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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

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Sugar, Sugar 15

[FIFTEEN/END]

MASTERLIST

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape, violence, mean sugary Steve

This is a dark! sugar daddy! Steve fic. Obvious AU so please keep that in mind. :) That being said, it will be an explicit fic (18+) with noncon. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

(This chapter: violence, threats, fear :O)

Series Summary: The reader is struggling in the big city but find opportunity before her. Will she take it?

This Chapter: The wedding day approaches but not everything goes to plan.

Author Notes: So this is another series wrapped up after a grueling two years, haha. Sorry y’all.

Please let me know what you think, like and reblog <3 love ya

🍭 🍭 🍭

The floor length mirror was trimmed with twisted gold. You stared at your reflection as your shaky hands pressed against the front of the ivory dress. The cut hid the small bump but you could not forget it. Ever since you confessed, it all happened so fast; the wedding was pushed up, the dress tailored and expedited, and invitations sent out in a rush.

It all felt surreal. The day had come but you just couldn’t accept it. How could you go through those doors and smile through it all?

You closed your eyes and let your breath out. They would knock when it was your time. Your father would be waiting to walk you down the aisle. The guests waited eagerly for the most talked about ceremony in the city. And you still felt like just a footnote in your own wedding.

You moved away from the mirror and sat unsteadily, gripping the arms of the cushioned chair, careful not to catch your veil under you. That night you told him, that was the final straw. But you didn’t forget what Sasha said. You took a picture of the broken door and wrote down the entire scene. You sent it to yourself in an email as proof.

That wasn’t the last time. You recorded Steve one day when he came in as you were texting your sister about the new date. You hadn’t answered his last message about your first appointment with the doctor. He was livid and you sat and listened to him rant as the red dots pulsed. You wrote down every instance, every time he made you appease him, every terrifying word.

Then there were the police reports. Nothing more than words in a filing cabinet but the night he choked you was just the beginning. He threatened to break your finger when you took your ring off because your hands were swelling. Then he broke your laptop when you didn’t pay him enough attention.

As the wedding loomed closer, he only seemed to get worse. He was clingy, always touching you, marveling over your stomach. He checked in almost every hour on the hour when he was working, and you weren’t stupid enough not to notice that the building was being watched.

It was like you were living two lives and yet you were entirely trapped with him. What good could the emails do? Or the reports when the police wouldn’t act on them? You were going to marry this man and that would be the end of it; of you, of your life.

Knuckles tapped on the door and you stood. You crossed the room and inched it open the door. You flinched as you were met by an unexpected and uninvited guest.

“Sasha?” you gasped.

“You’re marrying him then?” he held the handle but you didn’t try to close the door, “the account gone, I heard nothing from you.”

“I… I’m scared,” you admitted, “when he found out, I thought he was going to--” you shook your head. He wouldn’t actually kill you.

“You know it’s not too late,” Sasha urged.

“You can’t be here, it he finds out, he’ll--”

“I’ll defend myself,” Sasha snarled uncharacteristically, “I’ll give him what he deserves.’

“No, I don’t want you to get hurt. You need to go,” you begged as you glanced past him furtively.

“I will. Come with me,” he said, “just go. Everyone’s distracted, they won’t know--”

“I can’t just leave. You don’t understand--”

“No, you don’t understand,” he argued, “if you marry him, it all gets so much more complicated. I told you that day at the café. It will be harder to fight after the vows, but right now, you can still get out.”

“And go where?”

He swallowed and looked down the hall. You could hear the distant murmur of the crowd.

“Did you do any of it? Keep a journal? Something?” he asked.

“I tried. I went to the police but nothing,” you sniffed and gripped the door tight.

“Nothing yet but that’s a start,” he chewed the inside of his lip.

“Why are you here? Why is this so important to you?”

“Because I can do something,” he hissed, “because I can’t live with it if I don’t. So come on. Come with me, I got a bigger place. It’ll have to do for now and then we’ll work on getting you standing, getting the baby somewhere to grow--”

“Am I trading him for you?”

“I’m your friend,” he said evenly, “that will never change. All I want is you safe. If it makes you feel better, I’ll sleep in the hall. You can lock me out and I’ll sleep against the door. But I came down here knowing I wouldn’t leave without you.”

“It’s a sweet fantasy but--”

“Come on,” he grabbed your hand and pushed the door open, “please, don’t go with him. It doesn’t end well. You don’t get out. It doesn’t get better.”

“I have nothing,” you quavered.

“You have me,” he said, “please don’t make me walk out of here alone.”

“I….” you uttered as your heart squeezed. “He’ll come after you.”

“Good, I want him to,” he clung to you, “please?”

You inhaled and heard the voices. Your father and your sister. You had no time to think but you knew it was your only chance.

“Let’s go,” you lifted your skirt and pulled the door shut behind you as you stepped out, “now.”

He held onto your hand as you rushed away from the voices and skirted around the corner. Sasha urged you on down the back stairs and through the maze like halls of the extravagant church. You nearly tumbled down the stairs and he caught you as you came along the narrow passage beside the main room, the guests and groom just on the other side of the wall.

You came out into the sunlight and Sasha lifted the train of your skirts as he directed you over the grass. our heels sank into the dirt as you rushed over and the organ began to play Here Comes the Bride. As he helped stuff the swathes of fabric in behind you in his modest car, the music stopped suddenly.

He closed the door as you were squished in the back seat amid your layered skirts and he got in the front. The engine turned and he nearly side swept another car as he pulled out without looking. You peeked back behind you but saw no one coming down the large steps of the church.

He turned the corner and sidled in behind a yellow cab. He looked at you in the mirror and nodded. You bit your lips nervously as reality sank in. Your chest hammered and your entire body buzzed with adrenaline. You knew it was only the beginning.

🍭

The day passed in a daze. You sat in your wedding dress waiting for all hell to break loose. Sasha sat with a beer, silently, and tapped his foot endlessly. When the silence was too much, he turned on the television but neither of you paid any attention to the old sitcom.

When the trance of disbelief dissipated, he showed you around his spacious loft. He was being paid well by Stark but you worried how long he would stay on the payroll after what he’d done. Steve wasn’t stupid and there were more photographers at the church then you’d seen collectively over the last year and a half.

“This is the second bedroom,” he showed you into a room with gleaming windows. There was a bed, a dresser, curtains, a cozy rug, all carefully selected, “I thought you’d be here sooner.”

Your eyes lingered on the box leaned against the far wall. A crib.

“Didn’t know how long…” his voice trailed off as he followed your eye line, “I’m not trying to be him. You can go anytime but I… you have a place here.”

Your eyes welled and you blotted them with your knuckles, the rough lace of your gloves scratching your cheeks, “you did all this for me?”

“I told you, I’d do anything,” he said.

“But… Sasha, I don’t--”

“I don’t expect anything from you. High school was a long time ago but you made it bearable for the biggest dweeb in the class.” He sighed and paced a circle around the room, “you know, I had the biggest crush on you. That doesn’t mean anything now, it doesn’t mean I want you to fall into my arms, but it means I want to help you. It’s the right thing to do, somehow I made a career of doing the right thing so what’s one more?”

You felt your chest sink and you covered your cheeks with your hands, “Sasha?”

“Please,” he cringed, “I was a teen boy, I think I had a thing for Oprah once. Really, it’s just… we’re friends. We’ll always be friends.”

“I can’t…” you sniffled and dropped your hands, “I don’t deserve any of this.”

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Sasha intoned, “and you don’t deserve to live like that. I know this isn’t much but I know you. You’ll find your way, you just got a little lost.”

“I…” you shook your head speechless.

“We’ll figure everything else out tomorrow. You can borrow some of my clothes for tonight and then we can see about retrieving your things from Steve,” he neared the door and stopped beside you, “or we can say fuck it and you can start all over.”

You turned and slung your arms around him. You buried your face against his shoulder as tears spilled out onto his jacket.

“How did you know?” you sobbed.

“That day at the shower,” he rubbed your back gently, “you know, lawyers learn how to read people and you never were very good at subtlety.”

“No,” you chuckled through your tears, “No, it’s why I was great as a bard.”

“Mmm,” he grumbled, “if that’s how you remember it.”

🍭

It felt like Sasha was gone forever but when you checked the clock, it had only been twenty minutes.

You sat on the couch with your feet under you as you watched the news and rocked nervously. All anyone was talking about was Steve Rogers’ runaway bride. Your face was everywhere and the statement issued by Steve made it all the worse.

He painted you as a gold-digger, as an adulterer, as a swindler. He was the heartbroken fiancé and you were the wrongdoer. You knew it would go this way but expectation never softened reality.

You flinched as the lock turned and Sasha entered with a bag in hand. He came to the couch and set it down beside you.

“I don’t know about my taste in women's clothes but those should do,” he said as he checked his watch, “we should go soon.”

“Yeah,” you stood and opened the bag to reveal the lavender blouse and dark jeans, “you really didn’t have to--”

“You kidding, he’s gonna be surrounded by cameras. You can’t win his game if you don’t play it. I’ve dealt with his type before, they’re the ones who need lawyers on standby,” he sneered, “did you eat?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you swiped up the bag and headed for the hallway, “it was good.”

“No problem,” he shrugged as he grabbed the remote and shut off the tv, “and ignore all that nonsense.”

You got dressed and emerged as your anxiety grew to impatience. You left the apartment in brittle silence and the car ride fed the uneasy bubbling of your stomach. .

As you came up to Steve’s building, you sat for a moment before you got out. Sasha followed and shoulder away the cameras as you neared the front door

The elevator moved slowly and fidgeted uncontrollably as it dinged on Steve’s floor. You swallowed and braced yourself to face Steve. Sasha kept a few feet back as you walked down the hall and stopped at the door. You knocked as you found it locked.

It was a while before it opened but when it did, you were startled as Steve grabbed the front of your blouse and wrenched you inside. He spun you but quickly released you as he was knocked off balance and sent sprawling over the floor. Sasha stood above him with his hands in fists.

“Hey,” he pointed at Steve then looked at you, “you okay?”

You nodded as Steve glared between the two of you and cautiously got to his feet, “so you brought your little boyfriend?”

“She’s here to get her stuff. We thought we’d avoid a police escort, as her lawyer I thought it prudent, but we can always make that phone call,” Sasha said sternly, “she is entitled to her possessions.”

“Her stuff? I paid for every single thing she has to her name. Hers? Mine.” Steve spat and reared on you again, only to be caught by Sasha as he inserted himself between you.

“You will not touch her again. Those things you bought for her were gifts. You have no legal rights to them once they are given. She will take her clothes, her phone, and any other necessities.”

“Pfft, she’s not taking anything. She’s not going anywhere,” Steve growled, “she not yours--”

“I am certain the photogs would appreciate a show,” Sasha pulled out his phone, “police? That can only be a domestic dispute.”

Steve squinted and his nose flared as he looked at you over Sasha’s shoulder, “fucking slut.” He crossed his arms and stepped aside, “get your shit, get out…” he hissed, “but I have my rights too. You will not keep me from my baby.”

“That will be settled in court,” Sasha replied coolly, “go on, get your things.”

He waved you past him as he kept you shield from Steve. He was of a height with Steve but not as broad. Even so, you felt safe behind him. You rushed down to the bedroom and quickly gathered up your toiletries and those clothes you didn’t absolutely hate. Your phone screen was shattered but you took it anyway.

As you emerged again, a bag slung on your shoulder, you slid the ring from your finger.

“You can keep the rest,” you said as you placed the band on the small round table just inside the front room, “goodbye Steve.”

“Goodbye? Goodbye?” he spat, “this isn’t the end and you fucking know it.”

“Calm down,” Sasha warned.

“You don’t tell me what to do,” Steve shoved him, “I should fucking smash your head in--”

“I’d like you to try,” Sasha stood his ground, “really. You think the court would let a violent man be around an infant?”

Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes. He backed down and shouldered by Sasha. “Get the fuck out.”

You left quickly. You had no desire to hang around. As you stepped onto the elevator, Sasha softly touched your elbow and you winced. The bag fell to your elbow and he quickly scooped it up and heaved it over his own shoulder.

“You okay?” he asked.

“No, I don’t think so,” you said, “he was so angry. I--”

“I was stupid, we should’ve brought the police. Fuck the cameras,” he said, “from this point on, no contact with him whatsoever. Only through me and the court. No talking to reporters, no nothing.”

“Yeah, that won’t be hard,” you uttered as he led you out of the elevator.

As you came outside, cameras flashed and voices called out. You collided with Sasha as he was blocked by a photographer shouting questions, “is it true you’re pregnant? Is it Steve’s?”

“My client will not be answering questions,” Sasha kept on and made a path for you, “go, she’s not answering any of your questions.”

He elbowed past more cameras and opened the car door for you. You fell inside and quickly huddled down in your seat. As he sat behind the wheel, he mumbled and pulled out into traffic. He gripped the wheel tightly and pushed himself back into the vinyl.

“That asshole,” he said, “he’s gonna want the paternity test. This isn’t gonna be pretty.”

“I can’t… he fucking told them. I mean, I’m not surprised but… god,” you grimaced.

“We’ll get the test done before he makes a formal request,” Sasha said, “it shows transparency and when we hand over those results, we’ll include those police reports too.”

“Police reports?” you blinked.

“Sorry, I… It’s a suggestion,” he said tersely, “but he’s going to make this a trial by media.”

“No, no, I want to,” you said firmly, “I want everyone to know the real Steve Rogers.”

🍭

‘I was just like many struggling in the city. I worked a low-paying job in data entry and lived in an apartment which was little more than a box. The dreams of the big city were passing me by as there was little opportunity to be found.

Then I met Steve Rogers. Like a dream or a Lifetime movie. I was in debt, I was desperate, and he offered me a safety net. I can own my part in the relationship; I was interested and I accepted his generosity. I was all too happy with the arrangement.

That was until I found out that it was all based on a lie. I didn’t know that he had access to my accounts even before I knew him, that he had used his connections to force me into that dire situation. And I could not know the real man behind the billionaire façade.

It was little things at first. Any woman loves to feel wanted but his possessiveness soon turned to control. He kept me isolated from my own family and did not permit me to do anything without his permission. His affection turned to obsession and when it was not reciprocated he forced it from me.

He took me on vacation and did not allow me to wear clothes. He chose what I wore, how I looked, and what I did. He coerced me into acts I was reluctant about, and when he was too rough, he did not listen to my pleas for him to stop.

When I tried to leave him, he followed me and dragged me back. He had me watched by PIs and surveilled all my communications. He used his financial power to control me and when that did not work, he used his physical power.

Steve Rogers abused me. He yelled in my face, he threatened my family, and he choked me.

Steve Rogers raped me. He expected me to bend to his will whenever he desired and when I refused, he held me down and did what he wanted.

Steve Rogers took my whole life and when I chose to leave, he set his eyes on the life inside of me.

The only thing I want from him is freedom. I want to live safely with my child and I want that child to never experience the abuse of their father. I never want anyone to know that horror again which is why I have written this and released the police records. I am not asking for anything but peace for me and my unborn child.’

The statement was carefully edited by Sasha. You reread the font across the glossy pages of Vanity Fair, the article spliced with excerpts not only from the police reports, but your own emailed accounts of your relationship, and the whole thing began with an image of that broken bathroom door.

It was two months since you ran away from the altar but life was not a romcom. It was a disaster. Even with the article, you knew not all would believe you. You knew it would open you to doubt and vitriol. And you knew Steve would have a response.

You closed the magazine and groaned as you rubbed your hips. Freedom didn’t feel so… freeing. There was a long way to go; court dates, doctor’s appointment, and depositions. But it was a start.

You rested your hand on your stomach and pushed on the arm of the couch as you stood stiffly. When you were halfway up, you felt a hand on your elbow and Sasha helped you stand straight. You smiled guiltily. You’d grown a lot in the last few weeks and still had nearly four months to go.

“The reviews are good,” he said, “I know that is kinda grim but… people seem to believe you.”

“Seem to?” you echoed as you went to the kitchen and pulled out the container of sliced strawberries, “or they don’t?”

“Well,” he leaned on the counter as he watched you add too much cream to the berries and smiled, “Stark Industries has cut ties with Shield, Inc. and Tony has made a sizeable donation to several shelters across the city,” he cupped his chin coyly as he leaned on his elbow, “and will be covering legal costs for the support hearings seeing as I can’t legally represent you anymore.”

“Oh,” your mouth fell open before you could spray some cream onto your tongue, “when were you going to tell me this?”

“I’m telling you now,” he crossed his arms as he shifted them further over the island, “I thought I’d give the good news first.”

“And the bad?” you put down the can of cream as you neared the marble across from him.

“I have several requests for interviews and I think you should do at least one,” he said, “I know you hate reporters and all that but… with a little Rogers baby on board, it’s just another part of the process.”

“Oh, and what should I tell them,” you edged around the counter towards him, “that I moved? That I found someone better?” He turned to you, his lips curved as he leaned in and you turned your face up to peck his lips, “or maybe I should tell them I’m single? Keep the intrigue?”

“As long as you tell them I’m handsome, I don’t mind,” he purred as he placed his hand on your side.

“Oh, how could I leave that out?” you cooed and kissed him again, “patient, loving, kind… but what a geek?”

“A geek?” he smirked and framed your chin with his hands, “says the dungeon master.”

You giggled and ran your hands up his chest, “someone’s gotta raise this little bard well.”

“Oh, no, no, she’s not gonna be a bard. Maybe a cleric?”

“No way! That’s lame,” you chirped, “how about… a sorcerer? Ours is a bit lacking.”

“Excuse you,” he quipped, “what was your AC again? Maybe next session I’ll run out of healing spells.”

“See?” you taunted, “geek.”

You drew him to you until he was pressed to your belly and he swept you up in a kiss. You rocked with him as he turned you against the counter and slowly parted.

You squeezed his wrist as you went back around to your strawberries and cream. You took a spoon and scooped up a mouthful as you slid your phone towards you. Sasha stayed as he was, watching you scroll through the emails and piled up texts.

You stopped as one blared in all caps. There was no name, only ‘Private’. You opened the conversation and found a dozen bubbles; ‘THIS ISN’T OVER’, ‘HE CAN’T KEEP YOUR FROM ME’, ‘CUTE, YOU THINK PEOPLE BELIEVE YOUR SHIT.’ Another message blipped up, an image and you dropped your spoon as it opened.

You saw the picture of your sister and her son. You shook as you put your hand down on the counter and choked on the cream.

“What?” Sasha reached over and turned your phone to him, “Shit,” he sighed and blocked the number, “he’s just stacking the evidence against himself.”

“I--” you blinked as tears boiled behind your eyes.

“You don’t need to be afraid,” he screencapped the conversation, “this just makes the case even easier.”

“No, I will always be afraid of him,” you said as you touched your stomach, “it’s not just about me anymore.”

“And it’s not just you anymore,” he took your hand and rubbed the back of it with his thumb, “we’ve been through worse. If we can get through a cave full of orcs, we can defeat Steve Rogers.”

END (or is it?)

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #sugar daddy au #au #sugar daddy!steve Rogers #sugar sugar #marvel #mcu #captain america

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raineydays411 · 4 years

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Oh, what am I supposed to do without you

Loki x daughter!reader

Summary: Loki thought he was in a good place. He was married, happy and having a child. He should’ve known the universe wasn’t that kind.

A/N: God I’m so sorry about this one lol. Not much of the reader but I will be making a second part. I hope yall like this one though. Inspiration came from “Mr, Loverman” and this fic.

Master list

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The silence was rattling. It creeped into the room, slowly,menacingly. Threatening to make him go mad. It wrapped around his body like a familiar friend. Making it hard for him to breath as it suffocated him. He knew they were staring at him. Trying to figure out what he would do next, whether he would break or not. Truthfully he didn’t know what he would do. For now he just starred as well. Not at them, of course not. He stared at the one thing that mattered. His reason for waking up and living. The one person in this entire universe who gave his world color. He reached out to touch her. Touch the hands that were always so warm against his cold skin. Hands that held his firm and sure as she pulled him along behind her, a smile on her beautiful face. Hands that were now cold and limp, the radicant glow she had been known for gone dark. The colors she brought to his world dimmed to dull, gre, muted hues. Then a sound broke through the silence. two sounds actually. One a wail of new life, a baby taking her first breaths, and another. A wail of a man who has lost everything. A wail of agony and pain.

As the healers bustled around him, Loki had only one thought in his head.

“What am I supposed to do without you”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three months later and Loki still felt the emptiness left by his love. He heard her at night, humming sweet melodies as she stroked his hair. He hears her heartbeat as he eventually falls asleep, worn out by his constant tears. His room is in shambles, his clothes strewn about the floor, furniture smashed, everything is destroyed. Except for the things that belong to her. Her silk dresses that draped on her body perfectly were still hanging, untouched. The books she spent hours reading and re-reading remained on the shelf, collecting dust as they were no longer used. He doesn’t let anyone in their chambers. The space where they both shared. Space where they fought, made up, made love. To let someone else in would be tainting it. Soiling the memories they made together. That was one thing he could never do.

Another was look at the little monster who is responsible for this tragedy.

It was a girl. The daughter of one Loki Odinson and his beloved.

Ironic. This child was supposed to bring happiness with its birth. Not even cleaned and it already managed to take away Loki’s light. He can barely stand looking at it. He tried, of course he tried. But within minutes he had to call the nurse to take it away. Why?

Because she has her mothers eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Loki”

“Get out”

“Loki, it's been nine months since your child was--”

“THAT THING IS NO CHILD OF MINE”

Frigga was taken aback. She knew her son was heartbroken, devastated at the loss of his wife. But to disown his daughter, that was something she didn’t see coming.

“Loki, you are being unreasonable.”

“Unreasonable? My wife has died because if that creature--”

“It is a child. A babe who has no idea who her father nor her mother is.”

“And as far as I’m concerned she never will!” Loki shouts, finally looking up at his mother.

Frigga heart breaks for her son. She sees the utter agony he is in, the inner torment going on in his soul. Even if she didn’t see it in his face, the state of his room and self gives it away. He looks like he hasn’t bathed in the nine months that has passed. His clothes were rumpled and wrinkled, hair unkempt and wild. His face was pale and hollow, as if he was only eating enough to survive. He had dark bags under his eyes that showed that he hasn’t been sleeping well. He truly was a man who was broken, almost beyond repair.

“My son” Frigga said carefully,” I can never understand the pain you are going through, I pray to Valhalla I will not have to anytime soon. But please if not for yourself or that child, for the memory of her, attempt to see your daughter before making a rash decision.” And with that, she walked out of his chamber, leaving Loki to the silence again as he stared at the spot his mother stood. considering her words, he got up. picked up his room, went to bathe and walked out of the room for the first time in nine months.

His face held no emotion as he walked down the hallways. He saw the servants stop and stare at him, shock filled their face as they saw the prince. He glared at them, sending them scurrying at the dark glance. He reached the nursery, the maid who oversaw the nursery tried to stop him.

“My lord, you--”

“Where is the child.” He said, calm and cool. The maid looked at him in fear, not knowing how to respond. At her silence, Loki scoffed and pushed her away, marching into the nursery. Upon entering he froze, memories of him and his beloved discussing the design they wanted for their child

**“Darling, why does the color shade matter? It’s not like the child has expectations.”

Laughter fills the air, “Loki, we must put every effort into showing our child they are loved. That includes finding the perfect shade of green to go with the room”

Loki looks at his wife, gently smiling.”If you say so my dear”**

The room was perfect. The walls were a beautiful shade of green that allowed the light into the room. There were vines and flowers crawling up the walls and draped over curtains. A white and gold crib stood in the middle of the chamber. A veil draped over it, preventing Loki from seeing the child inside. He was thankful as he worked up the courage to walk up to it. He looked out the window, seeing the stars that covered the sky, the lights of Asgard covering the earth.

She would have loved it.

He took a deep breath and walked toward the crib. He pulled back the veil only to see that there was no child in there.

“The babe is with your mother my lord.”

He turned to the maid. Embarrassed that she might have witnessed him reminiscing.

“And where is my mother” He asked

“In-in the dining hal--”

He walked away before she was able to finish her sentence. He took long strides to the hall, wondering his his mother had tricked him into eating with the family.On the way, he passed a window overlooking the garden. He thinks of the times where he used to sit in it and listen to her read.

*** “...exquisite, in question more. These happy masks that kiss fair ladies’ brows”

“My love, why do you insist on reading these midgardian stories?”

Her laughter reaches his ears, “Because beloved, it's a different perspective to something familiar”

“Oh? and what is that ?”

“Love” ***

“oki--”

Hearing his name, Loki is brought back to present times once more. He looks to see Thor, watching him with careful eyes.

“Brother, it is wonderful to see you.”

“I wish I can say the same.”

Thor laughs, a soft chuckle compared to the booming laughter Loki knows he is capable of.

“Ah Loki, your dry wit has been missed”

Loki rolls his eyes and starts walking and Thor follows. The two walking in silence.

“What is it like?” Loki says softly. Thor looks at him in confusion.

“It?”

“The child.”

“Oh brother, Y/n is--”

“Y/n?”

That was the name she wanted. If they were to have a girl. She was determined, seeing the name in the book she loved to read. He remembers when they were telling his family she was with child.

*** Everyone was seated, servants bustling around the long table. Laughter filled the hall as the sun was setting.

“Loki, you said you had news to tell us” Frigga said, taking a sip of her wine.

Loki smiled, looking at his wife. Her face absolutely radiant as she flashes a smile of pure joy.

“ Well,” Loki waits till Thor has taken a large swig of ale, “ My beloved and are are expecting a child.”

Gasps fill the room as well as Thor's hacking, ale being spewed on the table.

“Oh Loki that is wonderful!!” Frigga exclaims standing from her seat to embrace him. “Oh my dear, this is the most wonderous news,”

“BROTHER I can’t believe it!” Thor exclaims, lifting Loki in a crushing hug. And for once, he didn’t mind it. He turns to her and hugs her more gently. “ You are just full of surprises aren’t you, starlight”

Laughter, “Thor, I thought I told you to stop calling me that”

Silence fills the hall as Odin clears his throat, “ Loki, you have made me proud.”

Loki smiles as his love beams at him.

“Thank you father.”**

They reached the dining hall. A cold feeling formed in the pits of his stomach. He can see his mother, talking with a maid as she bounces the child. He can’t see it, as Frigga's back is turned to him. Odin’s presence is notably absent, a small relief on Loki's part.

Thor notices his brother’s nerves, he pats him on the back and says, “You can do this Loki.” Then walks off to join his mother. He kisses his mothers cheek and smiles at the child. He picks her up, bouncing her a few times prompting a small laugh. Loki gimances at the sound.

Thor walks up to him with the baby.

“Loki, this is Y/n Odinson”

He looks at the child. He takes in its features, Beautiful curly hair, already thick and voluminous even at this age. Brown skin, unblemished and clean. Cheeks, chubby with baby fat. And...its eyes. Those damn eyes, he could barely stand it, (e/c) eyes, the same as his lost love. In fact, almost all it’s features that once belonged to his darling. A pain filled his body. He really couldn’t stand looking at this child.

Not when his beloved wasn’t there to gaze upon their child as well.

No, this was not his child. Not anymore.

“Get rid of it.”

Shock filled the faces of both Thor and Frigga.

“Loki you cannot be serious.”

“Brother..”

“I SAID GET RID OF IT” Loki shouts. “I DO NOT WANT TO SEE THAT LITTLE MONSTER.”

And with that he leaves the dining hall. Leaving behind his mother, brother and the last piece of his wife he had. He hears it’s cries fill the silence.

He had only one thought in his head as he entered his chambers.

“What am I supposed to do without you”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#loki x daughter!reader #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #marvel x reader #thor x reader #thor odinson #loki imagine #angst #fanfic #mcu loki #mcu imagine #tom hiddleston #poc #poc reader #reader insert #Loki x poc!reader

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imaginary-portal · 3 years

Text

Unspoken - Part Five

Bucky Barnes x Fem Reader

Summary: Y/N is a superhero with telekinetic and healing capabilities. The only catch, she doesn’t speak (italicized words are thoughts).

Content Warning: slightly sexual content

Word Count: ~1.9k

Part One Part Four Part Six

Masterlist

Enjoy!

——————

The team took advantage of the day off, and slept into the late morning. Y/N was the first to wake up, and she went out to get the guys breakfast. Y/N struggled with leaving Bucky alone in the bed. She just wanted to stay there with him forever. But at least now he’ll know how she felt the other day, waking up without him beside her. She came back to the room to find Sam and Bucky laying in their beds, watching television. “Food!” Sam said happily. Bucky smiled charmingly and gave Y/N a wave. He remembered how perfect last night was. The simple kiss on the cheek drove him wild.

“I didn’t know what you guys wanted…” Y/N trailed off while the two men came and rummaged through the food, taking what they liked. Y/N took the leftovers and ate it, quickly getting bored of the television. She grabbed her book and left the room. The door reopened behind her. “Y/N, where you off to?” Bucky asked. Y/N raised her book, signaling she would be reading. “Do you mind if I come with you? Maybe you can find me a book I’d enjoy.” Y/N accepted his invitation by motioning her head forward. Bucky followed Y/N like a puppy as they walked to the nearest book store. They were greeted by a cashier and Bucky gave them a small wave. Y/N walked to the classic novel section and chose the most boring book she could think of and handed it to Bucky. Bucky tried to be polite but as he flipped through the pages he realized the joke. “I get it because I’m technically a hundred years old. Funny stuff.” Y/N took the book hunt seriously now, heading for the fiction section. She grabbed a book that was about a war, betrayal, and friendship. Bucky seemed very interested when reading the back cover.

They purchased the book and found a park bench to sit at and read. Bucky was immediately sucked into his book, impressed by Y/N’s sense of judgement. He couldn’t help himself, however, from letting his eyes wander from the page to look at her. The way she focuses on her reading, he’s never seen anything like it before. She’s in her own little world. I want to be part of that. “Hey, Y/N.” Y/N broke from her trance and looked over at Bucky, who was so lost in her beauty that he forgot what he was going to say. “I um- I-“ Y/N smiled, realizing the situation. She closed her book and turned towards Bucky. She placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him butterflies, a feeling he thought he was too old to have. “Sometimes things are better left unspoken.” Y/N leaned in and kissed Bucky, their lips molding perfectly together. Bucky cupped Y/N’s face as he kissed her more passionately. The two rested their foreheads against each other and smiled like idiots. Y/N turned back to her book, wrapping her arm around Bucky’s and resting her head on his shoulder. Bucky smiled and returned to his reading.

——————

Y/N and Bucky walked home near sunset, holding hands the whole time. Sam questioned about where they were all day. Bucky simply said they went reading. Sam could tell by the look on Y/N’s face that unfortunately that was true. “Don’t you guys want to have fun?” Bucky chuckled. “Says the guy who stayed here and watched tv all day.” Sam laughed. “Touché. I guess I should do something today. I’ll go fetch us dinner.” Sam got up from his bed, grabbed his keys, gave Bucky a wink, and left.

Y/N stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do. However, she knew exactly what she wanted to do right now. I just want his lips on mine. Bucky thought the same thing. Unsure of who would crack first, Y/N sat down on the bed. Bucky looked at her sitting there, looking perfect. He couldn’t stop himself from biting his lip. Y/N took note of this and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Bucky also sat on the bed and remembered Y/N’s advice from earlier. Sometimes things are better left unspoken. But Bucky doesn’t want to leave it unspoken how amazing Y/N looks. He turned to Y/N and leaned in for a kiss. Y/N hovered her lips over his, teasing him a little before meeting his parted lips. The kisses quickly escalated. Y/N’s hands found their way into Bucky’s hair and she lightly tugged him. Bucky’s hands rested on her hips, squeezing them every so often. Bucky slipped his tongue gently in Y/N’s mouth, earning a moan from her. The moan gave Bucky a rush, pulling Y/N closer to him. “You’re so beautiful, doll.” He said in a raspy voice. Y/N was now sitting on Bucky’s lap, where she could feel his member harden. Y/N broke the kiss to leave a trail of kisses along his neck, earning a grunt from him. “We should stop.” Y/N said in between breaths. Bucky’s lips found their way back to Y/N’s. “Yeah, we should.” But neither of them could detach from the other. Suddenly, the two hear keys jiggling in the door. Y/N squeals as she jumps off of Bucky. The two sit a few feet apart, obviously out of breath. Y/N makes a last minute run to the bathroom to fix her hair. Bucky grabs a pillow and places it casually over his crotch. He runs a hand through his hair as Sam enters the room with a bag of food. “Thanks for helping me in by the way. The stupid lock is broken.” Bucky smiled softly, the only thoughts running through his mind were of Y/N. He didn’t know if he could keep it together when he sees her again.

Y/N comes out of the bathroom, looking normal and relaxed. She comes over quietly and grabs some food, avoiding eye contact with Bucky. Bucky watches her every move, finding perfection in all of it. Sam sat, clueless of how to understand this interaction. Y/N sits next to Bucky, resting her head on his shoulder as she ate. “Oh so you two are a thing now?” Sam asked. “Now you see that makes more sense why you’re being so weird today. I’m happy for you guys.” Bucky smiled and placed a kiss on top of Y/N’s head.

Before sleep that night, Bucky whispered in Y/N’s ear, “We’ll have to finish what we started sometime.” Bucky nibbled Y/N’s ear and placed a kiss on her neck before falling asleep.

——————

At the next mission, the team had to go indoors and split up to find the super soldiers. Y/N made it to them first, but she quickly felt her powers wipe away from her body. She entered a room with runes on the walls. Y/N looked around to see who might’ve done it, but she couldn’t imagine any of the super soldiers being capable of this. Y/N pulled her torturer’s necklace out of her pocket, securing it safely around her neck, the red light beginning to glow. While Y/N’s physical body remained standing where it was, her spirit temporarily transported to a different realm. “Are you joining the collective?” A voice whispered to her in the dark. “No. I just need to get out of here, away from the runes.” Y/N tried bargaining with the spirit. “Tsk tsk tsk. We only let you use the power if you join us. That is the price you pay.” Y/N looked around her, seeing only an abyss. She tried feeling her powers, they had returned. “And what if I don’t listen to you?” She said with a new confidence. “Then you’ll have even more people after you. Brutal people who want justice for the powers of the collective.” Y/N used her senses to feel around. There was something that she could grab onto with her telekinesis. She pulled the object closer to see a frail old woman in a robe. The woman had a look of shock on her face. “You’re not like the others. You looked behind the curtain. You must be one of the chosen ones. We permit you our power, you don’t have to join us.” The old woman bowed to Y/N, her weak legs kneeling on the ground. Y/N was incredibly confused but delighted to get this haggling over with.

Y/N was brought back to reality, where only a few milliseconds had passed. With her newfound powers from the necklace, she destroyed the runes by crumbling the walls around her. The super soldiers stood in shock. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.” One said to the other. “What will we tell him when he gets here?” Y/N started attacking the super soldiers that came after her. Sam and Bucky followed the noise and joined the fight. Bucky noticed that Y/N was wearing the necklace and her powers were different. He stayed close by her as he fought.

Y/N left in the middle of the fight, running out of the room. “What the hell?” Bucky yelled. Y/N climbed to the rooftop, where she felt a formidable presence. “Well, well, well. Look who it is.” A man Y/N remembers from her captivity unleashed sparkles from his hands, casting runes on the ground. Y/N destroyed them at the blink of an eye, and that is when the man recognized her necklace. “You’re with the collective?” Y/N shook her head and the man looked worried. “Call for backup.” He spoke to his servant. Y/N and the man began fighting, and she had him pinned down before the super soldiers had arrived. The man tried reaching for the necklace, but Y/N twisted his arm tighter. “What are you waiting for? Kill me.” The man pleaded. Y/N grew frustrated. “Wait, you can’t kill me? What a twist!” He laughed hysterically. “Y/N!” Sam and Bucky yelled running towards the scene. “We need to take care of this guy.” Y/N said. The message didn’t get through to either of the men. “Little miss powerful doesn’t have what it takes.” The man smirked. “You. With the blue eyes. Kill me. Do it. You’ve done it hundreds of times before.” Bucky looked at Y/N reluctantly, and she looked down. Bucky aimed his gun at the man and fired, knocking him dead. The super soldiers and servants scurried away like mice. “Y/N, who was that?” Sam asked gently. Y/N couldn’t hear anything over the whispers from the necklace. She still held on to the dead man’s arm tightly. “Y/N?” Sam and Bucky looked at each other in worry.

Bucky pulled Y/N’s arm off of the man. “Y/N?” Bucky cupped Y/N’s cheeks with his hands. The look in her eyes was desolate. “Y/N snap out of it. God damn it.” Bucky walked away in frustration and kicked his gun. “Y/N!” Sam yelled her name louder. Y/N heard his voice faintly. She started to control the voices much like lowering the volume on a remote. “I have to go.” Was all she said before she jumped from one rooftop to another. Bucky started to chase after her, but Sam blocked him. “Don’t do it Buck. You won’t make it.” Bucky ignored him. “Bull shit. I did that all the time when I was the Winter Soldier.” Sam fought harder to keep him back. “You’re not the Winter Soldier anymore. I couldn’t even chase her right now if I flew after her. I’m sorry Bucky. We have to let her go.” Tears formed in Bucky’s eyes. Sam brought him into an embrace. “I don’t understand what happened to her.” Sam held back tears. “Don’t worry. We’ll find out. I’ll be sure of it.”

——————

Tags: @learisa @harrietbaudelaire

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan #marvel #mcu #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #fanfic #crush imagine #imagine #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader

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paisley-print · 3 years

Text

8:00am : When We Cut The Cake

A Wedding Day

Rating: 18+

Word count: 2122

Characters: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Warnings: SMUT (Oral Fem Receiving, PIV sex, semi-public sex) mentions of vomit , implied age gap, pregnancy, family drama, fluff.

Series Master-List

Notes: Does anybody else get super nervous before they post a story? I get so nervous. Why?

“Almost ready honey?” Jack asked, knocking on the bathroom door.

“Yeah, just one sec” you said, fastening the last bobby pin into the veil. “Alright no peaking when I come out-”

“Sugar, our appointment time is at-”

“Jack please,” you whined. “It will just take a moment, and you’re not allowed to give me sass today because I will get my pay back tonight when we cut the cake.”

You heard him chuckle from behind the door, “alright darlin’ my eyes are closed.”

You cracked open the door to make sure he was telling the truth. “No peeking,” you warned, stepping out so that you could be in full view.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said with a smirk.

“Alright - you can open.”

He opened his eyes, giving you the once over and whistling. “Well, look at you. My mamma forced me to go to church all my life, and they never mentioned anything about letting angels walk around on earth... but here you are.”

“oh yeah, that’s me, proper virgin Mary.” You turned around to look in the stand up mirror in front of you. You weren’t showing a lot, but enough to make you feel bloated and icky. It had been weeks, but the morning sickness persisted.

He came up behind you, placing his hands on your stomach and resting his head on your shoulder. The two of you looked at each other in the mirror for a moment.

Jack was in his Sunday best and you in the only white dress you could find at the boutique in town. You two were not pressed for money but considering the circumstances, and how sick you still felt, both you and Jack decided to keep the wedding low key. You didn’t need a big wedding anyway, neither did Jack.

“I don’t look dumb?” you asked.

He looked at you seriously “now sugar, why on earth would you say that?”

You adjusted the dress a little, frowning. “I don’t think either of our families are thrilled about the surprise. You know, one second we were both single, then the next we were pregnant and engaged… The age thing doesn’t help either. Then the people at the courthouse, they’re probably going to judge too-”

He spun you around so you were facing him. “If anybody says anything to you - then you tell me and I will deal with it. I don’t care who they are. You understand?”

You looked into his eyes, remembering how angry he had been the day you found out you were pregnant. “You still want this, right?”

“Yes. Do you?”

“Of course. I’m just making sure.”

He put his hands on your belly again. “Trust me sugar, nothin’ would make me happier than standing up there with you and telling the entire world how much I love you. I do not give a flyin’ fuck what anybody else has to say about it, because frankly it is none of their goddamn business. You understand?”

You nodded. He spun you back around so he could hug you from behind again. You giggled and scrunched up your nose as he pressed little kisses to your cheek, then neck.

Sunlight drifted in through the lace curtain, bathing the room in an amber glow. The two of you, together, it looked right. You had never felt more safe than when you were with Jack. He had collected the pieces of your broken heart and glued them back together one by one, and you did the same for him.

For the first time in a long time, he was excited about the future because he knew he wouldn’t be alone.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked him softly.

He smiled “how much I love you.”

You returned the smile. Feeling that familiar sting in the corners of your eyes. It seemed as though recently you had little control over these kinds of shifts in emotion. The last few weeks had been a lot. “Fuck,” you laughed “I knew I wasn’t going to make it to the ceremony.”

Jack noticed and kissed your cheek again and shushed you gently. “No need for that, you’ll ruin your makeup darlin’.”

“I love you too,” you told him.

“So let's get married. Come on” he said, giving your ass a light tap - before going over to grab his hat from the bed. “Or do I have to pick you up and carry you there myself?”

“I bet you wouldn’t even be able t -” you challenged.

Before you could even finish the sentence, Jack placed his hat on his head and scooped you up bridal style. You giggled all the way down the stairs.

The wedding was lovely. The courthouse was one of the oldest buildings in the county, built in 1796. It was a grand building, full of white stone columns, with a clock tower that made it the tallest structure in miles. The ceremony was brief. You and Jack were smiling like idiots the entire time.

A little while later, you hosted a backyard reception with your family and friends.

“Hey- I need you” you whispered, hooking your arm in your husbands and pulling him away from the group of people he was standing with.

“Why? Are you okay? Is the baby okay?” he asked, placing a hand on your belly.

“Yes. Sorry, nothing like that just...you’ll see” you pulled him into the laundry room and shut the door behind you. Without another word, you leaned up and kissed him. He was surprised at first, but was soon kissing you back - trying to keep up.

You pulled away breathless and kept your voice low, “OK I need a favor.”

Jack’s brows were still knit in confusion. “anything.”

“I need you to fuck me.”

“Now?” he asked, a little too loud. You gave him a stern look and his voice softened “now?”

“Yes” you whined. “Tonight is too far away,” you gave him those puppy dog eyes “please?”

He put his hands on his hips and looked down at you, laughing a little. “Twice this morning wasn’t enough?”

You kicked idly at the floor with your shoe “no... but if you don’t want to-”

He was quick to cut you off “no, no. I want to…. but sugar, we got a whole house full of people, why don’t we go upstairs?”

“I want to save that for our real first time,” you said.

Recently it seemed as though if you weren’t bed ridden from nausea you were all over him, begging for him to fuck you. Jack didn’t mind, of course, he enjoyed seeing you feel better…. and you know, the sex wasn’t too bad either. The record had been four times in one day. At his age, he was pretty proud of that.

The cowboy laughed and glanced out the frosted glass window. Shadows of people moved back and forth. “What if they hear us?”

You gave him a little smirk “then I guess you’ll just have to keep me quiet.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, then took your hand to pull you in for a bruising kiss. He pulled you flush against him, exploring your mouth with his tongue, before breaking the kiss and spinning you around.

He nudged you gently with his body, boxing you in against the dryer.

“This okay?” he whispered, bringing a hand around to your stomach once more.

“Yeah” you said, then felt his hand move to the buttons on the back of the dress. “Don’t bother - keep it on.”

“Whatever you say Mrs. Daniels.”

He got on his knees behind you, large hands brushing the back of your thighs and pushing your dress up over your waist. He smirked at the lacy panties you had on, hooking a finger in them and pulling them down. They fell to your ankles; he helped you kick them off easily.

In one fluid motion, he lifted you up a little and put his mouth on you from behind. You suppressed a groan hen grabbed at a towel to bite down on and muffle your sounds.

He swiped his skilled tongue through your slick folds, loving how you tasted. Your eyes fluttered shut as he pushed his tongue inside of you. His hand came up, grabbing a fistful of your ass and squeezing until he left a little red mark.

He continued licking into you, flicking his tongue against your clit as you squirmed under his touch. It didn’t take long for your orgasm to come crashing into you. You bit down hard on the fabric of the towel, trying and failing to stifle a moan.

“Holyfuck Jack,” you breathed, when he finally broke away.

You felt him move your veil to the side so he could plant sloppy kisses to your neck, his hands quickly undoing the loops on his belt. “Was that good honey?” he knew it was, he just wanted to hear you say it.

“I know what you’re doing,” you giggled.

He pretended to be offended “what? Trying to make sure I’ve satisfied my wife?”

Hearing him referred to you as his wife turned you on even more. That need settled between your legs again. Jack’s arm came to hook around your waist while the other came to steady himself on the dryer.

You shuddered as he dragged his cock along your folds, teasing you.

His voice was dark with lust “you ready darlin’?”

As soon as you nodded, he moved his hand from your waist, clamping it over your mouth as he pushed inside you. You threw your head back and allowed your eyes to close again. The feeling of him stretching you out made you clench around his cock. He always felt so big from behind.

He ground his hips into you slowly, his hand buzzing with the sound of your moans.

Soon he fell into a steady pace, pumping into you as your hips bucked to meet each thrust. His breaths fell heavy on your ear. The two of you were so lost in bliss you nearly forgot about the party outside.

The handle to the laundry room door twisted and was pushed open only a crack before Jack’s hand came out and slammed it shut again.

“Is y/n in there?” a woman’s voice called from behind the door. It was one of your aunts, you realized.

You felt Jack’s hand press a little harder into your mouth. “Yep, she’ll be out in a second,” he responded, never slowing his pace. “Morning sickness is a bitch, gotta get the stain out of her dress.”

“Oh, alright,” the woman said, “tell her to find me once you’re done, we want to get a picture for Facebook.”

“Will do,” Jack responded, then pulled out of you - spinning you around to face him before slamming into you again.

He removed his hand from your mouth and replaced it with his lips. Growling against your lips as he continued to pump into you; he was trying to hold out until you came first. He wanted to make sure your needs were taken care of before his.

He could tell that you were close by the way you clung onto him, the muscles in your body tensing as he built up the pleasure in your core. When you finally fell apart, he made sure to kiss you a little harder - absorbing the sound of your cries with his mouth.

He was not far behind and soon you were both left, disheveled and out of breath. He kissed you on the cheek and nuzzled the side of your neck, breathing in the smell of hairspray. Jack knew that the two of you had to go back out there, but he wished he could stay in there with you all night.

He finally pulled back, studying your face for a moment before saying, “look at that, didn’t even smudge your lipstick. Am I good or what?”

“It’s a stain Jack. Cover Girl gets the credit here” you teased, patting the side of his face before reaching down to pick up your panties from the ground.

He started to dress himself again as well “you just wait, I still got two more tries tonight. I bet that mascara is gonna look wonderful running down your pretty little face.”

“Two, huh?”

“What?..... Three? Christ darlin’ you’re gonna put me in the goddamn hospital you know that? If I throw my back out again you are gonna have to explain to Ginger how it happened this time.” He reached up to straighten your veil as you adjusted his tie. Then he offered you his arm. “Alright baby girl, you up for a dance or two?”

#Pedro Pascal Fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Pedro fanfic #Kingsmen Fanfic #Kingsmen Fanfiction #Agent whiskey fanfic #Agent whiskey x you #Agent whiskey x Reader #Whiskey x you #Jack Daniels x you

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nightwishesworld · 3 years

Note

Hello! I love your writing and if you do take request, might I ask for a family night (including Heisenberg) playing Monopoly please? (OC is already in a loving relationship with Alcina and the girls love her)

Oh boy anon, this was by far the most difficult thing I’ve ever written. It’s not my best cause I know zero about the game so I had to try and work around it. Hope you enjoy anyway!

It's that time of the week again in the Dimitrescu castle. The most sacred and anticipated time of the week; not hunting, not harvesting, not even wine tasting... it's game night.

As soon as the sun sets the girls swarm in the drawing room to ready the space for the night's antics. Daniela digs out the game while Sorine opens all the curtains, letting the warm light of the moon shine through, and Victoria lights the fire and torches. It became a ritual not long after you moved into the castle. The girls often confided in you how they wished to spend more quality time with their mother on more than one occasion. Hunting maidens and harvesting their blood was fun, but they've been doing that forever! It was no longer as thrilling as it once was, not it felt more like a chore that needed to be done. And you can't count how many times Alcina admitted to feeling guilty about not giving her daughters more of her time. So when you pitched the idea of a routine game night, you got very little pushback.

The only one who hesitated was Daniela, and only because she insisted on inviting Uncle Heisenberg, which was totally fine. You get along rather well with the werewolf and enjoy his visits. Getting in touch with him was rather difficult though. Most of his visits were spontaneous reasons to see his favorite nieces, while the other few were strictly business-related held by Alcina. It took her some time to locate her brother, but it also gave you some time to make your way back down to your old home in the village to gather your collection of board games and puzzles. Some were missing a few pieces or cards, but they would have to do for now. Worst case scenario you just buy new ones.

When Alcina finally got ahold of Heisenberg he eagerly accepted and promised to start making his way back to the castle; the girls were thrilled. After all, it wouldn't be proper family bonding time without good ol' Uncle Heis.

In the beginning, it was decided that everyone took turns deciding what game they were going to play. The cycle started with you of course, since the whole thing was your idea, then went from oldest to youngest. Everyone had a blast playing against each other and laughing at one another. You can't remember a time you'd seen Alcina laugh so hard, she was almost brought to tears. Everything was just peachy until Victoria, ever the mischief-maker decided you should play Monopoly. The poor Dimitrescu's had no idea what brand of hellish gameplay awaited them. Only an hour and a half in and Daniela had successfully bankrupt her own mother. The proud look plastered on the girl's face would have been more amusing if it weren't for Alcina losing her temper. That was the one time you couldn't wait for the night to end, and hopefully, never play it again.

Much later that night in bed with Alcina curled up on your chest you woke with a chill running down your spine. It's Daniela's turn to pick the game.

Which is how you ended up lounging on your favorite chair by the fire watching Daniela and Heisenberg setting up the board and organizing the money. Again.

Alcina is sat on the floor next to you leaning comfortably against your chair sipping her third glass of wine. "Why are we doing this again?"

You give her a sympathetic smile. "You know why, dearest, it's game night."

She only rolls her eyes at you. "You know what I mean, draga mea. Why monopoly?"

"It was Dani's turn to chose the game. It'll be fun, don't worry Al."

"Yeah Mother," Victoria giggles. "What's wrong with monopoly?"

"You mean other than how overly competitive and childish you all become?"

You were about to open your mouth when Heisenberg started to laugh. "You say 'you all' as if you aren't just as bad."

Alcina chose to ignore him in favor of her wine.

"Ah! Mother's just upset cause she knows I'm gonna make her go bankrupt again," Daniela smiled as her sisters snickered. "I forget, what did you say you were going to do to me, Mother?"

This caused the chorus of giggles to erupt into laughter. "She said she was going to disown you!" Sorine choked out.

"Forging an alliance against your mother is just plain rude! And you-" she points to Heisenberg, "you stole my companion!"

Laughter erupted in the drawing room. You leaned against Alcina's arm as you lost the ability to breathe. "I did not steal them," Heisenberg handed you both your starting $1500. "I was in a financial bind and y/n was willing to make a deal."

"And just like that our alliance was born." You lean forward and fist-bumped the werewolf. "Let's let Al join us tonight, Heis, now we'll be even against the girls."

He ponders for a moment before noticing his sister's golden eyes burning into him and hastily shakes her hand. "Welcome to the team, sis."

Alcina sighed and accepted his hand in a near bone-crushing grip. You tried not to notice the man wincing. "About damn time."

You shot Alcina finger guns with a wink and "pew pew" and she full-heartedly laughs. "What on Hell's earth was that?"

"A dumb human thing, don't worry about it."

"Horray!" Daniela grinned. "Now Mother has a fighting chance."

"Now girls," you chided. "Let's try to keep this friendly tonight, ok? As funny as it was, and it was," Alcina glares at you from behind her wine glass. "We're going to let it go now. No more ganging up on your mother."

The girls gave an innocent smile, "of course y/n."

"Wouldn't dream of it, y/n."

"Cross my heart hope to die!"

Wait, aren't they already dead? You shook your head. Doesn't matter.

"Are we using the same pieces as last time?"

"Might as well," you saw before Daniela can get a word out. "We were all happy with our tokens last time, yes?"

Daniela huffed and crossed her arms. "I want to be the dog!"

"Aw come on, Dani," Sorine says. "I think it's only fair Uncle Heis gets to be the dog."

"Since, ya know, he is a dog," Victoria smirks.

To say the atmosphere of the room was intense would be an understatement. But, you couldn't be entirely unhappy with the course of events either since your alliance was winning. Victoria is bankrupt and Daniela has been sitting in jail for the past three turns. Alcina refuses to sell her Get out of Jail Free card. Oh, how the tables have turned. Daniela, much like her dearest mother, is far too stubborn for her own good. She refuses to pay Heisenberg the $50 to get out of jail and Alcina simply refuses to bail her out. Petty revenge, but entertaining nonetheless. It's after midnight now and you're finding it difficult not to doze off against the vampire's arm. Heisenberg is awake pacing around the room as he lost interest in the stalemate already. He was nice enough to take his heavy boots off so he wouldn't disturb Sorine and Victoria's slumber. His repetitive pace was starting to lull you to sleep. You allow yourself to close your eyes for a minute, listening to Alcina's breathing and Heisenberg's hushed stomping circling around you.

The fire was reduced to crackling embers and you were left shivering under Heisenberg's coat. Out of desperation, you kiss the top of Alcina's gloved hand. "Nu putem termina în dimineața? Hai să mergem la culcare." You know she loves it when you talk in Romanian to her. Hopefully, it will give you the advantage you need to end this ridiculousness.

"I've got her cornered, y/n. A little while longer and she'll crack."

Daniela only squinted her eyes and hissed.

You were about to give up and let yourself fall asleep on Alcina when Heisenberg came stomping over, pure anger painted on his face, and kicked the coffee table over. Sorine and Victoria were startled awake by the crashing sound and snowfall of cards. It was honestly the most magical thing that happened all night. He shouted something along the lines of "Go to bed!" but you couldn't make it out over Daniela and Alcina's screams. They pay you little mind as they chase Heisenberg out of the room and down the corridor, the sounds of vases and antique decor crashing following them as they go.

Sorine stands over you looking at you through bleary eyes, extending her hand to help you up. "Bed?"

A lion's yawn overcomes you and you smile. "Bed."

#lady dimitrescu x reader #lady alcina #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #tall vampire lady #lady dimitrescu #monopoly broke me

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janetbrown711 · 4 years

Note

“I can’t do this on my own.” Yakko

The royal family had been on the edge of their seats in anxiety ever since the day Angelina I locked Wakko up in the tower.

Well- that wasn’t entirely correct. Dot seemed blissfully unaware of the tension surrounding her, and Wakko was trying his best to just enjoy the fact he didn’t have to stay in that tower any longer than he already had anymore. His and Dot’s spirits were admirable, but the rest of the family simply couldn’t share the same feelings.

Lena had been practically pacing 24/7 ever since her conversation with her mother, of which she refused to give the kids details about, but from how easily her worry spread to their father, and the massive bruise on her face she tried so very very hard to cover with makeup, it was safe to say it went very poorly. She was constantly checking up them, making sure to keep a special eye out for Wakko, of whom Yakko was pretty sure she never let out of her sight anymore.

William had been nervous too. He was off at the training stations at night far more often than he used to, practicing his sword fighting. This effort failed him, however, when he sprained his arm from overworking it. Without his main source of stress relief, it became very clear something was eating him alive, and Yakko wished his parents trusted him enough to tell so he could help. He was the eldest brother, after all, he was supposed to help watch over his sibs too.

Yakko was anxious because of his parent’s anxieties, the fact they wouldn’t tell him what was going on, and a mysterious letter he had caught a glimpse of at his last lesson.

He had arrived early to his grandmother’s study, and she must’ve been writing to someone right before he came because she left a letter to dry there. Yakko only caught a glimpse, but he recalled it saying:

“...they are the priority. However, if the younger were to be lost in the chaos, I wouldn’t mind in the slightest-” and his grandmother snatched it from his hands before he could read further.

Yakko wished he hadn’t started reading it from the middle, because he simply couldn’t make sense of it. It sounded ominous, but not wanting to stress out his parents any more than they clearly were, he kept it to himself, figuring he was smart enough that he’d decode it eventually.

He was pretty sure his parents could tell how tense he was, because they kept patting and rubbing his back and assuring him things would be fine, but the bruise on his mother’s face refused to let him believe that.

“Alright you two, it’s well past bedtime now, clean up the toys,” Lena chuckled softly as Dot and Wakko pouted in the playroom.

“C’mon, you heard her you two,” Yakko rolled his eyes and assisted his younger siblings in cleaning up. Slowly but surely the warner siblings successfully cleaned up and put everything back in it’s place, before tiredly dragging themselves to their bedroom.

Wakko went straight to his and Yakko’s room, and Yakko was pretty sure he was out cold once he hit his bed.

Yakko however, lingered by Dot’s bedroom, cracking open the door just a little so he could listen in on the conversation the two were having.

“Mommy, are you okay?” Dot asked.

“Of course, dear, whatever would make you think that,” his mother said as she tucked in his little sister. Dot reached up, and her hand hovered over her bruise.

“I’m fine, Dottie, it’s okay. You don’t need to worry about me, you need to get to bed,” Lena booped her nose.

“I want a lullaby,” Dot said, sitting upright in the bed.

“Ah ah, what do we say?” Lena scolded lightly.

“May I have a lullaby... please?” Dot said. Lena nodded.

“Let’s see now...” His mother thought to herself, tapping a finger on her chin.

“When I look into your eyes,” She began, slowly tucking Dot back in again. “It’s like watching the night sky.”

“Or a beautiful sunrise. There’s so much they hold,” She sang softly, and for a moment, Yakko thought she saw him, but she didn’t stop singing.

“And just like the old stars,” she continued. “I see that you’ve come far, to be where you are.

“How old is your soul?” she sang that line softer, and Yakko felt a chill go down his spine.

“Well, I won’t give up, on us. Even if the skies get rough. I’m giving you all my love. I’m still looking up,” Lena put a soft hand on Dot’s cheek, and she smiled.

“And even you’re needing your space, to do some navigating, I’ll be here patiently waiting, to see what you’ll find,” Dot was practically asleep at that point, but neither Yakko nor his mother moved from where they were.

“Cause even the star, they burn. Some even fall to the earth. You’ve got a lot to learn. God knows you’re worth it.” She then kissed Dot on the forehead, slowly standing up.

“No, I won’t give up,” Lena said, more than sang. She paused a moment.

“Goodnight, Dot. I love you very much,” She said, pausing for a response, but Dot was fast asleep, as was the plan. Lena smiled softly before taking her candle and heading toward the door. Yakko panicked and started to run back to his room.

“Yakko, I know you were listening,” Lena said as she closed the door to Dot’s room.

“Sorry- I’ll go to bed now,” He apologized and continued on his way.

“Stop right there mister,” Lena ordered, and Yakko stopped dead in his tracks. his mother approached him slowly.

“You’ve been so anxious as of late, Yakko. I’m worried about you,” she put a hand on his shoulder.

“Well- so have you,” Yakko shrugged.

“Yakko, you’re so much younger than you realize... you’re twelve, for crying out loud. Our burdens should not be your burdens as well,” she stroked his cheek.

“But I wanna help,” he frowned.

“You help out in many meaningful ways, Yakko, but worrying yourself to death isn’t going to do any of us any good,” Lena said. “We need you to take care of yourself, alright?”

Yakko thought long and hard about that.

“But I want to help,” he said. Lena sighed softly.

“I know honey... but for now, the best way to help is to take care of yourself. Try to get some sleep, alright?” She gave him a weak smile. Yakko bit his lip.

“I can try,” was all he promised, which was good enough for the tired princess. Lena gave Yakko a soft kiss on the head.

“Goodnight honey,” She said.

“Goodnight, mom,” He replied, and before he knew it, she was gone.

Yakko frowned at his bedroom door. He knew for a fact he was likely to be unable to sleep, so instead, he headed to the family study, which was quite a bit away from him and his sibs room, or any of the bedrooms really, but he didn’t mind the walk. Once there, he pulled out one of his favorite books, lit a few of the candles, and got to reading.

However, as his eyes scanned the pages, the words from the letter rang in his mind over and over again.

The younger of who? A priority of what? Why wouldn’t she mind? What ‘chaos’? There were simply too many questions in his head.

Perhaps he should have shared them with his mom... that might’ve helped.

Then again, it could also just make her more nervous, which was the last thing he wanted.

He made the right decision, of that he was sure.

Yakko wasn’t sure how long he was reading or attempting to do so, but somehow he had managed to fall asleep against the table. However, a loud crash, sent him straight up, as his mind scrambled to wake up with his body.

What was that? Where did it come from?

Another crashing noise.

It came from the opposite direction of him and his sibs rooms, which meant-

His parent’s room.

Yakko heard shouting, swearing, and fighting of all sorts. He ran to the door to open it, but realized that might not be the best of ideas. To both his panic and relief, the voices seemed to continue going away from his and his sibs rooms, but that meant they were going for his parents.

Once the voices got far enough away, Yakko didn’t hesitate to swing the door open and run. He had to find his mom and dad- he had to make sure they were okay.

It wasn’t hard to follow the mob, as they left a path of destruction behind. Shattered glass, torn down curtains, mud, and other filth on the carpets. Yakko tried not to dwell, as he instead took a short cut to his parent’s room.

Yakko dashed around corners, around furniture, and under a few tables when he thought he might be caught.

However, he was moving so fast, he could hardly stop himself when he dashed around a corner and one of the men saw him, and grabbed him before Yakko could even think to turn around.

“You the little princey we’re lookin’ for?” He laughed, spitting in his face.

“Let me go!” Yakko demanded, but the man didn’t. Instead, he kicked him down, and dragged him down to the end of the hall where he saw-

“Mom!” Yakko gasped.

He honestly hadn’t thought much time had passed, but his mother looked like 50 brutal years had passed on her. Her hair and fur were disheveled, her nightgown was torn. She had more bruises on her face and a gash in her shoulder that was bleeding. Her wrists were tied in rope. . Her face grew mortified when she saw him.

“Let him go! It’s me you want, not him,” Lena pleaded, not looking at Yakko.

“H-huh?” Yakko sniffled.

“Not so fast, your highness,” one said in a mocking tone. “We were told one of ‘em could be collected as a bonus.”

“Please. I’ll do anything- just let him go,” she pleaded.

“No, mom! I wanna stay with you!” Yakko began to cry.

“No Yakko, your siblings need you,” Lena looked at him.

“I need you,” Yakko pleaded.

“Yakko? Aren’t we supposed to be lookin’ for a Wakko?” One man said. Yakko’s eyes widened.

The younger. Priority. Chaos.

They were going to come for Wakko.

“We were told to leave the crown prince alone, and get the middle one,” The tallest one smacked the one holding Yakko over the head. The man holding Yakko let him go, and he ran to his mother.

“Other way, stupid,” One of the men snarled at him.

“Mom, I-i’m not leaving you,” Yakko said.

“You have to. You have to protect Wakko,” Lena put her forehead against his and whispered.

“I-i can’t...” He cried.

“Scram or we’ll make you regret it!” The tallest shouted at him. Yakko gave his mother one last look, before running back with all his might, before he felt something hit him against the back of his head, hard and everything went black.

.o0o.

When Yakko finally opened his eyes again, it was morning. He was surrounded by shattered glass, mud, the smell of torches and firewood, and a throbbing headache in the back of his head.

His parents.

Where were they???

Yakko shot up, ignoring the increase in the throb, and immediately began his search, checking every room he went by.

No, not their bedroom... not the bathroom... not the parlor... not the painting room, not the dining hall, not the kitchen, not the lounge room, not the playroom, not the nursery, not the family study, not this bedroom, not the next, not the next, not the-

“Yakko?” Wakko groggily rubbed his eyes.

“Wakko, you’re okay,” Yakko sighed a breath of relief to find out his brother was still in his bed.

“What’s matter?” he asked, sitting up.

Yakko didn’t have it in him to tell him, so he just turned and left.

“Hey-! Wait! I wanna help!” Wakko protested his leave, and followed him. Yakko still didn’t say anything, checking Dot’s room quietly.

She was still there too.

“What’s the matter Yakko? I wanna help,” Wakko said just a tad too loudly, and Dot was awoken.

“Yakko?” She asked, rubbing her eyes too. Yakko still couldn’t get himself to speak, so he continued his search. Wakko shrugged at his little sister, and Dot decided to join her brother in following Yakko.

Yakko didn’t care that they were following, or that they were confused or worried by his silence. He didn’t care they were asking question after question about the state of the castle, and why so many things were destroyed. He needed to find them. His parents had to be okay. They had to be.

Not in his room, not in Dot’s room, not in the laundry room, not in the tailoring room, not in the dressmaker room, not in the storage room, not in the supply room, not in this bedroom, not-

Angelina I’s private study.

Maybe she’d have some answers.

Yakko didn’t even knock before bursting in.

The queen was already wearing all black, her face covered by a thick veil, though it hardly mattered because she wasn’t facing them anyway, staring out into the window instead.

“Where are they?!” Yakko demanded.

“They’re long gone, Yakko,” she didn’t even turn to look at him.

“Y-y... you’re lying!” He couldn’t accept that. Not now.

“Believe what you will, but you won’t find them here,” She said coldly, clutching her handkerchief tightly.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Yakko commanded his younger siblings as he went out of the room.

“Yakko, who are you talking about? Who are we looking for?” Wakko wasn’t understanding the situation.

Yakko still couldn’t answer.

not in the meeting room, not in the food storage, not in the tower, not in the ballroom, not in the dance lesson room, not in the theater room, not in the foyer-

Wait.

Yakko saw something shining on the floor. Quickly he bolted down the stairs as fast as he could before he realized-

It was his mother’s crown. It would never just be lying on the ground like this. They had to be close. Yakko looked around desperately.

They had to be here.

“Mommy’s crown...” Dot frowned and went to it, but Yakko held his arm out, not daring to disturb it.

“Yakko, why is mum’s crown here? Where is she?” Wakko asked him.

“Yeah, where’s mommy and daddy? I’m scared...” Dot looked up at him.

“they have to be here,” Yakko whispered to himself.

“I can’t do this alone.”

He looked around the room, but his eyes were becoming clouded by tears rapidly filling his eyes. He called out for his parents again, but only a painful echo replied. A sharp wave of pain and numbness washed over him.

Yakko collapsed onto his knees and sobbed.

His parents were gone.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

#my fics #angelina 1 lives au #yakko warner #yakko wakko and dot parents #animaniacs #wakko warner #dot warner #yakko wakko and dot #angst #tw blood #hurt no comfort #tw mentions of death #anxiety

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the-chocoholic-writer · 3 years

Text

Madripoor

Zemo and Sarah’s time in Madripoor

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR EP3, violence, flirting, ect.

Words: 3527

“He’s just through that corridor.” The security guard points to a door down the large hallway. Sarah stand between Sam and Bucky as the guard stops walking.

“Alright. Give us a sec.” Bucky turns to the two as the guard walks off. “I’m gonna go in alone.” Sam and Sarah look at Bucky like he has lost the plot.

“Why?”

“Cause you’re Avengers. You know how he feels about that.”

“Buck it’s not like you two were known for frolickin’ in the sun together.” Sam gestures to where Zemo is.

“This is dangerous Bucky... HE is dangerous.” Sarah states, looking at Bucky, concerned.

“He was obsessed with Hydra... We have a history together. Trust me...” He looks at them. “I got it.” He walks off before they can say anything.

“I hope he’s alright in there...” Sarah says to Sam, after Bucky leaves the pair alone.

“He will be... He’s Bucky.” Sam places his hand on Sarah’s shoulder and gives her a soft smile.

~Later~

“What are you talking about? You wanna break Zemo outta jail? Where the hell are we, Buck? Have you lost your mind?” Sam shines a torch around the large empty room.

“We have no leads, no moves, nothing.”

“What we have is one of the most dangerous men in the world behind bars.”

“And we also have eight Super Soldiers that are loose.” Sam covers his eyes as Bucky shines the light at his face.

“Sarah how do you feel about this?” Sam turn to Sarah. Sarah quickly turns to Sam.

“I don’t think it’s safe to break Zemo out... remember what happened last time we dealt with him?” The pair look at Bucky.

“Exactly. Zemo’s gonna mess with our minds. Especially yours. No offence.” Bucky flips a switch and these large lights begin turning on. The three switch their flashlights off.

“Offense.” Bucky glares at Sam. “Super Soldiers go against everything he believes in. He is crazy, but he still has a code.” Bucky walks away from Sam and Sarah.

“I’ve been on the wrong side of that code, Buck, and so have you and Sarah. He blew up the UN, he killed King T’Chaka and framed you for it. Did you forget that? You think the Wakandans forgot about it? It’s a rhetorical question. They didn’t. I know why this matters to you, but c’mon it’s pushing you off the deep end.” Sam takes a step forward as Bucky opens his arms.

“Sam, we don’t know how they’re gettin’ the serum. We don’t even know how many of them there are.” He sighs softly.

“This is a little too crazy Bucky... we will figure it out okay? We don’t need Zemo.” Sarah steps forward and gives him a soft smile and she rests her hand on his arm.

“Look, let me run you through a hypothetical. Can I run you through a hypothetical?”

“Bucky...” Sarah’s smile turns into a frown, as Sam turns to look at him.

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t... do anything...” Bucky loos to the left, refusing to make eye contact.

“The weakest point in the system isn’t the software, the hardware, it’s the meatware. The human element. Now, in this lockup, it’s nine to one, prisoners to guards, and if two prisoners start fighting then the protocol says four guards have to respond.”

“So why would two prisoners start randomly fighting at that moment?”

“Who knows? There could be many reasons...”

“What I’m hearing is that you started it.” Sarah crosses her arms.

“The point is, these things escalate. Lockdown procedures would have to be initiated, and with all those bodies flying around left and right, it wouldn’t be hard to slip down a hallway or two.” Sarah shakes her head and facepalms, exasperated. Bucky starts up again. “And if the fire alarm got tripped while the prisoners were being separated... someone could use the chair to their advantage.” Bucky does a small shrug.

“I don’t like how causal you’re being about this. This is unnatural. Are you... And where are we, man?” Suddenly, a door loudly opens.

“Bucky, you didn’t...” Sarah gasps at him.

The three look over at a plastic curtain, seeing the silhouette of a man grow smaller the closer he gets, until HE emerges.

“Whoa. Whoa, whoa. hey! What are you doin’ here?”

“No, listen. I didn’t tell you ‘cause I knew neither of you would let this happen.” Bucky looks at Sarah, who is staring at Zemo, eyes wide, knowing memories of what he had done were running through her mind.

“What did you do?!” Sam gets in Bucky’s face.

“We need him, Sam... Sarah.”

“No, Bucky, this is crazy. Even for you!” Sarah growls, a glare plastered to her face.

“You’re going back to prison!” Sam points at Zemo.

“If I may...” The man in question begins.

“NO!” The three yell at him. He looks a little startled by the sudden synchronisation but nods softly and whispers out a small “Apologies.” Bucky turns to Sarah and Sam.

“When Steve refused to sign the Sokovia Accords, you both backed him. You broke the law, and you stuck your necks out for me. I’m asking you both to do it again.”

“I really think I’m invaluable...” Zemo once again interrupts. Sarah groans softly as Sam turns to him, with a glare.

“Shut up.” Zemo squints at him. Sam looks at Bucky and sighs, shaking his head.

“Okay. If we do this, you don’t make a move without our permission.”

Zemo makes a face for a second and nods.

“Fair.”

“I don’t like this...” Sarah looks at Bucky and Sam. The pair shrug and turn back to Zemo.

“Okay, Zemo. Where do we start?” The three look at him as he smiles.

“So our first move is grand theft auto?” Sam looks at the large number of cars.

“These are mine. Collected by family over the generations. I spent years hunting people HYDRA recruited to recreate the serum.” Sarah, Sam and Bucky look around at all of his cars. “Because once it’s out there, someone can crate an army of people... Like the Avengers.” Zemo looks at Sam, his eyes flickering over to Sarah who stands beside Sam. “I ended the Winter Soldier program once before. I have no intention to leave my work unfinished.” He grabs a large coat from the top of his car. “To do this we’ll have to scale a ladder of lowlifes.” He begins walking away from the trio and the car.

“Well, join the party. We’ve already started.”

“First still is a woman named Selby. Mid-level fence I still have a line on. From there, we climb.” Sarah looks at Sam and begins to follow Zemo, Bucky and Sam right behind her.

The four walk towards the door of a private jet where an older man stands, waiting.

“So all this time you’ve been rich?”the look of confusion on Sam’s face made Sarah giggle softly, to herself.

“I’m a Baron, Sam. My family was royalty until your friends destroyed my country.” Sarah watches as Zemo and the older man talk in Russian, happiness and comfort evident on the Baron’s face. “Please.” Zemo gestures and leads the three up the stairs of the jet.

Once the four are in the jet, Sarah sitting across from Zemo. The older man explains the fridge is out.

“If it doesn’t pass the smell test... give it to them. But not the beautiful woman.” Zemo smiles as the older man laughs and leaves. Sarah zoned out of the conversation for some time, translating Zemo’s words and tries to figure out if he had actually meant to say beautiful or not. She is only snapped back to reality when she sees Bucky with his hand around Zemo’s throat.

“I’ve seen that book. It was Steve’s when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man. He wrote it in that book. Did you hear it? What’d you think?” Sam looks at Bucky expectantly.

“I like ‘40s music, so...” Bucky shrugs.

“You didn’t like it?”

“I liked it..”

“Trouble Man is amazing.” Sarah states.

“It is a masterpiece, James. Complete. Comprehensive. It captures the African-America experience.” Sam and Sarah look at Zemo confused for a second before they turn back to Bucky.

“He does have a point.” Sarah agrees with the Baron.

“He’s out of line, but he’s right. It’s great. Everybody loves Marvin Gaye.”

“I liked Marvin Gaye.”

“Steve adored Marvin Gaye.” Sarah shakes her head softly, takes out her phone and headphones out and puts on some ‘calming’ music by Pan!c at the Disco, trying to delve into her own little world as she looks out the window of the jet.

~~In Madripoor~~

“We have to do something about this. I’m the only one who looks like a pimp.” Sam complains.

“Only an American would assume a fashion-forward black man looks like a pimp. You look exactly like the man you’re supposed to be playing. The sophisticated, charming African rake names Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger.” Zemo shows Sam a picture of the man he is impersonating on his phone as the four continue walking.

“He even has a bad nickname. Hell, he does look like me, though.”

“Well you aren’t the only one who hates this plan, Sam...” Sarah walks in between Bucky and the Baron, in a small black dress and black heels that Zemo had bought for her to wear. “Do I really have to wear this? And who the fuck am I supposed to be?” She looks at Zemo, an annoyed glare pointed at him.

“Yes, darling. And you are my fiancée, it would be too suspicious for a new face to show up without a specific reason. No matter what happens, we have to stay in character. Our lives depend on it. There’s no margin for error.” Zemo states as a black car pulls up in front of them. He reached forward and opens the door for Sarah, who nods at him as she climbs into the middle seat, between Sam and Bucky. During the car ride, Zemo’s eyes flicker up to the mirror, watching Sarah. She notices his staring and she looks down, a soft blush covering her face. Suddenly, a group of motorbikes come out of nowhere, surrounding the car.

The car pulls up and Sam, Bucky and Zemo climb out of the car. Sarah turns to climb out after Bucky but an outstretched hand stops her. Specifically Zemo’s hand, waiting for her to take it. She reaches out and places her small hand in his and he helps her out of the car, wrapping his arm around her waist. Sarah tenses and he leans down, lips millimeters away from her ear.

“You’re my girl here, that’s your character.” He whispers huskily. The hand on her waist gives her a soft squeeze. She takes a small breath and leans against him, as the four of them walk along the walk above the large crowd of people.

As the four of them walk into the Princess Bar, Zemo’s grip on her tightens, pressing her close to him. The fur on his coat tickles her cheek and neck. “Here we are... Ready to comply, Winter Soldier?” Zemo asks as he leads Sarah, Sam and Bucky to the bar, still holding the woman’s waist. As the four make it to the bar, the bartender walks over, surprise written all over his face.

“Hello Miss, Gentlemen. Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.”

“His plans changed. We have business to do with Selby.” The bartender looks at Zemo with suspicion, then looks at the Sam.

“The usual?” Sam nods.

“Ah... Smiling Tiger, your favourite.” Zemo says, watching the bartender cut open a snake, using it to make the Smiling Tigers usual drink.

“I love these..” Sam says with slight hesitation. Zemo lifts his drink.

“Cheers Conrad.” Zemo drinks his own as Sarah sips on her drink, watching the two. Sam hesitates, then takes the drink like a shot, giving the bartender a thumbs up.

A man walks up behind Zemo and as he turns, moves Sarah out of the way of any possible harm.

“I got word from on high. You ain’t welcome here.”

“I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists, he can either come and talk to me...” Zemo gestures to Bucky.

“New haircut?” The man questions Bucky.

“Or bring Selby for a chat.” Zemo watches the man. He looks at Zemo, then at Bucky, then Sam and lastly towards Sarah who is peeking out from behind Zemo’s protective stance.

“A Power Broker? Really?” Bucky looks at Zemo, obviously done with this situation.

“Every kingdom needs its king.” Zemo slides his arm back around Sarah, softly and sneakily massaging the small area on her waist. “Let’s just pray we stay under his radar.”

“Do you know him?” Sam questions.

“Only by reputation.”

“That doesn’t sound to good.” Sarah mumbles, taking another sip of her drink.

“It’s not. In Madripoor, he is judge, jury and executioner.” Zemo looks around the room and then turns back to the bar. “Winter Soldier. Attack.” The moment the man roughly placed his hand on Zemo, Bucky’s metal arm shot out, grabbing his wrist and twisting, pushing the man to the middle of the floor.

Sam, Sarah and Zemo watch as Bucky kicks ass left and right, causing not only damage to the people but to the furniture around him. Zemo leans close to Sarah and Sam.

“Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form.” Zemo states. Bucky slams a man down onto the bar, then the sound of guns cocking. Sam and Zemo look around the bar at everyone and Zemo grabs Sarah, pulling her close, trying to protect her. Sam places a hand on Bucky’s arm.

“Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us.” Zemo whispers to Sam, then he turns to Bucky. “Well done, Soldier.” The bartender watches as Bucky doesn’t let go of the man.

“Selby will see you now.” Bucky let’s go of the man, slowly.

“Thank you.” Zemo nods and gives Sarah’s waist a squeeze. Sam turns to Bucky.

“You good?” He says softly. Bucky looks at Sam quickly before following Zemo and Sarah. Sam following shortly after.

“You should know, Baron. People don’t just come into my bar and make demands.” The woman, Selby, state as the four enter the room.

“Not a demand. An offer.” Zemo sits down, Sarah sitting down on his lap.

“A lot has changed since you were here last.” Sarah decides at that moment to play the character she was given and rests her head on Zemo’s shoulder, playing with the ends of his hair, sneakily paying attention to the entire conversation. Sarah then slides off the Baron’s lap, he gestures for her to sit back where he was sitting and he walks over to Bucky.

“And I give you him.” He walks around, behind Bucky, who looks like a statue. “Along with the code words to control him, of course. He will do anything you want.” Zemo runs his fingers over Bucky’s chin, softly grabbing and wiggling the end.

“Now that’s the Zemo I remember. I’m glad I decided not to kill you immediately. However, I want something else to go along with him.” She smirks at the two men, slowly turning to look at Sarah, who is still sitting on the chair opposite her. “I want that pretty little thing as well.” Zemo walks away from the soldier and Sarah scoots out of the chair for him to sit, taking her original place in his lap.

“Not this one, she’s mine.” His hand cups Sarah’s butt and squeezes, as a way of staking his claim in front of Selby. Sarah, deciding she didn’t like the way the woman talked about her as though she’s an object, steps in.

“I belong to my Baron.” She runs her fingers through the back of his hair. Selby looks disappointed by gives Zemo the information about the Super Soldier Serum and a man called Dr. Wilfred Nagel.

“You can’t find Nagel without me.” Sam’s phone vibrates suddenly.

“Sam? Who’s Sam? Kill them!” Suddenly Selby is on the floor dead with a bullet wound and then chaos ensues. Bucky and Sam take out two of her bodyguards as Sarah pulls a knife out from under her dress and stabs another in between the eyes. She lets the body fall and hit the ground, turns to look at the three men who came with her, staring at her in shock.

“Did you three REALLY think I was coming HERE, defenceless??” Sarah rolls her eyes. The four move towards the exit.

“They’re gonna pin this on us.” Sam states, leaning against the door. Zemo sighs, as Sarah sheaths her knife, the three men’s eyes lingering on her exposed thigh.

“We have a real problem now, so leave your weapons and follow my lead.”

Bucky, Sam, Sarah and Zemo quickly leave the area, the sound of phones receiving messages going off all around them. Zemo’s arm is once again around Sarah’s waist.

“This is not good...” suddenly the light above them go out and multiple gun shots are heard. The four duck and Zemo turns and drags Sarah off down an alley, leaving Bucky and Sam.

“Zemo wait! I can’t run in the-“

Sarah trips, her eyes closed as she waits for the rough impact but instead feels the soft fur from Zemo’s coat. He caught me... the two stare at each other for a moment before Zemo picks Sarah up and continues running down the alleyway.

Finally they got to the end of the alley and turn the corner to see Sam and Bucky standing there, as a body falls.

“You seem to have a guardian angel.” He points out.

“Well this is too perfect.” The last person the four expected to see was Sharon Carter to walk out of the shadow. “Let go of Sarah and drop it, Zemo.” Zemo puts the gun down and lets of Sarah reluctantly.

“Sharon?” Bucky takes a step forward.

~~~~ skip forward to the party at Sharon’s~~~~

Sarah stands off to the side of the crowd still wearing the dress Zemo bought her. Bucky and Sam are talking as she looks around at the dancing crowd only to see Zemo...

Sarah let’s put a tiny laugh, shaking her head at the sight. When she looks back up at him, he is gesturing for her to come dance with him. Sarah thinks for a second before a goofy smile appears and she pushes off the bar and joins Zemo in the crowd.

“Those are so great moves!” She calls out to him over the crowd, he grabs her hands and continues dancing.

“Then dance with me!” He calls back, a large goofy smile on his face. The pair end up dancing and looking at some of the artwork together until they meet up with Sam and Bucky, waiting for Sharon.

“Hey, guys. I found him.” Sharon motions for the four to follow her. Sam turns to Bucky.

“Here we go.”

“Alright, he’s in there. Container four-two-six-one. Sarah and I will keep an eye out while you guys talk to Nagel. But hurry. We’re on borrowed time.” Sharon holds out her palm with five ear pieces for everyone. Sarah, Sam, Bucky and Zemo take theirs and Sharon leads Sarah away from the group, noticing how Zemo watches as the two disappear.

Minutes later, Sharon turns to Sarah.

“So, Zemo seems to have taken a liking to you?” She smirks.

“No he doesn’t.” Sarah shakes her head as she looks around, guarding the shipping container. “It was Allan act. I had to pretend to be his fiancée to get into the club.”

“It’s pretty obvious it wasn’t an act, when I showed up pointing that gun at him, he was being protective.” Sarah rolls her eyes as Sharon nudges her.

The pair are oblivious to the fact that their earpieces were still on and Zemo, Sam and Bucky could hear everything. Sam and Bucky turn slowly to glare at Zemo and if looks could kill, he would have been dead already. However he isn’t paying attention to the two, instead distracted by the voices in his ear and the burnin blush covering his cheeks.

~~~ After the explosion and Zemo’s scene of him kicking ass ~~~

Zemo pulls up in front of the group and shrugs.

“Supercharged.”

Bucky climbs in the passenger seat and Sam climbs in behind him, Sarah walking around the front of the car. Before she opens the passenger door behind Zemo, he opens his door.

“Come here for a second.” Sarah looks at him inquisitively but complies, standing in front of him. Zemo reaches up, grabs her waist and pulls her onto his lap, passionately kissing her for a minute, Sam complaining in the back. He pulls away and smirks, giving her a small wink. She blushes and he pats her ass, for her to climb into her seat. She does so in a daze and once she is buckled in, Zemo takes off.

#Fatws #Fatws sam #fatws bucky #fatws ep 3 #fatws zemo #fatws baron zemo #Sam wilson #bucky barnes #baron zemo #helmut zemo #helmut Zemo x reader #helmut zemo x oc #Baron zemo x reader #Baron zemo x oc #Zemo x reader #Zemo x oc #Female oc

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Text

sparks and embers - chapter 4

Characters: Poe Dameron x Original Female Character, Kylo Ren x Original Female Character

Story Tags: Explicit (18+), Canon Compliant/Divergent (Set after TLJ), First Person POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Porn with Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren hates Poe Dameron

Chapter 4 - Fun

Words: 5.7k

Chapter Tags/Warnings: The biggest warning I can give is that this was my first ever attempt at smut - ever. Mutual masturbation, one party technically unconsented.

Read on AO3 or Start from the beginning

It was paradise and torture, all rolled into one.

He looked unbearably delicious sitting on the ‘fresher stool, facing away, towel draped carefully below his waist. Steam rose in swirling clouds from the floor around him, making the air heavy as I drew in slow, measured breaths.

Poe didn’t look up as I moved past the open curtain, and I could only assume it was because he felt as uneasy as I did. Without much control over myself, my eyes traced the droplets wriggling down his back over his now unwound muscles, wanting nothing more than to draw my fingers over, to feel his smooth skin on the tips.

It was all so enticing, and the throb in my centre becoming harder to ignore. I was forced to put more thought into my movements as I stepped towards the shelf in front of Poe, wondering if he noticed the side glances I attempted to get a better view.

Now is not the time Alexys.

The remark shook me back into sensible thinking, realising Poe was in a vulnerable position, and he trusted me enough to see him like this. He wouldn’t want to be gawked at - he genuinely needed assistance.

With a newfound sense of responsibility, I took the shampoo from the shelf and rounded back behind Poe’s head, his hair glistening with moisture, looking at nothing but my hands. He was silent along with me, probably bracing himself for this stranger to mangle their fingers awkwardly into his hair.

I squirted a stream of liquid shampoo on his head, the icy temperature of it making him tense for a moment, noticing when he raised his bandaged hand to grasp the side railing of the chair. Timidly I began to run my fingers through the portion of I’d covered, building the soap up into a foam, continuing to spread it through the rest of his wettened mop.

There was a warmth that soon arrived, spreading through my chest as I drew my fingers in and out, a warmth that felt less salacious and more… kind. And it would have stayed that way if Poe hadn’t hummed a low moan.

Oh maker, you are not making this easy.

As soon as it bristled past his lips he bolted upright.

“S-sorry,” he stuttered, evidently surprised himself at the sound he’d made. “No one has washed my hair before, I mean if you don’t count my parents when I was a child. It just felt... nice.”

I didn’t respond, making the air hang thick with our silence. Nothing I could say was going to make the moment any less awkward for the both of us.

After briefly stopping the twirling movement of my fingers following the… sound, I continued my lather over his scalp, making sure every particle of dirt, sweat and most likely blood was caught in the froth of soap.

When content with my work I reached over his shoulder and unhooked the detachable shower head, my eyes still trained on anything other than his bare skin. After angling it down, I pressed the start button on the handle, the flow of water hitting my bare feet as I made sure the water was an acceptable temperature before letting the cascade of soapy water rush down his spine.

With my hand I began to guide him to tilt back so I could safely wash out the soap just above his forehead. In this position I could see more of his face, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, eyebrows wrinkled like he was uncomfortable.

“Is the water too hot?” I peeped, pulling the shower head away.

His eyes opened in a flash, startled by my question. “No! Not at all! I was just lost in thought about… Uh… How to fix BB-8. It’s fine, really.” He shifted in the chair, his bandaged arm still gripping onto the rail while his casted arm rested rigidly over his lap. As I moved the water stream back to his hair, his eyes closed again, this time without the tautness I’d noticed before.

After all the shampoo had been thoroughly rinsed I began the process again, only this time with conditioner. I didn’t ask if he actually wanted it, since it was more out of my own habit, but he didn’t stop me when I grabbed the bottle and jetted the thicker liquid into his hair, continuing to slowly massage it into his tresses.

It became somewhat relaxing, methodically weaving my fingers to evenly spread the silky lotion to every strand. He moved uneasily again, and I noticed the hand holding the rail was clutching tightly, his bicep tensed hard.

Maybe I’m terrible at this.

Deciding it was time to finish this embarrassing experience, I started up the water and rinsed Poe’s head free of conditioner, again seeing the strain washing over his face as he leaned back, like he was trying to conceal it from my view.

I rustled a fresh towel over his scalp, leaving his hair only slightly dampened. “I’m sorry if I hurt you,” I mumbled. “I’m not used to washing patients’ hair.”

Poe immediately twisted his torso, looking up to my face. I gritted my teeth as I registered his contracted abdominals. “What are you talking about? You didn’t hurt me.”

My eyes flickered to his arm. “You just seemed really... tense.”

“Uh,” Poe mouthed, the sound muted. I watched his eyes move down my chest, pupils swollen against his brown irises. He didn’t continue. He seemed lost for words.

I followed the trail his stare had made down my torso, sucking in an alarmed breath. I’d diverted so much of my thoughts towards Poe I hadn’t recognised the spray of water that’d soaked through my white cotton shirt, my bra now starkly visible through the dampened fabric. The cloth clung tightly to the curves of my breasts, leaving extremely little to imagination.

Of-fracking-course.

I laughed. A body shaking cackle that bounced off the tiled walls around us.

Any embarrassment in me simmered to hilarity at the thought of Poe’s face with my chest readily on show. His illuminating smile continued to flash as he chuckled along with me, and I couldn’t help but relish in it for the moments in which we continued to snicker.

When my laughter died down, I sighed, not exactly attempting to cover myself. He’d already seen what I had on display. “Well I think I’ve done just about as much as I can,” I jested, a smirk still drawn on my lips. “Do you think you can get yourself dressed? There are more night-clothes in the cupboard behind you.”

“I think I can manage,” he grinned back, seemingly relieved at the disruption from whatever tension had risen during this whole endeavour.

And with that, I sauntered out from the ‘fresher, closing the door gently behind me. My heart pounded to the beats of memories dashing into my mind, barely able to strangle a coherent understanding of everything I’d felt. It was all I could deliberate on as I entered my living quarters at the end of the hall and changed into new shirt - navy blue this time. My mind desperately tried to collect all the emotions I had experienced in the last 30 minutes and render some form of comprehension from them.

It was clear, I’d grown unprofessionally attached to Poe, so quickly, and more than any other human I’d encountered.

You like him.

It was a simple answer, yet it felt childish, to have developed a juvenile-like crush so soon after our meeting. I knew it was more to do with his appearance than our limited interactions, even though they were still somewhat endearing. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d experienced any of this heart fluttering emotion.

There were a few men that littered my past, but I had yet to experience the all-consuming, overwhelming need for someone that made people do irrational things, and I was sure no-one had ever thought of me in that way.

Only fleetingly had I endured any type of loneliness during my time on Raxus, and it usually passed as I woke to a new day - my work and my patients being wonderful distractions. I’d become so independent, so self-sufficient, that I never yearned to have someone become the centre of my universe.

Come now Alexys. You know that is not the reason why.

I gripped the sheets at the edge of my bed I had found myself sitting on.

You cannot let anyone too close. Not unless you want them to die along with you.

Before I could let the voice cause me to dive into an ocean of panic, I heard the ‘fresher door click closed.

“Alex?” Poe called from the hallway.

My feet planted onto the floor as I stood, letting the anxiety dissipate into the air around me. “Back here Poe.” I listened to his footsteps plod along the floor as he limped towards my living quarters, along with a few quiet huffs of effort. When he came into view at the entrance he still looked as appealing as before, even without his bare skin on show.

“You live in your clinic?” he questioned, looking around the apartment style quarters I’d constructed with the help of a few locals.

It was simple, efficient. The sizable room had everything a normal home would contain, all pulled into one. Kitchenette and dining table to the left, living room with a small two-seater sofa at the back wall, and my bed and closet to the right. A door leading to an ensuite ‘fresher was in the far right corner, one I only used if an overnighter patient was with me.

“It’s so I can still monitor a patient’s condition when they’re unable to return home yet. Remember, I’m the only doctor for thousands of kilometres.” I motioned to the holoscreen on my bedside table that would usually be displaying the vitals for any patients connected to monitor lines. There were only flat lines and zeros there now.

Poe cocked his head. “You don’t ever stop do you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Being a doctor, looking after people. Even in your own quarters you’re still in that mode.” He hobbled further into the room, taking in the space around him.

“I’m sure you’re the same with your work for the Resistance.”

“True,” he conceded. “Being in the middle of a war tends to do that to people.”

I couldn’t hold back a cynical snort.

His eyebrows crinkled together. “What did that mean?”

Kriff. I wish I hadn’t done that.

“I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Just tell me,” he grumbled.

I pressed my lips into a hard line. I didn’t really want to start a heated discussion about the futility of this war with a Resistancepilot. But from the interactions I’d had with Poe so far, I doubted he was going to let this go.

“It’s just… Don’t you see the pointlessness of it all? Even if you overcome the First Order – how long will it be before another enemy rises up, or your new leaders become the same ruthless dictators themselves?” My voice grew less apprehensive, straightening myself into a more confident pose. “People are fickle. They change. Their emotions rule them beyond anything else, and because of that they can be manipulated so easily. People who swore fealty to one side can be dragged onto the other. The cycle never ends. There will always be more war, more fighting, more innocent deaths.”

Poe stared at me, bewildered. “You think it’s pointless to fight back against the First Order? People who conquer or destroy planets simply for more power? You’d rather we let them do as they please, letting billionsof innocent people die?”

“No of course not-” I started, already regretting every word I’d said.

“But that’s what you just implied, isn’t it? How can a doctorhave such a bleak view of the galaxy?”

I sighed, more at myself for opening my big mouth. “I’m just a realist Poe. People fight, we can’t help it. And those with the most power will fight to keep it, no matter how. I’ve just… I’ve seen too many people die, or damaged for the rest of their lives, for me to think war can ever generate peace.”

Poe’s eyes narrowed, his demeanour darkening. “You don’t think I’ve seen people, my friends, die or horribly injure themselves? You don’t think I’ve seen what war does? I still want to keep on fighting. I haveto. For the people that I’ve lost, who gave their lives for the rest of us, and the people I could save. Because people deserve a galaxy without a tyrant like Kylo Ren deciding who should live and who should die. Somehow, in your eyes, you think it’s pointless to even try?”

I didn’t have any type of acceptable answer. It was rude of me to point out the flaws of war with someone who had risked their life, and most likely come close to death because of it. “I’m… sorry Poe,” I insisted softly, settling back down on the edge of the bed. “It’s not my place to give my opinion on matters like this. I truly apologise if I offended you.”

I glanced up from twiddling fingers to see his delicately confused expression. He exhaled loudly, as he wobbled painfully to one of the chairs of the circular dining table across the room, straightening his injured leg out to rest it.

“I’m sorry too," he said, exhaling. “I’ve been living my life with the Resistance for so long I forgot there might be people who don’t believe in the cause like we do.”

“It makes sense,” I remarked. “Sometimes you get caught up in the bubble of the world around you, it’s hard to see beyond it.”

He nodded. “That’s very true.”

We sat in silence for a moment, both letting the heated exchange dry out into passing memories. Poe continued to peer around the room, his eyes scanning with a subtle scrutiny. “So what do you do when you’re not being a doctor?” he asked, the fierceness from before completely replaced by his normal cheerful tone.

“You mean in my free time?”

“Yeah. Do you have anything that keeps your mind away from all that... doctor work?”

I felt my face crinkle into confusion. “I… I don’t really.”

His expression mirrored mine. “You don’t have any hobbies? Something you do just for fun?”

“Uh…” I started, raking through my brain for anything I did outside the realm of my work. “Huh. I guess I don’t. I may just be the most boring person alive.”

Poe chuckled, and shook his head. “That’s definitely not true.” He met my eyes, flashing me a comforting grin. “You’re just hyper-focused on your work. Trust me, I get that. Sometimes all I even dream about are war council sessions and my ship interface. But you’ve got to switch off eventually, otherwise you’ll go insane.”

I was slightly dubious at that sentiment, since I’d made it over 4 years without slipping into insanity, but Poe’s question made me take check. Truthfully, I couldn’t remember the last time I had fun, when I felt joy in something other than making ill people better again.

Poe could see my face begin to fall. “Hey come on, let’s try now. You’ve only got me as a patient, and I am in no need for your treatment right now. Think of something you used to do, or always wanted to, and we can have a go of it together.”

His sudden eagerness to help made my heart swell. “Uh... sure. Okay.”

Poe nodded once without speaking, urging me to search through my mind for an idea. But it was hard to think when I kept looking at his face, now melted into an enthusiastic smile. I made my eyes glare at my feet, since they would be significantly less distracting while I attempted to think of a supposedly fun activity.

Even when I’d finished my work for the day, on the rare occasion I had no overnighters staying with me, I simply returned to these quarters to have dinner and prepare myself for sleep. In the moments between, all I tended to do was read over current news and research on my data pad, sometimes flicking through medical texts if I was stumped on how to deal with a patient’s condition, especially when it came to rarer alien species. Generally, I would be so tired from the day that I never needed to pass my time with anything remotely hobby based. My focus would be to eat, use the ‘fresher and settle into an easy slumber.

And in this singular moment, I realised how monotonous it all was.

Poe saw me struggling, although probably not knowing it was at the realisation that I had no idea what fun was anymore. “Okay, how about games? Surely you’ve played at least one holo or card game in your life?”

“Well yeah, but that was years ago, and I don’t have any-” I stopped mid-sentence, the flicker of a memory rising into my mind’s view. “Wait here a second.” Hopping up from my bed, I made my way to the office, switching on the light. A large wooden desk sat in the centre, littered with old patient notes I had been in the middle of updating when my life had been so suddenly interrupted with Poe’s appearance.

I ignored them to walk towards the storage cupboard behind it. It took a few minutes of rummaging through stacks of files and old pieces of obsolete medical equipment to find what I’d come in here for - a small, rectangular metal case the size of my two hands, snatching it from the shelf I’d mindlessly placed it on nearly 3 years ago.

Bringing it back with me into my quarters, I quickly sat at the dining table next to Poe, who turned to face me with a look of intrigue. I opened the case, exposing the contents inside. “An old patient of mine gifted this to me, promised to teach me how to play. He… never got the chance to.”

My mind wandered in the memory of the older gentleman who had been struck down with Quannot’s syndrome, only lasting a few days before his unavoidable death. I recalled how much I mourned his passing, distressed at how little I could do to ease his pain before he left this world.

“Sabbac!” Poe burst, interrupting my sombre reminiscing.

I shook myself back into the current reality. “You know how to play?”

“Of course, almost every being in the galaxy knows how,” he scoffed. Only after he noticed me shifting awkwardly in my seat did he realise what he’d said. “Uh, sorry. Come on, I’ll teach you.” He continued to pull the cards out of the case, laying them out face up in a specific order. “Okay, so this is the Flask suit...”

If we were playing for real money, Poe would have put me in the red.

“23? Again? You’re definitely cheating,” I grumbled, huffing into my seat, not for the first time of the evening. After I’d grasped the basic concept of the game, we’d played for hours, time passing quickly in the midst of bluffing and strategy.

Poe was evidently enjoying the immaturity of my tantrum, laughing softly as he pulled the last of my chips towards his already immense pile. “I guess beginner’s luck didn’t really work out for you in this case,” he sniggered.

I pouted, watching him stack the chips neatly in coloured towers. “Well, I’m out. You took me for all I’ve got.”

“But didn’t you have fun?”

I nodded and grinned, conceding even when I’d been horrendously beaten, but was a combination of both him and the game we’d played that made me feel an unfamiliar contentment warm my body. I eyed him marvelling his chips, an expression of pride filling his features. “You really like winning, don’t you?”

“Being with the Resistance, you kind of get used to savouring the wins when they occur. Doesn’t happen exceedingly often.” His thoughts seemed to drift away, and in his face I knew he was pondering over the state of affairs back at base with him missing.

“I have no doubt they’ll be searching day and night for you,” I soothed, hoping I guessed correctly.

Poe attempted a smile, but it dissolved when a large sigh breathed past his lips. “I’m doing my best not to worry. The people there, they’re all smart and capable, but we had a plan… and I haven’t been able to see it through. We were running out of time as it is. I can only imagine how concerned they'll be after not receiving a report in over two day cycles.”

“It’ll be okay,” I said softly, tentatively placing a hand on his upper arm, above where I’d placed the plastic cast. “I know it sounds kind of naïve, but when I’m overwhelmed, especially in my work, I break everything down into smaller problems, and try to face the most pressing one. The big picture doesn’t matter, it’s all about solving the most concerning challenge at the time. And little by little, the whole situation becomes… easier.”

“It does sound a little naïve. But… I like it.”

“It worked for me when I was trying to save you.” I gave his arm a reassuring squeeze.

Poe didn’t respond. He seemed to ruminate in his own mind, his mouth in a forced, hard line. I watched as his eyes glanced down to where my palm rested around his bicep, then back to me.

His gaze was suddenly heated, smouldering, so intense it locked me into place, a ribbon of flames darting through my veins. I noticed the speckles of gold hidden through his irises, as it occurred to me how close our bodies had become during the time spent sitting at the dining table. The air around felt dense, the only sound I could register my own gradual breathing.

Poe's vision wouldn’t move from mine, his blazing stare a stark difference from the rest of his softened features. It felt as if his movements were in slow motion, the way he lifted his bandaged arm, a hand reaching up to my face.

I remained unmoving, even when my entire being began to flicker with electricity, igniting sparks at every nerve ending on my skin. Fingertips finally touched my cheek, grazing over it so delicately, yet still making the energy glowing through me intensify, as if trying to break free from my body.

Poe began to lean closer, and unconsciously I mirrored his movement, wanting nothing more in this moment than to feel his lips on mine.

Stop this Alexys. Stop it now.

The voice caused me to jerk backwards, pulling myself away from Poe’s touch, rising abruptly out of the chair. “This is… this is inappropriate,” I peeped, rushing directly to my ensuite ‘fresher, clicking the door closed. With my back pressed against the door, I slid slowly down until my rear hit the tiled floor.

I could still feel the heat of Poe’s fingertips on my cheek, a painful reminder of what I’d run away from. But the echo of what the voice had demanded still rattled through, and I knew it was right. I knew I couldn’t let myself get too close - I couldn’t give in to the sudden desire that had shimmered inside my chest.

It would cost me my safety, my work, my purpose of being. I’d risked everything to get here, given up all I knew of home. I wouldn’t let it all be in vain on the whim of my emotions.

There was no way to stop it, the lone tear that strolled down my cheek. It was a mere fraction of the sobs I wanted to express, both despair and frustration gripping me in a strangling hold.

With shaking palms held front of me, I traced each creased line in the flesh with my eyes. Not for the first time, I cursed at the energy that flowed through them, unlocked from the depths of my consciousness and healed those who needed it the most, those who would have otherwise died when even the greatest medical care couldn’t save them.

I’d kept it hidden for my whole life, the Force I’d been born with and couldn’t escape from. I’d concealed it from everyone, including my parents, keeping a far enough distance to hold my secret within my mind.

Only two outcomes came with exposure. One being I would be recruited, trained as a Jedi and guilted by the Resistance to join a war I didn’t believe in. The other being hunted by the Sith, or any kind of dark side user, and killed for showing any type of prowess with the Force like so many younglings before, or swayed into the war to fight on their behalf.

There was no way either side would allow me to slip from their grasp once they knew. They would never tolerate my neutrality and let me stay here in the countryside of an Outer Rim planet, doing exactly what I wanted to do. Heal.

Why me? Why did this have to happen to me?

Because you do not want it.

That’s cruel.

Such is life.

I wasn’t sure how long I spent sitting on the ‘fresher floor, ceaselessly on the verge of tears, yet never allowing the emotion to fully break. A creeping feeling of humiliation had started to filter in a short time ago as I recounted over and over how abruptly I’d run from Poe.

My eyes hadn’t caught the glimpse his face after I wrenched myself away from his hand, yet all I could do was imagine it now, features struck with shock and rejection. I’d barely heard him leave my quarters after I’d shut myself away, faintly recalling his right leg still making a larger thumping sound when he walked into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

That memory had taken place hours ago, and my body was beginning to ache after another large portion of time connected to hard tile.

The only thing I wished for now was the comfort of my bed, to sleep away this evening and wake to a fresh day. But I couldn’t. There was still a patient to look after. I needed check on Poe’s condition, update vitals, make sure his wounds were still healing. For my own benefit, I would rather wait for the morning when some of the lingering awkwardness would have dissipated, but there was no possibility of sleep without being sure he was still in good health.

Plus, I hadn’t told him about the food supplies waiting in the clinic cupboard. Being so distracted by playing cards I'd never made us dinner, and he needed all the sustenance he could get to heal properly.

With a fragile resolve to get it done and over with, I peeled myself from my sitting position, joints popping at the movement after being inactive for so long. I peered slowly through the door, on the small chance Poe was out there waiting to greet me, but it was just the empty quarters that filled my view.

For a reason I couldn’t discern, I began to tread lightly towards the hallway door, the stillness of night sending a quick shiver down my spine. Before opening it I glanced back at my chronometer on the bedside table.0200.

He was probably asleep by now.

Hesitation washed through me, knowing if that were true I shouldn’t go poking him awake just to assess basic vitals. But the urge was too strong, pushing me to step into the hallway, tip-toeing cautiously over the floor.

I was halfway down when I heard Poe’s low exhale echo through the passageway.

Hm, maybe he was dreaming.

My movements halted, waiting for another sound to confirm my guess. Soon enough, a louder sigh floated towards my ears, tainted with an emotion I couldn’t name.

I continued to tread ever so lightly towards the clinic entrance, noticing the lights had been shut off except for the lamp at Poe’s bedside softly illuminating the room. I shifted carefully closer, almost at the doorway, Poe’s relaxed breaths still filling my ears as I took nimble steps towards the noise.

When a low, breathy moan swirled into the air, my body froze.

The fire in my lower abdomen crackled to life at the sound, making my limbs heavy, locking me where I stood, hidden from view.

Another moan, louder this time, rumbled past Poe’s lips, and I savoured the way it hit my body. My hearing strained to collect every wavelength of sound coming from just outside the hallway entrance. There was movement, a rustling of fabric of some sort, a slight creak of the bed frame.

I could feel my throat growing tighter, fearful of my breath alerting him to my presence, as the realisation of what was happening - what he was doing - finally dug its claws into my skin.

Poe groaned in pleasure as I began to recognise the sound of a repetitive slippery motion over flesh, the flames inside bursting into an inferno, the fever hottest between my legs.

I leant my back on the hallway wall closest to Poe’s hospital bed, fearing my knees would buckle underneath me. His breathing became faster, more passionate, as the pace of his movement grew more rapid.

Inside my mind, I was bombarded with hypothetical images of his body in the next room, a strong hand gripped tightly around the shaft of his length, shifting up and down. The gasps he continued to make fell into time with my imagination, the sound of skin making a slicking friction keeping rhythm with the urgent pumping of his hand I visualised with impeccable realism.

My fingernails scraped at the wall, eyelids shut tightly while Poe’s delicious moans sent shockwaves through my circulatory system. I’d never felt so much lust in my life, knowing if I caught any other male in this vulnerable position I would have scuttled away quickly, mortified. Yet the reality of Poe touching himself a few metres away, not knowing I was here listening to his rising pleasure, made an urgent craving throb between my legs, one that needed to be relieved. Now.

Little care had been paid to my sexual needs in the last 4 years on this planet. Suddenly, it felt like I had to give into it otherwise I might die.

Poe’s breath hitched, a sharp inhale indicating he was getting closer to his peak. The singular noise made me slip my hand down past the border of my leggings and under my panties, sliding a finger down in between my folds. A slick moisture was waiting, more than I’d ever felt in previous encounters.

Dragging two fingers through it, preparing myself, Poe’s groans became hungrier, desperate. As soon as I began the motion of relieving the ache below, fingers gliding gently over my swollen clit, the flames fizzled, only to be replaced with an immense sparkle of electricity radiating from low in my core.

I inhaled sharply, like Poe had done, and hoped he was too lost in his own pleasure to notice the sound I’d made. When the steady noise of his hand running smoothly over his shaft continued without pause, I knew I’d not broken my cover.

My thoughts intensified to him, envisioning his arm tensing as he held himself within his grasp, his chest bare with muscles contracting along with his movements, a thin layer of sweat glistening on his skin.

Fingertips slid quickly back and forth over my pleasure point as I pictured his face contorted in both effort and enjoyment, his mouth opening only slightly as luscious groans seeped from his throat. I grit my teeth to stop from moaning myself, an undeniable bliss growing stronger with each swirling motion. My chest heaved through silent breaths I couldn’t articulate with noise, mind muddled with overwhelming images of every part of Poe’s body I so desperately wanted to see with my own eyes.

But I refused to move. I didn’t want to break the course of the moment, wishing for nothing more than to hear the sound of his release, knowing it would push me into my own. He wasn’t rushing into it, almost as if savouring this time alone, moans rising only to fall as he slowed his pace again.

I didn’t do the same.

The circling over my clitoris continued to accelerate, tiny instances of my waiting climax peeking their way out every so often, telling me I was getting closer to falling over the edge.

My legs were shaking, being held up by pure resolve to prevent any noise resonating from my body. Poe was speeding up his movement again, but this time he didn’t slow, stuttered sighs escaping his chest, and it hastened my climbing pleasure. I was close, I could feel the tipping point bubbling under the surface of my skin.

Slowly, I heard him growl a few barely comprehensible words.

“Ugh… Alex... yes...”

My release abruptly exploded through me at the sound of my name on his lips, pleasure pulsing in overflowing waves over every portion of flesh. Front teeth bit hard into my bottom lip, preventing the whine I desperately wanted to set free. It was the most intense sensation I’d ever felt, sparks flickering in both the deepest part of my core and the nerves of my limbs, making me shiver in delight.

Quickly, I was all too sensitive, pulling my fingers away, eyeing the sheen of moisture that covered them. My attention was again caught in Poe’s moaning, as he too reached his peak, muted gasps coming in jolts as he finally came, obviously attempting much like me not to make any excessive noise.

Eventually he began to heave in relief, breaths hissing gradually through his teeth. We both stayed in our positions for a minute or so, relishing in the afterglow of our separate orgasms, the flames I’d felt down below settling into smouldering embers.

I was mulling over the pleasure I’d gone without for years, when I heard Poe rustle in his bed, feet softly plodding on the floor. It took two steps for me to finally realise.

He’s coming this way.

Next Chapter

Tag list: @tlcwrites @roanniom @foxilayde @blackberries45 @hopeamarsu @caillea @princessxkenobi @leatherboundbirate @blowthatpieceofjunk @mylifeisactuallyamess @poedameronloverx @lightsinthedistancee @paterson-blue

#poe dameron #poe dameron x original female character #kylo ren #kylo ren x original female character #star wars #star wars fanfiction #adcu #adcu fanfiction #poe dameron x reader #kylo ren x reader

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det-loki · 4 years

Text

poison & wine part five

Oh, you let your feet run wild Time has come as we all oh, go down

warnings: angst, mention of harm to a dog, cussing, kidnap/drug/alcoholism mention

pairing: detective loki x fem reader

word count: 3,554

A/N: feedback is welcomed! let me know what you think and if you want more!

1 2 3 4 ⌽ 6

You stared blankly at the ground in Captain O’Malley’s office as Loki was talking to him angrily.

David was pissed.

Arriving at the station this morning, you found out Alex had been missing after calling Holly about a dog that had been hit after Alex took it for a walk and never came back. You leaned against the wall lazily, observing the conversation between David and O’Malley.

The dog collar had been thrown onto the captain's desk, Loki gesturing to it, “Holly Jones’ dog got hit on Southward Street. Apparently, Alex Jones took the dog for a walk the night before last, they never came home. And his aunt didn’t want to tell us about the dog when we called her about it this morning. She said she thought it would get him into trouble or some shit. I thought you said you would keep him under surveillance.”

O’Malley picked the collar up, “Yeah, and I thought you said the guy was innocent. And I thought the guy from last night you said was our guy. Look, I don’t have money in the budget for watching innocent people.”

Loki pointed at him, “You said to me that you’d put him under surveillance.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“You gonna keep your word? You could have just given me or Y/N a call because we would have been there all night, I would have stayed up all night. I would know where he was now. I need to know where everybody is.” Loki was at his wit’s end, no one was listening to anything he or you said.

O’Malley looked defeated, “All right, point made. All right? Point made.”

Loki’s voice was harsh, “If you can be clear with me, then I’ll be clear with you. I need to know where everybody is. If you’re going to do something different, please tell me.”

Loki walked out of the room, O’Malley turning to you with his eyebrows raised, “You have anything you wanna yell at me about too?”

You shrugged, irritated, “He’s not wrong, captain. All you had to do was give either of us a call and we wouldn’t be in this situation. That’s all you had to do.”

O’Malley threw up his arms, “Look, I get it all right? I fucked up. But it’s day five, your window is closing. You need to start preparing yourselves for the worst,”

Your body filled with rage, your fuse was blown, “Captain, you don’t ever speak to me like that again, you hear me? You can be upset with me all you want, but you ever call my ability to my job into question again, I will make your life hell. Day five means nothing. You have no idea what David and I are going through with this case, okay? Go fuck yourself.” You walked out of the room before he could respond, you needed to find David to make sure he hadn’t punched a hole in the wall.

You found David in the interrogation viewing room as he wound, rewound, and wound the tapes of Alex’s interrogation over and over, obsessively looking for something he may have missed. You walked deeper into the room without a word and sat next to him as he pressed play on the video. Ripping at the seams, crumbling.

A secretary you didn’t really know the name of came into the room, interrupting Loki’s obsessive behavior, “Loki, you got a call.” Loki rolled his eyes and huffed, hand coming up to his face to clutch his eyes before he stood rigidly, the silhouette of his body creating harsh lines filled with tension.

You remained in the viewing room as Loki went to take the call as you read over the notes he had scrawled on the yellow notebook paper.

RV?

Kidnapped with help?

Drugged…like her? M-

You stopped reading after that.

Loki came back into the room, pulling you out of your thoughts before they got too deep and pulled you under, “Hey, we gotta go.”

You stood in the local Value Mall, speaking to a young female employee, Jill, who had called about the man who fled from Loki last night.

“I called as soon as I saw the sketch on TV. He comes in here every week almost and buys kids’ clothes, but he’s always buying stuff in different sizes. Caught him messing around with the mannequins once.” Gross.

“What did he pay with?” You were silently hoping she said card, finally giving you something to work with.

“Cash.” Behind you, you could hear Loki mutter ‘fuck.’

You pull your business card out of your pocket with your name and number on it and hand it to the girl, “All right, you give me a call if you hear anything.” You turn to Loki who was still rifling through clothing racks, lost in thought, snapping your fingers, “Loki, card.” He turned around and handed the girl his card as well, now she had both your numbers.

You walked out of the store and looked up at the gray sky, taking a moment to yourself and to take in your surroundings. Loki stopped a few feet in front of you, looking back at you with a quizzical look. You didn’t say anything, only bringing your hand above your head and crossing them, taking a deep breath. You dropped your arms and continued walking towards the car while David remained standing confused in the same spot. Even in times like this, he admired your ability to stop and take notice of the world around you. Even a gray sky meant something to you.

The rest of the day was spent staring at a computer screen, researching anything you could get your hands on about Barry Milland. It was basically a dead end. Your cell phone buzzed in your pocket, grabbing it to see Dover’s called ID. It was 2 A.M.

“Hello?”

Ralph Dover, son of Keller and Grace was on the other end, “Hi, uh, my mom is kind of freaking out right now. She’s saying someone broke in, she thinks it’s Anna but no one is here.” He sounded nervous and tired. Poor kid.

“Okay, Ralph, we’ll be right there.”

Grace Dover was a wreck. You stood across from her, listening to her recount what she claimed happened.

“And she wasn’t here. And I...I came in here and the window was open. And- and it wasn’t open before, And the...and then Ralph, he- he came in. And he looked and- and uhm- .” Loki walked to the closed window, brushing the sheer curtain back to look as Ralph floated nervously in the hallway. Your eyes remained Grace, her eyes bloodshot and heavy as she watched Loki. “-And then I don’t know. Aren’t you gonna write this down?” Loki looked past her at you as he took out his notebook from his inner breast coat pocket to appease her.

Grace let out an exhale, “The basement. I didn’t check the basement. We need to check the basement. I’ll show you. I’ll show you.” Loki looked towards the bedside table covered in prescription medication for Grace’s anxiety since the abduction. He had experienced the same thing with you, a prescription being the only thing to get you to sleep months after the accident. He knew Grace wasn’t in the right mind, but he went along with it anyway. She walked out of the room frantically, brushing past an obviously distraught Ralph. Loki followed her out as you caught his elbow, “I’m going to stay up here with Ralph.” Loki nodded as he continued to follow Grace.

“Hey, Ralph. Is it okay if I talk with you for a second?’

Ralph shrugged, “I guess.”

“Has your mom been sleeping much lately? At least that you know of?”

He shrugged again, eyebrows furrowing, “I mean, not really. When she does it’s because dad makes her take the medicine the doctor gave her. When she isn’t sleeping, she’s crying.”

You nodded along, “And you? Are you doing okay?”

“Not really.” He stopped talking when he saw his mother reappear in the hallway, Loki behind her. The look on David’s face concerned you.

David slammed the driver’s door shut as he got in the car. He breathed heavily as he slid a hand over his face in frustration, “Grace said Keller was out with the search party, but you and I both know he’s not. And now Alex is missing. There's half a bag of lye in Keller's basement along with shelves of doomsday shit, something is up.”

“You think Keller had something to do with it, don’t you?” You wouldn’t be surprised, very few things shocked you anymore.

Loki didn’t say anything, only turning the keys in the ignition and driving home in silence.

It was raining as you sat in the Crown Vic alongside Loki. You watched the water droplets fall down the window, collecting at the bottom. Stupid fucking rain.

Today you were trailing Keller Dover to see where he went when he claimed he was searching for his daughter when he wasn’t. You watched with tired eyes as Keller pulled out of his driveway while Loki turned the car on and followed.

Loki pulled up to a light, Keller had pulled into a liquor store across town on the corner of Wallace and Campello Street. Except when Keller got out of his truck, he didn’t walk into the store, he walked towards an old building across from the liquor store. What are you doing?

Behind you, a trash truck pulled up and laid on it’s horn signaling the light was green. Loki didn’t move, his eyes were still on Keller who had now turned around at the sound of the horn. Loki was agitated, telling the truck to go around so as to not blow your cover. Keller turned around and started walking towards you and into the liquor store. Loki pulled into a vacant lot across from the liquor store, “Fuck.”

Loki turned off the car and rubbed his hands together to create some sort of warmth, still refusing gloves as he reached on the dash to grab his coffee beans, popping a few in his mouth. At least some things never changed. The rain continued to pour down outside, each drop hitting the window added to the memory of the night of your little girl’s death. It had stormed that night, worse than anyone had seen in Pennsylvania in a long time. Your hatred of rain was deeply rooted.

“Come on, Mr. Dover.” You heard Loki mutter to himself as you brought your legs underneath you in the seat. Might as well get comfortable while you waited. You look out of the rain covered windshield to see Keller approaching quickly with his hood up, popping open the liquor bottle he had in a brown paper bag and taking a long swig.

He stood at Loki's window that had been rolled down, leaning at the waist as he spoke, “Why are you following me?”

“Get in the car.” Loki demanded; Keller opening the rear passenger side door and sitting down, you and David turning to look at him. He looked even more tired than when you saw him last. His eyes were different though, changing from a scared father to a godless and angry man.

Keller asked the question again, “Why are you following me?”

Loki looks him over before speaking, “Where were you going just now?”

Keller took a deep breath, “I parked at a liquor store.” He held up his bottle of liquor he had taken a drink from previously, “-I have a bottle of liquor. You’re the shit-hot detective. Work it out.” He took another drink from the bottle, the stench of whiskey filling the car. You wanted to puke, it reminded you too much of your drunk of a so called father.

“I actually meant before that. You were walking in the opposite direction across the parking lot. Towards Campello Street.”

Keller took another drink before answering Loki, “Yeah, well...I haven’t had a drink in nine-and-a-half years. I figured if I walked around the parking lot for a while, by the time they opened, I’d stop wanting it that bad. And then-then I saw you two. Sorta helped me make up my mind.” He seemed to have an explanation for everything.

There was a long pause before David broke the uncomfortable silence, “There’s a bag of lye in your basement that’s half empty. Your wife thinks you’ve been helpin’ us...but we all know that’s not true.” Loki turned to look at Keller who was staring at him.

“I used the lye to bury our dog last year. And ‘helping the cops’ sounds better than ‘I’ve been driving aimlessly in my truck ‘cause I don’t know what else to do.’” He really did have an explanation for everything.

Loki questioned him, “Is that what you were doing last Saturday night?”

“Probably. Am I a suspect?”

Loki’s voice went up as he spoke, “No, I’m only asking- I’m only asking ‘cause you assaulted a man who’s now missing.”

Keller looked away briefly, his eyes moving to the yellowing bruise on your jaw before turning back to David, “I heard about that. What happened to him? I thought you had him under surveillance.”

“I’m gonna assume you’re asking me because you have no idea.”

Keller shook his head, “Well, I didn’t think it was something I could get away with.”

Loki deadpanned, “It’s not.”

“Yeah, well. It couldn’t be that he skipped town ‘cause the asshole is guilty. Couldn’t be that, right? ‘Cause that would mean it would be your fault, right?”

“Mr. Dover?” Loki looked at Keller with an intense gaze as Keller’s defense began to crumble in front of you.

“What?” Keller snapped.

“You need to take care of yourself and your wife. That’s the best thing you can do right now. That little girl is gonna need you when she comes home.”

Keller took in a shaky inhale, “Kids gone longer than a week have half as good a chance of being found, and after a month, almost none are. Not alive. All right? So forgive me for doing everything I can-”

Keller struck a nerve in Loki, his finger now in his face, yelling, “You know what? It hasn’t been a fucking week!”

The energy shifted in the car quickly as Keller lunged furiously over the center console, yelling, “You’re right. It’s day fucking six! Day six!” His voice broke as he continued to yell, David blinking harshly beside you, “-And every day she’s wondering why I’m not there to fucking rescue her!” David attempted to calm Keller down as he furiously pointed to himself, “All right. Do you understand that? Me! Not you! Not you! But me! Every day! So forgive me for not going home to have a good night’s rest!” Keller pounded on the center console with his fist, shaking yours and Loki’s seats, “Now, why don’t you look for my fucking daughter rather than fighting-”

Loki interrupted him as Keller began to get emotional, tears welling up in his eyes. Your back was pressed against the dashboard as to put as much space between you and Keller as you could as he spoke, “Don’t follow me.”

Loki held his hand in the air in a calming gesture, “Hey. Hey. Mr. Dover, Mr. Dover.” A long pause occurred before Keller reached for the door handle, stopping as Loki called after him, “You don’t think we’re gonna let you get behind the wheel after you’ve been drinking do you?”

“I’m gonna walk. You look for my daughter.” You sighed in relief as Keller left the car, sinking back into your seat as Loki huffed beside you, eyes blinking harshly as he watched Keller walk away in the rain. Loki ran his hand over his face and jaw, lost in thought as he watched the rain fall.

You crawled into bed alone that night. Loki stayed at the station, reading reports, telling you to go home and sleep. You couldn’t sleep however, for it was still raining outside and you never slept well without David. The sound of the rain outside made you furious, slapping a pillow over your head and squeezing your eyes shut. Somehow, sleep found you, pulling you under by your ankles.

You trudged into the station the next day to find Loki still at his desk where you left him, intently reading his computer screen. When he saw you he motioned for you to come over. He read you whatever he had been so enthralled in, “I looked into the old apartment building Keller was walking towards yesterday, it used to be his father’s. He committed suicide there, Keller and his mother found his body. I think it’s worth checking out.”

The car ride over was quick, Loki driving faster than necessary, he was obviously eager to have a lead in the case that had so far been working against you. You took notice of Keller’s truck in the liquor store parking lot as Loki parked the car. You stepped out of the car, your black boot landing on the slushy ground as the car dinged as Loki got out. The building was old, windows boarded up and looking to be on the brink of collapsing.

Loki inspected the boarded window for a way in, settling on ripping off the plywood. It fell on the ground at your feet as you whipped out your flashlight and looked inside the building. Loki climbed in first and turned for you to join him. You weren’t really up for climbing today but did it anyways, jumping down from the window as Loki’s hand found your hip, steadying you.

You turned around with your flashlight, taking in your surroundings. It was falling apart. Dirty and musty, obviously not being taken care of very well. You and Loki walked through the doorway into another room looking the same as the last except this time you found Keller Dover lying on the ground surrounded by empty whiskey bottles.

Loki tapped him with his foot as he jerked away, squinting up at him through the fluorescence of the flashlight as he spoke, “Hey, rise and shine.”

Loki walked deeper into the room. “I’m not gonna find two girls here, am I?”

You stood in front of Keller who was still laying on the ground, taking in Loki’s words, “Fuck you.”

You looked down at Keller as he moved to sit up, “What about Alex Jones?” You obviously weren't expecting an honest answer, but was curious to see what he would say.

Keller looked at the ground, avoiding your questioning gaze, “What about him? I came here to drink. I don’t want to drink in front of my wife.”

Moving away from Keller you looked around the room as he spoke, “Look, my father left me this building, all right?”

Loki spoke across the room, looking at something you couldn’t see, “You mind giving us a tour?”

Keller stood and put on his coat, glaring at Loki as he walked by with you trailing up the staircase you had come to.

Loki spoke in front of you to Keller, “Why didn’t you tell us about this place?”

Keller huffed, “I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Everything matters.”

The three of you walked into another room filled with old materials and tools, “It’s all pretty much like this.” You couldn’t help but feel like Keller was hiding something, wanting you and David to leave as soon as possible.

“I’m gonna renovate soon.”

Loki nodded in agreement, “Yeah, not as organized as your basement, huh? What’s up with all the survivor gear in there?”

“Pray for the best, prepare for the worst.” Keller’s statement caused O’Malley’s words to hit you in the face, ‘you need to start preparing for the worst.’

Loki spoke ahead of you, “Guess we agree there, yeah?”

Keller led you through door after door, each room looking exactly the same as the last. Loki was getting impatient, as were you. You felt like you were being led through a maze.

As you walked through another door, just like the same, you noticed Keller pause. Loki was across the room with his back turned, missing Keller’s sudden odd behavior. He stood in front of a hallway you hadn’t been down yet, acting as if he were guardian something. He followed Loki’s every move with skeptical eyes, completely missing your own skeptical gaze on him. He was hiding something.

As Loki walked further away, his phone rang in his pocket. He picked it up, speaking to whoever was on the other line. As Loki walked further down the hallway, you could see the color drain from Mr. Dover’s face. What was down there?

Loki reappeared from the hallway running, nodding for you to follow with his notebook in hand. Obviously he had something for the case, you ran out after him, yelling at Keller to go home. You prayed it was something to help those two girls get home. You couldn’t handle anymore let down, your luck was running out fast.

Yet you had no idea what was to come, oblivious to the fact that your world would shatter around you and David soon.

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#detective loki #detective loki imagine #detective loki x reader #detective loki fanfic #detective loki fanfiction #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal imagine #prisoners #prisoners 2013 #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #hugh jackman #fanfiction #detective #david loki #keller dover #poison and wine

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3pirouette · 3 years

Text

Fic: The Honey Trap (7/?)

Title: The Honey Trap By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette Disclaimer: They're not mine. Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)��

Story Summary: Peggy’d lost count. She wasn’t sure if she was a double or triple agent at this point, and in the end, it didn’t matter. What mattered was getting out of this alive.

A/N: Sorry that this chapter seems shorter, but that’s where the natural break was. I’m going to work on getting back onto a regular posting schedule, and may even try to get some mid-week posts in as I now have several WIPs thanks to Steggy Week *facepalm*

Fun fact: This afternoon I totally scrapped the ending I had originally planned because I think it fits much better with one of my other WIPs. So… now we’re all gonna find out where this goes together!

Chapter 7: Turning the Tables

January 3, 1945

Wallace stared at her, eyes cold and dead. “You could have jeopardized everything.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Peggy nearly laughed, lounging back on his bed. They faked a fight from the moment she showed up at the door, Wallace playing the jealous boyfriend to Peggy’s unbothered tone, but the fake fight died down the moment they stepped into the un-bugged bedroom. That didn’t mean Wallace was fully on board with her pretending to have an affair behind his back.

Though Peggy was now 100% sure that his bedroom was bugged, too. She was going to check the next time he stepped out to the loo.

Peggy stood and started to pace. “He’s Steve Rogers. Captain America.” She laughed and looked at Wallace, but just rolled her eyes when he stayed stoic. “Our cover story is that they were caught and separated. Not that one of us broke up with the other, or cheated, or any horrible thing. We were wretched apart by the military.” She sighed heavily, sitting back on the bed. “Of course, we’d get back together, Richard.”

Wallace crossed his arms like an angry toddler. “So how does this help us?” He pushed away from where he’d been leaning against the wall and stepped into her space. “How does this give us more advantage?”

“It means we’re not passing notes like school girls,” Peggy said sharply, stepping back and reclaiming her own space. “Steve and I can talk, face to face, and strategize.”

“We’re already getting plenty of information. If Hydra starts to think I’m not competent or that you’ve turned back…”

“They won’t.” She could barely keep from smiling. “I can get more details now, like that they haven’t quite had the time to take the base over six clicks down on the French border.”

“The—”

Peggy felt a pang of victory at the way he had to hide his surprise. “Why, surely you know if it? The one Phillips plans to use as a base?”

“Of course!” he covered quickly, nodding and walking away to try to hide his concern. She saw the moment he came the conclusion she wanted him to, and the way his eyes brightened when he thought he had her cornered.

Oh, she thought, if only the little rat knew…

~*~ January 9, 1945

The Pub was busy, but she found Steve quickly in the back corner. Peggy didn’t waste a moment, but slipped into the chair across from him quickly, taking his hand in hers. “Darling,” she whispered, a smile on her face.

Steve, likewise, didn’t waste a second. He stood, pulling her right back up with him and out the back door. He stopped, kissed her fiercely and quickly, then looked her up and down. “Are you ok?”

She nodded, still surprised. “Yes, but, Steve—”

‘Wire?’ he asked with only the slightest hint of volume to his voice.

“No,” Peggy replied, loud and clear. “No surveillance on me that I’m aware except the man at the bar.”

“Good.” He pulled her farther past the trash cans to a bike hidden behind the next store over’s dumpster, and he swiftly settled her behind him before pulling out into the alley. After a complicated series of turns he slowed, and drove them up the back ramp of a parked delivery truck.

Peggy tightened her hold against him as the evening darkness turned to pitch black in the back of the truck. She heard the grunts as the ramp was pulled back into the truck and the back hatch was closed. She knew she had nothing to be afraid of, but the situation made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, anyway.

She heard the sizzle of a match as the truck lurched forward, and quickly two lamps were lit.

She’d never been happier to be in the back of a truck as the light touched the faces of Stark and Barnes. Steve set the stand on the bike and stood, helping her off. “Hope you don’t mind, we needed to get our heads together.”

Peggy looked at Barnes and Stark and Steve, all bouncing in the back of the truck along with her, and smiled. “It’s a risk, but for friendly faces? I’d say it’s worth it.”

The truck ride lasted all of five minutes, just enough time for Howard to arm her with a pen camera, a bug detector disguised as a lipstick, a compact that hid a new encryption key behind the mirror, a cigarette case that was actually a wireless telegraph, and a perfume bottle whose lid was actually an emergency beacon. As little was said as possible, and time was of the essence. Before she knew it, they’d parked again and Steve was lifting the motorcycle and turning it to face the ramp again.

Steve slid them back off the ramp of the truck and onto the streets of London smoothly, the gadgets safely in her purse and the short meeting enough to buoy her spirits. Holding tight to him as they weaved in and out of traffic, she couldn’t deny there was still fear simmering in her that this wouldn’t work, that they’d be outed, but it had been significantly quieted by the feeling of having a team with her.

Steve stopped them in the alley just across the street from Hydra’s favorite pub and French Bistro, in full view of the little apartment full of surveillance equipment. He gunned the engine once before shutting it down, making just enough ruckus that the curtains moved on her least favorite apartment.

They were being watched, and it was perfect.

Peggy slid off the bike and slipped around the front, settling herself in his lap. While the thought of kissing Steve for show wasn’t exactly enticing, they’d both done far worse things and the feel of his lips on hers, the way his hands gripped at her hips, made her heart beat faster.

“You think Wallace knows?” he asked, kissing his way down her neck.

“He knows I saw you once,” she said, struggling to make the words louder than a whisper. “He was quite sore at that.” They were barely close enough to be in range of the listening devices Hydra could use from the apartment, and she didn’t want them to miss a word. “But that I’m meeting you again? No.”

“Keep it that way,” he demanded, taking her lips again.

He slipped a hand up her thigh and she moaned, trying to climb higher into his lap. She lost herself in him for a while, relishing in the feel of his body under hers, the scent of the soap from the base that permeated his skin, the bulk of him wrapped around her. Even with Hydra only feet away, watching, she’d never felt safer. If there was going to be one good thing about this godforsaken assignment, this was going to be it.

She pulled away, breathless, and used her thumb to wipe the lipstick off his lip. “I’d usually make you buy me dinner first, soldier.”

He laughed, brushing the hair from her face. “Most places are closed by now, but we could try if you like.”

She smirked, running her finger over his cheek. “I should make you take me home, then.”

He turned and kissed the tip of her finger, then took her hand in his. “Worried about your virtue?”

She didn’t even have to try to hide the hunger for him in her eyes. “Worried about yours.”

Steve licked his lips, his voice low and hoarse. “Don’t tempt me.” He looked away to collect himself, then pulled a letter out of his pocket and slipped it down the front of her dress. “For later.”

Peggy couldn’t tell which she was more impressed by: the fact that he’d found a way to slip her a letter in such a way that was so conspicuous that there was no way the Hydra agents didn’t see it, or that the same man she’d met in the back of that car who could barely stutter a response to a woman was being so suave with her. She bit her lip as his fingers hovered at the edge of her cleavage, very carefully not touching skin. She knew he could see every idea in her eyes of what she’d like to do if they weren’t being watched. “I should go,” she whispered, knowing full well it was what neither of them wanted.

“I could take you…” The offer was both play and real, the fear starting to show in his eyes now that he had to let her out of his sight.

“I’m just a few blocks over, wouldn’t want to get anyone suspicious.” She gently untangled herself from him, Steve helping to balance her as she shifted off the bike. She leaned over and kissed him softly one last time. “Same time next week?”

He nodded, one hand coming up to cup her cheek gently. “Yeah. Same place, ok?”

Peggy hated walking away from him. She felt his eyes on her every step it took to get to the small apartment building she called her own, and being on her own suddenly made her feel a little less sure about the whole thing.

But things were on her terms now, and they were going to bring Hydra down.

#Steggy Fic #Steggy #3P's Fic

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the-girl-in-the-box · 3 years

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Not Today XXII

A/N: So, this chapter will Definitely be getting a post, because I have a lot I really want to talk about with what happens at the end. I really REALLY enjoyed writing it, and also I have stuff I want to talk about with how I opened this chapter. However, so I don't spoil it, that will be its own post on my tumblr, and I will likely link it in the next update's A/N! Until then, I hope you enjoy reading tonight's update as much as I enjoyed writing it! Skål!

Summary: When Ivar takes the throne of Kattegat, Lagertha flees to Wessex along with Björn, Ubbe, Torvi, and the Bishop Heahmund. There, they seek the aid of King Alfred. This aid comes in the form of his sister, Aethelind, who agrees to travel to Kattegat and try to reason Ivar, who she spent some time with during their youth, when her grandfather King Ecbert hosted Ragnar Lothbrok in their castle. Now, she is the only hope for Lagertha and her supporters to retake Kattegat from Ivar the Boneless.

Masterlist

Something was coming. Something massive, something nervewracking, something dangerous. It rumbled in the ground, woke the camp, including Ivar and the Shieldmaiden who laid at his side. They sat up, looked around with concern in their eyes, and when Ivar’s eyes met hers, he nodded. Trouble was coming.

She hopped up and grabbed her sword from where it laid beside her, attached it to her hip, and then quickly got Ivar up and into his cart, drawing the curtains. If they were to be under attack, she didn’t want him being found and hurt. Though, as was expected of him, he tried to insist he could fight.

“We can handle this,” she argued. “Sit tight, stay quiet. We won’t let them hurt you.”

Ivar eventually nodded, and she let out a deep breath.

Once he was hidden, she turned and pulled her sword, a prayer for safety and survival, for herself and her companion, on her lips.

None of the mercenaries expected an army of men on horseback to come cantering down the path, and neither did she or Ivar. It wasn’t an overly long battle, with a majority of the mercenaries falling as soon as the army approached. Only one of the mercenaries, an old man with only one eye, survived, along with the Shieldmaiden herself. Or, the Prophet, as the mercenaries had taken to calling her.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes when she saw the way the man gave up fighting easily, clearly offering his help to the leader of this army. The fighting had stopped now, but she refused to let up the soldier she had on his knees, her sword at his neck.

The army’s leader noticed the seat Ivar was in, the way the curtains were drawn, and gestured for one of his men to check it out. Her heart pounding, the Shieldmaiden moved to intercept him, but this proved to be a mistake. The officer she’d taken down snatched his sword out of the snow and jumped up just as a knife came flying from between the curtains, landing in the approaching soldier’s eye, and he ran it through her shoulder.

She cried out in pain, catching Ivar’s attention long enough to distract him. This gave the nearest soldier time to pull him from his seat, and throw him to the ground. Seeing him lying there like that, at the mercy of these men, sent a shock of panic through the wounded woman’s heart, and against all better judgement, she tried to fight to get to him.

But, she was weakened from the injury she had sustained, and it didn’t take much for a soldier to hit her in the head with the end of his sword and disorient her, disarming her and throwing her down at Ivar’s side.

He turned and tried to stabilize her, not relenting until her eyes focused on his face. “Are you with me?” he questioned, and though she nodded, he didn’t accept that answer. “Speak,” he said. “Are you with me?”

“I’m with you,” she managed, and groaned in pain as she tried to situate herself better.

Neither of them had been paying attention to the One-Eyed Man speaking to the leader of the attackers in some language neither could understand, not until one word stood out they did know. Or, rather, one name: Ivar.

The Shieldmaiden was the first to look, hearing her King’s name mentioned, but she could make nothing else out, nothing else which might have helped. The leader soon began to laugh as he looked back to Ivar, and her eyes narrowed. He turned and said something to the One-Eyed Man, and Ivar hauled himself up into a sitting position, moving to ensure his Prophet rested back against him, to take some pressure from her wounded shoulder.

“What is he saying?” he asked the One-Eyed Man then. The man didn’t answer, only conversing briefly more before the leader threw a coin to him, having mounted onto a horse. “Who are these people?” Ivar tried again.

“Rus,” the One-Eyed Man now said, and grumbled, “Cheap bastards.

“It seems they don’t pay very well,” Ivar commented. “Where are they taking us?”

“To their capital,” the One-Eyed Man replied. “A place called Kiev.”

“Who is their ruler?”

“Prince Oleg, the Prophet.”

Ivar frowned sharply. Another prophet? He had given the wounded Shieldmaiden in his arms that title before they left Kattegat, and she had travelled under that epithet all the way along the Silk Road. Now, they found some Prince in Rus had claimed the title for himself as well? Ivar didn’t think this Prince would be half the prophet his was.

“The Prophet?” he questioned anyway. “Why the Prophet?” After all, he figured the more information they knew going into this place, the better.

The Rus commander, for they now knew him to be that, interrupted them by calling out to the pair, and both looked up at him from their place on the ground. One of the soldiers came and collected the Shieldmaiden, pulling her away from Ivar. She could only grunt as she was forced to her feet, and then a small cry left her. The soldier wasn’t being particularly gentle with her, which caused more blood than was needed to leak from the wound.

Ivar grimaced as the blood left a small trail through the pure white snow. The Rus commander spoke again to the One-Eyed Man, asked him a question, and the Commander laughed. A barked command to another soldier, and Ivar was carried off just as the Shieldmaiden was, tossed up unto a horse near her like a potato sack, and the soldier on that horse rode away. She was placed in front of a Rus soldier, who rode behind the one who carried Ivar. The two wished for nothing more than the chance to speak.

Fortunately, the journey to Kiev wasn’t an overly long one. The pair of Vikings- for truthfully, she had become one now- were dragged into the palace at the center of the city, led to its interior, and pushed into a room which seemed to be the throne room. A servant was currently hauling a body from the room, and the two were shoved to the ground, falling right into the puddle of blood there.

Ivar winced at the cry that left the injured woman at his side, and once he pushed himself up, managed to turn to check on her. Her face was pale, likely from the pain of the fall, and his eyes narrowed slightly. She needed medical attention.

It didn’t seem that was likely to come soon, as the Commander and the man who stood by the throne, who Ivar could only assume was Prince Oleg himself, were busy communicating in their own tongue. Ivar had to bite his to keep himself from demanding help for his Shieldmaiden.

The man finally turned, looked down at the two on the ground before him, and he smirked a little. Apparently, the Commander had given him some important information, because he spoke in Ivar’s language when he finally addressed them.

“You cannot walk,” he said. “Are you both wounded?” He could see from the way the woman held her hand to her shoulder, the way the blood seeped through it, that she was, but the way the man laughed so bitterly at his question, he assumed that was not the case.

“No,” Ivar answered. “I’m a cripple. From birth. But she needs assistance.”

The Rus man nodded and spoke again to the Commander, who ducked out of the room. “She will have it,” he told Ivar.

Satisfied, Ivar nodded, and commented, “You speak our language.”

“It was once the language of my people, too,” the man replied. “We are Rus Vikings.” He was silent for a moment, before asking, “What do they call you two?”

“My name is Ivar,” he said, taking off his hat now they were inside. “They call me Ivar the Boneless. And she is-”

“Asta.”

Ivar’s eyes widened as he heard the name he called her just the night before be claimed, and he looked to her with that shock registered on his face.

“I am Asta the Prophet.”

He’d never imagined that she had heard him, and he realized with a sickening sort of dread that she must have heard all of what he said before then. His mind was taken from that by a medic entering the room, beginning to work on her shoulder, and the look of hostility in her eyes when the man carelessly pulled the sleeve of her shirt down, exposing her shoulder and much of the surrounding skin to everyone in the room.

“I’ve heard of you,” the man Ivar assumed was Oleg said. “Ivar… the Boneless.” He pointed the axe in his hand at Ivar, then swung it toward the newly named Asta. “And his Prophet.” He chuckled, lowering the axe and moving to sit down. “Your fame has travelled along the Silk Road. Like honey, beeswax, furs, and slaves… But why do you travel along it now? Without announcing yourselves, like thieves… Hm?”

“I lost my kingdom,” Ivar said. “To my brothers. I am nothing, and I have nothing to offer you, Prince Oleg.” The lack of correction confirmed the man’s identity for them both. “It was not my intention to trouble you with our presence.”

“Then where were you going?” Oleg asked.

“Nowhere,” Ivar replied plainly. “We have no plans. We are simply fleeing the retribution of my brothers.”

“Well,” Oleg began after a few moments of silence. “You are here, now. Who knows if your presence will trouble me?” Ivar looked up at him slowly as he came down from the dais. “Let us see.”

When the medic was done with her, Ivar and the Shieldmaiden were both hauled out of the room, taken up further into the castle, and shoved into one of the bedchambers there. They remained in silence once Ivar situated himself at a window, and she began to pace. Clearly, the medic had helped her quite a bit.

After a while, Ivar found it eating at him just a bit too much, and so he looked up at her, watched her pace for a moment, and then asked, “Asta?”

She paused in her pacing and turned to look at him, just as if he had called the name he’d called so many times before that day. “Hm?” she prompted.

“Where did you hear that name?” he questioned.

“From you,” she said with a small chuckle. “Don’t know if you meant me to or not, but… I needed something that wasn’t my given name. I don’t know if my brother knows yet I’ve left Kattegat, but if that news has travelled the Silk Road, and they learned who I really was…? I can’t imagine the ransom letter would find Alfred very pleased.” Ivar gave a hum of satisfaction, seemingly agreeing with what she said. Until, that was, she added, “That, and I sort of like it, actually. Feels… right.”

“Feels right?” he repeated. “Do you mean to keep it, then?”

She clearly weighed something in her mind, almost seeming to be tossing something around, before she looked back to him with a small smile, and nodded. “Think I will,” she said. “At least for now, unless I decide it doesn’t fit me any longer.”

Ivar nodded, and tested the name out again now he knew it was going to be hers for the considerable future, and she smiled at hearing him say it.

“Sounds just as good as when I heard it last night,” she teased.

Asta walked over to the window he was sitting in, not quite noticing the way he watched her move across the room, certainly not noticing the slight darkening in his cheeks at her quip, and she sat across from him, settling in and getting comfortable as she watched the people move around Kiev’s markets.

“It suits you,” Ivar confessed, and she turned to him curiously.

“Does it?” she questioned. “What’s it mean, anyway?”

Ivar shrugged, looking back out the window. “Just an old Viking name,” he lied.

How could he tell her what it meant, that the name had slipped out as he realized just what she meant to him? The word ást, from which the name was derived, was used to describe love as a thing, as something real, as a place, or perhaps a person. It was used to describe the thing one saw love reflected in, and so for him to have used that name in speaking to her…

The Bishop Heahmund had once mentioned the different forms of love, and the one called agape. He had described it as something unconditional, the sort of love that apparently, the Christian God felt for humanity. Ivar, of course, had his own thoughts about what sort of gods looked over this world, but that term had come to his mind just before he had uttered the name Asta. If anyone deserved the name, he figured now, it was someone who had proven to him the existence of such love.

But Ivar was, if nothing else, a very stubborn man, and so he kept those thoughts locked tightly within himself, drawn only from them when he heard Asta sigh quietly. He turned his eyes to look at her once more.

“If I close my eyes, I can almost imagine it’s Kattegat,” she confessed softly. He gave a quiet hum in response.

“We should speak your language here, when we can.” Asta looked at him confusedly, wondering what exactly had brought this on. “They can speak mine,” he clarified. “Wessex is over halfway across the world from here. I doubt they understand the Saxon language. We don’t need them to understand every word we say.”

She nodded then. “Right,” she agreed. “We mean to escape, then?”

“Unless Oleg has anything to offer us, yes,” he answered. It felt strange to her, to hear him speak in the Saxon tongue again after so many months- almost a year, now- of having heard him speak in his own. It made her giggle a little.

“Yours is a little… unused,” she said, and he gave a good-natured roll of his eyes, before rolling his body over to crawl to the ground. “Where are you going?”

“To see how free we are around here,” he answered her. He crawled over to the door, and threw it open, only to be met by a Rus guard standing on the other side. Asta smirked amusedly at the way Ivar grinned at him, and then jumped back as the door was slammed shut in his face. “Prisoners, then,” he surmised, and nodded. “That is most unfortunate.”

Asta gave a soft laugh, and he crawled back over to her. “I could think of worse people to be imprisoned here with,” she quipped. He cracked a small grin at her.

“As could I,” he agreed. As he pulled himself back up to sit across from her, he teased, “Tell me, great Prophet Asta, what do you see for us here, hm?”

Asta couldn’t help but giggle at his question, and she angled her body more toward him. “We’re entering a time of healing,” she joked, gesturing toward her shoulder. “This is our time to take life a little slower, to experience new things, to…” She looked out the window once again, and grew thoughtful. “Perhaps to build a new life.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Ivar tilt his head a little, not quite understanding her meaning, so she explained. “We have a chance to just… live here,” she said. “If we earn Oleg’s trust, we could have a life here, you know? Once he releases us.” Her eyes turned back to Ivar now, a small smile on her lips. “Wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Maybe the rest of the world would miss us, if we just settled down here, but I’d be alright with that if it meant we could be happy. You know what I mean?”

Ivar couldn’t help the small smile that played at the corners of his lips as he watched the sort of far off look in her eye. He could guess that she was imagining a simpler life, one where maybe they were just… normal people, whatever that meant. “I’m starting to,” he confessed. “My father always said there was no purpose in trying to be happy. Life wasn’t about that.” She looked at him a little sadly, though the smile didn’t leave her lips. “But we have both suffered enough, I think, to let us consider a way we could be happy here.”

The sadness left her then, and she looked down into the market. “We’d have to make money, somehow,” she said. “Not sure what I could do to earn a living. Don’t see many shieldmaiden types down there.” Ivar hummed his agreement. “My mother taught me to paint. I could paint portraits, perhaps, sell those?”

“You know how to paint?” Ivar asked, now looking at her curiously. “I thought that tended to be left to your priests.”

Asta laughed and nodded. “It usually is,” she confirmed. “Illumination, that is. But my mother wanted to learn, just before Alfred took his pilgrimage to Rome. My grandfather had a monk brought from Paris, if you can believe it, to teach her. He was the only one who would.” Ivar chuckled a little as she did, watching how she shook her head in disbelief. “Rather than going through that struggle for me again, when I decided I wanted to learn, as Father Prudentius was the one who took Alfred and my father to Rome, she taught me.”

She decided to take a risk, then, knowing there was a solid chance this wouldn’t go over well with Ivar. But, there was a chance they could have a new life there in Rus, if they decided to work toward the little fantasy they were indulging in. If this was going to happen, she wanted Ivar to know the truth.

“She used to tell me about my father, then,” she said softly. Ivar felt the shift in her voice, the way it just barely shook with a quiet anxiety. He sensed a confession coming, and he was right. “Aethelwulf wasn’t my birth father. He was a father in all other meaning to me, just not by blood.” She took a deep breath, but before he could ask, she said, “My birth father was Athelstan, the monk your father took from Lindisfarne.”

His eyes widened at the revelation. Even if he hadn’t ever known the man that well, he knew the story, knew everything Floki had told him about the Christian Priest. “I think I must find myself in the same place he once did,” she continued, before Ivar had much time to question what he was learning. And truthfully, it was good that it happened this way. The more he learned at once, the less he would have time to second guess.

“I hold to my Christian convictions,” she said. “The things I was taught as I grew up, the things I came to understand through the many discussions I had with the Bishop Heahmund, who I know you once knew as well. But just as that is true, it is just as true that I feel most at home with your people, that my home is no longer in England. I can no longer offer my loyalty to a Saxon king, as I find I have become fiercely loyal to a Viking one instead.”

Every promise she had ever made to him went through his mind in that moment as she smiled at him again, if it were possible, and he found himself almost unable to make the Athelstan she spoke of, and the one Floki had spoken of, the same man in his mind, though he knew they must have been. “My mother told me my father loved your father more than anyone. Each time the choice was given to him, he chose your father, and your people, over his ancestral home. He even left her to return to Kattegat, and so… I never met him.”

“Do you think things would be very different, had you known him? That… perhaps you would not have come with me?” Ivar asked her. From the look on his face, it might have been obvious to some who knew him well that he was almost worried. It also might have been obvious he was trying to hide this. So, she gave a small shrug.

“I’ll never know,” she said. “Life didn’t work out in the right way for me to know. And truthfully?”

They locked eyes again as she said, “I’ve finally come to make peace with that, I think. I’ll never know him, not until I have also passed from this world, and I’m in no rush to do so. Before, when I was dissatisfied with my life, I used to wish with all I had that he’d not left for Kattegat so soon, that I could have known him before he returned to your father’s side there. I used to wonder if I could have convinced him to let me join him there. But now?”

Ivar found himself shocked again when she leaned forward and reached for his hand, letting her fingers wrap gently around his. It pulled him from all the thoughts and concerns the revelation about her lineage had brought, and made him focus on her. “I’m too happy with where I am to wish things were different in my past. Perhaps I would have met you sooner,” she said. “I would have still come with you. In fact, as many times as my father left to be with yours, it would have only encouraged me in the decision I made.” She chuckled a little, biting her lip as she looked up at him. “Of course, there is also the possibility that if I had grown up with my father in Kattegat, you may have hated me as the daughter of the Christian priest, and only because of how we met and how we have come to know each other, is there no hatred between us.”

Ást. That word entered his mind again as he saw her smiling at him, felt her hand in his. He knew she was joking, but yet, something made him bring her hand up to his lips and kiss the back of it. “Hatred can never take the place of love,” he said sincerely, and the way she lit up...

He would have conquered the Nine Realms if it meant seeing her smile so brightly again.

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#ivar the boneless #ivar x oc #vikings #vikings history #history channel vikings #not today #chapter twenty-two #ivar's heathen army #ivar ragnarsson #alex hogh andersen #ivar x ofc #ivar x original female character #ivar x christian!oc

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rouiyan · 4 years

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𝘕𝘐𝘎𝘏𝘛𝘚 𝘓𝘐𝘒𝘌 𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘚𝘌 [ 𝘭.𝘥𝘩 ]

⧏ part of the before i met you collective ⧐

synopsis: you hate donghyuck’s stupid, stupid temper and also his stupid, stupidly sincere apologies. and just when you think you can seamlessly quote every word to come from his jabbering mouth, he does the unthinkable.

✧ idol!lee donghyuck x (fem.) college student!reader ✧ established relationship au

✧ genres : fluff, angst, and then some Fluff ✧ word count : 3.4k ✧ disclaimers : minor swearing, like a three-worded phrase referring to sex

✧ author’s note — i was really invested in this at first and wrote the first three thousand words in one day but i lost motivation and finally finished it a week after haha.

“baby, i think we should talk about something.”

donghyuck’s eyes peered quizzically down at yours, a slim anxiety shadowing his irises. “it’s nothing to worry about but…” he huffed a silent breath, a small smile easing across his features before gesturing for you to continue. his hair is mussed and his glasses are perched upon the bridge of his nose, a sight that you will always welcome with open arms. “well, after you come back from your tour, it’s gonna be our-“

“-second anniversary, i know, princess.” his face now donned a smirk akin to that of an angel’s. “yeah,” you breathed, taken aback a bit by your boyfriend’s straightforwardness, “it's just… i’m a bit tight on money right now so i was thinking we could do, like, thoughtful gifts? instead of something more expensive.” donghyuck’s eyes dimmed the slightest at the reason behind your suggestion, “if you’re ever tight on money, i could always lend you some, you know?”

shuffling around the bed and positioning yourself so that you were on eye level with the boy, a chuckle seeped within your sigh, “that's ridiculous, hyuck. why would i borrow money from you to buy you a gift? then you’d just be buying yourself a gift.” laughing dryly along with him you settled down to bring the conversation back to the point, “i was thinking that when you come back, i could cook you up a big dinner of all your favorites. it’s been awhile since i last cooked for you. and i guess that could be my gift.”

“of course, baby, i’d love that,” his eyes bore into yours with so much love that it felt almost undeserving to be the one receiving it. he's always been one to give and forget to receive. shaking the thought that donghyuck’s love could ever be burdensome, you held his hands in yours, relief written in your expression. “and i’ll,” he continued with a playful lilt to his voice, “just have to find something that’s equally as heartfelt as a home- cooked meal.”

it’s nights like these that set your heart to peace, when he lets you be the big spoon for once and when his soft snores reverberate throughout your body, making you think of him and only him. your hand cards through his locks rhythmically and you wish for nothing to ever change the way he looks at you or the way your heart pulls for him.

your heartbeat is erratic, thumping wildly in your ears, as donghyuck’s yells resound through the phone. he’s not mad at you, per se, be he’s definitely mad at you. tears prickle at the edge of your eyes as you think, for the fifth time in the past hour, just how unfair he was being.

“y/n, look, i’m not asking much of you. just don’t bother me while i’m working.” you huff breaths because frankly, you find his attitude increasingly hard to deal with. he’s been on tour with nct 127 for almost three weeks now, and he’s decided, for whatever reason, that now was the perfect time to blow out his stresses upon you. it’s getting harder to suppress the oncoming hyperventilation so while he rambles about how inconvenient and how inconsiderate you’re proving to be, you hang up.

sitting down, you almost can feel your heart shrivel up like a dried fruit and you long to sink further into the sheets. the vibrations of your phone, lighting up again and again with his contact name, hyuck <3, make you feel even worse than it should. you pick up the call after his seventh try and without even letting him realize, you begin your pent up rant.

“lee donghyuck, for the love of god, can you put aside your inflated ego for just one second and realize how much of a dick you’re being? i checked the fucking time before i called you, you’re not working, you’re at your hotel, it’s eleven at night over there. i’m fed up with you taking out all your shit on me. i’m your girlfriend, not your punching bag, jesus christ.”

you stop to catch your breath when you realize the tears have unleashed themselves and are now running freely along the crevices of your face. you feel a sob bubbling up your throat and you willingly let it out, your phone dropping within the abyss of the bed. it’s sad, the way your body ricochets with ripples of wilting emotion, echoing the feelings that have waited too long and have expanded twofold in even the tiniest moments of weakness. clutching your chest, you crawl to where your phone landed, motions lacking energy and will.

before you can reach your phone, a soft, “y/n,” fills the empty void of the room. it’s hard to hear but the second it fills your ears, your heart constricts in a way it never has before whenever donghyuck calls your name. your eyes are blurry and your head is suddenly so heavy, you doubt you’ll ever be able to lift it again. it takes you three tries before you successfully thumb the button to hang up.

it’s nights like these that set your heart on fire; the type of fire that burns and kills. the empty room, the empty apartment, engulfs your body as if it were a mere speck of dust, invisible to the naked eye. you feel tiny in ways that are so not cute and it’s that very thought that pierces your mind to the edge of exhaustion, your emotional escapade coming to an end.

with everything in consideration, donghyuck thinks he’s prepared, or as prepared as he could be, standing outside your apartment, waiting for you to open up. his heart is loud in his chest, almost begging for his attention, but he ignores the sensation and takes a deep breath.

among all his hopes and dreams, he wishes the most to see you again. it’s not like he didn’t think he deserved it but the silent treatment had really taken a toll on him. and with the constant pang in his chest alerting him of his failures, he’s reminded that you’re feeling the same, if not double at the cost of his actions. so if you decide not to open up, despite him knowing deep down that you will, he understands.

donghyuck’s feet tap nervously on the ground, itching for him to do something, anything. to knock until his knuckles bleed or ram into the door with full force, he’s sure that would relieve the urges. his body aches to be in the same room as yours, the weeks apart tearing him inside out. he unlocks his phone, to pass the seconds or just to look at the last text he’d sent you three hours ago, still read and unreplied. i just landed. i’ll be at your place by 7.

he sighs, a deep and earthy tone to his voice, covered in the frustration and stresses that have been tensing his shoulders for the past two weeks, waiting for this day to come. he pockets his phone and rings the buzzer one more time before his hand drops limply down his side, now drumming a rapid beat upon his jeans.

as the door before him swings open, he feels anything but ready. instead, he feels shy and embarrassed to show up at your door front. the many words he’d rehearsed over and over again on his flight back had escaped his memory altogether. you’re donned in a large tee that he recognizes as his, so large on you that he can’t see what shorts you’re wearing underneath or if you’re even wearing shorts. your hair is messy and unkempt, framing your face in a way that only he would think is cute. donghyuck suddenly feels overdressed in his jeans and an environmental awareness graphic tee that you had gifted him a while back, a black blazer carefully thrown over but then again, he only came here looking like this because it’s your second anniversary. he bites down on his lips as he realizes that instead, you may be feeling underdressed.

the eye contact he holds is broken as you step aside to let him in and he notes the way your arms are folded over your middle indicating one of two things. either you really do feel underdressed or it’s a sign that you don’t want him touching you. he decides to play it safe and steps through the threshold of your apartment, walking right past you. he does, though, catch the brief look of expectancy followed by disappointment that creases your brows and he takes a subconscious step back as he tries to decide if he should go for the usual hug and kiss anyways. he immediately backtracks when he sees that the timing has already passed for a greeting, inwardly wincing at his awkwardness.

slipping his shoes off as you lock the door, donghyuck enters the living room beside you, eyes scanning the room that’s lit by only a singular standing lamp and the pinky orange hues of the sunset falling through your sheer curtains. he can smell food in the air, something on the stove or in the oven, and he takes a swerve to the kitchen, the table set aside brimming with an abundance side dishes and all his favorite meats, grilled to perfection. he also sees even more of the same food on the counter, packaged in stacks of tupperware, with the labels ‘127’ and ‘dream’ written on pastel post-its. of course, he thinks, even when your mad, you’re still as considerate as humanly possible.

he’s shifting on his weight, unsure of what to say or do to show you that he feels entirely undeserving of your kindness despite being undoubtedly upset at him. donghyuck wants to facepalm himself because you beat him to it.

“have you eaten yet?” your voice is light but laced with a solemness he wishes he could wash away. he watches as you clench and unclench the material of his shirt, an emotionally grounding mechanism of yours he’s noticed every time you're on the verge of breaking down. he clears his voice before answering, “no, let’s eat.”

he turns to sit at the table when he realizes that there’s only one serving of food on the table. one bowl of rice, one cup of water, cold without ice like he likes it, and enough side dishes for just one person. he knows you’re not petty enough to make him watch you eat all his favorite foods but he’s even more saddened by the fact that it’ll be the other way around. you don’t want to eat with him.

“are you not eating?” he questions, though he knows the answer. donghyuck is sure that all his past ancestors are frowning upon him. it’s only right that his eyes dim when you give him a shake of your head, taking steps to sit at the seat across from where he was to be seated. following suit, he sits down whilst asking, “why not?”

“i’m not hungry, that’s all.”

“oh, i see.”

a thick silence follows and it feels almost suffocating for donghyuck to sit in. he wishes more than anything now to have the courage to tell you what he needs to say. the words are lodged too far down in his throat so he settles for a, “how have you been?” between consuming mouthfuls of rice and glancing up at you as he chews. he feels he can quite literally see the cogs turning in your head to figure out what to say and he thinks he also knows the answer you will conclude to. an, “i’ve been better,” confirms his thoughts, his years upon years experiences proving to be top notch. “how about you?” he hesitates before speaking and starts with a, “me too, been better,” but you knew that look like the back of your hand. he had something else to say.

the frown that sits upon your lips irritates donghyuck, having been his job to chase it away, so he hurries to finish his food, almost choking and deepening your frown. he inhales every last grain of rice, piece of meat, speck of crumb, and ounce of water before setting down the chopsticks, tummy full and mindset prepped, for real this time.

truth be told, it’s not everyday that you and him get into fights but he’s always the one that’s petty enough to start them, hence his adequate knowledge on what to say after, how to say it, when to say it. “y/n,” he starts and makes sure to give a pause to make sure your attention is all his; more or less you feel as if you already know his next words, slightly annoyed that your second anniversary will go down in history as just another of his many apologies. worst part was, you could never bring yourself to doubt his true intentions, no matter what he did.

“i’m not going to lie, i was annoyed at you for calling. i was frustrated and stressed from the workload but among all that i was also selfish, and inconsiderate. and yes, i was the biggest dick to the bestest girlfriend.” if anyone was to give the most sincere of apologies, you knew it was to be donghyuck. he had so many love languages, and people would usually interpret this as his touchy nature, but you knew more than anyone that his words seemed too poetic and too perfectly curated to be deemed inferior to his touches.

donghyuck, himself, likes to think that all he knows about love is from you. he doesn’t just like to think but he knows, amongst the millions of other things he knows regarding his girlfriend, that you will be the only girl ever to make him want so much. you drag out his desires by a tenfold and equally bring out the best in him. it’s a fact he keeps to himself but ever so persistently, that you are the one that keeps him going, day and night. he’s never been much of a romanticist, but trust when he says that his love for you was slow and gradual in the most beautiful way. like honey and molasses dripping at a crawling pace only to sweeten up the surfaces it graces. his love for you ages like fine wine and savors like a setting sun against a backdrop of stars. you will never need a man more than you need donghyuck, and donghyuck, you.

with all above considered, heaving and placed in the most carefully constructed sentences, he almost bulldozes through the next speech he’s prepared, checking off the bullet points in his head as he’d goes. he’s a stuttering and leg-bouncing mess from the sheer nervousness of how to get this to play out exactly as it does in his head.

biting his lips, he dives in, “y/n, i know you. i really do. i’ve known you for almost a decade and i’ve spent most of that decade trying my best to get to know you, chasing after you until you saw me the way i saw you. the last two years have shown me that all the time i spent being hung up on you was beyond worth it. jeno told me i needed to move on because you’d never see me as more than a friend, renjun gave me a list of girls he thought would match with my personality better, and my managers honestly hated you. but for some reason, i never gave a fuck. and i think it’s because that i’ve always known that we were going to end up together somehow. but actually dating you, i think i’ve known, since exactly two years ago from today, that you were the one.”

your breath hitches, oh how wrong you were thinking you knew exactly what he was to say. you feel lightheaded and spontaneous at the same time, like a sickness birthed from sheer joy. it’s as if you could feel the blood coursing through your veins, suddenly hyper-aware of your surroundings, of him. your suspicions are there and your eyes start to widen in panic and doubt in place of your immediate happiness. donghyuck senses this and clears his throat to finish his long winded confession.

“we’re still young, baby, we have no need to rush into this. but i was thinking of what to give you for a two year anniversary that’s meaningful and conveys exactly how much i love you. the fight made it really clear for me though,” he tucks his hand into the inner pocket of his blazer and withdraws a simple tiffany blue box. “i was in new york, for just a night, but i was passing by the store and it just clicked. this-“ he opens the cased ring box to reveal a simple silver band, with the letters of his initials engraved along the inside, ”is a promise ring, from me to you. i promise you, that i will be the one to marry you. trust in me when i say that there is nothing else that comes to mind when i think of my future. my future is you, y/n, nothing can change that. not a petty fight, or my job and your education, or the media even. it’s me and you, baby, till the end of time.”

his eyes are shining with tears that mimic the ones spilling from your own tear ducts. a small laugh ruptured at the back of your throat at how he ended his little speech with such a cheesy line but you barely have time to recollect yourself before donghyuck takes the box in his hands and removes the ring from its hold. he slips your right hand into his with ease and tugs it closer to slide the ring onto your ring finger because, “we’re not actually engaged, more like pre-engaged.” his heart has such a close hold on yours as he reaches into his suit pocket again, your eyes widening at the prospect of yet another surprise.

it’s another ring, the same fashion as the one on your finger except with your initials carved into the inner ring. at this point you can’t understand why donghyuck has such a nervous look on his face, you’d say yes to almost anything he asks of you in this state. “i would also like to know… if you would make the same promise to me.” you don’t even bother saying yes, just taking the ring into your own fingers and slotting it onto the ring finger on his right hand. his face flushes almost instantly at your bold actions, even if he was the one that practically proposed to you today.

it takes everything in you to suppress the smile that’s already washing over your face, worried you’ll ruin the moment by looking too gleeful. the man across from you looks about the same except he’s failing miserably at keeping the joy from lining his features, maybe on purpose. donghyuck may or may not be completely head over heels for you, now over the moon that the two of you were back on good terms. his chest is light and his head is a little sluggish, only thinking of you and you-related things, like he’s been drugged by … by your love. his head is reeling at the tight smile that is a dead giveaway to what you’re not expressing and the way your eyes glance down every two second at the ring on your finger. he takes a glance at it as well and his heart swells infinitely because he knows that there is one on his own finger as well. the internal dialogue that you’re having with him is clear as day. your eyes are sparkling as if to say ‘i love you,’ your toes are tapping lightly on his sock-clad ones as if to say ‘i love you,’ and he’s noticed that your position hasn’t changed in the last ten minutes despite your usually fidgety disposition; that itself, donghyuck reads as a giant ‘i fucking love you.’

needless to say, it’s nights like these that sear your heart with ecstasy every living, breathing moment. donghyuck doesn’t voice any opposition when you pull him to bed right after, not even bothering to place the dishes in the sink. naked in bed, his love for you is the closest thing he knows to home and your love for him, the same. you suppose that you may have been viewing the world through rose-tinted glasses that night, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t looking forward to the day the love of your life gets down on one knee to fulfill his promise, the very same day you were to say yes to fulfill yours.

#nct #nct fics #nct haechan #nct donghyuck #nct donghyuck fics #nct haechan fics #rouiyan fics #rouiyan writes

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agoodpersonrose · 4 years

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You want to WRITE again and I want you to WRITE again so #20 You walk out of a dressing room asking if the outfit suits you, but it’s not your friend waiting outside the room like you thought.

I KNOW this is a meet-cute prompt, but I also knew that there is already an INCREDIBLE fic based on this very concept right here by chthonicheart, and I couldn’t work out a way to write it without stepping on their toes. So, instead, I made it a mini canon divergent fic, I really hope that’s okay!

Patrick is desperate.

He’s really desperate, and he’s terrified. He truly had no idea when he woke up this morning that it would be such a momentous- such a life altering day.

But then, David was making a fuss over a man asking for a gift receipt, and then he was asking Patrick about birthdays, and that could only add up to one thing. It all came tumbling out after that; the invitation to dinner, the suggestion of 8pm (the universal date time), and then of course, the water out of the spray bottle, all over the carrots that Patrick then spent the next ten minutes dabbing anxiously with a piece of tissue, trying not to look too flustered.

But the truth is, Patrick is flustered; he finally did it. He finally asked David Rose out on a date. The same David Rose who has been the sole focus of all his attention; all his affection ever since he wandered into Ray’s house all those months ago.

It’s for this reason that Patrick is desperate to find some way to make this date go well. He needs it to succeed, because if it doesn’t, then he just knows he will always look back on this night as the one where he missed his chance. Where he lost out on the one thing he knows for sure that he really wants.

Except as soon as Patrick gets home, he finds that he has little- no, nothing that he could possibly wear that could live up to his expectations for this evening.

He’s still got five hours, so he tries not to panic. There’s plenty of time to hurry down to the clothing store in Elmdale, although, even if he did do that, there’s no guarantee that he could find something that he would like; something that would be worthy of sitting across from David’s monochrome glory.

He should have thought this through properly.

“Patrick? Are you okay in here? I hope you’re not intending on wearing that shirt soon, it’s going to need some considerably good ironing to get it back to the usual Brewer standards!”

Ray’s voice in his bedroom doorway startles Patrick out of his thoughts, and he looks down to find the one shirt that was in the running crumpled up in a ball in his hands.

“Patrick?” Ray repeats, stepping further into the doorway and looking concerned. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just- I need to choose something. To wear to dinner. Tonight.”

Ray brightens up at the statement, seeming excited just to be involved in this important discussion. “To dinner?” he asks, suddenly turning sly. “I didn’t know you had a dinner planned for tonight. Anyone I know?”

Patrick can feel himself heating up and just laughs brokenly. “Ha, um, well, actually. It’s David’s birthday, so I asked if he wanted to go for a meal?”

“Oh, a meal?”

“Yes, a meal, and--”

Patrick pauses, thinking hard about what he’s about to ask, but eventually he gives in to the impulse.

“What are you doing this afternoon, Ray? I could really do with your help.”

This is how Patrick ends up accompanying his roommate/landlord/former boss on the forty-minute drive to one the only clothing stores in Elmdale.

Ray had agreed almost too quickly, seeming eager to get Patrick ‘out of his comfort zone’ and ‘into some colour’. Patrick is trying very hard not to regret his decision to bring his only friend along on the shopping excursion, though that is getting harder by the minute, as Ray rattles on and on about differing pattern swatches, and fabrics, and “ooh, maybe a little bolo tie!”

They pull up at the only viable store in the area, Ray shooting out of the driver’s seat in a fit of golden-retriever-like frenzy and rushing Patrick in and over to the men’s clothing section.

Surprisingly enough, Ray is conservative with some of his choices. Sure, there is a crocodile patterned vest thrown in, and a sweater with a cow on it which really would cause David to lose any affection he might possibly hold for him at this stage.

“I think these should do for the first round,” Ray says cheerily, bustling them into Patrick’s arms and pushing him in the direction of the changing rooms. “Go and try them on and I’ll be right with you with the next load.”

Patrick goes, unable to argue when Ray is acting this way, and wanders cluelessly past racks of shirts, suits, and jeans.

He smiles politely at the changing room attendant, and slips into one of the empty stalls, immediately letting out a huffed breath and glaring at himself in the mirror. He’s going to find something today. He’s going to look for his date, and he is definitely going to sweep David off his feet tonight.

And he’s going to kiss him.

That one he’s less certain about but he’s working on it.

Patrick slowly unbuttons his blue shirt, one white button at a time, and pulls it off, placing it carefully on a spare hanger while he slips on a bright orange sweater over his under shirt. He looks again in the mirror, wrinkles up his nose at the gaudy pattern, and goes to take it off.

“Patrick?” he hears Ray’s voice, and groans internally as he pulls the curtain back for his opinion. “Oooh, wow, well I think that’s a winner! What do you think?”

Patrick winces and looks down at the sweater, pulling the sleeves over his hands and making an uncertain noise. “I think maybe the colour isn’t quite--”

“Say no more, I’ll be right back with the next selection. Try this next!”

With that, another handful of clothing, this time majority black fabric.

“Ray, what are you--”

“Try them on, Patrick!” Ray calls without turning back, already disappearing behind another clothes rack.

Patrick does as he’s told again, stepping behind the curtain and pulling on a tight black fluffy sweater, leaving his work jeans on. It’s surprisingly, nice; soft fabric and a tight cut, and Patrick finds himself smoothing his hands over his chest several times with a pleased hum.

“I don’t know Ray,” he calls when he hears footsteps heading into the room. “I just don’t think David is going to be that impressed if I show up to our first date looking like his twin.”

There’s a small intake of breath, but Patrick pays it no mind, and instead steps out into the brighter lighting of the corridor, turning towards the large mirror leaning against the far wall.

Patrick whistles air between his teeth. “I’ll tell you what. It’s soft though, it’s pretty touchable,” he says, turning to one side, his hands continuing to skate along his own shoulders and arms. “Maybe too informal, you know? I want to impress him tonight; I just don’t know what he’ll think about this.”

Suddenly, a hushed conversation and some fast footsteps heading out of the changing rooms alert Patrick that something is happening, and he turns to look behind him.

“Oh. David.”

David Rose is standing in the changing room across from him, impeccably dressed and pale with surprise as he stares down Patrick from three doors down.

“Hi--”

“What are you doing here?”

David looks embarrassed all of a sudden, as if he is the person who just admitted in front of his crush that he was trying to impress him. “Well, um, Stevie actually brought me, she thought she might need a new outfit for- for tonight.”

Patrick’s heart drops through his stomach. “You’re going out with Stevie tonight?”

“Well, no, she was kind of under the impression that we all might be going out, um, after dinner. So, she wanted to get an outfit ready to collect some Randoms, not that that means much more than a vile new flannel shirt and jeans off the clearance rack, but you know.”

“Stevie is coming tonight,” Patrick says slowly, and then finally stops his hands where they have continued to brush against his sweater in an almost self-soothing manner. “To our dinner, tonight.”

David winces, looking uncomfortable.

“Okay, Patrick. I have a few more options here for you. Now, I know that blue is perhaps your statement colour, however, have we considered trying something a little more out there that I really think will catch David’s attention.”

Ray appears in the doorway and holds up a sequin covered sweater which changes colour from purple to pink when pushed in the opposite direction.

“Oh, um--”

“I don’t know Ray, I’m really quite enjoying his current get-up, don’t you think?”

Patrick blinks and turns toward David, who seems to have regained his confidence and is smirking at Patrick with his hand perched on his chin as if deep in thought.

“I think it looks touchable,” David continues. “And we all know how important that is for a first date.”

Ray looks between Patrick and David with an expression of pure elation on his face. Before he can open his mouth to say anything else in response, Stevie is suddenly back in the room too.

“Ray, I’m so glad you’re here. Do you think you could give me some advice for a--” she hesitates a minute, clearly coming up with something on the spot. “For a business meeting, that I have.” Ray’s grin grows ever bigger, and he is soon rushed away back to the store, though Patrick doesn’t miss the thumbs up Stevie shoots at David as they round the corner.

As soon as they’re alone, David steps up to Patrick and puts his hands on his shoulders. His touch is tentative and careful, but warm, as he slowly rubs up and down the seam of the black sweater.

“Mm, very touchable,” David hums, “But aren’t you supposed to ‘be yourself’ on a first date?”

“David--”

“I for one, will be wearing my very favourite Neil Barrett sweater. It has a lightning bolt across it, and my tightest pair of jeans.”

Patrick lets out a breath and slowly raises his hands to David’s waist. He’s still in the heart sweater from this morning, and the fabric is soft and warm from his body heat. “Oh, and why’s that?”

“I just think it shows off my best assets.”

Patrick clicks his tongue and leans back, pretending to look behind David for a while. “I don’t know, these seem to be doing the job just fine in my opinion.”

The laugh David lets out in response is miraculous, and his grip tightens on Patrick’s shoulders. “Why didn’t you tell me it was a date?” he asks, dropping his voice slightly. “When you asked me to dinner.”

“I thought I’d made it obvious!” Patrick exclaims, unable to stop himself from feeling embarrassed despite how close David is standing to him. “And I’d hoped that if you didn’t know before, then you would know by the time you got there.”

“Not if Stevie had come and crashed it!”

“Mm, well, that just sounds like poor planning on your part.”

David pulls a face and sways closer. “You should kiss me now,” he mumbles, almost nervous in the way he’s pawing at Patrick, and dropping his gaze.

“You should at least buy me dinner first,” Patrick manages to get out before David’s lips are on his.

It’s a short kiss really, considering how long they’ve been waiting, though not by Patrick’s choice, as he makes a disgruntled noise of annoyance when David’s mouth is pulled away, and moving.

“Wha--”

“I said, how set are we on the café for our first date?”

Patrick blinks incomprehensibly, unable to stop his gaze from straying back down to David’s lips. Not that he knows what they feel like, how they taste, he can’t help but want to dive in for a second try.

“It’s just- There’s a diner down the road from here, I was thinking we could maybe--”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” David says, grinning and kissing Patrick quickly again. “Go get changed. This is lovely, but I want to go on this date with the blue-button-up, discount jeans Patrick who has been driving me mad these past few months.”

Patrick kisses David again, just because he can, and hurries off to change.

He’s got a date.

#David Rose #david x patrick #patrickanddavid #DAVID AND PATRICK #david #Patrick Brewer #Patrick #schitts creek fanfic #schitts creek #schitt's creek #fan fiction #meet cute #oneshot #prompt fill #my work

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