catch his breath. He laid like that for a few minutes, before he finally grabbed the dark shirt again and threw it to the side of the bed. Blue eyes looked down at his body, glaring hard at the mess he’d made all over himself. Just once in the two months since he’d last seen you driving off in a cab he wanted to jerk himself off and not imagine it was your hand he was feeling. Just one damn time.

---------

Fifteen minutes, he had fifteen minutes to himself and he was already down five just trying to get back to his room and undo his pants. Fingers slid along his shaft, too rough, too many calluses and just not enough of the right person’s warmth. Your hands had a lighter touch than his. Calluses that didn’t catch like his did on every inch of skin even though he remembered with certainty that your hands did have them.

It’d been five months and he still remembered every way you’d made him feel. Though he’d lost your shirt, well not really lost it the thing was still shoved into the bottom of his duffel bag, but after all this time your scent had long since dissipated. All he had now was the memory of you, and that would never go away. “ ‘M, so good Marine, so good,” he was fucking his own hand so fast he knew he’d regret it later but he couldn’t find the will to care right now.

His climax was coming on so fast, too fast that he knew he wouldn’t be satisfied really when it did but he didn’t care. There was no time to care. Besides he was so close in a matter of a couple minutes with his heart pounding and his vision starting to go white. He could see you on your knees, aching for him, waiting for him and he was about to deliver. Mouth open, eyes staring up at him, pleading with him to paint your face like a mosaic.

“Cap we’ve got a- OH SHIT!” The door to his room slammed shut as Price scrambled to cover himself with the blanket. He hadn’t even heard the bloody thing opening. His member ached at the loss of his own hand, needing the touch, needing to find his peak or he was sure he was going to explode.

Anger licked at his mind as he clenched his fists and shot a glare at the door. The Captain yelled out with a sour tone, “Bloody hell Gaz! Knock next time you fuckin muppet!”

There were a few moments that no sound came back through the door in answer. A couple quiet and tense seconds before Gaz finally answered with a strained and high-pitched voice, “I’m sorry Cap. We’ve got a, um, a lead.”

Price ran a hand over the brunette facial hair as his head shook, trying to keep the immense anger at being interrupted out of his tone. “I’ll be there in a few minutes Gaz.” The Sergeant didn’t say anything else as he presumably ran away to go tell the rest of the team what he’d just walked in on. He stood up with a growl, tucking himself back into his pants and redoing the buttons. Fifteen minutes, that was all he wanted. Was that really too much to ask? This was gonna be a long day. Christ it had already been a long five months.

---------

It had been eight months since they’d been trailing this new bomb maker that Laswell had found working up a following somewhere deep in the heart of Afghanistan. Eight long months of being on the road with the rest of 1-4-1 and Soap’s disgusting socks and underwear policy that could make even a veteran ER nurse vomit. That kid needed some serious talks about hygiene from somebody, not him though, the last thing he needed was to lecture one of them only to hear them bring up how he’d gone and scarred Gaz for life.

They team had started in eastern Afghanistan, tracking down the lower rungs of the organization and getting stumped at nearly every turn. Every time they got on the trail of someone they would go so deep underground it was like they were turning into a real life mole. Then without warning they’d pop back up in some random village dead or very close to it. At one point they’d merely been chasing dead bodies down a rabbit hole.

Until suddenly the men they had been chasing stopped dying and instead their families were taking the hit for them. Wives and children showed up to hospitals they had no business being in with wounds that would make a grown man break. Sometimes they didn’t make it to a hospital room, some of them just went straight to the morgue.

Price had been drowning himself in the work, ever since Kyle had walked in on him a few months ago. There was no way he was about to let that happen again. Not a chance in the world anyone else on this team was gonna see him jerking off to the memory of a man who had left him high and dry. Instead he was completely and one hundred percent focused on the mission. Annoyingly so according to the two Sergeants who apparently enjoyed things like free time.

Kate had been doing everything she could to figure out who it was that seemed to be so far ahead of them but there was nothing. Whoever it was, was in the wind. It wasn’t until the chatter about the head man’s family getting taken began to circulate that they had any fresh leads. Talk began to circulate of a planned attack on the person who had been killing terrorists and their families indiscriminately.

It was tempting to let them do it too. The injuries he’d seen on some of those innocent people made even him stop and cringe. Still though, a part of him remembered when he’d nearly had Gaz kill an innocent child and wife as well, “We get dirty so the world stays clean.” Whoever it was, whatever reason they were doing it for, he knew he’d do the same if it came down to making sure no more people were hurt by the bombs this organization was making. And he had to admit, so far the person had been fairly effective at keeping the attention on themselves rather than on potential targets.

They had come all the way across Afghanistan and now here he was, roaming a market crowded with people who looked nothing like him. The team had congregated on the entrance with the most traffic, everyone taking up a position and watching for any kind of suspicious activity. This was the most likely area for a bomb to have been placed, with so many people milling about it was the perfect spot to cause the maximum damage.

Ghost was keeping to the shadows and the alleys, he would draw too much attention with the mask on if he got too close. Plus he could keep a better eye on the guards movements if he wasn’t having to worry about getting watched himself. Soap had made his way to a stand selling various cured meats, currently trying to get himself some sausages as he haggled with the vendor. That boy would haggle just for the fun of it, Price was convinced.

Gaz was sticking around the middle of the aisles, he could blend in better here and that was a tactical advantage the Captain had every intention of using. Price was watching from the opposite side as Soap, leaning back against a wall. Ocean hues were flicking about the many faces, some covered and some not, searching for any sign of the man they knew they were after, and whoever his potential target was.

The market was crowded today, and they needed to find this bombmaker and his target before innocent people got killed. The last thing they needed was a bomb going off in the middle of this crowd. It was Ghost who spoke first, “Man entering the market now, moving towards you Soap. He has a dog with him, looks local but the dog not so much.” They all resisted the urge to look, Price pushing off the wall and moving to a cheese stand to peruse the vendor’s wares.

Everything stayed quiet for a couple seconds before Soap finally came over the comms, “Good copy Lt. He’s moving deeper into the market. Stopping at a stand a couple down from me.” A few seconds went by before the Sergeant continued, “He’s not speaking English, I don’t know what he’s saying but it looks like the lady knows him.”

Silence came over the comms for a heartbeat before Price muttered, “Keep an eye on him Ghost. Everyone else stay focused on the market entrance.”

“Good copy, Price,” the deep voice answered back. He handed a couple dollars off, taking a few slices of cheese from the young man to sate his hunger. The Lieutenant spoke again with his mouth poised on a bite of the cheese he’d just bought, “Market guards are watching him too Price, I don’t think they know or like him. He just ran into an old man, about twenty yards to your…left.”

The Captain stayed quiet for a moment before he slowly turned his gaze, catching sight of the man and dog in question. The man could have blended in perfectly fine, but it was the dog that just seemed off, it was screaming military to him. The animal just didn’t fit into the local look that the man he was walking with did. Something certainly wasn’t right with the two of them.

It was when the man turned from helping the old man though, that he felt like a knife had been plunged into his stomach. There was no way he was seeing that, no way that was who he thought it was. His eyes were tricking him, deceiving him because it’d been so long and he’d wanted this moment for so long now. He was walking towards the man before he even realized his feet were moving. Soap was the only one to catch sight of it though, “Price!? What are ye doin? We cannae engage him-” An explosion shook the air throwing him backwards and away from the man he knew in his very soul to be you.

--------- (Speck POV)

This was purgatory. An existence so devoid of meaning it was like standing on the sides of a treadmill and letting the belt run underneath you. Even Cerberus was starting to whine through the night as you tossed and turned beneath the weight of regret that filled you. You'd left the UK behind over eight months ago, and yet still you couldn't get those blue eyes out of your fucking head. Your thoughts were so consumed by him that even your handler was beginning to question whether you were up to the task of what you'd been assigned to do. You'd been sent to Zabol, one of the larger cities in Iran, to do some deeds even the devil would have grimaced about. To put it plainly you were the bad guy this time, and the worst part is that you knew it too.

Cerberus was stretched out along your side, your fingers running over the thick fur as you tried to lull yourself into some version of sleep. Slowly your eyes drifted shut, but the second they did a flash of memory hit you like a truck. This time it was when he'd tucked you in against his chest, arms wrapped so securely around you that you never considered being in the midst of danger again. You'd been so warm, so sated and satisfied that it made you feel like a caged animal now. It had been too long since you'd had him, had anybody, and you were so far past pent up you couldn't even trust yourself to take a hot shower. You knew, without a shadow of doubt, your hand would be slipping lower and lower until you had no more control over it. Until that fire was coursing through you and all you wanted to do was feel him touching the deepest parts of you that no one else had ever even been close to.

John. He had taken over nearly every thought since you'd left him lying in that bed with only a note to remember you by. The thought made your stomach hurt, turned it into a string of knots, it was a decision you knew you would regret until the day you died. He was probably fit snugly behind another man or woman right now, sleeping soundly through the night as if you'd never even existed. He'd probably forgotten you before you'd even made it out of the country. That was okay though, it was better this way, that he forgot you ever existed. Technically you'd stopped existing a long time ago. The second you'd gotten a divorce and joined this private contracting company your identity had become so muddled you doubted that customs would even let you back into your country at this point. Not without the help of some deep cover aliases or something of the like anyway. This was better though, John should forget you, like you never even existed. At least then only one of you would be suffering the loss of his expert fingers running over your skin like a wild forest fire.

A deep breath filled your lungs before you let it out in a heavy sigh rolling to the side of the bed. Nope, you needed to get up. You couldn't keep doing this, fuck sleep it was time you got the fuck out of here. There was a clink of metal as Cerberus followed you, both of your dogtags clinking together. He sat beside you to lick a couple times at your face until you gave him a scratch behind the ears and stood up. At least you still had your dog, no one could ever take him from you, he went everywhere you did, especially in the field, like a piece of velcro stuck to your thigh. He was everything you'd poured your focus into when you'd left the SEALs. Picked him up from a breeder in the States and raised him from a puppy in the middle of war zones. Training him just like the Navy had taught you to do, and he'd taken the place of your family, he was your family.

About to stand and get ready for a run, the phone on the dresser buzzed, the little SOS vibrating tone that signaled it was your job or your handler. You answered it quickly, putting the phone to your ear and lapsing into Farsi, you never knew who could be listening, "Hello?"

"Are you alone?" Came the immediate question from the distorted voice on the other end of the line. You gave an affirmative hum before the man continued, "Traditional market, fifteen minutes, don't be late Speck." The call ended, well you weren't being moved it seemed, that sucked seeing as you and Cerberus were both being sweated out of this fucking country.

With a quiet groan you pushed off the bed stretching muscles that were well past used and sore. Pulling some clothes on you looked at yourself in the small mirror, you were blending in with the local population of the city as you had been doing since you got here. It wouldn't be long before you got your next target package now, just had to get to the market. There would be no team this time you'd been given the heads up on that a day or so ago. Just you and Cerberus against whoever the next imminent threat was, that's how it always was and that's how it would always be.

At least your fluency in Farsi was coming in handy lately, you'd been worried you might be getting rusty after living it up in the UK for so long. You'd even been getting some work in with Pasto since you were right on the border of Afghanistan and Pakistan. You could blend in literally anywhere you went, a chameleon that could change accents and skins unmatched by any other. It was so far past just being your job it was woven into the very fiber of your being.

"Fuss Cerberus," his ears perked up at the German command and he fell into step beside you as you left the little room you'd been calling home for far too long now. A pistol was stuck inside the waistband of your pants, shirt hanging loose over it to conceal the weapon. The two of you slipped through the crowd of the market, stopping at a stand to grab a quick snack for you both before continuing on. A lead kept the two of you bound to one another but the dog beside you would never have left your side with or without it. Even as two men eyed you from the end of an alleyway, stepping into the street and following a short distance behind you but they were irrelevant right now. “Achtung,” you said quietly to the animal, catching the slight tilt of his head as his eyes roamed, searching for the danger you were apparently alerted to.

An older man stepped in front of you, his things falling to the ground as he apologized for holding you up. You gave him a quick smile answering in Farsi, "It's no problem sir. May I help you with your bags?" He gave an exuberant nod back, his fingers, knotted with arthritis like an old tree root, and he slipped a piece of paper into your palm as you handed him something else.

There it was, your next target, it almost surprised you to get it from such an unlikely person but not quite. It was rare that anything surprised you anymore, especially not these idiots. These pieces of paper were always delivered by someone new and always done in the most clandestine way the upper management could imagine as if this were a goddamn spy movie or some shit. Who did they think you were, James Bond? Son of a bitch they really were all idiots up there. They’d planned this shit in front of, currently, ten armed guards who were watching the interaction with such scrutiny you were sure there was no way they missed the handoff. And yet they did, blind to the chance that this frail old man could potentially be working with a private American contractor.

You helped the old man to his feet, lifting his bags for him as he moved to one of the stalls you'd thought was empty but was instead just waiting for its seller. While the seller who owned the stall was apparently waiting for you. When you set them down he gave you a few quick thank yous and you returned it with a nod and half smile. Turning you left him to his own devices, Cerberus hot on your heels, his tongue lolling while he panted heavily, it was too fucking hot here. It almost, almost, made you miss the sweltering Georgia heat and humidity…almost.

The both of you continued on to the next stall, hiding the paper in a pocket as you bought a couple pomegranates. A gap in the stalls called to you, a worm in your brain telling you something was off but knowing turning around would only make things worse. You hated the feeling of eyes on your back but it didn’t matter, ‘Do not turn around’ you told yourself. Instead you moved into the gap, enjoying the free space as you leaned against the wall. Forcing yourself to remain calm at the sight of a growing number of guards near the alley. Reminding yourself this was fine, they weren't on to you, this was in fact normal. It was normal for guards to be hanging around, they were just in the middle of their normal rotations.

A pack of cigarettes felt heavy in your pocket before you slipped it out, sliding one of them between your lips. As you lit the cigarette, inhaling the smoke deeply before exhaling in bored puffs, the watchful eyes of the guards became less interested. Seeming to find their attention on something else as you took yourself a smoke break.

With the absence of something to keep your mind busy, there was no contact to be on the lookout for and now there were no guards to give you anxiety, it slipped back to him. The way he'd devoured you totally in mind, body, and soul. The man had gotten you drunk on his very touch, even the slightest graze of his fingers had made you burn so hot you thought you'd evaporate.

Thoughts were muddled in your mind now, so consumed by his memory that you missed Cerberus as he laid down slowly beside you. It was a signal, just how you had trained him, he was doing his job but when he looked up at you, your head was in the clouds just continuing to puff away. By the time you looked down when you noticed that the weight of the seventy five pound Dutch Shepherd was no longer leaning against your leg like he always was it was too late. The explosion rocked the marketplace, you felt even yourself being thrown away from the sight of the little old man who'd given you your target being blown apart with heat you were sure could rival the sun.

Dust blocked your lines of sight, a hard cough exiting your lungs as they tried to take in fresh air where there was none to be had. "Son of a bitch," you said the words but you couldn't hear them over the ringing in your ears, the sounds of terrified people rising in volume around you though even that didn’t break through the ringing. You rolled to your back slowly, eyes affixing to the debris scattered around you. The explosion had been several stalls down but the shockwave had cut through you with enough force your entire body was wracked with pain.

"Cerberus," you mumbled into the air, still deaf to your own voice. Eyes shut tight as you righted your mind against the intense vertigo. A warm tongue slid across your face in answer, worried whines breaking through the ringing in your ears finally. The cigarette was long gone, but at least Cerberus was ok, you don’t know what you would do without this damn dog. He was currently doing everything he could to keep you focused right now, urging you up which you complied with immediately. "Fu-Fuss," you finally got out, pushing yourself up to your feet. Eyes casted about the destruction, mouth open at the pain that had been wrought here today. People lay dead and injured near the epicenter, your throat bobbing as you swallowed hard.

A warm nose pressed against your hand, Cerberus’ warm body leaning into your leg. “Good lord,” you glanced around, head shaking in disbelief at the carnage. It wasn’t until you saw trained operatives with guns sprinting your way that you backed into the alley, eyes wide and pressing yourself against the wall so they didn’t spot you. They ran past to the site of the explosion, one stopping a few yards in front of you, before he was looking around like he was searching for something. You weren’t about to stand around waiting to see what it was though, you were already turning deeper into the alley with Cerberus right beside you despite the lead having been severed in the explosion somehow.

The both of you beat a hasty retreat from the market until you had to stop to catch your breath, the pain of the explosion finally catching up to you. You took the time to check over the dog that had stayed faithfully by your side through the whole thing, hands running over the dirt and debris caught in his thick brindled coat. A patch of blood on his side made your hands still, the sticky liquid making your heart stop the second your fingers felt it. Dropping to a knee you poked, prodded, and probed but he just kept panting nervously beside you, no whines or other signs of discomfort from him. "Not yours?" You questioned him as you continued to catalog all of his body parts, ensuring he wasn't about to completely fall apart on you. Not his, you let out a breath you hadn't even realized you were holding in until then. It was when the cold wet nose butted against your leg that you felt the source of your own pain finally.

Blood now covered his black nose and you cursed quietly into the air, flinching away from him as you stared down at the source. "I'll be damned," you growled as your fingers shifted the foreign object. A piece of sheet metal from one of the stalls had lodged itself into your thigh. It was through and through on the outside part of your leg, skewering it like it was a fuckin kabob. At least it wasn’t the inside of your thigh though, no major bleed outs today, not yet anyway. Curses still fell from your lips, Cerberus sensing your anxiety and beginning to pace in front of you as you tried to think of what the hell to do in the middle of a city without even so much as a bandaid on you.

Sirens wailed from the way you'd come, from the sight of the explosion and the death that had been wrought there. You pushed yourself back up to your feet, ignoring the pain for the moment at least. It wasn't life threatening, not right now anyway and you could certainly live long enough to get away from this fuckin mess. You needed to get your ass out of here before they came looking for you and you missed your window to get whatever was on this piece of paper done.

As you turned down the alley again you froze, a young man with a gun staring back at you. The barrel was aimed at you and the second Cerberus saw the threat he was growling. Your hand reached slowly for the dog’s collar, looking up at the man with wide eyes and holding your other hand high in the air. Voice almost unnervingly calm you said in Farsi, “Listen friend, I am just trying to go home. Please I have a family, okay?” The barrel of the gun didn’t waver, aimed at you from twenty yards away. It was unlikely he would miss at this distance and your pistol, you were just now realizing, was no longer concealed at the small of your back. “Pfui,” you whispered to the growling dog as he finally stopped pulling against your hand on his collar.

The man watching you took a slow step forward and the dog barked, he didn’t move, he was following his direction, but even still he could strike fear in even you with that thunderous sound. The young man pulled the trigger, a couple shots flew from the automatic weapon smacking into your arm and then the miraculous happened. It fucking jammed. “Fass,” you released his collar at the command watching the animal shoot off like a rocket as the man tried his best to unjam the gun before Cerberus launched at him. His full body weight slammed into the man, teeth sinking into a bare arm before the giant head began to shake. A scream ripped through the empty alleyway that you knew now would not remain empty for much longer.

Adrenaline, that was the best drug on the market right there, even with the shots buried into your arm and the piece of fucking metal lodged into your thigh you barely even felt it. Though that could have also been your body’s shock response. This was life or death right now though, kill this man and get the fuck out of here. Survival was the only option. You pulled a knife out of your pocket as you neared the man currently doing everything he could to throw Cerberus off him to no avail.

“Aus,” immediately the teeth dislodged and you watched as Cerberus’ tail wagged, “Yeah buddy good job.” Your knee slammed into the man’s chest, keeping him from scrambling up and for the gun. Not a second of hesitation in your movements as your knife punched into his neck, watching the light drain from his eyes and the blood from his body. Your eyes roamed the alleyway, being sure that no one else was there before you said, “Hier, Cerberus, let’s go the fuck home.”

He stuck to you like glue, leaning into your leg as if he was trying to steady you. Your hotel wasn't far from the marketplace but your thigh was burning underneath the thin pants you were wearing. Blood was trickling down your leg, a warm reminder that you were very nearly killed because you'd lost your focus for just a few seconds. 'Idiot, damnit, keep your head on straight.' Cerberus whined at your side, your eyes shooting down to where he was beginning to get nervous. You were on the opposite side of the street, nearly at the end where you'd entered the market at, when a second bomb went off. This one didn't throw you, you were much too far, but it did make your ears ring again. Your hands shot up to cover them but it didn't really matter the worst of it was already done.

Cerberus was slipping, just about to dart away and you could sense it. Even the best of dogs had their limits. His body tensed but your hand shot down, fingers digging into his scruff and said quickly, "Nein." His ears fell back as the chocolate brown eyes turned up to you, "Pass auf, Cerberus." The dog stared up at you as you kept going, your hand moving up to his collar as you distanced yourself from the two bombs that had gone off within the past ten minutes.

You nearly missed it, that feeling that made your skin crawl and your shoulders tense. The prickle went up your spine, only stopping when it reached the base of your skull. Normally you would have been able to ignore it, to stop the instinct to turn around, but you were injured and exhausted and for just a moment your own control slipped. You glanced over your shoulder, eyes sliding over the street behind you.

Part of you wished that you had seen one of the guards from the market, wished that was what had caused that sensation of being watched. Instead you were met with an empty street and damn if that didn't make your hair stand up even more. You turned back around, never stopping as the two of you made your way back “home”. Your blood was dripping down your shoulder now and the pain in your arm and thigh was searing you like a branding iron. You should know you'd been stupid enough to play with one when you were a kid, those damn things hurt.

Just make it to your room, grab your shit, and get the hell outta dodge. That's all you had to do, that's it. It ran through your skull like a mantra, a line to keep you sane and focused as you bled from three open wounds with your heart continuing to hammer in your rib cage. Your mind began to relax as you entered the first floor of your building before you reminded yourself that this wasn't over. You finally let Cerberus' collar go though, the dog bounding up the stairs ahead of you and waiting by the door. A momentary pause, a glance behind as the feeling on your neck continued, still though there was nothing. Not a single explanation for this unnerving feeling that was coursing through you. Your teeth sunk into your lip, hands fumbling with the key for a moment as you stifled a groan at the wound in your shoulder.

When you finally shoved inside your room your phone, still laying on the dresser like it always was, was playing a rhythm of morse code at you. You grabbed it with your still working hand sliding it between your ear and your shoulder as you packed what little you owned. You spoke in Farsi, like you had been for so many months now, "Hello?"

The distorted voice answered you, "What the hell happened? We're getting reports of two bombs going off?"

You let out a cynical laugh at that before you answered in a low growl, "Maybe because there was, sir. I'm bleeding like a stuck hog and I need an evac, now. I'm done here," you didn't outwardly state it but you knew you were burned. Someone had been trying to kill you, they're timing had just been absolute shit. Karma catches up with everyone though, you'd get yours for the things you'd done soon enough, of that you were sure.

They spoke again, their words sending pulses of rage through you, "We can't risk an evac. You'll have to find a way out on your own, Speck."

Your eyes went wide and you dropped the gun case you'd been about to open as you spun on a heel, your anger unbridaled by southern politeness now. "The hell do you mean you can't risk an evac? Last time I checked sir it wasn't your ass out here about to get filled so full of damn holes you're gonna look like Swiss fuckin cheese, sir." The gun case you'd dropped a moment ago called your name once more as you picked it up and threw it on the bed with one hand. "Get me out of here, now." It was very clear you weren't making a request, this was an ‘If you don't get me out of here you'll regret it,’ kind of situation now.

The voice stayed quiet on the other end for a few tense moments as you opened the case, pulling out another pistol and the full clip beside it. It was when you were checking the magazine for the Fennec that they finally answered, "We can't help you Speck. Work the problem."

"Work the problem!? I'll become your problem you little shithead-" You yelled into the line but they had already hung up. The magazine dropped back into the case and you used the same hand to pull the phone off your ear, staring down at the blank screen of the phone. "Did he just- Oh the fuck he just did, I know he didn't just hang up on me." Rage boiled in you, turning your face red as you hit the button to call them back. The call went straight to voice-mail and you felt your hands shaking as you held the phone in a death grip. You were barely controlling your breathing, chest heaving with the effort before the phone hit the wall, smashing into pieces as it fell to the ground. "Fuck!"

You paced the small space beside the bed, the pain running through you only serving to make things ten times worse. Blood had soaked through your clothes all along your right side, dripping from your arm down to your leg which had its own source of the red liquid. No evac, certainly no medevac, figure it out. Your eyes glanced around the room before you dove into your equipment, searching for anything you could use to stop the bleeding and get this metal spear tip out of your leg. Duct tape, that could work, never leave home without that stuff, that was quick fix 101. Digging through your clothes you found some that were already dirty, ripping the cloth into pieces with your good hand and your teeth.

Wrapping the cloth around the bullet hole in your bicep you went over it with the duct tape, sealing the wound off to the outside world. You did the same with the wound in your forearm, growling at the pain that flared there, it'd hit bone that you knew for sure. A whine came out of Cerberus while he watched, "It's ok buddy, I'm fine," you cast a smile at the dog. You don't even remember when you switched to English, probably at some point talking to the idiot on the other side of the world. That piece of crap was gonna pay, the second you got the chance you were putting a bullet in his head. Thinks that a distorted voice meant you didn't know who he was? You'd known who he was before you signed the contract, you just never thought he'd have the balls to leave you stuck in a warzone to die. Oh boy were you gonna have fun making him regret every decision he had ever made.

The leg was a harder thing to fix, the metal had loosened on your walk back but it was far from about to slide out without issue. You pulled at the projectile, your entire body tensing and blood pouring out of the wound when your heart pounded into your ribs. "Oh good lord," your hand dropped from the metal and you shook your head. "No, nope, not happening," you stared at the projectile as if it was just going to fall out on its own. Needless to say, it didn't. Your gaze shifted to Cerberus, the dog laying with his head on his paws, watching with big, chocolate brown eyes. He was completely dependent on you, your health and your decisions and your focus. You'd nearly gotten the both of you killed, never again. Fingers wrapped around the slick end of the metal as you mentally hyped yourself up before you pulled at the shard.

It slid against the muscle it had ripped open, your teeth clenching together hard enough to crack them. Muscles on your neck flexing so hard you thought your trachea would collapse under the weight. Finally the piece pulled free, fingers dropping it and ears listening to the clatter as you calmed your breathing. Fresh blood coated your leg, head feeling dizzy as you tried to stay focused. Your mind raced trying to think of something to close it while your fingers held the tissue together. A groan left you as you dug through your kit, the things you'd been given over the last eight months. Cold metal hit your hand and you jerked it up, staring at the staple gun you'd been given to do…less than cordial things to people who hadn’t deserved it in the slightest. The cool metal felt like ice over the throbbing, hot wound. At least until you pulled the trigger and a staple shot into your skin.

"Holy good God," you growled out, another four staples quickly following the first until it had closed. Blood still seeped out but it was closed, thank God it was closed. Ripping a few more pieces of cloth from the shirt and covering the wound while you wrapped it up in duct tape as well.

Clothes crammed into your duffel bag, staple gun following close behind it as you zipped it up. You were just finishing checking the last magazine of your Fennec when Cerberus' growl caught your ears. Eyes shot to him, he however was staring hard at the door, hackles raised and standing up now. "Nein," you whispered and immediately his growl stopped and he glanced at you. "Hier," he slipped across the floor, belly low and eyes still staring at the door. Checking the gun you turned your attention to the door, listening hard at the quietness that settled like a blanket over your small room.

When the lock blew off the door and it cracked open you saw the flashbang before it went off as it smacked against the far wall. Grabbing the collar you pulled Cerberus behind you into the bathroom and slammed the door shut right as it went off. Footsteps pounded into the room and you had only a few seconds to make a decision. To seal your fate of life or death. Whatever happened you knew you weren't about to go down without a fight, finger flipping the safety off on the gun and glancing down at the dog. Your fingers slid against the cool metal of the door knob, the both of you strangely calm among the chaos.

Your next command was accompanied by you pulling the door open, "Voraus!" The big Shepherd shot out the door and you followed behind him yelling, "Fass," just before he launched at the nearest man. Using your one good arm you aimed at the man with his gun swinging down to Cerberus, two bullets running straight through his skull. The other man went down under the dog's teeth and you ended his life next, walking over the dead man, eyes never leaving the door as you said, "Aus."

Cerberus dropped his arm as you continued, "Fuss," and he was attached to your hip once more. You were ignoring the pain in your leg, your arm wasn't so easy but you were managing well with the sub machine gun, you didn’t need both hands thankfully. You used your foot to open the door, glancing down the hallway before whispering, “Voran.” Cerberus shot through the open door with you following behind him as he cleared the hallway between you and the flight of stairs. He sat at the end, staring down the stairs until you caught up with him and you issued the command again, still following as close behind him as you could manage with your injured leg.

When he sat again on the landing between the flights of stairs you heard a low growl from him and raised the gun up a bit higher as a man swung around the corner at the bottom of the stairs. Before he could even get around to pulling the trigger he was falling backwards into the open hallway. “Voran,” you whispered again and the seventy five pound missile took off down the hall, glancing at every door he passed before he kept going, only sitting down when he reached the fire exit and sat waiting for you.

You were halfway down the hall when he laid down, your stomach dropping while your pace picked up. Explosives, why were there always more explosives? You didn’t stop just muttering, “Fuss,” as you came up beside the dog’s side only coming to a halt as you neared the door. Glancing down at Cerberus, “Such.” His eyes looked up at you before he laid down again, “Shit,” you growled into the air before turning back. There was another door at the other end of the hall, back where you had killed the guy at the bottom of the stairs. “Fuss,” you growled out as you turned, the pain in your leg was starting to catch up to you now and you needed to get out of sight and out of the way of whatever train was currently trying to run you down.

It took you too long to get to the other end of the hallway, it was taking you too long to get out of this building. Too long to get back under the radar. It was all just too fucking long. Your head was beginning to swim with the pain, you’d been running off pure adrenaline for the past forty-five minutes and it was taking a toll on you now. Blood soaked your whole leg and arm, your head and heart were both pounding, and not to mention the feeling of bile in your stomach whenever you tried to think of a way you might get out of this one alive and came up with nothing. As you passed the stairwell again voices traveled down to you, strangely familiar in accent though you didn’t truly recognize the person. “He’s not in the room Price, trail leads downstairs.”

A decidedly Scottish accent answered him back, “Yeah and so do the bodies and the dog bites, Ghost.” There was a low grumble from somewhere above you and your good arm tensed, holding an angle on the stairwell above before the Scot asked, “You sure we cannae just kill him and figure out the rest later?”

“Shut up Johnny,” a heavily British accent shot before anyone else could answer. It went quiet above until a white mask peeked around the corner just barely into view. The two of you stared for less than a second at one another before you fired a shot and he fell back around the corner. His deep voice yelled out, “HVT making a break for it! Still on the first floor!”

Adrenaline levels spiked back up again as you put your head down and ran for the door. Your shoulder slammed into the solid object, Cerberus still attached to you at the hip. You were out in the main entryway, eyes shooting back and forth before you ran for the front door. Pushing out into the street you turned, and your entire body froze when hard, cold metal pressed against the back of your head. Time didn’t exist as the voice behind you growled out, “Tell the dog to stay put or there’ll be a bullet in him right after I put a bullet in you, Marine.”

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ravetillyoucry · 4 months

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PUPARIA

Chapter 15 - Simulation Swarm

prev - chapter 1

The detective wasn't the first Hosah Levi, and he definitely wouldn't be the last. The original, the blueprint, everything the shifter was supposed to be, that was his uncle.

Hosah's dad was heartbroken when he lost his twin brother. That was the Hosah Levi. There wasn't much to explain his disappearance. No body, no camera footage. Just gone without a trace. Safe to say, it was a closed casket funeral.

A sad, but common occurrence for shifters. You shrink in the wrong place at the wrong time, you're gonna end up trampled on, kidnapped, washed away by the rain, or all of the above all at the same time. That was why Hosah's dad was so hesitant to let him take the job offer in New York. It was silly. His son was a grown man, he had his own place in Colorado with a steady job and a couple classes to go to in his off time, so why should he have to worry about being allowed to take opportunities?

The truth was, his father had always thought of him as incapable. Not in an insulting way, but in an infantilising, coddling way, which was arguably far worse.

Whenever they spoke on the phone, their conversations always ended sour with an argument, about how Hosah should quit and come home, about how he should call more because every day that passes by without absolute confirmation of his safety causes immense stress to his entire family, or just about anything they can think of on that particular day.

Today however, the argument was about coming home, as it usually was.

"It's just not safe out there. You know how long it's been since you last called? Three days. Hosah, you understand how worried I get, don't you? You know how much can happen in three days. It'd be so much easier for you to just come back to Colorado. Your room is the same as how you left it. Please." His father pleaded down the phone.

It was always the same two or three points with him. You're not like everyone else, you're a vulnerable person, you can't get around your own apartment on your own so how are you supposed to navigate the city, I'm scared for you, blah, blah, blah. Quite frankly, Hosah was bored of it. He'd admitted to himself that he wasn't going to be able to hack complete independence for much longer, but he'd never, ever, admit that fact to his dad.

With his phone balancing between the side of his head and his shoulder, the shifter tried his best to stay on the call as he painted away in the short time that Teddy would be out for,

"No- no I know there are risks," Hosah repeated words he'd said a thousand times before, "That's why I'm not.. living alone anymore."

He still hadn't told his dad about Teddy. In fact, he hadn't told his dad about anything that had been happening lately. He rarely did, actually, Joel Levi didn't need the added stress.

"You have a girlfriend?" That was another thing Hosah hadn't told his dad about. Or really, hadn't told anyone about. Asides from Jules, as she knew everything.

He debated his relationship status with Teddy before responding, "No, but I have a roommate. New co-worker. He's nice. I like him."

"A co-worker is who killed your uncle, you know." Father dearest reminded him. It was never actually proven whose blood the small red stain on the office floor belonged to, but Joel had his theories.

It was best to not bring up the uncertainty of the true events of his Uncle's death around his father. After all, they were twins. Connected at the soul, or something like that.

"Right," Hosah mumbled instead of arguing, a route he rarely went down now that he thought about it.

The other end of the line crackled before the voice was picked back up again, "-this guy that you've moved in with?"

The shifter could only assume the first word in that sentence was supposed to be 'who'. Putting Teddy into words was a difficult task, at least, if he didn't want to end up gushing like a school girl when talking about her latest hallway crush, that is.

"His name's Edward. Super tall, like, the top of his head brushes against door frames kind of tall. Italian. Red hair, met him like a month and a half ago." Hosah described, his lips instinctively curling into an embarrassingly wide smile as he spoke.

"And this guy," Joel began, static and all, "He's good? He helps you? He's nice, gentle, sweet, caring, all that?"

The shifters face flushed a slight red as his father listed off all of Teddy's best qualities, "Yeah, yeah of course." He clarified.

"I could probably do a better job." His father scoffed as he usually did. Nothing was ever good enough, whether it was washing the dishes or taking care of his son, he might as well just be doing it the whole time all by himself because nobody else could do it as good as him.

"Yeah," Almost on queue, the sound of keys rattling on the other side of the door cut Hosah and his father's conversation short, " I have to go, 'kay? Got stuff to do. Call me some time tomorrow or whenever you can and I'll pick up. Okay, loveyoubye"

The shifter rushed to end the phone call so he could firstly, cover up Teddy's birthday gift, and also greet him as he came through the door.

"Sorry, did I interrupt something?" Teddy asked from across the room, standing in the open door. Yeah. His head just about would've brush against the wooden framing.

How someone could look so effortlessly picturesque, Hosah would never know. The shifter stared for a moment, completely lost for words, just taking in the rather mundane sight in front of him. Teddy's pale face had been nipped by the cold breeze, it seemed, as his cheeks and nose were reddened, although a more pink colour than his scruffy, brownish red hair that had clearly been rattled by the same wind. He looked a little disheveled with his scarf lazily wrapped loosely around his neck and his coat missing a few buttons from being completely fastened. Still, even in clothes he'd thrown on in about half a minute, Teddy looked perfect.

Hosah had almost forgotten what his roommate had even said in the first place as he opened his mouth to respond, "Uh, no, no, I was just on the phone to my dad, actually."

"Cool." Teddy had gotten into the habit of stealing the shifter's favourite words and phrases, "Have you told him yet?"

Right. It was probably best to keep his family in the dark about his current situation, he didn't want to worry them, or, god forbid, endanger them.

"Wellll..." Hosah wasn't really sure how to word it in a way that his roommate would understand.

"I mean, you don't have to." The sudden shift in views left the shifter without knowing what to say, half expecting an argument to come out of the conversation. Teddy continued, "It's your business, and if you don't want to, or you're not ready, or.. Whatever reasons you have, you're not obligated to say anything."

"You're right." Hosah nodded.

"As per usual," The taller of the two muttered under his breath as he strolled up to his roommate, giving his blond hair a ruffle before pulling the head into his shoulder, or, more like his chest given their height difference.

It was the little and casual pieces of affection like this that drove Hosah crazy. He felt like a rabid dog with how desperate he'd become to experience the brief touches over and over again.

"Did he say anything?" Teddy asked, hand still cradling the shifter's head, their legs intertwining as they stood at an, in any other case, uncomfortably short distance from each other.

Although, since it was Hosah and Teddy, this kind of close proximity was just right.

Hosah thought for a minute, focused on fidgeting with the loose threads that hung out of his roommates thick, bobbly knitted sweater, "Mmm," He hummed, "Just the usual, come home, it's dangerous out there, you need someone to take care of you,"

"God," Teddy laughed, "If there's one person that doesn't need taking care of in this world, it's you."

Hosah looked up, the overhead light reflecting in the big black holes he had for eyes, "You think?" He asked, chin resting on the taller of the two's chest, as he couldn't quite reach his shoulder as his hips leant against Teddy's.

"Cmon. First time you were.. I don't know, shifted I guess, you made me a cup of coffee. I mean, I know I wouldn't even be able to make it from room to room if I were like that." Teddy hesitated as he got to certain parts of his sentence.

Hosah had never really known how to take compliments.

"Whatever," He scoffed, regrettably worming his way out of Teddy's cradle, turning his back to him as he tried to forget the much needed words of affirmation.

He was right, Hosah wasn't completely incapable, but that's not what he'd been told his entire life, that's not what he truly believed. All Hosah really thought he wanted was to find someone who would take care of him like the helpless creature he was, but even he knew that wasn't completely the true to his deeper feelings. His own heart and mind were things even he would never be able to fully understand. That was Hosah's problem. He'd spent weeks, months, years stuck on a goal, and as soon as he'd meet it, he'd realise he actually wanted the opposite all along. Despite how much it hurt to admit, his stalker was spot on. Hot and cold. If anyone ever saw Hosah sticking to his word without any contradictions, that was not him, and they were to eradicate this imposter as soon as possible.

"You know it's true," Teddy teased, following behind the shifter as he rushed into their now shared bedroom to find a shirt to put on.

A defensive snap he hadn't felt the urge to indulge in came rushing out of his mouth, "Then why do you.. I don't know. If I'm so capable, why do you insist on doing everything for me. You're not my crutch. Clearly I don't need my hand being held."

He regretted the words as soon as he said them, but the deep rooted anger and sadness Hosah held toward this topic got the best of him.

Teddy stood in an astonished silence as he leant in the door frame.

"Because I want to." The tall figure blocking out the hallway's light laughed slightly as he spoke, a laugh that said, 'Isn't it obvious?'.

"I want to take care of you. I want to make things easier if I can. Yeah, you're capable, but that doesn't mean it's not still nice for someone to go out of their way to help you. If I asked you to get me something from the fridge, you'd do it, right? You just... need to let me help you. I won't if you don't want me to, but you need to decide that for yourself." Teddy continued.

Right now, all Hosah wanted to do was to shrink down and sit in the giants hands. 'Yes, of course you can take care of me, you can clip my wings and tell me what to do, and I'd do it without question.' , he thought.

Hosah turned to face the towering figure, "I just.. I don't want you to see me differently, From now, to when I'm small." He explained, his voice much quieter, as if he had something in his throat as he spoke.

"I don't think of you differently." Teddy put it bluntly.

"That's easier said than done." The shifter shrugged as his eyes moved down to the floor as they usually did when he got apprehensive over something.

"Hosah." His tone had shifted, now much more stern, but not necessarily angry, "You're probably the one person in the world I have the most respect and admiration for. I'd be an idiot to think of you any less than I would.. I don't know, some highly intelligent Nobel prize winning scholar dude, doesn't matter if you're five foot or three inches."

"I'm five seven." Hosah corrected, stood with his arms folded and his head hanging low, clearly not having much to substance to carry his arguments anymore. That was the problem with logical people, they solved all your issues far too fast, not giving you the time of day to just be angry about it before finding a solution.

"Five seven, then. Like I said, doesn't matter. I.." Teddy lost his words, he sounded tired, maybe sad, enough to make the shifter feel guilty for the entire discussion.

"I love you, Hosah." Finally, after maybe three long seconds, Teddy spoke again.

What? Seriously? Hosah's brain moved at a hundred miles an hour, surely he couldn't have heard right, there was no way in the world. He tried to say something, but instead, all that came out were stuttering gasps. He could feel his face becoming hotter by the second as his eyes stayed locked onto the carpeted floor, unable to even consider lifting them to look at Teddy's, probably smug, face.

As expected, the figure by the door laughed at Hosah's pathetic attempt at responding,

"What, do your friends not tell you they love you usually?" Teddy smiled, moving in closer towards the shifter, placing a hand about the size of Hosah's entire head on his shoulder.

Of course, how could he be so stupid.

"No, it's just, I thought you meant it differently for a second. Ha-ha." The shifter tried his best to keep his cool, but his furrowed eyebrows and blushing cheeks gave him away.

The pale hand traced up Hosah's neck until it found its way to his face, cupping the burning cheek in its palm, the thumb caressing the smooth, tanned surface, which didn't fail to make it a much deeper red colour. The shifter stood silently, his mouth slightly agape, although still holding his breath with a sharp inhale of surprise at the touch.

"Well," Teddy spoke softly, smiling just enough for his crooked tooth to stick out from his top lip, "Maybe I do, in a way."

That was all he wanted to hear. The words Hosah had prayed would come out of his mouth from the moment he opened it. It all came together, after weeks of debating whether he even had a chance or not, he could finally answer all his questions. But, as a million cases in his head came to a close, around the same amount were opened right back up again, this time with more dead ends and false leads, leaving them to go cold with the lack of any kind of explanation.

"Don't mess with me like that." Hosah's head hung down, his hand barely able to wrap around the wrist of the man cupping his cheek.

Despite how hard his chest beat and how the butterflies fluttered in his stomach, he couldn't help but blink the tears out of his eyes as he feared it was all a big joke. An elaborate plan to make a fool out of himself, living the rest of his time with Teddy in utter shame and embarrassment as the awkwardness of their unreciprocated feelings hung heavily in the air, polluting the apartment until they'd both suffocate in the unresolved, unspoken and unmentioned tension.

"I'm not messing with you. I'm serious." And he really did sound serious.

There was no way, though. No way that someone like Teddy, someone so sweet and so gorgeous, could ever be attracted to Hosah. He wouldn't believe it no matter how many times he heard it. The shifter couldn't help but scoff, his grip tightening around the wrist.

"Hosah," Teddy's other hand grabbed hold of the other side of Hosah's face, lifting his chin with both of his thumbs until the brown eyes met his own, "It's true. Of course it's true. I thought I was being obvious with all the touchiness." He was laughing, but the shifter was still too discombobulated to see the humour in any of it.

"You're so confusing, I don't know what you think." Hosah gave his roommate a playful jab in the stomach, unable to say anything else about the news he'd just been told.

The feeling could only be described at euphoric. The shifter had felt like a monstrous pervert with what he'd been thinking of Teddy. His brain would start to sizzle and fry just at the thought of a time where his forearms were visible as he loomed over the shifter's shrunken form; to Teddy, it was probably nothing, but to him, it was absolutely everything and more. It was always these tiny details that had him the most worked up. Hosah didn't really care about if they were jacked or if they were insanely beautiful, although those were definitely bonuses, but he cared about nice hands, good, thick calves, broad shoulders, all the things that would come in handy.

"You don't get to talk about confusing, you've been giving me mixed signals since day one." Teddy pressed his forehead against the shifter's, the tips of their noses touching as they did, well, however long ago it was. The days had been blurring together lately.

It took much more energy than usual to stay regular sized. "That's just the way I am, I guess," Hosah smiled despite the rush of conflicting thoughts and feelings, as he grappled against his own body to keep the few inches he felt slowly draining from his body.

"You don't have to hold back, it's okay." It was getting quite obvious that the shifter was now standing on the tips of his toes, and Teddy always picked up on everything, even things Hosah would try his best to hide.

And in the blink of an eye, Hosah was back to his usual self. Although it wasn't exactly entirely normalised, the shifter felt the most comfortable when he was about this height. Three inches tall, a slight bit bigger than Teddy's thumb. It was perfect, he could slip and slink under the radar without anyone realising he was even there in the first place. Hosah had become used to being a shadow in the city, everyone is here because they dream big, being exceptional in your home town out in butt-fuck nowhere just didn't cut it here, and the shifter had come to accept that. He accepted it the moment he had to quit baseball because he just couldn't be a regular height for long enough, he accepted it when he'd finish a painting and still feel like he could do so much more, and most importantly, he'd accepted it when it had been told straight to his face.

There was no chance of him being a big shot out here, which is why it scared him so deeply when someone like Teddy saw him as he was, something special. Not just another face in the crowd, but an individual with good qualities and flaws, scars and all, he saw the shifter as someone worthy enough to fall in love with.

He didn't get it. Who was he in comparison to the giant that sat on his hands and knees over him. He was nothing, a weed growing from the cracks in the sidewalk, an inconvenient breeze that ruffled the hair of the passers by, truly forgettable and insignificant when compared to the likes of Teddy. It made sense why the police didn't bother with the almost a hundred letters, and why they didn't bother looking into his uncle's sudden dropping off of the face of the earth. People like him didn't even take up space in this world, making them all the more worthless. He needed to take a break from work, stop analysing every word his stalker wrote to him, as it seemed to really be getting to his head and psyche.

"I.. I don't know what to do now." Hosah admitted, finally looking up to see the giant face above him. This is what he wanted, but now that he had it, what else was there to look forward to?

"I mean.. We don't have to necessarily do anything." Teddy's voice was much more hushed, something he'd taken into account ever since hurting the shifter's much smaller ears.

Hosah didn't say anything, he didn't have the mental energy to think of anything useful to add. The pale hand which dwarfed him in comparison inched closer to the shifter's shrunken form. They were good hands. Almost paper white, although his knuckles and fingertips were still red from being out in the cold. Nice, large, gentle hands. It was all Hosah could really ask for. Teddy's fingers weren't like his own, they were straight, and cut off almost like perfect rectangles at the end, although they were anything but sharp and rough. His recollection of the digits seemed to be correct, as a bent finger brushed the same cheek the same hand once held in its palm. This was nice. No confrontation of their feelings, just silent touch.

"I didn't expect it to be like this." The shifter finally commented, leaning into the touch like it was the last time he'd ever receive it.

Although he wasn't looking at his face, he could tell Teddy had that stupid, goofy smile on his face that he always wore whenever he had a one-up on Hosah.

"What do you mean?" Teddy said in a quietened laugh. The shifter wondered what the pair looked like from a different angle, and how ridiculous the giant would be from a birds-eye sort of view, as he sat on all fours with his back bent almost inhumanly in order to get closer to Hosah in his new form.

"In the movies they.. I don't know, they confess their love and they kiss passionately and suddenly they've got it all figured out and it's smooth sailing from there. But I still have no idea. It's all the same, except, I guess some things have been... cleared up." The shifter rambled on with no control over what specifically he said, not that this was a problem when in Teddy's company.

"Maybe it's the kissing passionately part we're missing. That's the key," The giant joked, but with how he looked towering above the shifter, his hair cascaded forward, the overhead lamp looking almost like a halo from this angle, honestly made Hosah want to try it out.

The shifter gave a sigh of amusement, "Don't get too ahead of yourself."

"Right," Teddy inhaled sharply, second guessing himself before continuing, "If you want to go.. Really super slow, we should do that. I don't want to bring all of this onto you when there's a lot going on. I don't know. It feels kind of sudden, I just.. Said it, I couldn't really hold it in for much longer."

"It's okay. I don't think I would've really lasted either. Things don't have to change, we don't really act like just friends anyway." Reminiscing on the month, or, however long it'd been as it felt like years, that they'd known each other, Hosah realised just how couple-y they'd acted all along. He didn't know any just friends that held hands on the street or that held each other in the night.

"Maybe not," Teddy sighed, his smile softy spread across his perfect pink cheeks, a satisfied and content expression that told Hosah all would be okay.

And for a moment, it really did feel like everything would be okay. There was no stalker in the window, there was no sudden phone call of a case reopening, there was nothing, in fact. The city was unusually quiet, as if everyone and everything had stopped in place just for the two of them to have this moment.

The giant really was beautiful, Hosah thought to himself as he sat, leant back with his neck craned up to face the figure that towered over his shrunken body. A kind of once-in-a-lifetime, unforgettable type of beauty that one would dream about for years after seeing a glimpse of out of the corner of their eye, or in the reflection of a window, or when the train passes through a crowded station. The sort of face that would make you do a double take in the street, which people most certainly did.

It was all his little features that stuck out the most, especially at such an angle. His hair curled at the ends, clearly wanting to go into coils but either it wasn't long enough or it wasn't being taken care of properly to be able to do so. His cheeks were covered in small, dark freckles, as were his arms and his legs, and even his hands and fingers. Even Teddy's nose was perfectly sculpted, completely straight and symmetrical, unlike his thick, bushy eyebrows that Hosah itched to pluck at and clean up as he obsessively did his own. He wondered how far his freckles went down, if the giant had one on his stomach and chest like his own abnormally large and almost quite garish mole on his abdomen which completely dwarfed his belly button.

"You look deep in thought." Teddy commented, shifting from his knees to laying on his stomach on the carpeted floor. They could've just moved to the bed, as the sun had already long set; the creepy cat clock that hung menacingly on the crowded wall was just about to strike eleven.

The shifter stood to his full, minimal height, the hand making him look as small as ever in comparison. Each crevice of the palm fit perfectly into his own, as if they were two pieces of a much bigger jigsaw puzzle that needed to be put together to reveal the full picture. Hosah wasn't really one to believe in fate or a magical red string, but as his fragile body went limp against the flesh wall, each groove of his back being effortlessly supported by the- slightly calloused but still, blissfully soft palm, he thought for a brief second that this was just right. He didn't need the cabin by the lake, or his job at the detectives agency, he didn't even need anyone else in the world to keep him company, just Teddy and this moment would be enough for him.

Hosah thought about what the doctor had told him the previous day; a concept called the butterfly effect, that one seemingly small and insignificant choice or event can cause a long trail of consequences, completely altering the course of someone’s life forever. That theory seemed to check out, as from the clouded window, he could see the stars shone bright through the light polluted city sky for the first time in years.

#g/t #giant tiny #g/t ocs #gianttiny #giant/tiny #oc hosah #oc teddy #Puparia_tag #You may think Ok end of slow burn but You’re wrong #Just because they’re on the same page doesn’t mean NOTHING!#Ahhh the fear of commitment is a beautiful thang

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all-eyes-lead-to-the-truth · 9 months

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All Eyes Lead to the Truth | Tunguska (4x08)

Rats are survivors. Natural born killers who do the work of destructors; by no means impervious, but they’ll attack the weak, anything that stands in their way. They adapt and survive.

Alex Krycek respects that. Maybe it’s why Mulder’s “insult” had felt like a compliment.

Yeah, he’s learned to live like the rats.

And yeah, Mulder. He’s had little trouble adapting.

The relentless agent sits across from him now in this miserable cell, picking at the underside of his boot. Conversation doesn’t really work for them. They’ve been through enough shit together; you’d think he’s earned an iota of trust.

“So,” Alex ventures. “We gonna die here?”

Mulder glowers. “If we ever do get out, I’m gonna kill you myself, Krycek.”

Alex smirks. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“Oh, no?”

“You’ve had a hundred opportunities. You haven’t taken any of them.”

Mulder’s eyes narrow. He says nothing. Spooky Mulder would never deny the truth.

They sit, the faint scratching of roaches and vermin echoing around the cell. Perhaps silence is preferable, but Alex can’t help himself. He wants the upper hand. He needs the upper hand.

And he knows exactly how to get it.

“Whaddya think Scully’s up to?” he asks. Mulder’s eyes dart towards him, then away again. Here we go. As expected, Agent Scully is his trigger. Adapt, Alex.

“Scully, Scully, Scully,” he purrs. “I remember when I met her. She could barely look at me. Like our partnership personally offended her.” He looks at Mulder, trying to make eye contact. “Most agents get a partner or two in their career. Maybe it works out, maybe it doesn’t. They move on. Not you two, though.”

His cellmate remains silent, but now wears a searing glare.

“We’re gonna die here anyway, Mulder, so you may as well confess. What’s she like, you know… in the sack? Carpet match the drapes?”

If looks could kill, Alex would be a dead man. He thrives off this, off making Mulder squirm. It’s just so fucking easy.

Sometimes he wonders how things would be if he’d just join forces with Mulder. He’s the obvious choice for an ally, morality-wise. But morality isn’t the medium with which Alex paints. He isn’t like Mulder. And anyway, there’s something he relishes more than his admiration of the man: the power Alex wields over him.

Like right now.

Mulder clenches his jaw and looks away, unable to meet Alex’s eye. Once again, his honesty betrays him.

“Are you serious?” Alex’s eyes go wide. He was absolutely certain they were sleeping together. Talk about an X-File. “Shit. You two really had me fooled.”

His incredulity aside, this approach isn’t working. He needs to take a different route to get a rise out of Mulder. Something worse.

“You know,” Alex says, lowering his voice. “Back when she was abducted, I suggested just… killing her.” Mulder bristles. “They underestimated your determination, but I never did. I warned them you’d never stop. They didn’t listen.”

A loud clang comes from somewhere in the gulag. A horrific scream.

“Guess there’s still time,” Alex shrugs. “They don’t make the same mistake twice.”

That does it. Mulder lurches across the cell and wraps his hands around Alex’s neck for the second time today. There’s rage in his eyes, a primal savagery. And Alex likes it. He isn’t even sure why he does this, why he wants it. Maybe it’s the kind of thing he needs to feel alive. To feel like he isn't alone in the dark.

Like he does on occasion, he thinks of the missile silo. Mulder would probably like that story. But he doesn’t seem to be in the mood for talk. His arm is jammed beneath Alex’s chin, pinning him against the wall. He can feel his airway closing, but he knows it won’t last. Mulder will let him go.

“Don’t ever say her name to me again,” Mulder seethes. For a wild moment it feels like they might kiss, and it’s not the first time he’s felt that way. There's an undeniable energy between them. Maybe it’s the knowledge there’s no one on the planet he hates more. Maybe Mulder’s passion is contagious.

Maybe they’re both just animals.

As expected, Mulder lets him go with a ceaseless penetrating glare. Their little game is over for now; at least, until they play another one.

They sit on opposite sides of the cell for hours until dinner is served. He and Mulder spit out the roach-infested soup in temporary camaraderie, but then a guard makes his way inside, and Alex takes his shot. He’s got one play left and he’s going to use it, no matter the cost.

The guard hesitates. Mulder asks for a translation, understandably concerned. Alex replies honestly: “That I want to see his supervisor.”

If he doesn’t want to see you, you’ll be accountable, the guard replies in Russian. He appears taken aback, unaccustomed to a prisoner's authoritative tone.

I’ll be accountable, Alex insists. Mulder dumbly looks back and forth between them.

The guard acquiesces, and opens the door. Freedom lies ahead if he can play this correctly, if he can just find one more dark pipeline to squeeze through. Maybe he’ll get out of this shithole alive after all.

He’s brought before the head honcho and sings like a canary. The Americans are working on their own vaccine; he’s even got the name of the head doctor. He mentions an old comrade, Vasily Peskow. That gets their attention.

Alex Krycek has been no stranger to loyalty. But as he betrays the country he genuinely loves, he realizes the truth: his loyalty is only to himself.

As he’s escorted from the gulag, he’s taken past Mulder’s cell again. He peers inside where his adversary awaits whatever fate Alex’s defection has unleashed. There’s a slight twinge of regret inside him, but it quickly passes.

He steps outside as the chilled air of Tunguska slaps him in the face. Beneath him, a rat scampers by, disappearing into the woodwork.

Read the rest of All Eyes Lead to the Truth on Archive of Our Own

@admiralty-xfd

#all eyes lead to the truth #season four #season 4 #s4 #tunguska #alex krycek #krycek #x files #fanfic #x files fanfic #mulder #scully #msr #4x08

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hotchs-bitch · 2 years

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Fluffy Feb Day 9- Pine

Warnings: platonic relationship, BAU reader, not quite fluffy but also not not fluffy (I’m sorry I’ll be better), mutual pining

Pairing: Hotch x blank slate Fem!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 668

“You know,” Derek says from across the desk, fiddling with an elastic band, “there’s an old wives tale that my ma used to tell me.”

“Yeah?” You don’t bother to look over at him, knowing that he’ll talk either way.

“Yep. It went a little something like this.” He clears his throat- dramatic- before speaking. “If you spend more than ten minutes at a time staring at your Unit Chief’s office door, it’s time to tell him how you feel.”

A month ago, this conversation would have gone a lot differently. “Derek! Shut up!” You would have hissed, your face burning hot with embarrassment. “Someone’s going to hear you!”

Now, you roll your eyes. “I thought old wives tales are supposed to rhyme,” you point out.

“Not always,” Spencer chimes in from his desk. It looks like it’s physically killing him to keep from going on one of his rambles, but he keeps it short and sweet to say, “Especially in this case.”

Ugh. Your crush is really no secret these days; the only people who don’t know are, hopefully, Hotch and Rossi.

————

Unbeknownst to any of you, the two men are having a similar conversation. “You can ask her out, Aaron. I’ve dated colleagues before.”

“Strauss is breathing down my neck for anything these days, let alone a relationship with a subordinate.” Hotch blinks twice, taken aback by his own words.

Not a relationship. The chances that you would be interested in him are dirt-low. If anything, he’d be lucky to get away without an official report being filed against him.

“Just think about it,” Rossi implores, standing up to leave the office. His last words on the way out are, “No one can stand watching the two of you pine like this. I’m going to put in for extended leave if you don’t do something about it.”

And then he’s gone.

Wait, did he say ‘the two of you’?

Before he can consider it- obviously, because if he could think about it he would be keeping his feet firmly planted right now- Aaron beelines for the door with his empty coffee mug in hand and makes his way down to the bullpen.

The ongoing chatter ceases as soon as his feet hit the ground, and he wonders what’s been going on down here. No one says a word, but you’re glaring daggers through Derek.

“How is it going here?” Hotch stops to ask at the juncture between each desk, not wanting to seem like he’s checking on you in particular. By some miracle, the only person who pays him any attention is the person he came over here for.

“We’re making good time today. You might be able to leave before midnight, at this rate,” you joke, and Hotch cracks a smile at that.

“One of these days, maybe. Good work, everyone; keep it up.” He continues en route to the coffee machine, pours himself a cup and adds a bit of sugar to it.

When Hotch is on the way back to his office, you get his attention. “Hotch! I brought more of those cookies for Jack, the ones that I made for his birthday and he loved.”

“Thank you.” Hotch takes the plastic-wrapped plate, wonders if he can get away with cookie theft without Jack knowing. “And thanks again for doing that. It was a huge help, and he was really happy with the cookies; he hasn’t stopped talking about them yet.”

“Anytime.” You grin up at your boss. “Tell him I say hi.”

“I will,” Hotch promises before retreating up the stairs into his office.

Emily's face is buried in her hands. “What, is that your version of foreplay?”

“What? No! I’m just helping him out,” you defend, but you’re not blind to the looks your colleagues shoot each other in response.

It doesn’t matter, though. You’ve got a steady rhythm of interaction and laughter with Hotch, one that keeps you satisfied with not rocking the boat.

You can pine a little longer.

Fluffy Feb masterlist | < Prev Day | Next Day >

Fluffy Feb tags: @doctorsteths-fluffyfeb @iammirrorball @hausofwhores @allthefandomstogether @myweepingangel @hotched @spacecowboyhotch @chibsytelford @honeybrowne @formulapierre (send me a dm or ask to be tagged!)

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houseofbreadpakoda · 1 year

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Naatpu - 1

Ponniyin Selvan X Bahubali Crossover

next chapter

Vandiyathevan was leaving to Lanka in a day. The orders of the devi herself. His devi. Poonguzhali, well versed with the route to the lankan shore had agreed to take him.

"We'll leave tommorow afternoon" she mumbled biting off a piece of coconut. "Tommorow? What am I supposed to do till then?" Groaned Vandiyathevan. "Well, you're in Chozha Nadu. One can find many things to do around here" she replied walking towards the harbour. "Remember to meet me at the harbour tommorow by noon." Vandiyathevan knew what he was going to do.

Aditha had spoken about a certain Kuntalan princess, who he'd met while returning from his first war. He and a few other soldiers, had halted there for a day. In the short span he'd gotten to be around the princess, he'd developed a liking towards her. "She'd understood me and healed me like no other. I gained a true friend that day."

Someone capable of understanding let alone healing Aditha? Now Vandiyathevan was too intrigued to let go of such an opportunity. The kingdom was four hours away, he'd make it just before sunset if he rode fast enough.

Vandiyathevan had begun to churn stories to convince the princess as to the reasons for his visit. He could say he ran out of water, and although he was fine, his horse was about to faint of thirst. Or rather, that he had fought the Pindari soldiers on his way to the palace and was injured.

He'd now reached the bastions of the palace. He hopped off his horse and introduced himself to the soldiers "I'm Vallavarayan Vandiyathevan, Aditha Karikalan's nanban."

The soldiers face immediately turned sober, "The yuvarani was expecting you" he smiled sending a nod to the other soldiers who opened the gates for him, confusing Vandiyathevan.

The palace was much smaller compared to the others he had seen. A young boy took Semba into the stables, as a daasi led him towards the meeting chambers of the palace. "Yuvarani Devasena will be here in a moment." She informed him. The kingdom was a heavy contrast to thanjai. The walls of the palace were made of marble. Agriculture seemed to be the major occupation. The palace itself looked quite whimsical and fable like.

"At last, we meet!" He heard a voice behind him. In a moment he knew what Aditha had felt. "Made us wait a little too long hmm Vanthiyare? Please do sit!" said Devasena leading him to a settee, seating herself too. There was something so warm about her aura, that made one feel, seen and included. "Karikalar had informed me that you'd be visiting. We've been eagerly waiting for you since then."

"Ilavarase knew I was coming? How- I myself hadn't planned on visiting until today morning".

"He'd informed me, that you were in thanjai and you were likely to come here if you got into any trouble. What he also told me was that he wouldn't be surprised, if you made up an excuse, just to come to Kuntala." said Devasena, a smile now playing on her lips.

Vandiyathevan winced. Aditha knew him too well.

The two had gobbled up a scrumptious meal which compensated for all the running and falling and dancing Vandiyathevan had performed. "Aditha has spoken quite a bit about you" Devasena said drying her hands. "Oh I can say the same! Ilavarase believes you changed him as a person, for the better. He told us that you understood him when nobody else could. Rather, that was what drove me to meet you."

Devasena's smile faltered, her eyes fading into melancholy. "He was so happy. He'd met the love of his life then. One would never guess a man like him to be so extremely mushy when it came to love. Oh and the way he took her name. As if it were a prayer, or a chant rather. Nandhini." Her eyes traced back to Vandiyathevan who looked almost bewildered.

"Nandhini?" He asked gulping slightly. "He hasn't mentioned?" Asked Devasena, a tinge of concern slipping into her voice, "Oh why did I have to bring her up after so many years. He has probably moved on. Must have, if he hasn't mentioned her to anyone. Back then, he wouldn't stop chirping about her for a moment."

"He hasn't." He spoke breaking his silence, "Atleast, I don't think he has. I always wondered what drove him to the insanities he committed. It isn't common for one to think about conquering another kingdom, while still washing the blood off their hands from the war of the previous one." He looked back at her, eyebrows furrowed. "And i don't think she's moved on either."

"Who, Nandhini?" Devasena's gaze grew sharper by the second. "You met Nandhini?" Vandiyathevan nodded. A sharp exhale escaped Devasena's mouth. "Don't mention it to Aditha unless he asks you so himself. And if he does, do not lie." Vandiyathevan understood.

The room fell silent for a moment. "But Karikalan and.......love? To such extents?" Devasena tried to speak, but couldn't utter anything. Things were conveyed, in plain silence.

"Well speaking about love...." sighed Devasena, "How are you doing? Romantically that is."

Vandiyathevan was taken aback and amused all at once. He stared blankly at her, waiting for context, realising immediately that he wasn't going to get any. "I- I'm sorry yuvarani, I don't think I'm following?" Vandiyathevan asked shaking his head.

"Oh please Vanthiyare, I heard you've met Kundavai?"

Vandiyathevan's eyes widened, as a slight blush crept up his face. Is that what it was. Had Aditha tried to-? No. it could not have been.

"Hey, Aditha set you up himself. What are you worried about?"

Vandiyathevan looked around the room uncomfortably, the awkwardness reaching to him. "Yuvarani, I think there has been a slight misunderstanding. I met Kundavai Devi only to spill whatever I had spied and learnt."

Devasena sighed, moving closer to Vandiyathevan. "Vanthiyare, firstly, please call me Devasena. Secondly, why are you in such denial? You clearly like Kundavai. Or, a little more than like i supposee"

"Yuvarani-"

"Tsk tsk"

"-I have no feelings towards the Ilavarasi."

"Vallava! Your face is as red as a ruby."

"No?!-"

Vandiyathevan stopped, as soon as his eyes caught himself in the mirror across their table. His face had turned into a brighter shade of red, than the ink he had painted his face with for the MaayaKannan Recital. What had he done to himself. Since when had he begun to blush? He slightly smoothened his moustache before turning back to Devasena. She had now propped her chin on her hand, smiling wide at Vandiyathevan.

"But I'm just a soldier. With no land or identity. How could one even dream of such things at my stature?

"Why not? Who hasn't heard of Vallavarayan Vandiyathevan? Aditha Karikalan himself sings his name to every creature he meets. Imagine the stature of a man who rules the sky above him and every piece of land he stands on."

Ah, so it was Yuvarani who'd influenced Ilavarase to speak such words of motivation. The similarity in their thinking and choice of words, surprised Vandiyathevan.

"The thing about love is, it just happens vallava. Before you realise it, you've fallen for them. And they for you. People fall in love with souls, not bodies, and definitely not with statures. Knowing you, you must've already charmed her. And knowing Kundavai..." Vandiyathevan's eyes perched up, "she might as well be thinking about you right now."

Vandiyathevan sank back into his chair, exhaling sharply.

"Cause you're a little too precious."

His gaze met her's.

"The only reason I thought Aditha had moved on is because of how cheerful he was the last time he'd visited. But now that i think about it, i think it was all because of you. He'd gone on and on about you. So much so that Nandhini would be jealous if she were present."

Said Devasena breaking into a fit of laughter as Vandiyathevan joined her too.

"Before you know it you've fallen for them...." Repeated Vandiyathevan. "Who is it?" He asked abruptly, interrupting her thoughts. Devasena fumbled, her eyes blinking vigorously.

"Sounds like you speak with a lot of experience yourself."

Devasena smiled thinking about the love sick fool she'd fallen for. Vandiyathevan grinned jumping back into his element.

"So.....?" He asked bending forward resting one palm on his knee while the other held up his chin, raising an eyebrow, mockingly. Devasena chuckled throwing a pillow at him.

That day, he'd gained a new friend. A true friend.

If Devasena wasn't Devasena i would've made her fall for Vandiyathevan. I'm not kidding.

@whippersnappersbookworm @thereader-radhika @thegleamingmoon @yehsahihai @thelekhikawrites @harinishivaa @celestesinsight @chiyaanvikram @ragkee

#ponniyin selvan #bahubali #ponniyin selvan X Bahubali #Devasena #Vandiyathevan

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idontknowreallywhy · 10 months

Text

Estera Ch 6 - Safe

(Prologue, Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5)

(Sofasurf’s Recrudescence which is the foundation for all of this)

Scott’s fled for the skies. Estera needs to find someone’s inhaler. But what happens next?

Well. Some details follow.

My usual blend of fluff and “Yikes”…

Confession - this got a teeny bit dark in the last section. If you want to stop reading at the end of the fluffy bit (you’ll know it when you see it) then there is zero judgment from me. I even make myself go “Yikes” with that one…

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The authorities had called her a cab home, the hired coach having been sent away when all the parents arrived in person to collect their children. Although she had protested at the expense - surely there was a bus route somewhere nearby - she hadn’t had the energy to argue.

Thus she sat alone in the back seat trying to collect her thoughts. They resisted collection in a way that made cat herding look like a relaxing past time. So she fidgeted, putting on her cardigan then removing it again, retying her hair, rearranging the contents of her rucksack. Which she’d already done ten minutes before. She tried to force herself to calm down and turned to look out the window, her forehead meeting the glass with a surprisingly loud clunk.

“There’s a universal charging cable under the seat, Miss, and free WiFi if you’d like to use it.”

Of course there was. Couldn’t escape it these days. She didn’t want to appear rude so she smiled, thanked him and dutifully plugged in her battered mobile.

It flickered to life and within seconds several messages popped up… from her sister, a couple of friends, her elderly neighbour, even her hairdresser - clearly today’s events had hit the news. She drafted a quick reassurance, copied it to everyone and put the device down. She felt weirdly detached. It seemed strange that everyone was freaking out about her having been stuck in a cave when that had paled into utter insignificance compared to the shock she had experienced afterwards.

How could it be possible? He couldn’t have escaped, could he? If it hadn’t been for his reaction she’d have persuaded herself she was imagining things. But his reaction had been… compelling.

She picked up the phone again and opened a browser

‘International Rescue Scott’

An overwhelming plethora of photographs and articles and, wow ok, actual fan pages sprang up.

Most of the photos were distant, or amateur and blurry but his unmistakeable blue eyes shone out at her from the official ones - profile shots for International Rescue, some charity positions and… she gulped… he was the multi-billionaire CEO of one of the biggest companies on the planet. Even she knew of Tracy Industries - they were one of the good ones. A school in one of the more difficult neighbourhoods nearby had just had a complete IT infrastructure upgrade thanks to a grant from them.

His official TI profile confirmed his Air Force background, with honourable discharge after active duty. It didn’t say where that was but she knew.

Oh, she knew.

She skimmed some of the more gushing articles. All fairly light on objective facts but weighty on opinion and that opinion was pretty much universal - he was a hero, beloved by millions, a undoubted force for good in an often cruel and selfish world.

And she’d left him to die.

She closed the browser, no longer able to bear the accusation in his eyes.

“Are you alright, Miss?”

The taxi driver was watching her in the rear view mirror.

“I’m fine. Thank you.“

She let out a breath as his eyes returned to the road ahead. But he wasn’t done:

“Long day was it?”

“Something like that.”

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For the second time in as many months Virgil vowed to chase Brains up on the speed upgrade to Two. It was absolutely pointless trying to catch up to his brother who could be halfway to anywhere by now. Thankfully, he had John and Five.

“Virgil! He’s heading back your way.”

“What?”

“One just did a U-Turn. She’s heading straight for you.”

“What do you mean “straight”?”

“A collision course. Virgil, I think you should get ready to take evasive action.”

Even at a moderate speed the two birds making any kind of head on contact…even a wing clip, meant mutually assured destruction. Was Two nimble enough to avoid that?

Scott would never risk Virgil being hurt.

But… he remembered the cold, unfamiliar look on the former fighter-pilot’s face as he’d spun to face him not ten minutes before. Was his brother in a state to know who was flying the ship chasing him down?

Virgil bit back a scream.

“Can’t EOS…?”

“No. She can’t. He’s blocked her access.”

Virgil looked down at the Atlantic far below him. Could he drop his ship safely on the surface of the water? He cut his speed.

“I’m tracking her path, I’ll tell you when to move.”

This couldn’t be happening. He tried the comm again, fighting to keep his voice calm and unthreatening:

“Scotty? Can you hear me bro? It’s me, Virgil. Please pick up? Please?”

“25 seconds, Virgil. Start reducing altitude.”

White knuckled, he tipped Two’s nose downwards and went to accelerate.

“Wait!”

“What? What???!”

“It’s ok. It’s ok, he’s adjusted course to pass on your port side. I’m… I misunderstood what… I’m sorry to have worried you.” John sounded almost light headed.

With her familiar crack-boom One shot past in a blur. Virgil flinched as her vapour trail crystallised on her sister’s windscreen for a few moments. He levelled Two off and pulled up the graphical readout of One’s tracker. Scott appeared to have done one of his signature handbrake turns and was heading back towards him at a more sedate pace… the rocket’s trajectory heading safely to the left of Two. Gleaming silver came into view alongside and Scott matched the green ship’s pace, the way he often did on journeys home from the more difficult rescues. Those times when Virgil knew his big brother needed company more than the adrenaline rush of g force and extreme speed.

The comm remained muted, but they were together. And that, until they got home at least, was all that mattered.

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The lift was broken again and Estera truly empathised with it as she dragged herself to the 5th floor. Her limbs were jelly and once she was on the right side of her front door she considered just lying down in the hall and having done with it. At which point 60 kilos of floof and enthusiasm canonballed into her and she realised with a quiet groan that she had to take him out before he destroyed everything in her apartment. Glancing down at her dusty sleeves as they contrasted with Bez’s snowy fur, she resolved to shower and change first else people would think she’d just escaped from a disaster zone.

Not so different from the state she was in when she first got here come to think of it. The darkness of the following few days in Processing crowded in on her and she didn’t have the energy to push it away. It was all too close to the surface today.

Bez licked the salt off her cheek.

With what felt like superhuman effort she dragged herself upright. At least here she had her own shower. And clean towels. Squeezing past the wall of hair she made it to the kitchen, draped her coat and bag over the back of a chair and spotted the note on the table:

Walked Niebieski. Soup in fridge. Glad you are safe.

Edith & George

She blinked back more tears. The elderly couple next door were an absolute godsend.

Ok. Shower. Soup. Stupid movie to prevent too much thought. Could maybe make some popcorn. That was a plan.

She did like a plan.

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The pool slid closed overhead and Scott allowed himself a few moments to sit back and breathe before regrouping and running through the comfortingly routine process of post-flight checks. His shoulder twinged sharply and that itchy trickling sensation reminded him that steristrips were no match for the physicality of flying a supersonic jet.

His vision lurched as her voice came back to him and he desperately focussed on grounding himself. He could hear the creaking of cooling engines, feel the harness over his shoulders, the seat beneath and around him. Wait, something else was off too. Something was pressing uncomfortably into his hip… he leaned to the side to extract the item from his baldric. A tiny Thunderbird 2 looked up from his palm, accusingly. His hand shook and the toy dropped, hitting the deck far below with a distant ping.

He stared down into the abyss.

Virgil was right. It wasn’t safe. HE wasn’t safe. If he couldn’t trust his mind to stay on track then he couldn’t be trusted. How could he keep his brothers safe from the world when he couldn’t even keep them safe from himself?

He tightened his fingers around the levers, every inch of the ship’s controls so familiar it was like an extension of his own limbs. Closer to him than his flight suit in a way. One was a part of him. IR was a part of him. Maybe the majority part. Certainly the best part.

If he couldn’t do this… then…

No. He shouldn’t think like that. He just needed more time. He flicked the switch to extend the chair and took a purposeful step down on to the gantry.

He had an apology to deliver.

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Virgil looked down at his twitching, sleeping brother and fought back the urge to bear hug him and never let go. There had been plenty of those earlier. Scott begging for forgiveness he didn’t need. Virgil and John trying to reassure him, their words seeming so powerless and both desperately hoping that holding him tight could somehow piece their hero back together.

He hadn’t expected the honesty. That was new.

Scott had looked Virgil in the eye and told him he was right. He wasn’t ready, he wasn’t safe, he wasn’t ok. Virgil had shaken his head, denying the words he’d said over and over this last week. He didn’t want to be right. It was too painful. It wasn’t fair.

But Scott had been adamant - he was grounding himself for another fortnight. He needed time to process. Something had triggered him, he acknowledged that much, but he wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. He’d lowered his eyes and quietly asked if they wouldn’t mind staying with him because he didn’t want to be alone.

As if he could stop them.

And so the six of them crowded into the lounge in a nest of blankets, fluffy cushions and rogue bits of popcorn. Scott had sagged against Virgil’s shoulder and passed out not half an hour into the film. John curled on big brother’s other side, if he was asleep it was likely with one eye open. Allie and Gordon were a tangle of limbs on the floor while Kayo dozed with her head atop the pile.

They’d get through this together as they always had. As Virgil watched, Scott sighed in his sleep and his face relaxed. He was here and he was safe. Hopefully tonight the nightmares would leave him in peace.

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Estera braced her feet and shoulders against the splintering wood and bit through her lip as she tried to remain silent despite the terror of the world tilting and sliding. The rumble of aircraft engines filled her head to the point where she wondered if she could even remember any other sound. But she knew where she was. This was to be expected. It would end soon. It had to.

The unsecured packing crate slammed into something again, her head rebounding painfully off the inside and she was consumed by nausea. The tiniest sob escaped and she froze. With a click the lid was opened and blinding light flooded into her streaming eyes as she tried to focus on the figure leaning towards her. It was him! Was she saved? Was she safe?

No.

Dread filled every cell of her body. Vivid blue eyes looked down at her but they were unseeing. A dark line ran from the corner of his mouth and then red, sickly gleaming red was everywhere. His blood was everywhere and it was her fault. His body fell heavily on top of her and the lid was slammed shut and she screamed for help until her throat burned.

Nobody came.

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#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #virgil tracy #john tracy #idontknowreallywhy fanfic #Estera #Tw: ptsd #Tw: implied violence #Tw: mild horror #TB Estera

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