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elriell · 3 years ago

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Two Mates? Elriel & (El)ucien Theory.

These are just a few of my thoughts compiled together regarding having two mates, the signs and breadcrumbs Sarah has incorporated. If you know me you know am a Lucien fan so this is nothing hateful towards him and we will be looking at his place within it all as well, that being said this will have bond rejection/misalignment talk so if that is not your cup of tea I understand and you can skip this! As always I would love to hear everyones thoughts so long as we are all respectful ♡

Let's start by discussing the where the two ships align and parallel mates behaviour, and then we will discuss where their arc's veer from each other...

“TOUCH HER, SMELL HER, TASTE HER– THE INSTINCTS WERE A RUNNING RIVER.” (Lucien in ACOWAR about the mating bond.)

“Letting his scarred fingers touch her immaculate skin. Letting them brush the side of her throat, savoring the velvet-soft texture.”

“Azriel's fingers lingered at her nape, atop the first knob of her spine. Slowly, Elain pivoted into his touch. Until his palm lay flat against her neck.”

“They'd exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching. ”

“He prayed she didn't peer down. Prayed she didn't understand the shift in his scent. ”

“Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent. He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it. ”

“He needed to know what the skin of her neck tasted like. What those perfect lips tasted like.”

“This one moment, and maybe a taste, and that would be it.

“Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision. Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them. ”

Now you can easily parallel this to any of SJM's mates, like Feysand or Nessian. But for the sake of brevity I will leave you with the original link to the wonderful @suelky post where it was pointed out w/ Feysand quotes as well. [source]

Also "The instincts were a running river.” sounds a little like “Azriel’s Siphons guttered, the stones turning as dark and foreboding as the deepest sea."

The Bonus POV has a lot of typical "Mates" behaviours manifesting between Elain and Azriel, and it would make sense this would be a extreme POV shift as we have never been inside either of their heads before so we were bound to have a major learning curve, especially with Az who is so reserved with his emotions.

“But Lucien’s attention went right to the hallway toward the back, his nostrils flaring as he scented Elain’s direction. And who she’d gone with. A low snarl slipped out of him—”

“So you will leave Elain alone. If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her." Azriel snarled softly.”

There are countless main trio parallels but most of you are aware of which one is my favourite...

“Knelt on those stars and mountains inked on his knees. He would bow for no one and nothing— But his mate. His equal.”

“Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent. He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it.”

"Every instinct in his body came roaring to the surface, so violent he had to choke them with a brutal grip or else he'd find himself on his knees, begging her for touch, for anything."

And on to where they go their separate ways from a textual perspective;

"Elain only shrank further into herself, no trace of that newfound boldness to be seen.”

“Rhys kissed the hollow of my collarbone, and my core went utterly molten. “My brave, bold, brilliant mate.”

“You can give everyone that I Will Slay My Enemies look—which is my favorite look, by the way. You can keep that sharpness I like so much, that boldness and fearlessness. I don’t want you to ever lose those things, to cage yourself.”

“And he had the nerve once his powers were back to shove me into a cage. The nerve to say I was no longer useful; I was to be cloistered for his peace of mind.”

“Remember that you are a wolf. And you cannot be caged.” He kissed my brow one more time, my blood thrumming and boiling in me, howling to draw blood.”

I think finding freedom and power from within is something that the books have emphasized through Feysand and Nessian's journey's. Which is so interesting considering Lucien and Elain are both feeling tied to each other, as if in a cage of sorts.

Elain herself has been stuffed in to a box of other peoples making throughout most of the series, it quite prevalent she might feel caged by their opinions of who she is.

"Maybe she was never given a chance to be that way." I whipped my head towards him. "You think I stifle her?" Rhys held up his hands. "Not you alone."

“Nesta had been right. It was like a prison, this place.” [Graysen's Manor]

“Shall I tend to my little garden forever?” When Nesta flinched, Elain said, “You can’t have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater.”

“She ignored me, and saw Elain as barely more than a doll to dress up, but Nesta was hers. Our mother made sure we knew it. Or she just cared so little what we thought or did that she didn’t bother to hide it from us.”

And as for Lucien I think his duty and honour to her is what is caging him;

“I can’t stand to be in the same room as her for more than two minutes. I can’t stand to be in this court and have your mate pay for the very clothes on my back.”

“Why are you here?” Cassian asked, unable to help the sharpness. “Where’s Elain?”

“I am not always in this city to see my mate.” The last two words dripped with discomfort.”

“Why?” Not a flicker of emotion. “He is Elain’s mate.”

I waited. “It would be an invasion of her privacy to track him.”

Godbless Azriel for respecting Elain's privacy.

I think we would see/understand a lot more if we got a chance inside their heads but the one time we did see Lucien's POV we got a good glimpse at how he feels about his situation with Elain and it wasn't particularly positive and reminded me of Rhy's parents.

"She’d seen him not as a High Lord’s seventh son, but as a male. Had loved him without question, without hesitation. She had chosen him. Elain had been … thrown at him.”

“...to remember that she picked it. Picked me. That it’s not like my parents, shoved together.”

Not using the word cage per say but the implication isn't much better.

“You know them better than I do. But I will say that Lucien is loyal—fiercely so.”

“So is Azriel.”

I don't think the debate is really whether Lucien is deserving of her, or even Azriel for that matter, it is a question of who is actually right for her and vice-versa, who has she been consistently written to thrive and smile alongside. And that is Azriel.

Why does Sarah constantly put Azriel in the picture, from day DOT. She was screaming "hey look Azriel is here, and they would work magically together"

“And I think Elain—Elain would like it, too. Though she’d probably cling to Azriel, just to have some peace and quiet.” I smiled at the thought—at how handsome they would be together.”

There are several instances/evens that occur throughout the series that set both Elucien and Elriel's relationships apart, and I think it is highly intentional on Sarah's part...

“I said quietly, “We will get her back.” But Lucien was watching me warily. Too warily.”

“From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.” Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s hazel eyes glowed golden in the shadows. Nesta said, “Then you will die.” Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.”

Or we can look at both Solstice's and the clear differences in how their relationships are growing, and also how well one and other know each other.

“Tell me when you knew,” he demanded, his knee pressing into mine. “That Rhysand was your mate. Tell me when you stopped loving Tamlin and started loving him instead.”

“He left the rest unspoken. Because her mate was here, sleeping a level up. Because her mate had been in the family room and Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn't stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much. Elain's large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that.”

“I want to see her. Just once. Just—to know.” “To know what?” He hitched my damp cloak higher around us. “If she is worth fighting for.”

“Azriel stiffened. “I know. I helped rescue Elain, after all.” Az hadn’t so much as hesitated before going into the heart of Hybern’s war-camp.”

GIFTS REFLECTING THEIR RELATIONSHIP MILE MARKS

“Az ran a hand through his dark hair. “Are we …” Unusual for him to stumble with words. “Are we supposed to get the sisters presents?”

“I handed Elain the small box with her name on it. Her smile faded as she opened it. “Enchanted gloves,” she read from the card. “That won’t tear or become too sweaty while gardening.” She set aside the box without looking at it for longer than a moment. And I wondered if she preferred to have torn and sweaty hands, if the dirt and cuts were proof of her labor. Her joy.”

“Don’t forget that gardening often results in something pretty, but it involves getting one’s hands dirty along the way.” “And torn up by thorns,” I mused,”

“I didn’t dare mention that if she had been wearing the enchanted gloves Lucien had gotten her last Solstice, nothing would have pierced them at all.”

“He and Lucien did not exchange gifts, though the male had brought a gift for Feyre and one for his mate, who barely thanked him after opening the pearl earrings. Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing."

Not only is she visibly uninterested which is painful to watch, it also highlights how little he knows about her. SJM is creating a visible gap in their dynamic.

“The golden necklace seemed ordinary -- its chain unremarkable, the amulet tiny enough that it could be dismissed as an everyday charm. It was a small, flat rose fashioned of stained glass, designed so that when held to the light, the true depth of the colors would become visible. A thing of secret, lovely beauty. “It's beautiful," she whispered, lifting it from the box. ”

“My Nesta. Elain shall wed for love and beauty, but you, my cunning little queen … You shall wed for conquest.”

“I painted flowers for Elain on her drawer,” I said, sawing and sawing. “Little roses and begonias and irises. And for Nesta … ”

“She plucked another figurine from the mantel: a rose carved from a dark sort of wood. She held it in her palm, its solid weight surprising, and traced a finger over one of the petals. “He made this one for Elain. Since it was winter and she missed the flowers.”

“Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly. “It’s for the headaches everyone always gives you. Since you rub your temples so often.”

“I led her into the sitting room, where Cassian had a bottle of amber-colored liquor in each hand, Azriel was already rubbing his temples,”

“She hadn't bought her mate a present. But she'd gotten Azriel one last year -- a headache powder he kept on his nightstand at the House of Wind. Not to use, but just to look at. Which he'd done every night he’d slept there.”

“Azriel unwrapped the box, glancing at the card that merely said, You might find these useful at the House these days, and then opened the lid. Two small, bean-shaped fabric blobs lay within. Elain murmured, "You put them in your ears, and they block any sound. With Nesta and Cassian living there with you...”

See yet again a very thoughtful and funny gift on her part. Now at it's core even just simply comparing their general reactions says a lot about the story Sarah is putting forward.

"Silence again. Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed. I’d never heard such a sound, deep and joyous.”

“He chuckled, unable to suppress the impulse. "No wonder you didn't want me to open it in front of everyone."

Elain’s mouth twitched into a smile. "Nesta wouldn't appreciate the joke.”

“Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly."

"Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing."

“She hadn't bought her mate a present. "

The writing is nothing if not clear about the discomfort both Lucien and Elain feel in regards to each other, though they lay under different reasons.

We are given multiple incidents in which we are told about how mating bonds are not perfect and we are given clear examples of it repeatedly, about woman enduring out of obligation, and do not forget this is heavily discussed literally in regards to Elain and her circumstances.

“She’d been revealed as his mate, and endured the miserable union mostly from gratitude for her unharmed wings.”

“You said your mother and father were wrong for each other; Tamlin said his own parents were wrong for each other.” I peeled off my dressing robe. “So it can’t be a perfect system of matching. "

“She glowed with good health. Except … Her brown eyes were wary. Usually, that look was reserved for Lucien. The male was definitely in the family room,”

“Elain had already departed with Feyre, claiming she had to be up with the dawn to tend to an elderly faerie’s garden. Cassian didn’t exactly know why he suspected this wasn’t true. There had been some tightness in Elain’s face as she’d said it. Normally when she made such excuses, Lucien was around,”

“Elain, the wretch, had taken the seat between Feyre and Varian, about as far from Lucien as she could get.”

“That smile grew, bright enough that it lit up even Azriel’s shadows across the room. “I would like to build a garden,” she declared. “After all of this … I think the world needs more gardens.”

“Then his gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Between them. Elain’s breath caught slightly, and she gave him a shallow nod of greeting before brushing past, leading Nesta into the room.”

What if ”—I jerked my chin toward the window, to my sister and the shadowsinger in the garden—“that is what she needs? Is there no free will? What if Lucien wishes the union but she doesn’t?”

“Can you truly fly?” He set down his fork, blinking. I might have even called him self-conscious. He said, “Yes. Cassian and I hail from a race of faeries called Illyrians. We’re born hearing the song of the wind.” “That’s very beautiful,” she said. “Is it not—frightening, though? To fly so high?”

“ I couldn’t tell if she was looking at his blue Siphon or at his scarred skin beneath as she breathed, “Beautiful.” Color bloomed high on Azriel’s golden-brown cheeks, but he inclined his head in thanks and led my sister toward the back doors into the garden, sunlight bathing them.”

“This is Truth-Teller,” he told her softly. “I won’t be using it today—so I want you to.”

“Never, Rhys said from where he finished buckling on his own weapons against the side of the wagon. I have never once seen Azriel let another person touch that knife.”

The romantic subtext is there and has been for quite some time, they prove it book after book when SJM continues to grow their bond and nurture it whilst breaking her connection with Lucien further apart, and for what reason?

“A mating bond can be rejected,” Rhys said mildly, eyes flickering in the mirror as he drank in every inch of bare skin I had on display. “There is choice. And sometimes, yes—the bond picks poorly. Sometimes, the bond is nothing more than some… preordained guesswork at who will provide the strongest offspring. At its basest level, it’s perhaps only that. Some natural function, not an indication of true, paired souls.”

“Why not make them mates?” I mused. “Why Lucien?” [...]

“I’m serious.” I turned toward him and crossed my arms. “What decides it? Who decides it?” Rhys straightened his lapels before plucking an invisible piece of lint from them. “Fate, the Mother, the Cauldron’s swirling eddies …”

“What if the Cauldron was wrong?”

“Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them.”

“The Cauldron chose three sisters. Tell me how it's possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another.”

It is remarkably interesting to me that we are told about what Rhys suspects/believes is responsible for mating bonds, paralleled alongside Azriel questioning it all, I also think it is abundantly clear from his answer to Feyre he doesn't truly know for sure.

We also have several lines of dialogue talking about the sisters and fate, their reason for entering the IC's life. Not only that but we get a glimpse at Azriel's personality and how despite the world (Rhys and the mating bond in general) telling him to despair, he still found it in him to have hope the Cauldron could be wrong.

This is so significant, and she has carefully woven his character throughout the series to make this incredibly plausible.

“If I had not met a shadowsinger, I would not have known that it is the family you make, not the one you are born into, that matters. I would not have known what it is to truly hope, even when the world tells you to despair.”

“And then he said to my sisters, “We have not known each other for long. But I have to believe that you were brought here, into our family, for a reason, too. And maybe today we’ll find out why.”

“All three sisters blessed by fate and gifted with powers to match your own.”

“Even after the bond is rejected, they see her as belonging to them. Sometimes they return to challenge the male she chooses for herself. Sometimes it ends in death. It is savage, and it is ugly, and it mercifully does not happen often, but …”

“Oh, I can, and I will. If Lucien finds out you're pursuing her, he has every right to defend their bond as he sees fit. Including invoking the Blood Duel.”

As you can see even back in ACOWAR she was weaving the web for Elriel's journey and an upcoming Blood Duel/The threat of one.

“Many mated pairs will try to make it work, believing the Cauldron selected them for a reason. Only years later will they realize that perhaps the pairing was not ideal in spirit.”

I think it is pretty clear from all the quotes above that Lucien is no her ideal spirit and vice-versa to be frank when you put it side by side his budding relationship with Vassa or hers with Azriel they are clearly very different.

“On the continent, there are territories that believe the females literally belong to their mate. But not here. Elain would have our full protection if she rejects the bond.”

“Azriel's hand slid up her neck, burying in her thick hair. Tilting her face the way he wanted it. Elain's mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before fluttering shut. Offer and permission. He nearly groaned with relief and need as he lowered his head toward hers. ”

Elain is choosing Azriel, choosing their bond over the one assigned to her time and time again... Back to mating bonds;

“The ancient healer jerked her chin toward Lucien. “See what he can do. If anyone can sense if something is amiss, it’s a mate.”

“The mating bond. It is a bridge between souls.”

"She pointed at Lucien as she saw herself out. “Try sitting down with her. Just talking—sensing. See what you pick up. But don’t push.”

“Can you hear mine?” He wasn’t sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, “No, lady. I cannot.”

Her too-thin shoulders seemed to curve inward. “No one ever does. No one ever looked—not really.”

"Azriel’s hazel eyes churned as he studied my sister, her too-thin body. And without a word, he winnowed away. Mor watched the space where he’d been standing long after he was gone.”

“Should we—does she need …?” “She doesn’t need anything,” Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien.

Elain was staring at the spymaster now—unblinkingly. “We’re the ones who need …” Azriel trailed off. “A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.”

“It made sense, I supposed, that Azriel alone had listened to her. The male who heard things others could not … Perhaps he, too, had suffered as Elain had before he understood what gift he possessed.”

“But Azriel nodded. “You knew,” he said to Elain. “About the young queen turning into a crone.” Elain blinked and blinked, eyes clearing again. As if the understanding, our understanding … it freed her from whatever murky realm she’d been in.”

Are you telling me that Madja saying a mate would know, would sense whatever is going on with her, and as it turns out Azriel was the one to sense and uncover it is solely what, a coincidence? Also to emphasize what she said about "A bridge between souls..." Where else have we heard that terminology? The Truth-Teller scene.

“I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection … that knife.”

Not to mention this scene is simply iconic for a multitude of reasons, how poetic Feyre describes them, the clear soulmates/ying-yang subtext and him giving her something he has given no other but that's another story.

Azriel has also been displaying some very protective fiercely so mating vibes towards her,

“Azriel stilled. “What happened to Elain?” Cassian waved a hand. “A fight with Nesta. Don’t bring it up,” he warned when Azriel’s eyes darkened. ”

“Cassian surveyed the shadows gathered around Az. “You all right?” His brother nodded. “Fine.” But shadows still swarmed him.”

“Nesta saw the blow land, like a physical impact, in Elain’s face, her posture. No one spoke, though shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preparing to strike.”

“Azriel’s Siphons guttered, the stones turning as dark and foreboding as the deepest sea. “Where did Lucien go.”

I think there are some mixed opinions on Lucien and whether he deserves her (and vice-versa in this fandom) but I don't think that is what this comes down too, they are both handling it in the way they think best/following their instincts.

Lucien is hurting throughout this process as well, but I think ultimately it is honor and loyalty binding him to her not any genuine emotion for her as a human being fae. I think realising they are not meant for each other and supporting each other developing true bonds with other people will be their journey. And it would be a completely fresh and new view of a mating bond.

Smaller pieces of dialogue that need little explaining and a rather oddly specific choice of words in the latest book that is meant to set up the next one in the series:

“You’d know if she’d died,” Azriel said, pausing his work and looking up at Cassian. He tapped his brother’s chest with a scarred hand. “Right here—you’d know, Cass.”

“Elain and Feyre—that was the new status of things. The bond Elain had chosen.”

"I'd never do such a thing. you must be thinking of your other mate."

Honestly? At this rate I have no doubt Elriel are endgame and everything within canon text spells that out but I truly believe he will be her second mate/the will form a bond via some circumstance that shall arise due to these little hints.

I would love to hear your thoughts and/or additions because I by all means didn't do a massive deep dive and there are most likely tons more examples to add but I didn't want it to become overwhelming to read!

Hope everyone has a spectacular and magical evening <3

#elriel #elain archeron #azriel #elain x azriel #azriel x elain #acotar #acosf #acowar #acomaf #a court of thorns and roses #elriel mates #elriel theories #elriel metas #anti elucien #tb safe and all that #dont want it falling in the wrong tag #c

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lixnininotnay · 3 years ago

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Hey do u think you could just do some yan hank x reader :) thank u :)

Hello, and thank you for being the first one to send me a request! And sorry for making you wait for so long, first I thought doing a few headcanons, but soon my ideia became an one-shot, and then it turned out in a full story (sort of, lol). Let's start this tragedy! I hope you enjoy it.

Warning: this story contains a lot murder, description of death, blood, emotional, psychological and physical abuse, kidnapping, unhealthy relationships and behavior, yandere, obsession and others topics. It's not recommended to read it if you are uncomfortable with any of those.

P.s.: if I forgot to put some warning or if you spot any grammatical error, please tell me! I would be thankful.

All the mistakes you made (A Yandere!Hank x reader story)

Chapter I. - Your first mistake.

You kicked and squirmed against the man who held you in a grip that felt like steel, but even though you were giving it your all, your resistance was showing no result. In fact, it looked to him like you were just a rag doll that he was carrying on his shoulder, but it was also because you were weak and heavily injured.

"Let me go, your fucking bastard!" You hissed. No answer. He just continued walking stilly, like if it was the most ordinary thing that ever happened.

But to be truthful, that wasn't the most eccentric thing he'd ever done. Hank was famous for causing large-scale massacres, but you didn't believe in it before, after all, how could a single person destroy entire units by himself and without leaving any witnesses?

You thought it was all a farce, that in reality it was a group that was after all this killing, and they pretended to be only one person to strike fear so nobody would try to counter them. So you ended up accepting the mission to go after that guy called "Hank" in order to investigate further and see if your theory was correct, you were curious to see the truth. That was your first mistake. You were in an arsenal of the A.A.H.W. with other mercenaries and agency members, they apparently managed to locate approximately where his base is and planned to attack in a large number, and they also talked about the possiblity of having a pizza party that might happen after, but you didn't mind too much.

While everyone was getting ready and arming themselves to the teeth, you could hear an explosion noise, followed by gunfire and screams filled of agony. Everything happened so fast that you couldn't ratiocinate correctly.

You quickly obeyed your senses and threw yourself behind a pillar, thus protecting yourself from the barrage of gunfire that followed right after, that covered the entire room in red and yellow. After everyone realized that the enemy had finally run out of ammo, the ones who survived came out of their hiding places and started trying to fight back, but were quickly killed one by one. Picking up an AK-74, you tried to get as far away as possible, knowing that facing danger head-on would be futile.

Going up a staircase and reaching a higher landing, you got behind a container and peeked out to see who the enemies were. As a consequence, taking a fright when realizing that it was just one person, not a group, easily killing several with just a katana in hand. You tried to ignore this fact and focus on the battle, firing and managing to land two shots on him.

Hank rapidly became annoyed, and started to ignore the agents that were going at him and changed his direction to you and the other two snipers who were on your side. For a split second, as he lifted his head to see where the shots were coming from, you could see bloodlust in his eyes, similar to a malicious and hungry animal, it was terrifying.

And then he began to move in a fierce way, brutally slicing anyone on his path to you. You were trying to reload your gun and to back away even more, but he had already gone up the stairs, kicked the closest sniper in the face causing them to hit their head against the wall, instantly killing them. He tried to cut you in half with his katana right away, but you managed to hold the blow using the AK-74 and kicked him in the stomach, pushing him away.

The second sniper tried to shoot him, but Hank managed to ricochet two bullets, hitting them back and in the meantime you bolted behind a wall, he took the gun from the first one he killed, and you started exchanging shots. You got hit twice, once in the shoulder and once in the abdomen, and you ran out of bullets, when he realized that, he went straight towards you and tucked the gun behind his back. You tried to run away, but he had already reached and started to strangle you, he wanted to have the satisfaction of killing you with his bare hands.

You struggled for air, but his grip was stronger, you could see the sadistic urge to kill in him, without showing an ounce of pity.

Just when you thought it was your end, the second soldier shot Hank, before they took their last breath and died in their own blood trail made after they crawled close enough to aim. In the second he momentarily loosened his grip, even though you were still dizzy from the lack of air, you managed to grab the gun from Hank's back after the shot, struck him with it, taking him off you and getting up quickly with the help of the the wall, trying to hold the gun and aim it, shivering from the adrenaline, bruises and out of breath.

"It's over. Just give up already." You demanded.

"You're a really annoying bitch." Hank hissed, still on the floor and with one hand on the left side of his face, where you hit him and cracked the glass of his goggles.

And all of a sudden, just when you thought Hank was finished, he got up, you tried to react but your movements were still slow. He grabbed the gun from your hands, caught you around the neck with his other hand, making you bang your head against the wall and then knocking you to the ground. The impact was so bad that you felt blood seeping from your lips and a tremendous headache, making you whimper in pain. Hank just chuckled at your state.

"Goin' down that easily? You're pathetic." Hank mocked you as he approximated. You tried to creep away but he stepped on your back, stopping you once more. He bent down to look at you closely, your eyes still had the slendor of the desire to fight and survive, an expression on the face from someone that wouldn't give up yet, he loved it. He stopped for a second to think, then continued. "Y'know what? I liked you, just love your type." You tried to process what he told you, but nothing made sense. "I'm keepin' you with me. Stay here." He said as he got off from you, but before shooting one of your legs. What made you scream out loud in pain, the adrenaline of the moment passed causing all the pain to hit you at once, while Hank came down from the platform to kill the rest of the agents, and the A.T.P. soldiers and mags that just arrived.

Everything in you hurts, even breathing, it was hard to relax. You spent a few minutes lying on the floor listening to the gunshots and screams in the background that haunted your ears, sounds that were becoming more muffled as the time passed, and trying to somehow control the pain, however your efforts did not yield results, the burning sensation of your wounds remained and you were struggling to not faint. When your vision started to get blurry, you heard something:

"Hello? Anyone's listening? Hello?" You turned your head to the voice, it was coming from the room that had the radio. "I repeat, anyone's listening?"

Clinging to what you thought was a glimmer of hope, you rise up with difficulty from the ground and began to stumble to the station, almost slipping in your own puddle of blood. After arriving with difficulty in the chamber, you answered. "Yes, (Y/N) talking, it's an emergency." You battled to say, your throat felt like it was on fire.

"What happened?"

"Hank invaded the base, we need units, NOW!" You tried to demand, your voice was still weak.

"It will take some time, we don't have any available next to your location." That irritated you.

"For the fuck sakes, we don't have time--" They hung up, wich made you rage and question if all your efforts were in vain.

You tried to keep your composure, after stopping for a few seconds to calm down, you rummaged around and found some bandages and an adrenaline shot in one of the lockers, which you used to cover the wounds and applied to yourself, now managing to stand up and even walk. And digging a little further you found a knife bag with a knife inside, which you decided to hide in one of your boots, and a pistol that you kept in your hands.

When you left the room, you decided that you were going to run away without anyone noticing, to hell the reward money. Watching your surroundings and hiding behind the containers, you saw that Hank was no longer in sight which made you panic, but you also saw the body of the guy who saved you, you tried to check their pulse, but they were gone.

"Thank you. Rest in peace, my man." You said in respect, while closing their eyes, knowing that if they didn't help, you would be dead. Before getting up and leaving you saw that in their pocket there was a grenade, which you decided to take.

You rushed down the stairs and walked down one of the long corridors for what felt like hours, the place looked like a maze full of corpses, making it obvious that Hank has been through here. Entering and turning in several corridors, trying to remember where is the exit, made you regret to not paying attention and memorize the place, this base was gigantic.

Hearing heavy footsteps approaching you, you entered a room that looked like a dormitory and hid under a bunk bed, carrying the pistol. You heard the door open again.

"You really don't obey when someone says to, do you?" You can feel the irritation in his speech, sounded like Hank was searching for you for some time already.

He began looking around the room for you, kicking and knocking over some furniture in the process, you started crawling under the beds trying to make as much silence as possible and get next to the door. For a moment he stopped and was silent, a sudden movement that made you uneasy. He was trying to hear you. After what seemed an eternity of silence, he turned his head towards the bed you were hiding underneath.

Fuck it.

You abruptly ran to the door for your life, and before he could do anything, you took aim and started shooting towards him to keep your distance and threw the grenade at him, closing the entrance as you left. Even though, he protected himself with using the beds, leaving no major injuries on him, it really took him by surprise. Hank didn't expect that you could do all of this for your bruises, you sure were an interesting person. Now he really wants you.

You sprinted as fast as you could, your movements becoming more clumsy as the pain returned, but it didn't stop you. Finally finding the exit, you spotted a vehicle that could easily get in and hot-wire it, but wasn't able to, despair making it even harder. In this short meantime, you felt a pair of hands pulling you by the collar of your shirt and pulling you out of the vehicle.

"You really know how to get under my skin." he admitted, both out of admiration and irritation in a threatening way, looking directly in your eyes. And he threw you over his shoulder, hurting you and making you drop your pistol in the process. He couldn't be gentle even if his life depended on it. "I'd have drive us both to the base, but you are such a fucking annoyance that makes it impossible." And then he started walking with you on his shoulder.

What he said made you shiver, what was he planning to do with you? You started to struggle, waiting for him to let go of you, but he just held you tighter. You soon ran out of strength and gave up, getting more tired and weaker by every minute, all this agitation was too much for you, so eventually, you end up passing out from exhaustion.

Hank still couldn't figure out what he found so fascinating about you, maybe because you, a nobody, managed to survive him for so long, few did, or because of your determination and how you surprised him, or even the way you looked at him, he loved to see that mixture of fear, hate and will to live in your face, it was so intriguing.

Whatever it was, he wouldn't be worrying and questioning himself nonstop right now, he didn't need to. Because he would have all the time he wanted to discover now.

#madcom x reader #yandere madness combat #madness combat x reader #yandere hank #yandere x reader #tw yandere

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alucardownsmyass · 3 years ago

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Hi! I'm new to the Hellsing fandom and want to start fanfics for Alucard! I really love the way you write him and you seem to have so much understanding of him so I was wondering if you could help please? So say his bride is a virgin and they are about to bed each other. Would he make sure to turn her into a vampire first? What would he be like and what would their lives possibly be after? If you have any hc's or opinions, I'd love to hear! It's probably very self explanatory but I'm new and he's difficult to write haha! It is okay if you don't want to answer!

WELCOME AND THANK YOUUU! i've been waiting for someone to ask me something like this for so long!! i've never posted them, but i have a bunch of notes written down regarding his lover being untouched. most are from years ago though and need to be edited lmao. i'll type up something new for you that hopefully helps you understand his character a bit more! if not, PLEASE tell my dumbass to redo it.

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just to set you in on some background! being a virgin had so much more meaning back during the times when he was human. the real, historical vlad drăculea literally used to demand that women who lost theirs before marriage suffer impalement, so it's pretty precise how significant one's virginity was to him! 😭 bram stoker of course based his dracula novel on some of the history of vlad iii, so this is probably why the whole 'vampires loving virgins' became a thing. hirano based his version of dracula on both the real vlad and the novel, so this also explains why maintaining your virginity in the hellsing universe is important, and why deflowered humans turn into ghouls. it's a very clever reference imo!

not to mention, it's all just a bunch of religious nature—like where the bible says that you can only participate in sex after marriage, and ancient christianity put virgins on such high pedestals because it was viewed as being pure. of course, vampires are seen as demonic beasts, so that is also where their obsession with virgins stem from—they want to taint their innocence; your typical demon vs. god / good vs. evil trope. but you'll find that alucard is quite far from demonic or evil despite the things he's done. you have to look deep, but there is a layer to him that doesn't make him so much the monster that he thinks he is. he cries, has nightmares, cares for people even if only a few and harbors regrets. monsters don't have, feel or do any of those things.

he'd want his partner's first time to be extremely beautiful and eventful. keep in mind that he was sexually assaulted once; he wouldn't wish what he went through on anyone, so he'd want them to also enjoy their first time because he himself did not get the chance to. if they want him to be gentle, he will. if they request he roughen it up, you bet he will. it's their virginity. he's not going to put himself first during a moment in one's life where he was taught had value. he adores them and wants to show them just how much he does. i have always viewed him as an 'actions speak louder than words' kind of man. perhaps it is rare that he'll say "i love you" but he will damn sure show it.

you also requested headcanons and questioned if he'd turn his lover, so i'll put a few examples below! god, writing them is probably gonna make me tear up lmao. i hope these end up helping you, and thank you for coming to me for the question!

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he'll give you a choice if you want to become a creature of the night or not before he begins, hovering his lips over your fluttering pulse. he'll leave a few kisses against it, just for you to know where his bite shall implant lest you desire vampirism. immortality, in his eyes, is only to be given to those who are deserving—and to him, you deserved his kingdom and more.

say yes, and he will ask if you are sure in your decision one final time. have confidence in your answer and look him in the eyes so he knows for certain that you're willing to place your hand in his for the rest of your life. for eternity. say yes again, and you will feel his hand gently craning your chin to the side for the exposure of your neck. "it's going to hurt at first, my queen, but you wouldn't have come this far if you were unfit of bearing the brunt of a little pain, now, would you?"

if you choose no and wish to remain within the womb of humanity, he will most definitely respect your decision; not only out of love, but because you chose to stay the same. that's something he didn't do in his past, so he admires that. he will be more protective of you, though, since you did not choose to be a vampire and are more vulnerable in comparison.

he appreciates humanity and it's ongoing cycle of ages, and would adore witnessing you grow as the years begin to mold your skin into wrinkles and your hair to grays. even when you become too old that you can barely stand, he will vow to be the reason that you continue to walk. of course, the most difficult part will be having to witness you in your deathbed, but he will always remember you as the light that casted upon his darkness, the one that gave motive for him wanting to walk the dreadful earth for a bit longer. your grave will remain the very first thing he visits every moonrise, a reminder that perhaps, for the first time in his existence, he isn't truly alone.

#hellsing #hellsing ultimate #hellsing alucard #alucard #alucard hellsing #hellsing ova #kouta hirano #hellsing anime #anime #ova #headcanon #hellsing headcanons #alucard x reader #vampire

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some-messed-up-writing-for-you · 3 years ago

Note

could you maybe do a twisted dom "hero" capturing a sub villian? possibly some nsfw too?

Request #17

Warning: nsfw, non-con/dub-con, kidnapping.

Enjoy! ^_^

~~~~

Villain ran as fast as they could, lungs burning from their shortage of air. They weaved through alleyway after alleyway, silently praying for the first time, begging whatever was up there that they do not get caught. They could neither see nor hear the hero chasing after them, but they knew they were there, still running after them.

Hero was quite known among the city's criminals. And what were they known for exactly? Was it their strength? Their quick wits? Their ability to always catch whatever wrongdoer they got sent after? In a sense, it was all of those things, as well as one more teeny tiny detail about them. It was the fact that whatever villain they caught was very rarely ever seen again.

And Villain couldn't help but grow increasingly more panicked because of it. The darkness of night helped both the villain and hero. They used the shadows to hide from each other, to both escape and chase, respectively. Taking another sharp turn, Villain hid in a dark corner, struggling for air. Their throat felt like sandpaper, having gone bone dry the moment they realized who was after them. Looking around, they noticed they had reached a dead end. They cursed silently as their only way out was to go backward, back towards Hero.

The villain snuck closer to their exit, flat against the wall. As they neared their escape, they paused for a moment, scanning, listening. The hero was still nowhere to be seen or heard, and Villain could only hope that they somehow managed to lose them. Steeling themself, they took an extra deep breath and ran off again. They turned the corner, speeding past bricks and dirty trashcans.

Their vision blurred, and as a crunch sounded behind them, their sprinting didn't last much longer. The villain turned around out of instinct, and the last thing they saw was the hero's fist centimeters from their face before everything went dark.

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

Villain slowly opened their eyes with a groan. Their head thrummed with pain as they took in their surroundings or tried to anyway. The room was quite dark. Combined with their aching head, they could barely make anything out. Using their other senses, they could feel themself lying on something soft, facing the ceiling. So they were in an unknown bed, and there was also something in their lap, something heavy and oddly... human-shaped.

The villain snapped fully awake as they recognized the one sitting above them. Their eyes wide as they exclaimed in fright, "H-Hero-?!"

But their startled cry was interrupted by soft lips crushing against their own. They squirmed, surprised, as the hero's hands trailed across their chest. Once their brain managed to catch up with what was happening, Villain tried to push them away but failed miserably. Their body already too exhausted to put up a proper fight. All their struggle earned them was Hero using more force and pressing into them further, their weight threatening to crush Villain.

As they parted for air, the villain tried to tell them to stop, tried to demand an explanation out of them. But their voice caught in their throat, and all that left them was a weak whine as the two locked eyes. The hero seemed to smile at the sound, and one of their hands came up to cradle Villain's cheek, a poisonous adoration in their gaze as they watched the criminal shake beneath them.

The villain's hands were still on Hero's chest, futilely trying to shove them off. But they paid it no mind, choosing to see it as a game, as their dear villain playing hard to get. Ignoring their captured's struggles, the hero moved both their hands to hold Villain's face. They leaned in closer again and whispered, "Villain~. I've been trying for so long to catch you, and now I finally got you~."

The villain shivered at their touch, terrified. Hero admired the feeling of their skin against their own, running their thumbs up and down. Despite it all, Villain managed to swallow the lump stuck in their throat and stutter out, "I-I don't know w-what you think you're d-doing, but get o-off of me-"

"Oh, no need to be like that~." - Hero cut in, rubbing their crotch against the other's without warning, drawing a shaky gasp from them. It felt good, but Villain still tried to push them away again, though much weaker this time. They couldn't deny their own body's pleasure at the contact. They tried to talk, but only a second whimper escaped them as the hero's hands trailed to their back and dragged down it, the feeling of their fingernails running along their spine making them arch. The villain could already barely breathe as their captor suggested, "Let's just have some fun, shall we~?"

Villain wanted to respond but couldn't. So instead, their hands moved from their enemy's chest to their shoulders, holding onto them as they slowly succumbed to the other's touch. Their grip tightened as Hero pulled them into another kiss, and they unsurely returned it, making their captor moan lowly in approval.

The hero's hands roamed the kidnapee's body again, and as Villain's clothes gradually left them, one by one, they felt themself grow more and more complacent. They let small moans slip past their lips, let Hero touch them as they pleased. The villain tried to copy them and undress them, but the hero was quick to pin their arms at their sides, scolding Villain lightly, drawing another pitiful sound from them.

As they felt the hero pressing against their privates, their muscles tensed up. The feeling of Hero's hot sex against their own bringing logic and worry to the front of their mind again, but a simple whisper in their ear was all it took to make them relaxed again.

The villain's mind had submitted to its kidnapper's will, their body forgetting reason, their limbs wrapping around Hero, holding onto them for dear life. They moaned the hero's name as they slid into them. They couldn't stop themself from begging them for more, begging to touch them more, to go faster, to be rougher. And it seemed that as long as they asked nicely enough, Hero would give them it all.

Villain became lost in their sudden lust, chanting the hero's name as they thrust into them without pause, faster and faster. Hero's fingers dug into their hips, leaving behind dark bruises, but at this point, the pain only added to their bliss.

In their haze, Villain nearly didn't realize just how close their orgasm already was. The hero was merciless with them, and they shuddered as their muscles flexed violently, their captor keeping up their pace, pounding into them ruthlessly. The sound of their skin slapping together mixed with both their grunts and moans and it wasn't long before the hero reached their finish as well.

As their highs ended, their movements slowed to a stop. They were both gasping for air, sweat dripping from their hot skin. The villain could do nothing but lay there, completely out of energy. Hero moved off of them, sitting down beside them.

Villain closed their eyes in their tiredness. The chase from earlier had already spent most of their energy, but now their intimate workout had drained them completely. Slumber quickly began to overtake their mind, and they could barely feel Hero taking hold of their hand, caressing it.

The villain paid it no mind, letting the hero pet their arm. They found themself enjoying the feeling, and before their consciousness left them, the last thing their brain managed to register was the clinking of metal and something cold wrapping around their wrist.

#hero x villain #villain x hero #writing #writeblr #hero #villain #prompt #writing prompt #prompt request #request #request prompts

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fanfic-archive · 3 years ago

Text

Meeting the Baron (2/7)

Chapter 2. Madripoor

Summary: When the Baron takes your search to Madripoor, the four of you are forced to play your roles. A role that brings you much closer to Zemo than you ever thought you could be comfortable with, but is it entirely an act?

(Yes, we're doing the fake dating trope. I don't care if it's overdone, I'm obsessed)

Part 1

Word Count: 4696

Zemo had provided each of you with, what he deemed to be, appropriate disguises. Bucky’s was fairly simple, just enough to make him look like the Winter Soldier, but Sam’s suit was brighter and apparently very much the style of the Smiling Tiger, not that he was a fan. You had instantly become hesitant when you opened the package that Zemo had handed you, staring at the black dress and strappy heels in disbelief. You knew that you had to keep up appearances, the people you would be meeting only understood three things, power, money, and women. Still, how were you meant to react if something went wrong while wearing this.

Putting on the garment only made you less sure. The dress was fitted to perfection, which was curious to you since Zemo never asked for your size, and the material was soft to the touch. It ended above the knees and had thin straps over your shoulders, it was more revealing than something you would usually wear but the length kept it surprisingly classy. You actually looked like the Baron’s partner rather than a date for one night. The dress itself wasn’t that uncomfortable, just impractical since you couldn’t hide a gun under it, and you were a little surprised by how good it looked on you, but the shoes were the bigger problem, being impractical. You wouldn’t be able to rush somewhere too easily.

Once you finished getting ready, you put on the necklace that Zemo had left for you and headed back out into the main room. Of course, the Baron’s date would need to have some sort of jewellery to really sell it.

“Finally” Sam sighed when he heard the door open and close behind him, the three men turning to you.

“What? Don’t look at me like that” you complained, noticing the surprised looks on Sam and Bucky’s faces.

“Just haven’t seen you all dressed up before” Sam shrugged. “And I thought I looked overdressed” he joked.

“You look good” Bucky complimented, hoping to make you feel more comfortable.

“Thanks, Bucky” you chuckled, shaking your head at him. “But of course, you haven’t seen me in anything like this before, I’ve never had the opportunity and if I could afford all of this, I would have retired by now” you pointed out, making them both laugh a little. You made a fair point.

“I, for one, think I made a perfect choice. You look wonderful” Zemo complimented, making you all look over at him. “Are you all ready?” he asked as he approached the three of you, holding his hand out for you to take.

“We aren’t there yet, keep your hands to yourself” you reminded him.

“Apologies” he nodded, lowering his hand. “But once we get out of the car, we all need to be in character” he warned the three of you, who just nodded in understanding.

A car picked the four of you up and dropped you off just outside the meeting place, and this time when Zemo held his hand out to you, you took it and let him help you out of the car. He offered his arm to you and you took hold of his elbow, letting him lead the way, Sam and Bucky following behind.

You couldn’t decide what was worse, watching Bucky fight while pretending to be the Winter Soldier or watching Sam drink whatever it was that the bartender gave him. Both were painful, and while witnessing each you had unconsciously gripped Zemo’s arm a little tighter, and he had pulled you a little closer each time. Luckily, while at the bar, Zemo had gotten you something a little sweeter than Sam’s drink.

Finally, Selby agreed to meet with you all and you were sent through to see her, but things only got more tense.

“You should know, Baron. People don’t just come into my bar and make demands” Selby spoke as the four of you entered the room. She sat comfortably on one of the couches, arms draped over the back cushion, watching you all like she was trying to read you.

“Not a demand. An offer” Zemo corrected her.

“A lot has changed since you were here last” Selby claimed as Sam crossed to stand on one side of the room while Bucky positioned himself on the other. “By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?” she asked curiously.

“People like us always find a way, don’t we?” Zemo answered as he sat down on the couch opposite her, guiding you towards him by the hand. Without speaking, he was looking you in the eyes, as if to convey the choice that he was asking you to make.

You took a small, unnoticeable breath before quickly making a decision, placing yourself comfortably on his lap. You’ve surely done worse.

“I’m sure you’ve already figured out what I’m here for” he continued, wrapping one arm around your waist to keep you steady and placing his other gloved hand on your bare knee. An attempt to be respectful while still being convincing.

“You’re taller than I’d heard, Smiling Tiger” Selby suddenly turned her attention to Sam, who only responded with a nod.

“Tell us what you know about the super-soldier serum. And I give you him-” Zemo got her attention back onto him, gesturing to Bucky, his offer to her “-along with the code words to control him, of course. He will do anything you want.”

“Now that’s the Zemo I remember. I’m glad I decided not to kill you immediately but tell me…would she do anything I want?” the attention was suddenly put onto you as Selby stared you down, putting you on edge. You couldn’t help but tense a little, this wasn’t part of the plan and it unsettled you.

“This one only sings for me” Zemo informed her, his hand inching up your thigh slightly to prove his point. His touch left goosebumps in its wake, which you tried your best to ignore but you were sure that he noticed it.

Knowing you had to sell this, the hand you had on his shoulder lifted to play with his hair (though, not enough to mess it up) while you placed your other hand against his chest, smiling sweetly at him. Yes, you had noticed his attractiveness before, but this was the closest you had ever been to him and the longest you had been looking at him, and it only left you admiring him a little more. Luckily, you could blame it on acting if anyone noticed. Plus, his cologne was invading your senses and you found it oddly comforting.

“That’s a shame” Selby hummed. “But you were right to come to me. Arrogant, but right. The super-soldier serum is here in Madripoor. Dr Wilfred Nagel is the man you wanna thank. Or…condemn, depending on what side of this you’re on. The Power Broker had him working on the serum, but things didn’t go as planned” she informed him.

“Is Nagel still in Madripoor?” Zemo asked but your attention turned to the hand he had returned to your knee when his thumb started stroking little circles against your skin.

“Oh. The breadcrumbs you can have for free, but the bakery is gonna cost you, Baron. And before you get all cute, don’t think you can find Nagel without me” Selby shook her head in disapproval. “Maybe we could work something out if you could make your little bird sing” she suggested, eyeing you again, and you couldn’t help but lean closer to the criminal who’s lap you were sat on.

“Go on, Liebling, answer her” Zemo prompted, giving your thigh a small reassuring squeeze.

“I’m sorry, but I only have eyes for one person” you claimed with a convincing smile, gently resting your head against Zemo’s shoulder. You would straddle his man right here in front of everyone if it meant she left you alone.

“And she is not a bargaining chip” Zemo insisted, holding onto you a little tighter, almost protectively. That brought a more genuine smile to your face.

However, when you glanced over at Selby, you could see it in her eyes. She wasn’t entirely convinced; you couldn’t tell whether she was trying to uncover your act or just find a weakness in your supposed relationship that she could exploit to get what she wanted. Your grip on his shoulder tightened slightly, trying to convey your concerns to him. It did seem to get his attention as he turned his face towards you as you lifted your head from his shoulders, resulting in your faces ending up a little closer than you expected.

Now or never. You had to sell this act if you wanted all of this to go smoothly. You lifted your hand, tracing your fingers alone his jaw as you put on your best love-struck smile. Zemo was watching you carefully, he knew what your possible moves were from here and while it surprised him, he would let you make the play.

So, you lent in closer as your fingertips reached his chin, lips hovering just over his. The hand on your knee brushed upwards, gloved fingertips touching the hem of your dress. Any longer would be suspicious, and so you closed the gap and touched your lips to his. You had made the move, you had kissed him, and so Zemo allowed himself to take the lead.

The hand on your thigh tightened as he deepened the kiss, what surprised you the most was that you returned the advancement, your hand cupping his jaw to hold him closer. You simply couldn’t deny the pull you felt towards him and how this just didn’t feel as wrong as you thought it would.

While the moment felt disconnected from the others and endless, in reality it hadn’t been that long at all. And while it was beginning to feel easy to forget about where you were, you didn’t, slipping your hand down from his jaw and too his chest as you pulled away.

“Well, don’t let us interrupt you” Selby teased but she seemed to be fully convinced now. The comment put a slight blush on your face, but you figured it worked for the act, so didn’t worry about it. You still avoided looking at either Sam or Bucky, not wanting to see how they were looking at you after that little show.

Selby finally seemed to give up on getting anywhere in that deal, she wasn’t going to get her hands on you, and the conversation could continue.

As Zemo and Selby spoke, you fainlly spared a few glances at Sam and Bucky. Bucky was still in character, though he seemed even tenser than before, but Sam managed to sneak a small look in your direction that silently asked if you were okay. You gave him the smallest of nods before disguising it by resting your head against Zemo’s fur collar.

Things were going well, that was until Sam’s sister called him and your covers were blown, resulting in Selby’s death. All four of you knew that you had to get out of there as soon as possible, you had made it out of the building with no trouble and were walking down the street when people started shooting at you all, wanting to claim the bounty for Selby’s killers.

The four of you reacted the only way you could, you knew that you couldn’t fight back and win right now, so you all ran for cover. Bucky and Sam bolted ahead but Zemo had supplied you with thin heels, causing you to stumble on the uneven ground. You cursed to yourself, only to have somebody pull you off to the side. It was almost too quick for you to process but Zemo had wrapped an arm around you and pulled you along with him, in a different direction to the other two.

The two of you kept your heads down, slipping off into an alleyway before deciding that it was safe enough to slow down and speak. It seemed that the bounty hunters had mostly followed Sam and Bucky.

“I can’t believe you made me wear these stupid shoes” you complained as he guided you through the alleyways of Madripoor, he obviously knew where he was going.

“I thought they looked nice” Zemo weakly defended himself but sounded confident in his claim.

“Sure, but not so great when you’re being shot at” you scoffed.

“If your friend had turned off his phone, none of this would have happened” he pointed out but that didn’t make you feel any better about the situation.

“We better be going to find them” you warned him.

“Of course” he nodded.

When you were sure that nobody was following you, the two of you slowed down a little and focused on regrouping. You followed Zemo, your attention focusing on him when you saw him reach into his coat and pull out a handgun just in case you had been followed.

“When did you get a gun?” you asked, catching up to him and glaring up at him.

“I picked it up” he shrugged.

“Hand it over” you ordered, holding your hand out.

“No” Zemo answered as he glanced at you but kept walking.

“Yes. You’re a criminal, I’m not letting you have a gun” you stated the obvious as you came to a stop, grabbing his arm to stop him too. “Give me the gun” you demanded once more as he turned to you.

“If I don’t?” he asked, almost playfully.

“Are you…are you joking? Give me the damn gun” you thrusted your hand out towards him again.

“At least ask nicely” he chastised.

“…please?” you sighed, giving in.

This time he didn’t hesitate before placing the gun in your hand. “Very good” he praised before turning and continuing down the alley. You watched him in disbelief before continuing to follow him.

“You also didn’t warn me that it would get cold in Madripoor before parading me out here half dressed” you complained as you caught up with him again, a cool breeze blowing past you.

“I would not parade you around” Zemo stated sternly, almost like he was offended by the accusation. “And in my defence, I expected to be back in a car by now” he reminded you.

You just hummed in response, unimpressed with his excuse, while wrapping your arms around yourself for some extra warmth. The gun still in your hand since you had nowhere to put it.

“My apologies for not coming more prepared” he apologised as he came to a halt, causing you to stop too. Without another word, he slipped off his coat and held it out to you.

“Not necessary” you mumbled, shaking your head as you turned down the offer and walked past him.

As you passed him, Zemo carefully draped his coat over your shoulders. Not letting you go cold simply due to your stubbornness.

“Thank you” you still gave the Baron a small, grateful smile before slipping your arms through the sleeves, already feeling much warmer. His cologne lingered on the garment, making it all the more inviting, but you tried to ignore that feeling. Zemo returned your smile as the two of you continued navigating through the various alleyways.

Finally, you reunited with Sam and Bucky, where they had run into a familiar face. Sharon, you had heard of her but had never actually met her before. She took you to her place where you could stay for a little while, she also happened to be hosting a party of sorts that same night, so she offered to let you all change. Meaning you got to change out of the uncomfortable dress and into some black pants and a simple black top. Simple but enough to make you fit in. You had also changed out those flimsy heels for a more comfortable pair of boots.

“Ah, much better” you let out a sigh of relief as you walked into the room the others were sitting in.

“What is wrong with the dress? It looked good on you” Zemo questioned, taking in but still approving of your new look.

You gave him a sarcastic smile before realising he was the only one of you who hadn’t changed, but you guessed that he was the only one of you who was wearing his own clothes in the first place. “Are you not changing?” you asked him as you handed him his coat back.

“Should I?” he asked, gesturing to his own attire.

“…suits you” you shook your head, and you weren’t lying. He had certainly found a style that suited him.

Zemo smirked to himself as he placed the coat down and turned to pour two drinks, keeping one for himself while holding the other out for you.

“Hey, just leave her alone, alright?” Bucky warned him, obviously still on edge from your performance earlier.

You just laughed to yourself and accepted the drink, already becoming more comfortable around Zemo than you probably should be.

Sam managed to talk Sharon into helping you all out, she promised to look for information but in the meantime all you four had to do was enjoy the party.

When you joined the party, you had shared a drink with Sam and Bucky but at some point, the two of them ended up wandering off to explore by themselves. You remained at the bar, nursing your drink, and just enjoying being able to relax for a moment.

Sipping from your glass, you looked around the dance floor, watching the guests dance until your gaze landed on Zemo. You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself, his dancing was awkward, but he seemed completely comfortable, not caring if anyone was watching him. But it didn’t seem like anyone was, all caught up in their own worlds. It was difficult to see this man as the criminal he truly was when he was dancing like…that. It just made you smile.

After a moment of watching him, he met your gaze, realising that you had been watching him. He only smiled and beckoned you over. Your eyes widened slightly, that just wasn’t a good idea, but he beckoned again as he continued to dance.

You contemplated it for a moment before finishing your drink, stepping down from the barstool and walking in his direction. You carefully pushed through the crowd until you reached the Baron. It might not have been a good idea, but you wanted to see how this went.

“Is this how all Barons dance?” you asked, speaking just loud enough for him to hear you over the music.

“Is there something wrong with the way I dance?” he asked, now pumping his fist in time with the music.

“You’re the lamest criminal mastermind I’ve ever met” you insulted him, but he didn’t seem to take it seriously, he just continued. “God, this is embarrassing” you laughed, shaking your head at him.

Zemo smiled at making you laugh before trying to draw you in, “then show me how you would dance.”

“Oh no, I don’t dance” you shook your head, quickly trying to get that idea out of his head.

“Apparently neither do I” he joked, making you bite back another smile, but this time he held his hand out for you.

You glanced down at his hand, like you were considering it, before looking around a little, like you were doing something wrong. Maybe you were.

“Worried that your friends will catch you? Worried about what they would think?” Zemo asked, noticing the way you glanced around.

You had to make your decision, so you did. “No” you answered, placing a hand in his to reaffirm your answer.

“Don’t worry, let’s just pretend that you’re still playing the role of my date. You do play it well, after all” he suggested, letting you step closer before actually placing a hand on your waist and pulling you closer.

“Careful, or I’ll turn you in” you threated, hoping he didn’t notice the slight pinkening of your cheeks, but still placed your hands on his shoulders when he released your hand.

“We’ll see” Zemo had a little smirk on his face as he slipped one hand around to sit on the small of your back, looking at you like he knew something that you didn’t. The action brought you a little closer, causing you to snake your arms around his neck. What could possibly be wrong with one dance?

The two of you were lost in the crowd, other guests shielding you from Sam or Bucky catching a glimpse of you both. Turns out, Zemo was holding out on you because he was apparently a much better dancer than he let on. You weren’t lying about not being a dancer, but you didn’t feel lost for a moment, because he guided you through it, moving with the music. If you were being perfectly honest, it was the most fun you had had in a long time. Which was strange considering the circumstances that brought you to Madripoor and the man who you were dancing with.

Unfortunately, your time at the party was cut short when Sharon came for you all. She had gotten some information and the location of Dr Nagel, and while that was very helpful, a part of you actually wished that you could have a moment longer with Zemo on the dancefloor.

Neither Sam or Bucky gave you a questioning look or anything, so you assumed that they hadn’t seen you together. And so, you all climbed into the car and headed to the location Sharon had heard about.

The four of you headed down into the secret lab while Sharon remained outside to keep lookout and fight off some of the bounty hunters that were still after you all. Inside the lab was the doctor you had been searching for and, with some persuasion, he had explained that Karli had taken all the remaining vials of serum with her and he had none left in the lab. Twenty vials to be exact, she had twenty vials and you had no way of knowing how many super soldiers she had already created with them.

That was when Sharon came running in, alerting you that you were running out of time and there where bounty hunters already outside. Before anyone could react, Zemo had pulled out a gun and shot the doctor, and then before anyone could do anything about it, the lab was attacked.

An explosion sent you all flying to the ground, hands scraping against the floor as you tried to soften your fall. Your vision slowly returned to you and you gathered your senses, looking around enough to see the flames that were engulfing the lab. A sense of panic set in as you pushed yourself off of the floor, looking around for any sign of the others.

You could see Sam, Bucky, and Sharon had been knocked down by the blast but they seemed to be alright as well, though you would all probably be rather bruised.

“Anybody see Zemo?” Sam asked with a slight groan as he lifted himself up.

You looked around the burning lab and managed to catch a glimpse of the Baron escaping. “I’ve got him!” you assured them as you climbed to your feet, lifting your arm to shield your face from the heat as you followed after him.

“Y/n” Sam and Bucky both called after you but you were already gone.

As you exited the lab, your ears were still ringing, and the blast had been disorientating. You couldn’t see where Zemo had gone, cursing yourself for losing him, but you readied your gun and kept your wits about you.

Movement on top of one of the shipping containers caught your attention, and you couldn’t help but feel a little sense of disbelief when you realised what you were looking at. It was Zemo, wearing a purple mask, with a gun in his hand. He aimed down from the container and shot a pipe that resulted in another explosion, you stepped back behind another shipping container to avoid the blast from it.

Peering around the container, you saw Zemo climbing down from the container he stood on to fight off a group of bounty hunters. He fought better that you thought he would, with skill and a certain amount of ease, and you hated this part of your brain but…it was kinda hot…

Tearing your gaze away from him, you noticed another bounty hunter rounding a corner and aiming their gun at Zemo. Before they could pull the trigger, you stepped out and shoot them. The gunshot got the Baron’s attention, making him turn to you.

Zemo approached you with a sense of urgency, placing a hand on your shoulder as he turned you around and escorted you with him.

“Where do you keep getting guns from?” you asked as he dropped his hand from your shoulder.

“I have an eye for them” Zemo shrugged, the mask hiding his facial expressions from you.

“We have to go back for the others” you told him, looking over your shoulder to see that the scene was out of sight.

“They will be fine” he assured you.

“We’re not leaving them” you insisted, beginning to turn on your heel.

“You’re right” Zemo caught your arm, stilling you. “Just trust me” it was a big ask considering his history, but you still nodded and turned back around, continuing to follow him.

Eventually, the two of you came to an open shipping container. Looking inside, you saw a car, either he had planned something like this, or he had incredible luck. Zemo removed his mask, putting it in his pocket, before the two of you climbed into the car.

“I would like to apologise for last night” Zemo spoke up as he started the car

“What for?” you asked, genuinely confused.

“For if I made you uncomfortable at all during our meeting with Selby, it was not my intention” he explained himself, pulling the car out of the unit.

“…you didn’t” you assured him honestly. A part of you wished that you had felt uncomfortable, that was how you were supposed to feel, but it wasn’t at all. You felt far too comfortable around him.

“Good” he nodded.

“We were just playing are parts” you added quietly but it sounded more like you were trying to convince yourself than him.

“Very convincingly, might I add” Zemo hummed, glancing over at you.

“You might not” you mumbled, making him smirk to himself.

Sam and Bucky watched as the car pulled up in front of them, Zemo in the driver’s seat and you in the passenger’s seat.

“Supercharged” Zemo smiled as he put the car in park, though the three of them seem less impressed with your arrival.

“I told you I had him” you grinned, earning a short look from the two men.

“You’re going back to jail” Sam threated Zemo.

“Do you want to find Karli or not?” the Baron asked with an exasperated sigh.

“He’s right. We need him. And there’s three of us, and at least twenty of them” Bucky pointed out.

“He’s been useful so far and he hasn’t run yet. Now, come on, get in” you nodded towards the backseat.

“Fine. But if you try that shit again…” Sam began to warn but was interrupted.

“Wouldn’t dream of it” Zemo assured him half-heartedly.

“Well, that was one hell of a reunion” Sharon commented as Sam and Bucky climbed into the backseats of the car.

“Come back to the States with us” Sam offered her.

“I can’t. Just get me that pardon you promised me” Sharon nodded before walking away.

“Thanks for everything” Sam called after her before getting more comfortable in the back of the car.

“I think you’re warming up to me” Zemo commenting, looking to you.

“I think you need to shut up and drive” you told him, putting a small smirk on his face before he complied and drove off.

Meeting the Baron Taglist:

@viviace

(Just ask to be added!)

#Helmut Zemo x reader #Zemo x reader #Baron Zemo x reader #helmut zemo #zemo #baron zemo #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws

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wistfulcynic · 3 years ago

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till we be dead ourselves

I saw a thing today that made me a bit cross and reminded me of how unsatisfying I've always found the Brothers Jones reunion in the underworld. This is the result. It's not anti-Liam but it does change him quite a lot from canon, so if that's not your jam you may want to skip this one.

Basically, this is the Brothers Jones I would have liked to see.

Also, at least part of the inspiration came from chatting with @thesschesthair and @winterbythesea about alternative POVs on our OTP. So here, guys, have a Liam. Beware, there are feels.

SUMMARY: Liam Jones has been waiting for his brother for three hundred years. When he finally arrives, he's not as Liam remembers. Some not-typical or particularly respectful of canon Brothers-Jones-in-the-underworld feels, plus a dash of Captain Swan.

words: 2025 rating: T tags: not canon compliant, underworld AU, brothers jones. Major characters are already dead.

on AO3

till we be dead ourselves:

He’s been waiting a long time for this. Three hundred years.

Well, two hundred ninety-three years and eighty-six days, to be precise. He knows because he looked it up. He had to. It’s not easy keeping track of time here; some seconds tick so slowly they’re torture while years can pass in the blink of an eye.

Years, such as they are. There aren’t really years in this place, or truly ‘time’ at all. There’s not really anything. This is nothingness, a void, a repository for whatever souls are made of, and different to each one. They’re trapped here, these souls, until they finish whatever business still remains for them, and over the centuries he’s seen so many come and go—some sorrowfully confused by what they need to do, others firmly certain.

As for Liam Jones, he’s always known why he’s here. His unfinished business is Killian.

On the day Killian arrives Liam can barely contain his excitement. Not just because he may finally be free of this place but because he longs to see his little brother again. He’s missed Killian, and also he’s keen to know what the devil took him so long. How is it possible that his brother’s life stretched on for over three hundred years?

He walks quickly through the town—an odd little town, unlike any he encountered while alive. His afterlife has manifested it for only a few years. Before that it was ships and ports and then it was jungle. Ships and jungle, jungle and ships for so very, very long. He’s come to realise that his afterlife reflects what his brother does Above, though what precisely that consisted of he is not privileged to know. He’s hoping Killian will tell him.

He knocks on the door of a large, blue house and waits, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. When it opens he turns with a smile that freezes on his face.

The man framed in the doorway is his brother, unmistakably him, yet Liam finds he’s not prepared for how much Killian has changed. He feels foolish for being taken so by surprise; of course Killian is not what he remembers. He’s not still the eager young lieutenant he was when Liam died, obviously not. He couldn’t be.

But the man before him is… hard. Jaw set and eyes cold, with an aura of both danger and command. A man not to be trifled with. His face is still youngish—mid-thirties, perhaps—but his eyes are ancient. Tired and bitter and heavy with the weight of ages, and abruptly Liam feels very, very young.

“K-killian?” he ventures.

Killian’s brow wrinkles in confusion that lasts an uncomfortable beat or two, and then it clears. His eyes widen. “Liam,” he breathes. “Is it really you?”

“It’s me, brother.” Liam attempts a smile again. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Bloody hell.”

Killian pulls him into a hug which he returns warmly, though the sound of curse words on his brother’s lips has stunned him. He smells of leather, and of the sea. And rum. Liam blinks through a fresh wave of astonishment. Killian has been drinking. Drinking rum.

Killian pulls back from the hug but keeps his hand on Liam’s shoulder. His eyes are crinkled by a smile that Liam can’t help noticing barely touches the depth of sadness in them. “It’s good to see you, brother,” he says.

“You’ve changed,” Liam blurts, then curses his impulsive tongue when the smile fades from his brother’s face.

“Aye,” Killian says. “It’s been some time.”

“Three hundred years, give or take,” Liam agrees. “How? How was it that long?”

“Perhaps you’d better come in, Liam,” Killian says. He steps back and holds the door. “We’ve rather a lot to discuss.”

Liam spends that first night in his brother’s house. Killian seems at a bit of a loss for what to do with himself in all the space and curiously reluctant to speak of why his afterlife has manifested such a dwelling just for him. Of course the dead don’t truly sleep, but Liam passes the night deep in thought, still in shock over what he’s learned about life his brother led.

Killian is Captain Hook. A pirate. A man whose name Liam has heard in hushed whispers on the lips of many a soul who’s passed through this place. None of those whispers spoke of anything good.

He cannot reconcile his little brother, even three hundred years of bitter loss and violent struggle later, as the cruel and vengeful villain of those tales. He cannot. It’s simply not possible.

“Much of what they recounted was likely exaggerated,” Killian said wryly, “or hearsay. But I’ve done much I’m not proud of, Liam. I killed men without a second thought. I plundered lands across the realms. I have not led a good life.”

“Then why are you here?” Liam demanded. “If you were as bad as all that, you wouldn’t end up in limbo.”

“Perhaps I may have done enough in the past few years to warrant a chance at redemption,” Killian reflected. “I suppose we’ll see.”

“And do you know what your unfinished business is?”

Killian swallowed visibly, then nodded. “I believe I do.”

Over the next week Liam keeps an eye on his brother. It’s not that he’s concerned—well, yes, it is that he’s concerned. There’s a restless energy to Killian that makes Liam uneasy, worried that he might do something rash. So he watches, from a distance, as Killian sets about finishing his business. He watches his brother seek out many of the men who bore the tales about him, those who still remain at least. He sees the fear in those men’s faces, and the anger. Sometimes he hears their voices, raised and vicious. It pains him to witness these things—not least the shame on Killian’s face—but he forces himself not to interfere.

His brother is not a man to be trifled with.

One day he observes Killian deep in conversation with a woman, dark-haired and statuesque. They stand close together in the manner of those who’ve shared a deep intimacy, and even from a distance he can see that they are crying. Killian pulls the woman into his arms where she weeps into his shoulder, and before they part he presses his lips to hers.

It’s farewell.

With every interaction Killian’s burden lessens, though he remains weighed down by things Liam can barely fathom. Each night they meet at the blue house, where they sit together and talk. They have three hundred years of catching up to do. As they talk Killian drinks, and Liam has begun to as well. He senses his brother could use company in more than conversation, and it’s not like alcohol can harm the dead. It doesn’t do them much good either, but the phantom rum seems to soothe Killian, and loosen his tongue.

Though not enough, Liam comes to realise, for Killian to speak of why he’s really here.

Her arrival sparks an uproar such as Liam has never experienced, even in all the time he’s passed in this place. She shouldn’t be here. She can’t be here. It’s not possible.

Yet here she is.

Word of it spreads like wildfire; Liam is polishing glasses at the bar where he inexplicably works when it reaches his ears.

“They say she’s alive,” says one of the regulars, in hushed tones. “Alive, and here.”

“That’s impossible,” Liam scoffs. “None of the living can come here. And even if they could why would they want to?”

“She’s here to rescue someone,” the regular replies. “Her true love. That makes it possible, or so they say.”

“And the man died in sacrifice,” another adds. “Huge sacrifice, before his time.”

Before his time, Liam thinks. That should rule Killian out. Yet he can’t shake this feeling, this creeping suspicion born of Killian’s refusal to discuss how he died, or how he lived these past few years. There’s a reason this town is his afterlife, and Liam’s too. There’s a reason he’s alone in that big house.

He sets the glass down, and the rag. “I have to go,” he says.

It couldn’t be more obvious that the woman doesn’t belong. She’s visibly, ostentatiously alive, so full of life she glows. It draws the souls—ghoulishly, Liam thinks—but none dare approach too closely. The woman looks as though if anyone could kill a soul that’s already dead, it’s her.

She heads down Main Street and Liam follows. Past the diner and the library, around the corner and up the street where Killian lives. A tight knot forms in Liam’s chest as she walks up to the blue house then stops, with her hand on the gate.

The door flies open and Killian appears on the porch. He stares at the woman, who offers him a smile that strikes Liam as far too tremulous for her take-no-prisoners demeanour.

“Swan,” Killian chokes. His voice sounds broken. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to save you,” the woman replies. She opens the gate and takes a few steps forward. Killian stumbles off the porch to close the distance between them.

“You shouldn’t have come,” he says. “You shouldn’t be here, not here. Not you.”

“I had to, Killian!” She looks up at him imploringly. “You shouldn’t have died like that. You shouldn’t have had to make that choice.”

She takes his hand and laces their fingers tighter. Killian’s breath catches. “Come back with me, Killian. Come home.”

“I can’t,” he whispers.

“You can. I know a way.” Her voice drops as she steps closer, but Liam can still hear her words. “Don’t try to make me live the rest of my life without you, Killian Jones,” she says. “I won’t do it.”

“Swan—”

“I won’t do it,” she repeats. “I love you.”

Liam can see the moment Killian breaks. He snatches the woman into his arms, holds her tightly as she clings to him and magic twines palpably around them. This is not what he had with the brunette, Liam realises. That was love, yes, and intimacy. It was grief, deep and terrible but of a normal sort.

This is agony. This is two souls that should never have been parted and the connection that still binds them, so powerful it can draw a living woman into the land of the dead.

No wonder Killian couldn’t speak of her, Liam thinks, or of the circumstances of his death. The pain must have been too great.

Liam’s been dead so long he’s forgotten how sensitive a subject it can be.

The man died in sacrifice, he recalls. Huge sacrifice, before his time.

He died for her. And now she’s here to bring him back.

“This feels too soon,” Killian says, as he hugs Liam tight. “I only just found you again.” He pulls back and gives his brother a shrewd look. “And I sense that when I’m here again, you no longer will be.”

“No,” Liam agrees. His business is finished now. And Killian’s not coming back, not to this place. Not if Emma Swan has anything to say about it. The next time Killian Jones dies it will be with his life’s purpose fully met.

He’s glad they had this time, though, and not just because he needed it to move on. He’s glad he got to know his brother as a man, a flawed and troubled one, yes, but one who has goodness at his core and is finally where he needs to be. It only took three hundred years for him to get there.

He’s also glad Killian is still shorter than he is, for all that Liam appears ten years younger than his brother now. He’s glad because he can still wrap his arm around Killian’s neck and ruffle his hair. He does so now, though Killian’s indignant “Oi!” of protest twists his heart. He sounds so like his younger self, that boy Liam spent centuries waiting for and will never see again.

“I love you, little brother,” he whispers.

Killian swallows hard, and nods. “I love you too.”

#cs ff #cs ff au #underworld au #brothers jones #not canon compliant #or especially respectful of it #alternative version of Liam #killian pretty much as is #here there be feels #my own version of the underworld #not quite a ficlet #till we be dead ourselves #profdanglaisstuff

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theshopkeepofremnant · 3 years ago

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I want to talk about a scene...

Okay, I guess this is actually going to be a few scenes, but they’re all related, I promise!

Disclaimer: Yang is my favorite character. In RWBY, obviously. In all media? Honestly, maybe. I love her. To wit, over the course of a single year I vomited up nearly half a million words of fanfiction centered almost entirely around her. Still, I think my take on this isn’t so biased as to be useless.

Let’s start with the scenes that inspired me on this. First, from volume six, chapter 4:

“That bastard!”

Now, leaving aside the fact that every one of these child soldiers have a right to be mad at the body-hopping deity who lied to them in the process of roping them into a suicide mission that won’t even win or truly advance the cause of his impossible war, why is Yang especially mad?

Or in volume six, chapter 13:

“Does that mean he’s been watching us this whole time?”

Again, any of them could be upset here, but Yang seems especially peeved.

Why am I talking about this? Well, I’ve been watching RWBY reactors who are just now catching up, and in most cases I’ve seen the same misinterpretation of what’s going on here. This was somewhat surprising to me, as I avoid reactors that hate Yang (or any of the main cast) and tend to prefer those who have a generally positive outlook on the show. Still, in every case both of these scenes garnered some version of “chill out, Yang.” It was as though everyone saw these scenes and just thought Yang was being a brat, or hotheaded, and they could not be more wrong.

But why this misconception?

My current guess is that they either have forgotten, or never fully understood the end volume 5.

I loved it as much as anyone when Yang told Raven off. I cheered when Raven broke down, because she deserved every bit of that tongue lashing and more. Yang standing up to her train wreck of a mother and showing her what true strength was? *Chef’s kiss* Love it, it was perfect. But if this is all you remember, you didn’t understand the full arc of this character moment. The next minute was one of the most complex moments in the show in terms of development, and there was not a word of dialogue.

Now yes, this shot was visually stunning. That’s enough to distract anyone. And yes, maybe Yang is simply wrung out from a hell of a day, and her mom is the worst, and she was overwhelmed with the weight of volunteering to be a target for an all-powerful, monster-controlling witch. I mean, those things are all true, and valid, but none of them explain why she, specifically, was so angry with Ozpin in the later scenes.

What else is going on here?

We are witnessing a complete loss of innocence.

Yes, Yang insisted she was an adult back in volume 4. And you know, losing an arm in combat while defending the one she had only fully realized she loved was probably quite a move in that direction, but she was still holding on to one childish dream: the fantasy that her mother wasn’t absolute trash. The belief that maybe, just maybe, she had a good reason for leaving.

Look, was it still strategic to hunt down Raven as a shortcut to Ruby? Sure, but that wasn’t why she went there. She went there because the last shred of her inner child demanded it. She needed to know if there was any place in the world for that girl, and at the bandit’s camp she almost put that to rest.

When she confronted Raven at the camp, she was not terribly impressed, and she certainly didn’t like her mother, but there was still a modicum of respect. This was a woman who knew things, important things, who commanded respect from her followers. Her mother wasn’t a good person, but there was still something about her, a mystique. She still saw Raven as out of reach, larger than life, and the childish dream persisted.

Then came the vault.

When Yang realized that her mother had murdered a child for power, everything fell into place. Yes, her mother wielded incredible magic. In a fight, she would steamroll Yang. But as Yang pointed out, being powerful and being strong are not the same thing. In that moment, she saw her mother as no more than a coward, a woman so afraid that she would kill a scared child to protect herself. That realization spurred her on to demand the relic, because she knew that her mother would willingly sacrifice her to protect her own sorry hide. And the worst part? She was right.

Can you imagine what that felt like?

Every child eventually sees that their parents are human. But for many of us, that’s a chance to forgive them their faults and vices. To see that they did their best despite their flaws, and that’s all you can ask. Right? For Yang, it was the realization that her mother was more than willing to throw her own daughter to the wolves if it meant keeping them at bay. She knew it without a doubt, down to her core, and it shattered that last fragment of innocence she had, in the worst way possible.

A loss of innocence is always painful to one degree or another, but this must have been excruciating. Her walk into the vault, her breakdown at the lamp, it spoke volumes. CRWBY deserves all of the awards for that beautiful understatement of a scene.

Then Yang went upstairs and...didn’t tell Qrow about Raven.

Why?

Because once she’d mourned the loss of her inner child, she stopped clinging to the dream she’d held onto and began...well, not forgiving Raven, but understanding. Raven was weak, the knowledge of Salem had broken her. Yang wouldn’t let it break her, and now that she knew what was ahead of her, she would face it in the way her mother could not.

Then Jinn showed her the lie. There was Yang, only just beginning to face years of trauma, slapped in the face with a truth she wasn’t ready for. Yeah, maybe her mom was still a shitty person, but maybe she wasn’t so wrong to run. That maybe, just maybe, if Ozpin had left her alone, she wouldn’t have done the things she did, become the person she was.

And years of barely acknowledged, let alone processed, anger boiled out at the only target available. At the man, the demigod who played with the lives around him and was at least partially responsible for breaking the will of a fragile woman who didn’t ask for any of that madness. At the immortal wizard who played chess with the mortals around him with seemingly little regard for the fact that they were sentient beings with their own hopes and dreams and foibles. To him, they were just cannon fodder, pawns in a game that he was destined to lose.

Is that what I think? Not exactly. I empathize with Ozma, really. He is in an impossible place. But everyone telling Yang to chill for being angry at him, for transferring some of her anger to him, rightfully or not, needs to take several seats. He’s thousands of years old, she’s a teenager who just wanted her mom around. If you can feel bad for him and a not for her you need to reevaluate who gets your sympathy.

#rwby #yang xiao long #yang did nothing wrong #random thoughts #thank you for coming to my tedtalk

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corpseblouse · 4 years ago

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dumb little baby

warnings!!: hard dom!iwa, face fucking, aheago face, c!nt slapping, choking, spit kink, hair pulling, mating press, dacryphilia, dumbification, minor size kink

includes: f!reader, hajime iwaizumi

a/n: also, this is my first time writing a smut so pls be nice to me :)

navigation

you feel your cheeks flush, noticing the prominent bulge in iwaizumi’s pants. you look up from the floor with a small smile on your face, the grip on the back of your hair getting tighter.

iwaizumi is towering over you, lips pulled into a tight line, eyebrows furrowed, and a red tint to the top of his ears and cheeks.

he yanks your head back, eliciting a guttural whine from the back of your throat, “look at you, staring at my cock with that dumb fucking look on your face,” you feel his hand reach down and squeeze your jaw, ultimately opening your mouth. you take it upon yourself to slowly bring your tongue out begging for his spit to coat your tongue, but too shy to say anything.

iwaizumi scoffs and let’s go of your jaw, smacking your right cheek, “if you want something, use your words dumb slut.” you whimper, slightly shying away from his hard gaze. you feel his hand lightly tap your cheek, silently telling you to open your mouth wider. your smile grows, knowing you’re going to get what you’ve been wanting.

“aww, does the dumb little baby not know how to use her words?” he coos with faux sympathy laced into his words.

“i guess i have to give you what you want in order for you to stop fucking whining.” you clench your thighs together, listening to the way his tone falls octaves lower with each passing second.

you let your mouth go slack, pushing your tongue farther out. iwaizumi rolls his eyes while collecting spit into his mouth. your eyes roll to the back of your head, hearing the lewd noise of iwaizumi spitting into your mouth. “don’t fucking swallow.” he demands, you keep your mouth open, tongue wet with both his and your spit. it was truly a sight seeing the way your tongue was slowly dripping with his spit, iwaizumi knew he had to ruin you. you look up at him with pleading eyes, wanting to feel the taste of him linger in your mouth but knowing he won’t go easy on you.

“look at you, you’re such a messy little thing,” you whine, still not wanting to verbally ask for what you want.

“stop fucking whining, slut.” he says as let’s go of the back of your head. iwaizumi begins to unbuckle his pants and your mouth waters at the slight wet spot found on the front of his boxers. he slips his cock out, stroking it in front of your face.

his cock was something he surely took pride in, it was thick and long with a large vein running underneath. the tip of his cock was always a beet red and is extremely sensitive, especially after orgasming more than once.

often times, you would find yourself begging for, “just the tip.” because you adored how needy he would become to push the entirety of his length inside of you. but, of course respecting his baby’s wishes, he stretches you out with the tip of his cock while rubbing your swollen bud; hoping to elicit orgasm after orgasm out of you, even if it took all his will power.

you notice precum slightly leaking from the red tip of his cock, his thumb gathers it from the head and spreads it down the shaft. you make eye contact with him, wanting it in your mouth.

he grabs the sides of your face, pulling you towards his length. you keep your mouth open, anticipating his cock entering your awaiting mouth.

“keep your slutty mouth open and your head still,” he grunts, thrusting his cock into your mouth.

you shut your eyes, fighting the tears threatening to fall down your face, and a violent gag rising up your throat. his grip around your head tightens as he stares at your face, tears are rolling down your cheeks, spit drooling out of your mouth, and your cheeks and neck are adorned with a slight pink tint.

it was quite a filthy sight for iwaizumi, he took a moment to relish in how stupid you went for his cock. eyes crossing, tears streaking down your face, drool dripping down your chin, and his hard cock in your mouth.

“fuck,” he groans, snapping out of his haze.

he pulls his cock almost all the way out, tip still lodged between your lips, and snaps his hips back at your face.

you tightly hold your thumb into your fist, trying to alleviate the gag fighting it’s way up your throat from iwaizumi’s cock constantly pushing past your gag reflex. your eyes begin to blur with tears as iwaizumi pushes farther down your throat.

he growls, pulling your head back slipping his cock out of your mouth. you gasp for air, constantly blinking back tears desperately hoping you’re able to see his aroused face.

his flushed cheeks grow darker witnessing your doe eyes staring up at him with a fucked out face, he can’t help thinking about how stupid you’ll look being fucked wide open on his cock.

you feel yourself zoning out, staring at his throbbing cock. the head’s an angry red with beads of pre-cum dripping out of the tip. you lean your head forward, trying to lick at the tip, but you’re instead met with a sting on your right cheek.

“get up, and get on the bed,” he groans out, your eyes travel up his toned body where you meet each other’s eyes.

you get up from the floor and lay yourself onto the plush bed on your back, you clench your thighs together needing to alleviate the throbbing of your core.

iwaizumi kneels on the bed, placing his hand on your knee roughly separating it from the other. he catches the sight of your dripping c!nt, slick from the man handling and rough face fucking.

his thumb finds your cl!t easily, calloused finger rubbing the bud in slow circles. you keen, finally feeling some relief from the small amount of pleasure he’s providing for you.

he sits back on the back of his calves, admiring how your juices flow out of you in an obscene way. his eyes travel up to your breasts, noticing your n!pples hardening from your arousal.

he snaps out of his daze, slightly raises his hand up and smacks it onto your hardening cl!t. the slap makes a lewd noise from the constant arousal drooling from your quivering hole; the mixture of pain and pleasure causing your eyes to roll into the back of your head.

“you liked that, huh?” he teases.

“such a dirty slut, you like when i rough you up like a little slut?” you whine and nod in response, not being able to form a coherent sentence.

not being satisfied with your answer, he raises his hand again and slaps it back down onto your c!nt with much more force this time. you feel your lower half jump out of surprise, silently begging for more stimulation.

“i asked you a question, use your words and answer me.“ he growls out, much more frustrated than before.

you whine, meeting his eyes and shying away not having the confidence to say anything.

“yes,” you meekly whisper out.

“louder.“ he presses, slapping your c!nt once again. you try to push your thighs together, feeling your high coming faster than you expected. iwaizumi growls, roughly grabbing the back of your thighs and forces them back open.

“yes! i like it!” you say, this time much louder and with a newfound confidence in your voice.

“good girl,” you smile, finally getting the praise you’ve been wanting.

iawaizumi pulls his hand away from your c!nt, spreading your juices onto his cock. you whine, missing his touch, which results in him grabbing your chin roughly prying your mouth open.

iwaizumi, once again, spits in your mouth but this time let’s you swallow to give you some satisfaction while he preps his cock for your awaiting hole.

he lets go of your face, lining up his cock with your entrance.

iwaizumi purposefully didn’t prep you, because he knows you like to feel the stretch of his cock entering your tight c!nt. that’s just how much of a slut you are for him.

he brings your legs up, knees touching your chest painfully, and slowly pushes his tip inside of you. you already feel your walls straining around the head of his cock, trying to stretch around him to fit.

“come on baby, let me in, relax.” he coos into your ear.

you feel his abdomen lightly graze your clit, causing you to cry out at the little contact you receive.

“that’s it, let me in baby,” he pushes himself in deeper, ignoring your whimpers and cries.

“p-please.” you whine out, feeling the coil in your stomach slowly start to tighten painfully. iwaizumi feels your c!nt fluttering around him, squeezing him incredibly tight.

“are you about to fucking cum?” he chuckles out. you whimper, nodding your head but barely keeping the tears from falling from your eyes. his big hands press against your abdomen, thumb finding your clit, and starts rolling the bud between his finger, increasing the pace gradually.

he continues pushing himself inside, enjoying your spasming c!nt sucking him inside and your already fucked out face.

“come on, baby. cum for me.” his fingers speed up at the same time as his hips meet yours.

your eyes roll to the back of your head, and you come undone around his cock. the orgasm left your ears slightly ringing, and your poor cl!t swollen under his touch.

the aftershocks of your orgasm almost send iwaizumi over the edge, but he holds himself together wanting to properly fuck you silly.

not waiting for you to come down from your high, iwaizumi wraps his hand around your throat effectively cutting off the blood flow to your head.

he starts off with a brutal pace, not showing any mercy to your sensitive c!nt. you feel the tip of his cock nudging your cervix, bringing you the mix of pain and pleasure that you can’t get enough of.

“right there!” you almost scream out, not recognizing your own voice. he growls, pistoning his hips into the one spot that has your eyes crossing and c!nt drooling non stop.

his hand squeezes your throat a little tighter, making you lightheaded. you start babbling nonsense that even you couldn’t understand, but iwaizumi feels satisfied with how fucked out you’ve become.

“aw, look at that, the poor little baby can’t even speak properly,” he mocks, pounding his hips a little harder into you.

“have i fucked you that silly? you have that dumb fucked out look on your face.” he lets go of your throat and chuckles as you desperately gasp for air. he feels your c!nt fluttering again, knowing you’re close to your second orgasm of the night.

“who’s my little slut? say it for me baby,” he says as you moan out, reaching a hand down between your legs and touching your needy cl!t.

“i-i’m your little slut.” you yell, squeezing around him unbearably tight feeling your high coming faster as the seconds pass.

“good girl, such a good little girl for me. now come for me.” he growls, feeling his own high coming too.

you finally feel the coil in your abdomen snap, letting your orgasm wrack through your body. the hand on your clit is still rubbing furiously, desperately trying to ride out the high. iwaizumi stills inside you, watching your juices gush out of you and onto the sheets was enough for him to cum inside of you.

you both come down from your highs. you, a fucked out mess, and iwaizumi still incredibly hard from watching as his cum mixed with yours flowed out after slipping his cock out.

you both knew the night was far from over.

#iwaizumi smut #hq iwaizumi #iwaizumi x y/n #haikyuu iwaizumi #iwaizumi oneshot #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyu smut #hq smut #iwaizumi fic #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi imagine #iwaizumi fanfic

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journalxxx · 3 years ago

Text

By Hook or by Crook (5)

“What do you make of all this?” Toshinori asked, when they were finally alone. They’d momentarily parked the kid in the hallway with a cup of tea while the hero had followed Tsukauchi in his office as he took care of the last bureaucratic dregs of the questioning.

“As I see it, there are two major possibilities we ought to consider.” Tsukauchi said without taking his eyes off the monitor of his computer. “The first is that Midoriya’s quirk is just a mutation, and he is in no way related to All For One. His father is likely a government official whose position grants him knowledge of enough confidential files to make him fear negative repercussions in case his son’s quirk was publicly known, and has therefore enforced silence on the matter. We aren’t looking at any outstanding crimes here, although this man isn’t going to win any Parent of the Year awards any time soon.”

Toshinori grimaced. Wouldn’t that be nice? “And what are the odds of this being our case?”

“I wouldn’t bet my next paycheck on it, for sure.” Tsukauchi typed something on the keyboard, and checked his phone at the same time, before sighing and leaning back in his chair. “The other possibility is that Midoriya is indeed related to All For One, maybe even his son. He’s been fostered to a trusted associate of his and kept in the dark about everything.”

That option could be more statistically or genetically likely, but it still didn’t sit right with Toshinori. “That doesn’t sound like something All For One would do though. Why not raise him as a successor, or even just an underling? Surely another All For One wielder would have made for an important asset to his schemes.”

“You forget that Midoriya’s quirk manifested only two years ago. It is possible that All For One may have planned to do so, but lost interest when the child was deemed quirkless.” Tsukauchi scratched his head pensively. “As for why he didn’t keep the kid close since his birth… we can only assume it was out of caution. Fourteen years ago you had already put a significant dent in All For One’s syndicate and influence. Maybe he was already taking precautions against his own downfall, and didn’t want his potential successor to be involved in case things took a turn for the worse too quickly.”

“... I guess that makes sense.” Toshinori nodded. As per habit, he sent a quiet thanks to his lucky star for accidentally baring his secret to a damnably honest and capable member of the force such as Tsukauchi, God knew Toshinori himself wasn’t exactly cut out for fine deductive work. “In this case, the boy’s father…”

“...Is a former subordinate of All For One’s currently employed by the government, yes. Not a pleasant scenario to work with.” Tsukauchi waited for the printer to regurgitate a disproportionate stack of documents that made Toshinori instinctively recoil. The detective flipped through the paperwork quickly before sprinkling his signature on just about every odd sheet. “Regardless of which of the two hypotheses is true, I definitely want to look into this Hisashi Midoriya. He is by far the most suspicious aspect of the boy’s account.”

“Yeah. He doesn’t visit his family for a decade and a half, he doesn’t talk about his job, he doesn’t follow basic legal procedures, and you can tell he had more of an active role in encouraging Midoriya to hide the quirk than the kid lets on... It doesn’t exactly paint a reassuring picture.” Toshinori sighed. “This isn’t going to be easy for the boy…”

“It never is, when a family member is involved in criminal activities. But the fact that their relationship seems rather distant may make things a little less traumatic for him.” Tsukauchi checked his watch as he tidied up some stationery and turned off his computer. “Well, I guess I’m not too unforgivably late for my other meeting since we don’t have to question Mrs. Midoriya.”

“...Sorry about that. And for springing this on you all of a sudden.” Toshinori said with an apologetic grimace and his utmost sincerity. “You’re a saint.”

Tsukauchi’s small smile implied that he was well aware of the fact. “I’ll drive Midoriya home while I’m on my way to the city hall. Do you need a lift? Or do you want me to let you on the rooftop for a smoke?” That bit of code speak would never not be tragically ironic, Toshinori thought.

“No, I’ve already finished my shift for the day.” All three, scant, scattered hours of it. Japan’s finest, most dependable hero, ladies and gentlemen.

“Then thank you for your hard work.” His friend gave him a quick look and a brief, firm squeeze to his shoulder before heading to the door. No pity, no unrequested sympathy, no disingenuous praise, just straightforward respect and understanding. He really was one of a kind.

Midoriya was exactly where they’d left him, busy fiddling with his phone. He perked up when he saw them return. “Uh, my mother just texted me back. She says she’ll be home in about an hour. If you still want to talk to her.”

Tsukauchi hesitated. “It’s a little too late for me, I’m afraid. I’m expected somewhere else, but…”

“I can wait.“ Toshinori immediately volunteered. “It won’t be as thorough or official as if you interviewed her yourself, but if it can lighten your workload just a little…”

“...Well, I don’t see why not. Hop in the car with us then.”

The return trip was silent. Toshinori glanced at Midoriya a couple of times from the rearview mirror, and he always caught him in an ill-concealed state of unrest. Fidgeting with his phone, picking at the seatbelt, gazing nervously out of both car windows. Toshinori didn’t like that. Why all that agitation, now that the worst of the ordeal was supposedly over?

The boy eventually locked eyes with him. “...Oh. Uhm.”

“Something on your mind?” Toshinori asked.

“Uh, well, I was wondering…” His gaze dropped to his knees. “Are you going to tell my mother about my quirk?”

“I’m afraid so. She is bound to find out anyway, eventually. The police will issue an update on your quirk registration, as per the norm in such cases.”

“...Ah.” Oh boy, now he looked like a kicked puppy. That was just depressing.

“I don’t necessarily have to be the one to break the news to her though. If it makes you feel any better, you can tell her about the incident in your own words.” Toshinori offered, hoping to soften the blow.

“I… I think I would prefer that. Thank you.” The boy quietly acquiesced.

Tsukauchi shot Toshinori a pointed look. All right, maybe that wasn’t the most proper way to go about it, maybe standard procedure demanded the officer in charge to keep mother and son separate during the questioning and explain things personally in the most objective possible terms. But Toshinori wasn’t an officer, he was a washed-up alter-ego of the Symbol of Peace acting in semi-official consulting capacity, and he’d be damned if he didn’t try to make things a little less humiliating for the forlorn child in the back. He condensed that whole argument into a meaningful glance of his own, that Tsukauchi couldn’t hold for more than two seconds lest he drove them all straight into the back of a truck. Toshinori took that as unspoken permission to proceed as he saw fit.

“I’ll be leaving this in your capable hands then.” Tsukauchi said as the two stepped out of the car. The man had a veritable talent for conveying irony while maintaining the straightest of faces and the driest of tones.

“Your trust is deeply appreciated. Drive safely!” Toshinori shut the door of the car decisively and waved him off with a dazzling smile.

“Uhm. Okay.” Midoriya said, his eyes darting between the hero and the speeding car with obvious perplexity. “Mom won’t be here for at least another forty minutes. I can fetch that photo you wanted in the meantime. I think I know where it is… probably...”

“I’ll take you up on that, thank you.” Toshinori followed him across the parking lot and up the stairs of the apartment complex. The boy’s eagerness to please was a sight for sore eyes in this cold, self-serving world. “You really did something commendable today, you know? Not many people would be so ready to relieve the pain of those who hurt them. That villain owes you more than he’ll ever know.”

“Oh…” The boy fiddled with his keys as a light redness tinged his cheeks. “It’s nothing, really. It isn’t my place to judge anyone... let alone steal from them. I just hope he’ll get better soon.”

“I’ll keep you up to date on his condition, if you want.”

“Oh, you don’t need to! It’s fine!” Midoriya’s instinctual politeness clashed against Toshinori’s no-nonsense availability. It was a fierce battle, but one didn’t become the number one hero without developing a certain skill in staring people into reasonableness. Midoriya surrendered with a small smile. “...I-It would put my mind at ease though.”

“Then I shall.” Toshinori claimed with finality. “Honestly, I wish I could have done more today for you and Tsukauchi. You two took care of all the heavy lifting and data collecting while I just stood around doing nothing the whole time.”

“You did, didn't you…?” Toshinori’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Well, he hadn’t been expecting that candid a confirmation of his uselessness. Midoriya flinched and started flailing about in obvious distress as soon as he realized he’d voiced that thought aloud. “N-No! I mean- I don’t mean that you were- What I’m saying is that you didn’t really need to come. But you did anyway! F-For my sake, I get that. Because you promised you’d help me out, even if you surely have better things to do with your time, and… I truly appreciate it. Really.”

Toshinori laughed softly. Yes, ‘truly appreciative’ was indeed the boy’s default mood whenever he was graced with the barest amount of consideration, as far as the hero had witnessed in their short acquaintance. He didn’t think it was some sort of hero-worship-related response either, the kid just seemed that sensitive to it. “Don’t worry about it. It’s part of the job.”

“Is it?” Midoriya finally opened the door and they stepped inside. He let out a small chuckle of his own as they removed their shoes. “I guess I have new insight to add to the online speculation about All Might’s decreasing workload. I guess it is to be expected if yo- if he’s taken to follow up on all his cases so thoroughly.”

Toshinori had to fight back a traitorous cough. “W-well, there is really no need for me to overexert myself nowadays as I used to do in the past.“ He started, automatically supplying his PR-certified response to any inquiry on the topic. Goodness, people really did notice, didn’t they? It was hardly a new concern, but still… “The crime rate has been decreasing steadily, and the industry is so saturated with heroes that there’s someone ready to intervene almost at any place and at any given time. And those heroes could use the money and exposure way more than me…” Toshinori trailed off as they made their way to the living room. The boy was regarding him with unnerving attention, as if memorizing his speech word for word. “There are other reasons too, of course…”

Midoriya cocked his head to the side curiously, expecting further elaboration. Then it clicked, and he fleetingly glanced at the hero from head to toe with open contrition. “O-Oh! Of course! Your… Sorry, I forgot.”

That simple sentence confused Toshinori so much that he couldn’t help but gape back. The silence grew very awkward very quickly. “...Uhm. So, that photo of yours?”

“R-Right! I’ll go look for it! Make yourself comfortable! Be right back!” The boy bolted fast enough to leave metaphorical dust clouds behind him.

Toshinori wandered to the nearest chair with small steps. He forgot. That was quite the feat, while literally standing in front of the sad, wrecked husk that Toshinori had become. Or maybe the kid hadn’t realized that his appearance was a relatively recent development. That seemed more likely. Perhaps he had interpreted his vague answer about his quirk to mean that the number one hero had always been just that, a sickly, overachieving twig in a bodysuit keeping his own skeleton in the closet for nearly forty years.

Toshinori let out a sigh. Quite the uplifting impression he was leaving with this young one.

His circling thoughts were interrupted by a yelp, and the thundering noise of some heavy objects crashing just outside the living room.

“Midoriya?” Toshinori called, jumping to his feet. The second unanswered call had him by the source of the noise in a moment.

“I’m here! I’m fine!” Midoriya’s voice finally answered, from behind a half-closed door conspicuously marked as ‘Izuku’ by a familiar blond-banged nameplate.

“What was that?”

“Just… some stuff that fell down...” Toshinori approached it and peeked inside. Even from his limited perspective, he could see the boy sitting on the floor and rubbing his forehead, next to a tipped-over chair.

“And did that stuff happen to include you?” Toshinori deadpanned, inviting himself in... and pausing on the threshold. Taking in the interior of the boy’s bedroom. Which wasn’t the priority right now. He willed himself to ignore the star-spangled elephant in the room assaulting his senses and knelt down beside Midoriya, gently peeling his hand away from the sore spot. “Are you hurt?”

“No, no, it’s just a bump.”

“You should put some ice on it.” There were no cuts or outer signs or damage, which was a good start. Toshinori’s eyes fell on the bottom half of the toppled piece of furniture beside them. “...Did you seriously try to climb on a rolling chair?”

“I do that all the time. It’s steadier than it looks!” There was no appropriate reply to such a claim, but Toshinori’s judgemental glare was enough to make the boy squirm. “I’m fine, really-”

“Ice.” He pointed sternly at the corridor. Maybe there was still a minimal chance of preventing an oversized lump on Midoriya’s forehead from outing to Tsukauchi and other responsible adults the fact the boy had nearly cracked his skull within five minutes of being left in Toshinori’s charge.

“All right. Just a second.” Toshinori kept an eye on the kid, making sure he wasn’t struggling to keep his balance, as he made his way out of the room. Room that Toshinori was now free to observe in all its embarrassing magnificence.

A soft All Might carpet. All Might-themed bedding. Walls plastered with All Might posters. All Might-patterned curtains. Shelves and shelves and shelves of All Might action figures and books.

It was always… humbling to be reminded of how much passion and care people from so many different walks of life could put in something as trivial as collecting hero merchandise - his hero merchandise, more often than not. Popularity and revenue were Toshinori’s very last priorities when it came to his job, but, despite merchandising being exactly about those, he wasn’t opposed to the practice in principle. It did help cement the reassuring image of the Symbol of Peace in the collective mind, which was definitely one of his lifetime goals. It brought a sizable influx of wealth to the agency’s treasury, which he largely redirected to charity and assorted emergency relief funds. It did seem to spark genuine joy and entertainment in both children and adults. And, when none of these arguments were enough to wash away the vague sense of guilt that came with profiting off the love and admiration of Japan’s fine citizens, Toshinori reminded himself that there were much worse, self-destructive indulgences people could waste their savings on. Alcohol. Tobacco. Drugs. Troll 2 DVDs. The like.

Midoriya reappeared nursing an ice pack against his temple. “Sorry about that. The photo should be in one of those boxes.” He gestured towards the wardrobe that sported a brown cardboard box on the top, and then towards the floor, where its twin lay sideways after a presumably rough landing. They cut through the tape of the latter and, after Midoriya emphatically assured him that he didn’t mind him browsing through his personal belongings in the slightest, Toshinori joined the kid on the carpet in their quest for the photographic Holy Grail.

“I probably slipped it inside one of these…” The boy said, pulling out small piles of notebooks and publications. Toshinori confined his perusal to dated magazines, comics and books that didn’t seem likely to invade Midoriya’s privacy. The first box yielded no result.

“Maybe it’s in that one. Let me get another chair- oh.” Toshinori only needed to raise his arms and strain slightly on his toes to comfortably reach the top of the wardrobe and retrieve the second- crap, that was heavy. How the kid planned to pull it down himself while standing on wheels was beyond him. “Thank you.”

Toshinori was sitting cross-legged and flipping through an old gossip magazine lavishing pages and pages of speculation on the meager information they had managed to scrape together on his association with Dave - ah, those were the days… - when Midoriya finally let out a triumphant Aha!

“Found it!” He regarded his prize with joy, but his expression quickly morphed into concentration and then confusion. Toshinori held out his hand expectantly, and the boy deposited the photo into it while indicating a specific spot. “It’s, uh… my father’s this one.”

Toshinori looked at the man in question.

And froze.

“He doesn’t…” He heard the boy say distantly, as if from kilometres away. “He looks… a bit different from the picture in the police file…”

Toshinori coughed. He was different, all right. Subtly, cunningly so. Both men had short, snow-white hair, both had relatively plain features and pale complexion, both had faintly-colored eyes that could pass as blue under the right light. They were similar enough that they could be mistaken for one another, when described verbally. But the man in Tsukauchi’s file was a stranger to Toshinori. The man in this photo wasn’t.

“This-” The hero managed, between small bursts of coughs that he couldn’t restrain. “This is the man that- told you to keep quiet about your quirk-”

“Y-Yes.” Midoriya was gawking at him with obvious concern, and it only got worse when the hero’s words sank in. “I-I mean, he didn’t- he just- we sort of agreed that-”

“And the-” Toshinori covered his mouth with his hand, already tasting iron on his tongue as he patted his trousers to find some tissues. “The last time you spoke to him was…?”

“A little less than a month ago.”

Something inside Toshinori just gave up on trying to hold it together. He erupted into a brutal fit, vicious enough to shake his whole body and squeeze his eyes shut. He heard the boy asking something in alarm, and he felt warm blood trickling down his chin before he finally got ahold of a handkerchief to press against his lips. He hacked and spluttered for an interminable minute, his throat and chest tight and sore from the effort. Eventually it died down, and he found himself hunched over and bracing himself against the floor, wheezing and struggling for breath as something shuffled beside him. He turned to check on the noise, and saw Midoriya tapping on his phone.

“Don’t.” Toshinori rasped, swallowing down the remaining blood coating his mouth and reaching out to gesture at him dismissively with his clean hand. “I’m fine.”

“N-no, you aren’t.” The kid looked on the verge of fainting himself. Toshinori followed his horrified gaze, only to notice he’d sprayed plenty of little crimson stains on both the photo and the carpet, not to mention his own clothes. Damn, that was a mess even by his standards. “B-But- it’s okay, I’ll call an-”

Toshinori unceremoniously plucked the phone from Midoriya’s grasp, made sure that he hadn’t dialed any number, and tossed it on his bed. No need to make the situation even more headache-inducing than it already was. “I mean it. It happens. Don’t worry.”

Toshinori cleared his throat as he contemplated the ruined piece of evidence anew. At least he hadn’t marred the spot containing ‘Hisashi Midoriya’. Despite the less than optimal angle, there could really be no doubt. There was no mistaking that face for anyone else’s, it had been seared in Toshinori’s mind by more than three decades of pain and regret.

...Shit.

Shit.

Toshinori collected the picture from the floor and stood up to drop it on the kid’s desk, where it sat innocently surrounded by dozens of pieces of licensed All Might memorabilia.

“...So this is your father, and he’s alive and well.” He stated it aloud and with scorn, because he felt it was important for the universe to hear that its sense of humor didn’t fly with everyone.

“Ehr. Yes. Do you-”

“All right. Okay. Fine.” Toshinori turned on his heels and headed for the door. “Excuse me, I have to make a phone call.”

“...To your doctor?” Midoriya asked apprehensively, visibly starting to doubt the hero’s mental as well as physical well-being.

“No.” He almost stamped a huge, bloody handprint on his slacks before remembering that he still looked like he’d just slaughtered a pig and devoured it raw. “Can I use the bathroom?”

“Second door on the left.” The boy muttered, too stunned by now to object to any of Toshinori’s tangents.

Toshinori washed his face, neck and hands, and rinsed his mouth. He decided he couldn’t bother to do anything about the state of his clothes. He took care of scrubbing the sink too once he was done, making sure he didn’t accidentally leave any red smears on it. He dried his hands and fetched his phone.

“Tsukauchi? Sorry, can you make it back to Midoriya’s house? Yes, as soon as you can. ...No, but we found that photo. You need to see it, it’s… it’s him.”

He closed the call and stared at his reflection on the mirror. His brain didn’t produce a single coherent thought. He walked back to the kid’s room.

Midoriya was peering at the picture intently, even though he hadn’t moved it from where Toshinori had left it. The man’s eyes fell on the scattered blots on the carpet. In his experience, there wasn’t much hope of removing them completely, but it seemed rude not to try, at least. “Got any cleaning supplies?”

Midoriya blinked at him owlishly. “In the bathroom. Under the sink.”

One short trip later, Toshinori was back with paper towels and rubbing alcohol. He waved the boy off when he made to kneel down beside him to help. He handed him the ice pack that lay forgotten on the floor, and the kid pressed it back on his forehead mechanically as he sat on his bed. Toshinori could benefit from only a couple of minutes of silence before Midoriya spoke.

“You know him.”

“...Yes.”

“You’re upset.”

Toshinori wondered if it showed on his face, or if it was just an educated guess based on the half-baked spontaneous hemorrhage he’d just displayed. He didn’t reply, his attention ostensibly focused on dabbing lightly at each smudge.

“Why…” The boy’s voice faltered. “W-Why is there a photo of another man in the police records?”

Toshinori couldn’t hold back a deep exhale. He wasn’t sure he was the most qualified person to have this conversation with the boy. He surely wasn’t the most eager to.

“All Might.” He felt compelled to raise his gaze. Midoriya was pale, his eyes wide and shiny with unshed tears. His expression was heartbreakingly imploring. “Please.”

He was going to find out anyway, at least the bare bones of it. Kindness was one thing, cowardice was another. Denying him an answer at this point felt more like the latter.

“I know him because he is known to the police. He’s a villain.”

“...A villain…?” The information bounced right against Midoriya’s shock. Toshinori gave him a curt nod. “No… no, that’s… not…”

Toshinori could track the gradual, painstaking process of acceptance the poor kid was going through from the aborted expressions quickly blurring into each other. Horror, fear, confusion, disbelief. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and he clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle a sob.

“A-Are you sure?”

Toshinori hesitated. Was there any other possibility they weren’t considering? “Are you absolutely certain that that’s the person you’ve been talking to?”

“I… I’ve never met him in person. B-But mom has, and she’s been talking to him too. She said it’s him.”

“...Then I’m afraid there can be no mistake.” It felt like dropping a boulder on the child’s chest, and the way Midoriya crumpled onto himself, cradling his head in both his hands, reinforced that gut-churning impression. Toshinori made no effort to conceal the sympathy in his whisper. “I’m sorry, kid.”

“H-He said…” The rest of that thought was swallowed into distraught silence.

“He told you he worked for the government?”

Midoriya took his time to answer, and he did so with a half-choked snort. “He… he never did, actually. I thought… He said things that… made me think…”

Toshinori grit his teeth. Figures. That silver-tongued demon wouldn’t spare even a child from his precious little mind games. “I can imagine.”

The silence that followed was only broken by the boy’s quiet sniffles, and it was so long that Toshinori believed the kid to have exhausted his reserve of bravery for further questions. He’d resumed his ill-concealed procrastination via blood-cleaning when the next inquiry dropped.

“What did he do?”

Oh, man. What didn’t he do? “He’s been involved in a variety of criminal activities, both directly and indirectly. He’s… quite the nasty customer.”

“Since when? How long for?” Midoriya gripped his head even more tightly, his fingers digging deep among his curls.

Toshinori had the distinct feeling that his well-meaning honesty was now trespassing into inadvertent cruelty. “We should wait for your mother before discussing this any-”

“Please.” Midoriya’s head snapped up, and the weight and emotion of those emerald eyes pierced through him like a blade. “Please, just tell me.”

Fourteen years of lies. Toshinori couldn’t bear to add even one more to the heap. “...Since long before you were born.”

Midoriya’s head dropped anew. Toshinori got back on his feet, unsure whether a kind word or a pat on the head could possibly ease that burden even slightly-

The ring of the doorbell made them both flinch, bursting that odd bubble of private desolation that had enveloped the boy’s room. They made their way out of the room, Midoriya quietly trailing behind the hero as the man opened the front door.

Tsukauchi opened his mouth to greet them, and froze. His eyes immediately homed in on the blood liberally splattered on Toshinori’s clothes, and on the melted ice pack Midoriya was still absently pressing to his temple.

“...What happened?”

Inko Midoriya had the same dark green hair as her son, styled in a way that made something inside Toshinori’s chest ache with nostalgia and familiarity. She had the countenance of a demure, quiet, respectable housewife that valued stability and her loved ones’ well-being above all, and would never even conceive of starting a family with anyone any less sensible than she was.

That was why Toshinori was thrown for a loop when, upon being informed that her absentee husband was a criminal, she simply closed her eyes and bowed her head with a sigh and a resigned “...Yes, I am aware.”

Toshinori let Tsukauchi lead the questioning, as usual. Inko had met ‘Hisashi Midoriya’ (under a different alias, at the time) when she was twenty-six, working as a secretary at the main branch of Detnerat. The man had been introduced to her as a representative from another support item company doing some preliminary checks on Detnerat for a potential merger.

This was unusual, but not exceedingly so. In the nearly thirty years he’d spent meticulously dismantling All For One’s organization, Toshinori had gathered evidence of him personally handling certain aspects of his schemes with surprising regularity, even relatively minor tasks or dirty deeds that could easily and safely be entrusted to his subordinates. He hardly ever found any specific reasons for All For One’s direct involvement. Toshinori strongly suspected that the bastard simply didn’t enjoy the lifestyle of the cooped-up, invisible puppeteer, and sometimes just felt like wrecking some havoc with his own diabolical hands.

Inko had been charged with supplying him with quite a sizable amount of rather sensitive data, but since the CEO in person had given the authorization, she had performed her task diligently and unsuspectingly.

Now, Toshinori had been expecting the worst to emerge while questioning the circumstances that had led Inko Midoriya to her current marital status. Without exaggerating, the very worst. Any sort of revolting account of manipulation, coercion, even human experimentation, there was no low All For One wouldn’t stoop to. They had confined the boy to his room before starting for that exact reason.

But apparently the universe wasn’t done throwing curve balls at Toshinori that day, and what they’d gotten instead was the succinct description of what seemed to be, by all accounts, a perfectly ordinary and unassuming workplace romance. One instigated mainly by Inko herself, no less. Toshinori’s strained mind didn’t quite know what to make of that baffling information, so it promptly repressed it.

“We didn’t keep seeing each other after he stopped coming to the company, but I did reach out to him when I found out I was pregnant. That was when I became aware that there was much I didn’t know about him.”

“How so?”

“He told me.” Inko replied simply. “He was... forward about it, in a way. He said that he couldn’t settle down in any given place, nor spare the time for being part of a family. He offered to let me join him in his activities, but… the way he worded it made it clear that he wasn’t talking of any sort of legal business.”

“Did he mention any details about what his ‘business’ entailed, in general or in that specific time frame?”

“No, not at all. But considering how we met, I assume he must be involved in industrial espionage.” Grief, brief but intense, shadowed on the woman’s features for a moment. “I… I resigned from Detnerat as soon as I found out. He had been asking rather sensitive questions about the inner workings of the company, and… even though I never technically shared confidential information, I felt like I had exposed it to too great a danger because of my irresponsible conduct. And, honestly… I was afraid of what could emerge if I kept working there in my condition.”

Toshinori rubbed his hands in his lap uncomfortably. No job, a son on the way, a presumably disreputable partner to deal with… What a wretched situation to find oneself in.

“You said he offered you to join him? In what way, exactly?” Tsukauchi asked from above the pages and pages of notes filling his notepad.

“...I am not sure. I didn’t ask, I had no intention of getting caught in that sort of environment. Nor did I want Izuku to grow up embroiled in dubious activities from an early age.” Inko’s brows furrowed, and her fist clenched slightly. “...I didn’t want him to feel abandoned either though. I didn’t want him to grow thinking his father had deserted him. I asked Hisashi to grant us that, at least. Financial support and the decency to call, once in a while.”

Toshinori couldn’t hold back a sharp cough at that. Inko regarded him with a mix of concern and suspicion.

He couldn’t blame her for it. He had accidentally caused her a fair share of grief when, her son having forgotten to warn her to expect guests upon her return, she’d opened the front door and found a freakishly tall, gaunt, haunted-looking, bloodied stranger looming in her hallway. Toshinori had waited in a conveniently secluded corner of the living room, trying to make himself look as small and non-threatening as possible, while Tsukauchi delivered the proper introductions and deflected the few concerned neighbors her terrified scream had attracted. Not exactly brilliant, as first impressions went.

“And he agreed to that?” Toshinori croaked.

“Yes. I was expecting some resistance, but… he agreed almost immediately.”

Toshinori gaped at the remissive-looking, soft-spoken woman who had once been capable of browbeating All For One into exercising a modicum of fatherly commitment. This whole Midoriya case was getting more and more unbelievable by the hour.

Tsukauchi cleared his throat pointedly. Toshinori scraped back together what little dignity he had left and tried to soldier on.

“Please continue, Mrs. Midoriya.” The detective encouraged.

“There isn’t much else to say, I think. I didn’t hear from him for months after that. I contacted him a few days after Izuku was born, and we’ve kept in touch ever since.”

Tsukauchi tapped his chin with his pen for a few moments, his expression deeply focussed. Then he looked Inko straight in the eye.

“You are being… unexpectedly forthcoming about all this, if I may.”

Inko let out a deep sigh. “I was never under the impression that we could escape the consequences of Hisashi’s actions forever. As soon as Izuku was born, I decided that I would never subject myself or my son to undue duresses just to keep my husband’s secrets. I told Hisashi as much as well.”

Toshinori had to stifle another wet cough with his handkerchief. How on earth was this woman still alive?

“And he had no qualms about this declaration?”

“No. It rather amused him, actually. He said that any mother worth her salt would put her offspring’s safety above that of their parents. And… something about natural selection and survival of the fittest…” Inko’s eyes flickered upwards briefly, like those of a very normal wife exasperated by the very normal idiosyncrasies of her very normal husband. “He does go off on such tangents.”

“So you aren’t concerned about any possible retaliations on your husband’s part because of your cooperation with us?”

“Oh!” Her eyes went wide, almost shocked by the mere suggestion. “Oh no, I really don’t think he’d be capable of something like that.”

Oh, how very wrong she was. Toshinori frowned, admittedly perturbed by the level of trust All For One had managed to establish within the family without ever even deigning to step in their household. Precautions would have to be taken to protect the Midoriyas from the tragic fate that usually befell all those who were deemed traitors by the Symbol of Fear.

More and more questions followed. With his habitual thoroughness, Tsukauchi pursued a multitude of topics and leads that hadn’t even occurred to Toshinori, at least not so readily. Timing and means of communications, occasional postal deliveries to and from the family, details about the sums of money regularly deposited in the family’s account, and so forth. Toshinori was rather out of his depth here, but he tried his best to help Tsukauchi sort through the reams of documents, receipts, records, and diverse paperwork Inko produced at the detective’s request. By the time Tsukauchi declared to be satisfied with his preliminary inquiries, he had earned himself two plastic bags bursting with evidence, and Toshinori had developed a burgeoning migraine.

As they finally made their way to the entrance, Toshinori glanced at the door to Midoriya’s bedroom. Amidst that cascade of new revelations, they’d barely touched upon the topic of the villain attack and of Midoriya’s quirk with his mother. Toshinori felt genuinely sorry for the difficult conversations that were sure to follow between those two.

He hadn’t realized how late it’d gotten until he stepped outside the Midoriyas’ apartment. Sunset had come and gone, and the lampposts and the bright squares of the neighbors’ windows were the only sources of light in the moonless night of that unassuming residential area. As the door closed behind his back, squeezing into nothingness the rectangular glow framing him and Tsukauchi, Toshinori felt the darkness weigh on his shoulders and seep in his bones almost physically.

He felt, suddenly, extremely tired.

“I’ll drive you home.” Tsukauchi’s wasn’t an offer, so Toshinori didn’t refuse.

“Thank you.”

They walked to the car as his friend made a couple of quick calls to instruct some agents to watch the house until the next morning. The fresh night air would have felt like a small bliss to Toshinori on any other day, but in that moment it only rattled whatever unpleasant manifestation of his unease had lodged itself in his lung earlier that afternoon and hadn’t left since. He coughed a few times in his fist, then a few more on purpose to make sure he got most of the discomfort in his throat out of his system before he settled in the passenger’s seat.

The drive was quiet. Toshinori gazed absently out of the window, letting the new awareness sink in his mind like a stone in a pond. All For One was alive. All For One was still alive, somehow. Toshinori couldn’t fathom how. They had never retrieved the body, that was true, but there was precious little they had managed to retrieve from the location of their fight back then. It was nothing short of a miracle they’d found Toshinori himself quickly enough to lend medical assistance. The only reason why they’d been able to keep the public from learning of the accident was because it hadn’t happened on the mainland, and the tiny, uninhabited island that hosted it had all but been wiped from the maps. That his foe may have survived that disaster, considering the damage he’d sustained, was almost inconceivable. Toshinori was pretty sure he’d actually caught a glimpse of the man’s exposed brain after landing the last-

“Are you all right?” Tsukauchi asked quietly.

The corner of Toshinori’s mouth twitched upwards. “I’m never going to defy New Year’s fortunes again. Moving away from Tokyo was a terrible idea.”

“This is a good thing. If you hadn’t, All For One would still be out there, and we’d be none the wiser.”

Hell. Five years. For five years they’d been none the wiser. How much strength had All For One regained in five years, while Toshinori’s own slowly went down the drain? How much of his criminal network had he managed to rebuild? How many unnoticed, unreported atrocities had he been plotting and executing, unbeknownst to all? The mere notion made Toshinori’s skin crawl.

But Tsukauchi had the right idea, there was no point in brooding over the current situation. Things could have turned out a lot worse. If Toshinori had already chosen a successor and exhausted One For All’s embers, by now he’d be powerless and useless, and the burden of facing his revived nemesis would have fallen entirely on the new, inexperienced wielder. That truly would have been a worst-case scenario. But as things stood, he could still rely on his quirk for a decent amount of time. He could still tie this dreadful loose end himself before passing the torch, and he’d spare no effort in the endeavor. He’d pursue the monster to the ends of the Earth if he had to, even if it meant wearing himself down to nothing for the rest of his life.

Or meeting his gruesome, bitter end in the process.

Toshinori shivered.

“So,” he heard himself say, “where do we go from here?”

Tsukauchi gave him a stern, silent scrutiny, then he told him.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #All Might #Toshinori Yagi #Naomasa Tsukauchi #deku #izuku midoriya #inko midoriya

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hennike · 4 years ago

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lamen princess bride... as you wish 🥺 w laurent as buttercup and damen as westley

“Rest, your highness. We continue when night falls.”

The pirate’s grip was warm around Laurent’s wrist, unrelenting.

“Unhand me,” Laurent demanded, snatching his arm away from him. He cradled his wrist in his other hand, and was surprised to find it without a bruise.

“That’s hardly polite, your highness—especially to the man who saved you.”

“Saved me, only to hold me hostage,” Laurent shot back. “A man like you deserves no courtesy.”

“Like me?” The pirate’s tone was mild, curious, as if he was simply indulging Laurent’s need for conversation. “And what kind of man am I? If you would be so kind, your highness.”

“I know who you are,” Laurent spat out. “You’re the dread pirate Charls.”

Oddly, the pirate seemed pleased. “You’ve heard of me?”

“A cruel pirate, who pilfers poor villages, and leaves in his wake hoards of bastards and trails of blood. The court never tires of your crusades,” Laurent said, disgusted.

“I serve at the pleasure of the nobility,” drawled the pirate. His nonchalance infuriated Laurent.

“You are a murderer,” Laurent spat. “You have blood on your hands, and you expect me to relish in your presence.”

The pirate snorted, turning amused eyes on Laurent. “So does your brother.”

Laurent paused. “My brother? How could you possibly know about my brother?”

“That is no matter,” the pirate said. He waved a hand in the air in dismissal, but something about his demeanor had shifted. Secretive. Laurent watched him warily. “What matters is your woeful hypocrisy.”

The comment carried with it a sting, and Laurent, against his better judgement, found himself rising to the pirate’s bait.

“My brother fought for his country.”

The pirate clicked his tongue, tutting as if to mock Laurent. “For country, for sport—what difference does it make?”

“The difference is that my brother fought for honor.” Laurent glared at the pirate, disdain toiling within him. “You are a coward, who hides behind a mask as he takes the lives of innocent men, men with families, children, lovers. By your hands, lives are lost in vain.”

He thought of Damen. His sweet, sweet Damen, who had set off in the hopes to make for himself and Laurent a better life, only to meet with the dread pirate Charls’s cruelty. Laurent looked away and watched as the clouds crawled past.

“You killed my love.” Laurent’s voice was strained. The grief he thought had muted over the years came back with a vengeance, his body aching with the sadness of a life with his love, lost. “You killed my love, and you expect me to thank you.”

The pirate was silent.

“All too possible, I suppose,” he finally replied. He appeared casual as he plucked grass at his feet. “I’ve killed many men. Tell me about your lover, then.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your love,” the pirate said. “Was he a noble? Ugly? Rich? Scabby? I would expect nothing less.”

“No,” Laurent said. “A farm boy. He was poor. Poor, but kind, and warm, and perfect.”

The pirate scoffed. Laurent turned to him, defensive.

“He left, promising to return to me as soon as he was able. And then you”––Laurent rounded on the pirate, propelled by the force of his heartbreak––“on the high seas, you and your men attacked, and left no man alive, not even the cabin boy.”

“Yes, well,” the pirate said cheerfully. “It wouldn’t do to make any exceptions. That would only cause trouble for me. Mutinies abound, of course, and the reputation I’ve spent so many careful years building would all be for naught.”

“You mock my pain—”

“Life is pain, highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.”

Laurent stared at the pirate, struck by his sudden sobriety. Something in him wanted to yell, wanted to shout and hurt, because of course, Laurent knew life was pain. Life was difficult, but Damen always made the burden easier to bear—but then he was gone, and the pain became inescapable.

“Although,” the pirate began, calling Laurent’s attention. He hadn’t even noticed it had strayed. “I recall this farm boy of yours. Five years ago, yes?”

Laurent remained silent. What would it accomplish, to reveal that he knew to the day how long it had been since news of Damen’s death landed itself on his doorstep?

“He died well––that should please you.” The pirate began to pace mindlessly, staring off into the distance in his recall. “Barely an ounce of fear in him. All he said was, ‘Please. I need to live.’ Something about a man he loved waiting for him.”

Laurent shut his eyes, breathing steadily to quell the grief caught in his chest. Oh, Damen.

“I assume, then, that you were the man he was referring to. He spoke of your beauty, of your wit and your enduring faithfulness. Only”—the pirate turned, eyes deadly and frightful behind his mask—“I feel I did him a favor. Look at you. It seems he overestimated your faith.”

“How dare you,” Laurent gasped, grave and seething in his disbelief. “Do not presume to know anything about me.”

“I know enough, highness,” the pirate said. He was angry, too, for reasons Laurent could barely divine. “Tell me, how long did it take until you landed in the prince’s bed? Had you at least the decency to wait a week out of respect, or were you so eager—”

Unbidden, Laurent’s hand shot out and met the pirate’s cheek with a devastating smack. “Another word, and I swear to you on all that is holy that you will not live to see the next day. I died that day.”

They watched each other, fire on fire, and Laurent realized with a start that the proximity between them had grown nearly non-existent. Laurent staggered back, as if burnt.

“Highness,” the pirate began, quietly. “Laurent.”

There was something so distinctly familiar about how the pirate had said his name, but Laurent could barely afford to pinpoint it, preoccupied as he was with stifling the ache spreading through him. Damen, he thought, how did we get here?

Suddenly, the pirate’s attention diverted as the rumble of horses filled the air, and Laurent took his chance.

“Help,” he yelled, moving determinedly towards the horses. He hardly cared who it was he was calling out to, as long as he wouldn’t have to look at the pirate a moment longer. “Torveld!”

He began to ran when fingers closed around his wrist again, tugging him against a solid chest. The pirate.

The pirate crouched behind a boulder, taking Laurent with him. One gloved hand covered Laurent’s mouth, muffling Laurent’s yelling.

“Hush,” the pirate whispered into Laurent’s ear, breath hot. His other arm wound itself around Laurent’s waist, tightening. “They’ll find us.”

Inexplicably, Laurent listened, although his mind raced. There it was again, that familiarity, like a puzzle one step away from completion. “Let go of me,” Laurent said, thinking and thinking and thinking—

And then, the pirate said, “As you wish.”

The world stopped.

“What?”

Laurent turned, and watched as the pirate tore off his mask.

“Laurent,” said Damen.

“Damen,” said Laurent.

The sound of hooves landing heavy on earth grew louder and louder, and Damen stood, his hand back around Laurent’s wrist. “We need to run.”

Without another word, they ran. Laurent forced himself to pay attention to where they were going, to the landscapes passing by them, to the terrain their tired feet stepped on, if only because he could hardly focus on anything else. Every time he looked, there Damen was, leading the way.

Damen.

Breathing. Running. Alive. His Damen.

They stopped at a clearance far from where they had fled, Damen dropping to the ground as his chest heaved with the effort to catch his breath. Laurent, just as spent, moved to his side.

“You,” Laurent began, then stopped. What words were there for when the man you thought you’d lost forever was suddenly in front of you?

“I,” Damen said, turning bright eyes on Laurent.

“I must be dead,” Laurent whispered. He was careful, cautious, as if one wrong move might whisk him away from this moment. “There is no other explanation.”

“We’re quite alive,” said Damen. He brought a hand up to caress Laurent’s cheek. “A reunion would have been easier in the afterlife.”

Laurent barked out a laugh, but it came out sounding like a sob.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Damen said, bringing his other hand up so that we was cradling Laurent’s face in his palms. “Please, please, no. You know how it hurts me to see you cry.”

“Damen,” Laurent said, and relished in the warmth of Damen’s touch. He wrapped a hand around Damen’s wrist, feeling the warm give of skin and the hardness of muscle and bone. “This is real.”

“Yes.” Damen wrapped his arms around Laurent and pulled him closer, into his lap. Laurent could do nothing else but wrap his arms around Damen in return, holding him tightly. “I told you I’d return, didn’t I?” he murmured into Laurent’s hair.

“I waited, then you died.”

“Death cannot stop true love,” Damen said. “All it can do is delay it for a while.”

Laurent pulled back and looked at Damen, his heart throbbing painfully in his chest. “All these years, my memory served me well,” he said after a long moment. “You’re as handsome as I remember, on the day you said goodbye.”

“Laurent,” said Damen, pained.

“Tell me this is it,” Laurent said, desperate. “I waited a lifetime, and grieved for longer. You have returned to me. Tell me the waiting is over.”

“This is it,” Damen answered, his voice urgent. He rested his forehead against Laurent, and Laurent was dizzy with the warmth of him.

“Kiss me.” Laurent ran his hands through Damen’s curls, feeling the bare weight of them between his fingers. He repeated, firmer, “Kiss me.”

“As you wish,” Damen said, and kissed Laurent breathless.

#I GOT THIS PROMPT AND GASPED #i wasnt supposed to write anything in my inbox until after i got Important Stuff out of the way BUT THIS. I JUST HAD TO #got away from me a little bit anon i hope you enjoy ;-;#lamen #cp #captive prince #mine #I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS also gave me an excuse to rewatch the princess bride ^__^ which is always a great time

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opinions-of-loki · 3 years ago

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Loki - Episode One, Summary bullet points in form of an unnecessarily detailed opinion

- What I found sort of funny was Loki, who immediately hit the dessert and immediately hurried to the next higher stone, as if this were the pedestal that was his equal, only to be able to explain / present himself to the Mongolian inhabitants, only that they did not understand him and asked again who he is. It kinda gave me Hela vibes. Black haired Odin children have a tough time getting heard.

ALSO! THE SASS! Yet staying polite despite him being confused of what is going to happen to him - Trying to be all intimidating, but nobody takes him serious, as always! You can’t scare the time space cops my boy :/ Finding out how the company works and being all confused was honestly a very sweet and funny moment

- What’s up with the soundtracks??? Someone give this dude a raise who composed these Blade Runner-que music for the TVA followed with those cool bagpipes traditionally used for Scandinavian folk music? FUCK YES! Also the end credits music, it’s just excellent!

- Loki questioning if he’s a robot or not! I mean, he was told to believe he was an Aesir but in the end wasn’t. So who knew if Odin adopted a robot son? Better check on this one - I kinda got cute vibes from Mobius and Renslayer, they seem to perhaps have a closer connection towards another, especially after he greeted her with a formal Hi and talking to her on a somehow personal level - Mobius at first seemed like a very kind man and being patient with Loki, even supportive, but he is an experienced cop and knows how to handle complicated people, especially Loki variants. Mobius gives off a vibe of an older Blade Runner who takes his job very serious. But in the middle I kind of started to hate him a little

- The story of why Loki is an American crime legend D.B. Cooper just because he lost a bet to Thor when they were younger! Hilarious! Most of the most legendary pranks ever! I would have been more happy about the details of why Thor demanded this, or if it went like ” Loki! Cause some chaos on Midgard. Humans are easy to impress.” ” Say no more, Brother!” - Though Mobius seemed like the only person ever who had the ability to call out Loki to his actions: That he isn’t a God of mischief, because he confronted Loki about if killing innocent people is part of his fun, if it brings enjoyment to him to torture people who had nothing to do about Loki’s past. Loki denying that it’s not true, Mobius harshly confronts him about his earlier maniac like expression when removing someone’s eyeballs, if this is still harmless mischief-making. - BUT! Where is it mentioned he was controlled by the mind stone and the thriving fear of Thanos to get killed??? Loki was under pressure, to get killed by the Mad Titan, and he wasn’t thinking rationally when he invaded New York? For someone who studied Loki’s life so well, Mobius sucks to get a point to this one, or it will be mentioned in the future, I better hope so - Loki doesn’t trust easily, because “Trust is for children and dogs.” Gave me Natasha vibes. Because she and him were sharing a quite similar conversation a few hours earlier.

- SEEING FRIGGA’S DEATH! Loki giving great speeches about wanting to free everyone, being a ruler of the Nine Realms to hide away what he truly desired and that nobody would understand his thoughts and emotions, but seeing 2012 Loki seeing that HE gave the coordinates to the Dark Elves, unknowing Frigga would be on this very wing, you can see how hurt he was and panicked! He completely lost all trails of thoughts, asking where she is, if the TVA also kept her, if she is okay! He wanted to save her so badly, he doesn’t want to become the version who will kill her once again. - Mobius saying that there is nothing he can change and that Frigga HAS to die to get back in the flow of time, OUCH! - I get more TTDW vibes when everything that has been explained to Loki, that he will only bring death and chaos no matter what he does, that not only Frigga is destined to die, but Loki is about to die at some point, it made me think of Odin’s words:

Mobius said the same things, Loki’s destiny is to bring death or to ultimately die himself, no matter if he goes the bad or good path. It left me with weird vibes about Mobius being like Odin, just less of an abusive father mentor thing. He was made to cause pain, death and suffering. It hurt. Knowing those weren’t Loki’s goals, he came to the realization that Mobius is right, but doesn’t want to admit it, or at least denies it, but agreed in the end in a very subtle way - MOBIUS AND LOKI FIGHTING!! ” Do you enjoy killing?” “I will kill you!” “Like you did to your mother?” MOBIUS! FUCK YOU! At this point, he lost any sympathy from me towards him. He was guilt-tripping Loki, perhaps even gaslighting him. But this is also part of his job. He isn’t supposed to be Loki’s friend, he is a cop after all. Loki is an emotional and vulnerable being, so hitting him at the worst spot to get out more of him probably wasn’t the kindest thing to do, but probably the most effective for Mobius. Loki likes to pressure other people, but doesn’t like to be the pressured one. - Loki’s purpose is to bring those together he ultimately tried to remove according to Mobius, Loki brought together a team of legendary superheroes together that barely knew each other, and they grew strong together thanks to Loki’s wrongdoings. It somehow hurt a lot, but in the end, Mobius was speaking the harsh truth - "I will gut you out like a fish!” “What's a fish?!” BLESS CASEY!

- Endless Infinity Stones! I am in love with this idea! I don’t know why I saw people getting confused by it because even though the Stones are what hold the universe together, the TVA doesn’t live in that very universe, they are beyond that very space and time we don’t know and can’t grasp, they visit timelines after timelines, so of course it happens they find stones and keep them, either knowing or not knowing what they are, or they simply don’t care, because they have no purpose in the TVA. Perhaps these stones are variants too and don’t belong to a certain timeline and needed to be removed, such as Loki’s Tesseract

- What got me the most, and we all know what I mean, Loki crying privately when he once again viewed the life of his alternative self, viewing the loss of his family, the loss of his own life. I don’t really know if he mourned over Odin too, but in this series, Odin never threatened to kill or imprison Loki which perhaps didn’t cause any damage towards his anger. Though he was aware that Odin took the other Loki in a cell, but it was a destiny he could avoid now that he knew how things will turn out when he returns to Asgard. He will never get arrested, Frigga probably wouldn’t die because of him, though I get a feeling the Dark Elves will come nevertheless, but this time, it shall be Thor’s problem not to screw it up. Though it was a relief to see him smile soon after when he realized Thor was the only one believing in him, even though their relationships always has been kinda weird, as Loki always was jealous of him being everyone’s first choice, but in the end, Thor was alive, everything that was left, and Thor didn’t hate him - End of File - I don’t know why, but reading this, Loki himself reading this, the very end of his life, it made me shiver. He saw his memories of what could be, what MUST happen to him, and that there are more happy memories. But in the end, there are no memories anymore - end of file. That’s it. That was his life. - I can’t imagine how many thoughts must have been go through his head to see Thanos again, Loki’s try to kill him, just to see his neck and wind pipe getting cracked. He currently recovers from the effects of a full year of torture, both mentally and physically, just the same he would treat his ‘Children’. I can imagine Thanos promised him the world, something small to rule over to expand over more realms. Thanos triggered Loki’s fear and anger, who had to deal with the information he never belonged to Asgard in the first place. Whenever Loki would try to flee or play games with Thanos, I can imagine Loki got punished for it, he never even spoke sassy with Thanos during Infinity War. Loki is terrified of him for good reasons. I imagine this young man, feared, terrified, trapped on a rock with daily mental manipulation and pain. Loki became obedient and would have done anything for Thanos, whatever he ordered, including an exchange of power. Even if Thanos never fully was on his side and used Loki as a puppet with power and sorcery, being useful, I get a feeling Loki clung to his words and promises to rule over Earth as a savior and liberator, which completely went wrong - His laughter following after could have many reasons, relief, stress or disbelief. He was still crying between those laughs, which could be taken as desperation about no matter what he does, his actions will lead to harsh consequences. Disbelief of what he just saw, as if it felt so unreal to even believe what he had just witnessed, that it was all real, a destiny that was meant to him. But what else did Loki do during serious situations? He avoids them, he doesn’t want to acknowledge problems and shoving them away with a sassy comment or a smile to cope with it - which could mean this laughter could be part of his coping mechanism

- Him opening up, addressing why Loki hurts people, was honestly the best scene to me. He spoke about his inferior complex, his fear of not being strong enough to survive, building up a facade, a fake personality to survive also with the help of his magic. He thought he can be superior to anyone if he could scare everyone, gaining respect and love in form of war and destruction, as he perhaps thought of Odin being a former warlord, he would prefer a son who is able to conquer, being merciless. He doesn’t want to get hurt, he doesn’t trust anyone easily, that’s why he has to hurt people, to avoid of getting hurt or betrayed in the end. He became a double-edged sword I’m open for opinions and private chatting if you guys want to add something ! :DD

#Loki #loki spoilers #tom hiddleston #mcu #marvel #disney plus #owen wilson #agent of asgard #hiddlestoner #avengers #black widow #thor

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enigma-im · 4 years ago

Text

A Kiss To Build a Dream On

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Monster Boss x F!Worker Warnings: Blood mention, Violence, fluff, confusion of intention, gang boss, ladies go crazy for a sharp dressed man, cursing, sex, teleporting to avoid explaining

word Count: 7885

Tender isn’t a word anyone would use to describe the boss, but for her he can’t be anything but.

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I roughly slam the door, grumbling to myself as I stomp towards the backrooms of the office. My fists stay firmly clenched at my sides as fire burns from within my chest. The bruises ache along my face, my cheek and eye throbbing with every beat of my heart. I shoulder check workers at I storm to my bunk at the end of the hall, not even bothering to deal with anyone's teasing today.

The door is in sight, the sweet relief of solitude isn’t enough to stifle the anger. Knowing I'm going in there to lick my wounds like some child or weakling. When I reach the peaceful silence of my own room I begin angrily wrestling off my clothes, tossing the lightly blood-splattered garments to the corner. Grabbing some clothes off the floor I march into the bathroom. Throwing on some baggy pants and a tank top, I look in the mirror.

For the first time this day, my anger steps aside. The sight of my swelling eye and split cheek is shocking. I've been hit before, it's not really new, but it's never been so startling. My cheek wound has bled enough to dribble down to my collar. The line of blood ends where my shirt was, no doubt the clothing is sporting a lovely red spot. I guess that's what happens when someone plays cheap with a jewelry covered punch. The rage boils once more till I spit in the sink.

I can't bring myself to look any longer. Rushing out into the main room I grumble once more. A tantrum in the making, I throw my fists around, I bare my teeth towards the floor, I kick at anything decorating the ground. Clothes get pushed around the room, thunking against the wall. A suitcase gets launched under the bed and a wall is hit for good measures.

As I seethe to myself I catch movement out the corner of my eye. I go stalk still, turning slowly to the poor soul who decided it would be a good time to check-in. A well dress man is inspecting a wrecked shirt, the same shirt I wore minutes before. He admires the bloodstain near the neckline, thumbing the spot with a lax face.

"Sir," I play my best pleasant voice," now is not a good time." it all comes out terse and strained but it's the best I can do. Boss hums, still looking at my shirt. It takes a few seconds before he bothers looking my way. His dark complexation almost shadows the flex of his brow when he catches sight of my beaten self. His quickly flexing jaw is just barely noticeable in the darkness of the corner.

"So it would seem," he answers smoothly. He tosses the shirt to the side without care, adjusting his hat before he steps further into the room. His intrusion is unwelcome, to say the least, and him stepping closer boils my blood even more.

"Sir," I growl," It's really not a good time." typical boss continues to ignore me, succeeding like he always does when we talk in making me grind my teeth to dust. He hums in answer again, walking till he is a few feet in front of me. His hands are clasped behind his back, his brow low as he regards me.

"I will ask this once," he starts," what happened?"

I sneer, immediately answering," Nothing, everything is fine." he responds with a tilt of his head, watching me with an almost amused look. We stare each other down, stubbornness helping me with this battle. The boss has a tendency in sticking his nose in other people's business. Which is fine for everyone else, a good trait to have a boss who takes care of his people, but it’s not fine for me. I don't want his constant attention, sticking around to rub my nose in it. He never has to say anything, his judging look is enough to knock me down a peg.

As I stew in my thoughts he reaches out and grabs my jaw. His fingers dig into my skin, demanding absolute cooperation. I know better than to move, stiffening as I fight the urge to jerk away from his scrutiny. He leans down close, looking over the cuts, tilting my head this way and that.

"Rings or knuckles," he asks casually.

My jaw pops," Rings."

He hums," Howley boys or street wolves?"

I scoff," pixie chicks." he nods, dropping my jaw in favor of using his phone. The device appears in a blink, acting like it was always there. He clicks away at the phone lazily for a short moment before poofing it away as quickly as it appeared. Without a word, he grabs my shoulder and walks me into the bathroom. Too curious, I let him guide me to sit on the toilet. I sit and watch him work near the sink, opening the medicine cabinet.

"What are you doing," I ask, tilting forward to get a better look. Before I can get a look around the mirror he shuts it.

"You have no bandages," he scoffs. The tone sounds scolding like I'm some child being talked down by a parent. I quickly catch on to what's happening, I don't much care for it.

I stand," no, get out. I'd like to be alone now to tend to my ego and I don't need you here to yell about how dumb I am." before I could walk around him towards the beds he grabs me once more and twists me back to the bathroom.

"No, sit," he shoves me towards the toilet," I am tending to you now." my anger rolls in again like the second coming of a storm. I don't need his pity or favor, I can take care of myself.

"What does it matter? It's not like you care," I pout, stewing in rumbling fury. I don't bother to stand again, knowing his great power that rivals many. He is a supervillain in his own right, a blight on society but a hero to some. I can't see him as a bad person but I know the lengths he has gone to to be where he is. You gotta crack a few eggs, you know?

I don't notice him staring down at me, too busy glaring at the wall to notice. It's not till he grabs my jaw again do I bother to pay him any mind. When our eyes meet I am startled by his depth. His face demands attention at this moment, locking me in his stare. My feelings dissipate till only alarm is left. Reprimand feels like my likely outcome. No one talks to the boss this way. He is known for his kindness as well as his ire and ire is the side I'm most likely to meet.

The boss watches me, his eyes darting between my own as his jaw clicks. I can't lie and say I'm not worried at this moment, because I am. You never know what little things will set someone off, just like I don't know what level of pain I will be receiving. Perhaps a good talking to about respect, he likes to go on and on about that. Maybe an addition to my weekly chores, that's a fair punishment. I can't think straight with his breath ghosting over my face.

It's when I'm at my wit's end does he move, pulling my face towards his. He gently presses his lips to mine, closing his eyes as he does. I stare blankly at him, stock still under his soft lips. He doesn't pry for more, leaning back shortly after in favor of looking at me. I still look straight, startled by the outcome I could have never expected. He chuckles, smiling as he shakes his head. At the cute sound, I look to him, trying my best to gauge the situation better.

"wha-," he shuts my mouth before I can ask.

"You are to remain silent while I tend to you," he states firmly. I simply nod, still too shocked to really have the energy to do anything but listen. He watches me a moment more before standing and fiddling with the sink.

The boss does as he says, tending to my wounds like a close friend. He is delicate in his touches, warning me before any intentional pain. It's weird, no other way to say it. I have no idea what's happening besides the obvious. He is cleaning up my busted face, but I don't know why.

Once he is satisfied with his chore he straightens up and walks me out of the bathroom. I stop in the middle of the room, looking up to him for guidance. He quirks a brow, just barely smiling to himself.

"If I knew a silly little kiss would stifle your anger I would have done it sooner," he chuckles. I fluster at the comment, looking away for the first time since the kiss. As I chew on my cheek, trying to sort through the tangle of thoughts and feelings, he turns me towards him. His hold is sweet, gentle, unlike before. He pets at my cheek, lightly grazing the cut with his thumb. Before I can react he is gone.

I stare dumbfounded into the room, confused above anything else. I try to sort through the event, trying to find the angle he is working. So many things go through my head till absolutely nothing makes sense.

Though one thing is for sure. This warm feeling in my chest won't go away.

The boss doesn't act differently when I see him around the facility. He is his prim and proper self, still bullying the underlings into working to their best and intimidating visitors. Though its been mere days, I feel like more is to be expected. With every passing minute, hour, day, I expect something to happen. As time goes on the feeling grows till every sighting of him makes me tense with expectation. Was this his plan? To make me tense at every turn till I'm forced to confront him less I go crazy? Or was it to keep me on my toes, perhaps I've been too lax around here and he knows the best way to keep me stressed.

Either way, it's working.

I work the cameras one night, lounging in an old rickety chair as I watch the cameras around the building. This chore is the simplest but the most tedious. No one wants watcher duty, it's an all-night endeavor. Nothing happens and god forbid you get caught slacking off when higher-ups walk by. The punishments are easily dished out around here. So staying alert and awake is for the best.

As the night goes on I can feel myself falling off, drifting in and out of rest. It gets so bad that I fall asleep dreaming I'm still working. I try to pinch myself awake, walk around a bit, but nothing works. I damn near fall off my seat when a loud clinking noise wakes me. As I startle the seat tries to roll too far back but is stopped by a sturdy hand. I snap my head up and around, disoriented above anything else. Looking to my right my eyes immediately meet all too familiar ones.

"I wasn't sleeping," I quickly shout at the boss," I was watching the cameras." I stare wide-eyed at him, hearting pumping quickly from the startling wake-up.

The boss snorts," I'm sure you were."

"yes, I was," I clear my throat," what are you doing down here?" he watches me a moment longer, his arm still clasping the back of my chair. With an amused huff, he grabs something off the table, hiding it in his fist. He holds it over my lap, waiting on me. I reach out, curious, palm awaiting.

"a gift," he answers as he drops shiny pieces into my hand. Three rings lay in my palm, all gold with obnoxiously large gems in the middle. I look at them confused, lifting one to investigate.

"what are," I look up towards the boss, the words dying off my lip. He is gone. Looking around the room for another second before I look down at the rings. The single one I'm holding looks well worn, some of the metal corroding away. The gem is annoyingly bright green with dirty specks. On closer look, I can see dried blood in the corners and grooves. The ring actually looks familiar, looking at it makes my cheek ache.

What is the boss doing with the pixie chick's ring?

I want to corner him, question his intentions with bringing the 'gifts'. It's unheard of for the boss to take souvenirs, he isn't a bragging kind of man. It's also strange for him to bring them to someone as a present. The message is clear, he hurt them for me. A man like him doesn't just give out something like this without earning it to begin with. He got those rings not with theft but other illegal means. I understand that much, what I don't get is why.

I try to hunt him down but he is always around the corner before I can get to him. Each time I swear I can see a little smile, teasing me with this weird little game of chase. Every night I go to bed without answers is like losing a battle I never wanted to have.

It's one night that the unanswered questions pick at me till my last strand of patience is frayed. I storm out of bed, throwing on a hoodie before I enter the public spaces of the compound. This late I have a guess where the boss is residing, well two guesses.

I try his quarters first, knocking first as I don't have a death wish. With no answer, I don't try to push my luck and head to his office. When I round the private hallway I see the light on, coming out from under the farthest door. I pull some last-second courage and storm down. I grab the handle and with a last confident breath, I open.

The scene before me freezes as all details sort in my brain. Two people in the room, one is obvious, the boss. The other is a worn man, bruised and beaten in a chair. I can't look away from the man as a strange fog covers his neck. A nasty gash in the center of the fog's attention, seeming to pour into the wound. The gash looks to be pulled in every direction, blood drenching the man's shirt. I know if his mouth wasn't gagged he would be screaming loud enough for the entire building to hear.

"What do you need," The boss steals my attention. I look from the tied-up man to the annoyance of the week. He doesn't look angry like I would assume, having heard horrid tales of others falling into this same mistake. I don't trust the casualness of him cleaning his hands with a dirty towel.

"Sorry, sir," I bow my head," I will meet with you when you aren't entertaining company." I offer the joke in hopes of lessening the ire he may release later. The boss snorts with a smile, shaking his head as he tosses the towel aside. Not waiting for an answer I slide back into the hall, closing the door quietly behind me.

Well, that went well enough.

In the morning I force myself to submit to this strangeness that has corrupted the boss and I's interactions. I've known of the man since I was in my mid-teens, I've worked for him since my early 20s. There is no way I truly know how the man acts in his day to day life. I know he is an ornery kind of man, though a little mischievous, and that’s the most I know of him. Perhaps this is normal. It's best not to harp on these things that are out of my control.

It takes a considerable amount of effort to ignore his presence in any room I enter. The cat and mouse game seems to have switched with me running from him. I feel like a coward, though it is a reasonable choice to just drop it. I never run from anyone, least of all some cocky villain type.

I go about my nightly routine in the bathroom, spitting into the sink before suckling water from my palm. Walking into the main room I pause looking at the well-dressed man in my room.

"Evening, sir," I say confused. At my introduction, he turns, keeping his arms clasped behind his back. He regards me with a small smirk, mostly keeping his feelings to himself.

"You wished to speak with me," he shrugs," here I am."

I nod," yea, it's not too important now, I sorted it out myself." it’s a lie, I have nothing figured out. His instances of manipulation have named him as conniving. I don't want to be the centerpiece in such affairs.

"hm," he clicks his tongue," shame. Leaving me so curious now, how could I depart with such a tempting question resting on the edge of my mind." his smirk forms into a Cheshire grin that brings thoughts into focus. It seems I've already captured his attention, perhaps have had it all along.

"No, no, it's not anything you would need to bother with," I try to wave him off. He doesn't budge, instead, taking a few steps closer. I step equally back. He huffs in amusement, pushing onward till I'm forced to stop against a bed. He crowds me, yet keeping a platonic distance.

"I'm insulted you assume that any of your worries would be below my standings, I wish to make your life easier whenever I can," he purrs, breaking the platonic distance," Did you like your gift?" my body tenses in alarm, feelings waring as I try to remain passive.

"T-the rings," I ask.

He nods," I don't think the Pixie Chicks will be missing them, they offered them so freely." I wish to scoff at him, nearly amused at his suggestion that they would offer him anything such as their jewelry.

"They didn't seem willing to part with them before," I somehow manage to tease back. His smile grows, tilting his head as he regards me.

"Not at first," he leans toward my cheek," but after a short visit they were more than willing."

I get fuzzy the closer he gets, feeling his hot breath brush over my face. It's hard to decide the right course of action. Push him away and deal with whatever reaction he deems appropriate, or let him be and see where this is going. The second choice is hard, his nearness muddles my ideas and actions. How could I be swayed by some man nearing my personal space? His kiss beforehand was quick and unintimidating, there was no build-up. Now it feels like an anvil swaying precariously on a snapping rope.

"Why are you here," I find myself asking. I fight the urge to raise my hand to his chest and push him away, not truly knowing if I would push him away. He leans in closer, crowding me nearly on the bed. I fall back onto a hand, holding myself propped up less I wish to lay on the sheets. His grin stretches wider.

"Well, you asked for me," he answers in a deep rumble. The change in tone is startling, fogging my brain more. It's hard to think, nothing is connecting in my brain. I want to push him, but I can't. I want to crawl away, but I can't. I want to pull him closer, but…

"I mean," I swallow," what are you doing in my room?"

"because you feel safest here," he answers.

"Why should it matter if I feel safe," I watch him. He straightens slightly, looking down at me with a lax stare.

"You ask too many questions," he mumbles before pushing forward and kissing me. I gasp, falling back onto both hands. The kiss breaks for just a moment before he is falling onto his hands, framing me as he crowds me on the bed. I'm not sure what to do now, having little to no experience in this. I'm not flirty or sexy, I can't bother with things such as making out or relationships. Though now I wish I knew just a little bit.

The boss grabs me by the hips and shifts me up the bed, crawling over me as I fall to my back. He straddles a thigh, his hands coming up to frame my head. I watch him stare down at me, his mouth lightly parts with a dazed look. Before I can bother with words he takes my lips for his once more. It's surprisingly passionate, to that I'm stunned. I expected demanding from a man like him, not affectionate. I timidly return the kiss, not knowing what to do but knowing I want to do it. Before I can get into it he lifts away, though not far.

He watches me a moment, gauging my reaction. His eyes are squinted, seeming to wait for a response, a response I don't provide. I look up at him, nearly panting in this strange rush of emotions and touch.

"What are you feeling," he asks skeptically.

I lick my lips," flustered." he hums, still trying to piece together something.

"flustered is good," he nods to himself, falling back to my mouth. I startle once more, still utterly confused at the turn of the night. Yet, I can't make myself stop it. I reach up and fist his tailored jacket, not knowing if I should tug him closer. The need to touch him is strong but the anxiety of everything else lingers.

The boss stuns me more as he grabs my hand holding his clothes and slings it around his shoulder. Quickly I take hold of the shirt from this angle, indirectly pulling him closer. My other hand shyly joins the first, cupping the back of his head in a timid touch.

"Doing good," he purrs, licking at my lips as he slowly settles himself on his forearms. He expertly parts my lips, telling me to let him in. I open, clenching a fistful of hair when he invades my mouth. When I tug on the bit of hair he moans, the sound felt in my mouth, felt on my tongue. The already eager kiss ramps in excitement when his hands start to trail down my body. He simply slides his hands under my shirt, holding my waist with a warm grip. His thumbs pet at my skin but stay otherwise still.

The moment seems to stretch on for hours, my discretions melting away into heart fluttering enjoyment. He doesn't push, keeping the mood just semi-erotic. I appreciate it though I'm utterly confused. What does he think he can gain from this? Surely a man like him doesn't just kiss random staff members without having some secret motive. I'm just a grunt, nothing more and nothing less. I surely hope he doesn't think he could manipulate me into sleeping with him. No, that won't do at all.

"Sir," I mumble against his lips as I try to pull away. He trails after my mouth, only pausing mid-action.

"yes," he asks. I shift back away from him, getting a better look at his closed eyes and wet parted lips.

"We should stop," I fluster. I drop my arms from around him, using them to push myself up and away. He squints his eyes open enough to watch me lounge against the wall, feet still partially under him. Looking between my eyes he sighs, dropping his head shortly after.

"Alright," he huffs," It is late, I will be on my way now." he shifts back onto his knees, rubbing at his face before righting his hat and clothes. Next, he stands up off the bed and passes me a final glance, ready to blink away.

"wait," I surprise myself by saying," can you answer one question?"

He tilts his head," besides that question?"

"yes," I deadpan," besides that one."

He smirks, clasping his hands behind his back," alright, I think I can allow one more question." I want to snort, amused but annoyed by his words. I keep quiet.

"are you," I start, worried to continue," are you going to use me?" I look at every twitch of his face with an eagle-like focus. Every nuance is jotted down as I watch him. He simply smiles, his face projecting amused affection. He then steps forward, leaning over the bed to cup my face.

"No," he answers shortly. He strokes my cheek with his thumb, watching himself do so. With a final sigh, he blinks away, no evidence of him ever being here besides my wet lips and fluttering heart.

"damn," I fall to my side," there goes my night."

The next couple of days are a whirlwind of strange. The game of chase is completely let go in favor of a game of chicken. His attentions have gone from nothing to constant. When we are ever around each other -which is way more common as of late- he attempts to touch me in some way. Though his posture and face stay casual, if not bored, he still cups my hips and trails his fingers over my spine like he is anything but bored.

Some nights he pays a visit, kissing me senseless till he decides I'm thoroughly flustered. He tries to edge me on, even taking to teasing to further some agenda I can't even bother to figure out. Though he said he wouldn't use me I feel like a toy. He comes to me with minimal conversation and shoves his tongue down my throat. The small conversations are filled with double meanings and unsaid words. He is hinting to something and I can't figure out what. I feel like a source of entertainment, picked at till he gains whatever he needed. The stress is getting to me, I've had enough.

I wait patiently in my room, leg bouncing against the bed as I cross my arms. I'm going to confront him tonight, I'm going to get some answers. This little game has to stop less I want my heart to fall victim to some scheming. Time draws on and on till its far pass the time he visits. I reluctantly settle into bed, dread, and stress muddling my brain.

The next night I wait patiently again, knowing he doesn't go for two nights in a row. I wait and wait, looking to the clock more than necessary. It’s when its well past midnight that I call it a night. Dread and stress fade out as worry takes its place.

The day after I set out to catch sight of the boss. I search high and low, keeping to the commons places in hopes of a casual encounter. I see no hide or hair of him. As I march around the facility, doing chores, that I hear about everyone avoiding the boss. It seems the man in charge has had a bit of a temper since this morning, shutting out everyone as he sits in his office.

The idea of visiting his office is appealing, knowing it to be the best time to get answers if he is mad. Anger brings out the truth. Surely I can go visit him and ask a question or two, not risking my life in the process. Though I think lowly of his intention I think he truly has no intention of maiming me.

With that decided I casually head upstairs towards his office. I make it to the familiar hallway, feeling the instinctual dread of being there. No one wants to be in this hallway, knowing who is working just at the end. Though I come here from my own free volition it's still a habit to fear this part of the building.

I walk to the door at the end, already hearing voices halfway down. As I get closer I can hear yelling. I listen intently, hearing stomping footsteps and a thing or two being knocked over. It’s when I hear a loud thud do I pick up the pace. I stop near the door, anxiety drenching my body as curiosity keeps me up. The sound of meaty thumps can be heard before a whimper.

"You are a piece of shit," a quick thunk follows," scum of the fucking earth, and that's something coming from me." I can hear the boss talking- more like yelling- behind the door. It sounds like he is entertaining again.

"boss," someone answers weakly," I'm sorry." a deep clink comes shortly after the man's words.

"Sorry doesn't earn my trust back," the boss snarls," Sorry doesn't fucking get Bradshaw off my fucking back!" the meaty claps come shortly after, repeating in alarming frequency. I step to the door, my body repealing against the idea of opening it and interrupting the important meeting.

I know who the boss is, always have. He does some shady stuff with some shady people, I being one of them. I get what's going on in there, a lesson is being learned. It's something that is understood by all who work here, don't cross the boss. Though it seems the poor idiot in there hasn't learned that though.

I don’t hear anything for a good while. It's to be assumed that business has been taken care of. Either way, I stay put, leaning closer to the door when I hear another softer voice. I try to make out some words, being more nosy this moment than I have my entire life. The softer voice only speaks for a brief moment, followed by the Boss with another set of short words.

As I focus on the door I don't hear steps walking up behind me. Only when someone grabs my shoulders do I jump. I jerk in this person's hold, stiffening as their fingers dig into my skin. I twist to look over at them, seeing a large man with a gruff-looking face. He offers no words, instead, reaching in front of me to grab the door handle.

The gruff man guides me into the room, holding firmly onto my shoulders. I look to the room, immediately finding a man collapsed on the floor covered in swelling bruises and deep cuts. He is mostly unrecognizable, his face beaten to a pulp. If I am to assume correctly, then he is dead.

"Clean this up before he stains the floor," the boss grunts as he wipes his hands with a dirty rag.

The gruff man behind me speaks," and what would you like me to do with her?" as he asks the boss snaps around, meeting my eyes quickly. He looks to me confused, twisting completely around as he drops the rag to the table.

"I'd like you to fucking let her go," the boss growls to the man," I am the only one allowed to deal with her." the clear hostility means nothing to the man behind me. He lets go and casually shuffles to the man on the floor, hefting him over his shoulders with ease. I watch the boss look to the two, following them with his eyes till the door shuts behind me. Once the door clicks does he look to me once again.

"Hello, doll," his ire drops to the familiar ease he adopts when around me. He leans back against the desk, crossing his arms over his chest. His barely buttoned shirt wrinkles, his cuffed sleeves looking strange so far up his arms. I've never seen him so underdressed, though most would still consider his outfit formal.

"Hello," I answer guarded. I don't expect a warm welcome like this when I've been caught snooping.

"What brings you to my humble abode," he tilts his head with a small smile. It's strange to see such a night and day to his previous anger. He was screaming and beating a man into the floor. Now he is his typical charming self in a matter of seconds. I don't buy it.

"I haven't seen you in a couple days," I say, crossing my arms in the process. He gives me a once over, his smile peeling further over his cheeks.

"Miss me or something," he teases.

I scoff," or something." he chuckles, walking away from his desk to walk the room.

"Or something," he looks at the messy floor," what would that something be?" I follow him with my eyes as he skirts around me, keeping a distance. I don't bother turning around when he walks behind my back, taking the second to compose my thoughts and feelings. As of late, he has been popular in making my heart flutter like a caged bird.

"You haven't been around," I shrug," I was curious." he scoffs, seeming to understand my roundabout way of saying I've missed him. Which I guess is true, but I'd argue I want answers more than his company. Though both wouldn't be too bad.

He comes into my peripheral," I've been busy, I hope I haven't left you in need of anything in my absents."

"no," I turn away blushing," I haven't been…in need or anything. Just conflicted on some things." he hums, staying just in the corner of my eye. I can feel his eyes wandering over my body, trying to pick at every tick and twitch.

"would your confliction be related to the question you asked me the other night," he asks. I almost turn to him then, wanting to see his face, needing to see his reaction. I don't though, staring at his desk straight ahead.

"Perhaps," I answer. He huffs, his steps coming closer till I feel his heat against my back.

"do you think lowly of me," he says near my ear," do you believe I am truly a villain incapable of pure intent?"

"sometimes," I nearly whisper. I feel his sigh fan over my back. He steps closer, his front nearly touching me.

"Do you truly believe I would betray you," he asks. The question startles me, only for the reason that there is blood staining the floor beside us. "Would you betray me," he whispers against my ear. The threat feels looming as I look to the crime scene. Would I betray him if given the chance, the answer feels almost obvious.

"I don't," I huff," I don't think I could if I tried."

The boss hums approvingly, circling his arms around my hips to pull me flush to his front. His chin rests upon my shoulder, his head leaning against mine. The smell of his cologne is nearly suffocating in its intoxication. I awkwardly grab his arms, resting my hands on him.

"I don't think I could betray you if I tried," he answers similarly," you seem to have grown on me." I squeeze at his arm.

"Honestly," I ask skeptically," you truly mean me no harm, emotional or otherwise?" though he has answered this it still doesn't sit in my head, proof being demanded after every answer.

He turns and presses a shallow kiss to my neck," I could never hurt you, doll, I only wish to adore you." I turn to him, wishing above all else to believe him. He leans ever so close, his tempting kiss just in my reach.

"Prove it," I bait.

"gladly," he answers.

Quickly he has my lips captured, demanding more than ever before. His tongue takes no time delving into my mouth, circling my tongue in a sweet caress. I would have fallen if it weren't for his strong hold on my hips, instead, I keep myself propped up by him. When minimal thought comes back do I twist in his hold and tug him closer by his collar. I need his affection, crave it above all else. Thrusting my tongue into his mouth I take back some control I've lacked in these few days. He startles this time, groaning with a chuckle as I fist his hair.

"doll," he laughs into the kiss," I thought I was proving my affections here."

"then catch up," I tease, taking his mouth for mine once more. He growls, a sound I haven't really heard from him before, and lifts me. I yelp, holding tightly to his shoulders as my pelvis meets his lower stomach. His smile spread across his face as he squeezes my thighs.

"Sorry, doll, but I'm the boss here," he nips at my lips, lapping at them shortly after. His normally sweet kisses are oh so more divine now as fire is brought into the mix. My insides nearly throb with a need I've rarely ever felt before. I want him- oh god do I want him.

As we attack each other I hear a quick whoosh by my ears, my hair quickly flicking in the wind. I open my eyes enough to see out the corners that we aren't in the same room. I dislodge from him, looking around the bedroom we have teleported to.

"your room," I ask, having never been here before.

"Yes," he watches me," Is that a problem?"

I look to him with a cheeky smile," no." I continue where we left off, suckling his tongue. He walks us somewhere, the destination not particularly important in my mind. What feels more important is the insistent throbbing in my crotch. I find myself bucking into him, grinding myself into his firm stomach.

The boss rips his mouth from mine as I fall backward. I clench at his shirt, gasping when something springy shapes to my back. I drop my hands back, feeling soft sheets below me. I look up to him, quirking a brow. He shrugs, falling over me in a familiar position. Though this time he angles himself in a way I can finally feel his hardon poking me. I groan at the feeling, wanting to grab him right now.

Everything seemingly melds together, one moment I'm in his office, and next, I'm in his room. One second I have a shirt on and next, I'm laying in only my underwear. Him being left in only his hat and pants. The boss admires me for a second, the rush of erotic sensations nearly paused. His look is fierce, fire pouring from his gaze, but it still has room for affection and true admiration.

"so damn beautiful," he pets at my chest. He fondles my boob, thumbing my nipple with an all too excited gleam in his eye. "I could wreck you so easily," he ponders aloud. I reach up to his bare chest, running my fingers from his sternum down to his pants.

"I thought you wanted to adore me," I smirk, tugging him closer by his belt. He falls to his hands, cradling my head in his arms.

"Doll, I want to do everything to you," he purrs, attacking my neck with love bites. I hum, slowly flicking off his belt and reaching into his pants. He stiffens, grunting as I grab him.

"big words from a big man," I tease, stroking his cock.

He shutters," you don't know big yet, doll. Now be a good girl and let your boss go."

I let him go, slowly sliding my hand out of his pants," yes, sir."

The boss lets out a shaky breath, dropping his head to my shoulder for a moment. My nails glide over his stomach towards his chest and back down. I allow him a second, though that's all he needs.

He sits up, pushing off his pants but keeping his boxers. I admire the tent, feeling oh so powerful at the moment. I did that, I am the one who turned him on. That thought alone makes me feel ten feet tall.

I hardly notice when his hand trails up my thigh till he hooks a finger over my underwear. He tugs them down, grinning to himself as my mound is revealed. He tosses the clothing away without a care, quickly reaching out to thumb at my lips. The subtle soft feeling of his touch is nearly enough to make me groan in anticipation. I want him to touch me, I need him to touch me. He does as I silently plead, sliding a finger between my folds. He swipes up toward my clit, massaging so smoothly.

"So wet," he purrs," so wet for me." I don't bother with words as he delves his fingers lower, poking at my entrance with great amusement. I engulf his fingers as he pushes them in, slowly pumping them in and out with a curled retreat. My legs spread further apart on their own as I relish in the lazy strokes.

"Sir," I sigh. He looks up to me, his gaze is all too alluring. My teeth grind as I fight back the urge to buck towards him. God, I need him. His head tilts so slightly as he sighs, his fingers retreat shortly after. He crawls back above me, cleaning off his fingers with his tongue as he does.

"Why must you pull me in so easily," he asks as he discards his last remaining clothing," I want nothing more than to feast upon you but your hungry looks demand more." I reach up and cup his face then adjusting his hat that he kept upon his head. His cock pokes at my crotch, gently sliding at my lips as he lightly jerks his hips.

I pap his cheek," get over it, I've been hungry all week because of you."

He scoffs," all you had to do was ask."

"like I could get the chance to with your tongue down my throat at every turn," I answer. He laughs, looking down between us to grab at himself.

"I think you could have found a way to ask if you truly wanted to," he answers absently as he pushes his tip forward. I suck in a choked breath, tense against the sudden entry. The stretch of just his tip is already fulfilling to someone so starved this past month. He bucks shallowly forward, inching himself in slowly. He soon hilts, looking back up at me with a relieved face.

"I couldn't ask when I didn't know the true intentions," I mumble as my attention is solely drawn to his filling cock. My leg hikes over his hip, pulling him closer. He drops a hand to that thigh, bouncing his hips in slow short drives.

"Well," he kisses at my cheek," do you know my intention now?" I turn to him, meeting his eyes in such a vulnerable moment. Everything I feel is lain bare, the tenderness I feel towards him shining brightly. I cup his cheek, his short bucks ceasing.

"That really depends on after," I nearly whisper. He doesn't answer, instead, pressing a deep kiss to my lips. As he claims me his hips drawback before snapping forward in a breathtaking thrust. He starts a demanding pace, taking and giving in equal parts. His cock hits deep, stoking a fire that I felt was already an inferno. I fall away from his lips, whimpering against him as he plows into me. Our hips clap as the bed squeaks. I now know what it feels like to be on the other side of the wall, not to hear but to be part of the ruckus.

The boss forces pleasure from me with every buck of his hips. I whimper and grind into him, not being able to stay still as my insides crescendo. I barely notice how silent he is, me making enough noise for the both of us. He watches me steadily fall apart, in complete rapture at my noises. A hand sneaks between us, running through my curls before resting upon my engorged clit. I seethe at the gentle prod, crying out as he starts small circles. As I shout for him does he make a sound, a gentle gasp as his lips part.

I feel burned, hot, and demanding at this moment. My insides flutter with its oncoming orgasm. I yell and scream, reaching out to pull him closer as I have no better idea. I suddenly sit on the cusp of true pleasure, my body stiffening as just a breeze could push me over. I reach for him, pulling him in for a wet kiss. He allows it, briefly, pulling away as I fall.

The boss watches me, his face contorting in near pain. His hips stutter as my insides clench him tightly. I can barely keep focus enough to watch him as I arch and writhe below. My screams stutter out till I'm left silent, panting as he continues my orgasm with his unstoppable thrusts.

"Please," I beg. Begging for him to stop, begging for him to keep going. I somehow keep focus enough to watch him, watch him sigh and grunt till his hips slap to mine with one final buck. He drops his head to my shoulder, panting against my ear as he rolls his hips. I can feel his heat, feel his cum paint my insides. I am unable to do anything but hug him close and catch my breath

It takes longer than I thought possible to come back to myself. I'm still left panting under him, only able to listen to his own ragged breathing. I pet at his sweaty back, running the ends of my nails over his shoulder. We just hold one another, lost in the bliss.

"you steal my heart, doll," he mumbles in my hair," how could I ever part from you when you sing so beautifully for me?" I chuckle, not being able to form words just yet. The boss turns us on our sides, cradling me to his chest so tenderly. He pets at my hair, burying his nose against my temple. "I fear I have stronger feelings than first intended," he whispers," I will not leave you for more than a second at a time, my heart couldn't take more than that."

"do you always get this poetic after sex," I ask. He scoffs, reaching down to grab my thigh. He pulls my leg over his hip once more, petting up towards my ass. He gives me a quick slap, jiggling my rear as he does. I yelp, squeezing him when I do. He grunts, baring his teeth. He chuckles shortly after

"only for you, love," he answers," only for you."

I sigh, sliding my hand between us to pet at his chest. I want to give those words back, as I mean them just as truly as he does. The words sit on the end of my tongue, ready to be broadcasted to the world. It takes me a moment to gain courage, still resting securely in his arms.

"I love you," I barely get out. He holds me closer, nuzzling my head.

"I love you, too," he answers in kind. I try to fight off the smile spreading across my face but it's damn near impossible. I smile to myself and close my eyes.

--------------------

my intention never go as planned. i was struggling to write and i saw a cute post on villain with a soft spot for his lover. so i write a small tid bit, the part where he tends to her wounds. IT WASN’T SUPPOSE TO BE 7K WORDS! like how? i stayed up till 2am writing this. i’m just a sap, through and through.

Check out my Archive | Masterlist | Main Blog

#monster boyfriend #gangster boss #mob boss #the boss #exophilia #fluff #Enigma-IM #a kiss to build a dream on #armstrong

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nimmy22 · 3 years ago

Text

A Mistake: Chapter 13

Wesker heard Jill speaking through his hidden earpiece before he reached the barn. "Multiple armed hostiles spotted. Looks like a drug deal gone wrong. They are fighting amongst themselves, one shot fired but no casualties and no hostages yet. Chris, Barry, and I are getting the drop on them while they're distracted. Brad and Joseph are looking for their getaway vehicles. Over." Jill spoke quickly, her voice slightly muffled by the shouting of the other panicked party guests.

"Roger that," Wesker replied coolly through his walkie-talkie. Good, everyone was following protocol for situations like this. Looking at his watch, it was 2:35 AM. They should be done here before the sun was up, possibly each in their respective homes before then. He won't tolerate failure, especially if it means a delay in taking his present home with him. they needed to have a little chat about limits and boundaries.

Cara was too daring tonight, especially towards some boy she hardly knew. A boy who was her age, someone any girl would be proud to introduce to the parents.

Stroking the outline of his concealed gun, he had watched their dance from his place in the dark. He fought hard the impulse to kill, his nails biting into his palms like wasps. He gritted his teeth, knowing he wasn't the one to get to dance with her. That filthy boy was desecrating a temple. He'll make sure to teach her a classier way to dance, having witnessed such atrocious moves. Teenagers were unsophisticated at times.

Why did it have to be her? Why couldn't he have some affair with some umbrella bombshell? Things would've certainly been a lot simpler, with much less loss of sleep. Her face always filled his mind each and every night, haunting him endlessly.

Cara should've died many attempts ago, yet here she was, laughing and dancing with some other guy, pulling him in for a kiss. Wesker's lips curled into a cruel smile seeing the girl who often leaves him sleepless, choosing to return his efforts and protection with the worst kind of betrayal. He had been burned tonight, but now he will burn everyone.

Amongst the people barreling out the barn, Wesker spotted the boy who dared touch what didn't belong to him. He was helpless, shoved around in the stampede of a crowd with no real strength to push back. Wesker moved in his direction, purposefully driving his shoulder into the fleeing boy.

The contact lasted a second before the boy ran for his car. With a smirk, Wesker pocketed the wallet after looking over the name of the owner. James Hunter. Address: 243 charlotte road. In due time, the boy will reap what he sowed.

He spotted Joseph and Brad bugging a van among the parked cars outside, giving them a nod. As he stepped into the barn, he spotted Jill taking out her taser. There were two men on the ground, tackled by Chris and Barry and in the process of being cuffed.

A third man was on his knees, his body jerking as Jill delivered a shot of electricity through a taser. "You brought the fucking cops here? I knew you were an informant!" he shouted at the cuffed men between violent spasms. He was no older than twenty with a black duffel back hugged close to his body. He kept trying to reach for the gun he must've dropped, but Jill zapped him again. He was persistent and continued to reach for his weapon, spittle flying out of his mouth as his body spasmed.

Kicking the gun out of his reach, Wesker delivered a sharp kick to the man's stomach, watching him fold over. Planting a knee into his back, he twisted his arm, earning a pained groan. The movement was automatic as he began the arrest process, stating his rights in a monotonous voice. Jill moved to retrieve the black duffel bag, unzipping it to reveal the wrapped bundles of white powder. No doubt cocaine.

"That's a hefty block of sugar," Jill joked, juggling three bundles with surprising skill. But Wesker still lost interest after two seconds.

Everything was going smoothly until a fourth man stepped into the barn. In his grip was a hostage dragged by her hair.

Seeing who was being dragged had Chris lose his calm and run towards the man, aiming his gun. "Let her go, you fucker!" Chris roared, breathing erratically with teeth curled over his teeth. Every fiber in his been stood tense and ready.

"Throw away your guns first," the man warned, digging the muzzle of his gun against the struggling girl's head, ending her resistance.

"Stand down, Chris," Wesker ordered and sighed when Chris didn't comply. Instead, he offered more death threats.

"Chris, you know how we handle hostage situations! Do you want me to write you up for insubordination?" Wesker hissed, growing impatient with the show of open defiance. A dead hostage will create a headache with the Chief in toe.

"He's got his hands on my fucking sister!" Chris's hands gripped the gun tightly, shaking his head furiously.

"I am well aware," Wesker regarded the tearful girl, held so tightly by the neck her toes barely touched the ground. With every threat and step Chris took towards them, the man held Claire even tighter, using her as a human shield.

Wesker walked up to Chris before taking hold of the gun. After staring down his Captain for what felt like an eternity, Chris begrudgingly let go of the gun. Wesker threw it at the hostage-taker's feet along with his own. Jill followed suit.

"State your demands," Wesker addressed the hostage-taker coolly. His interest was more on maintaining the reputation of STARS than on saving the female version of Chris. Any headache was a good one to avoid.

"First, take off the fucking sunglasses hotshot. Second, give me that bag." The man demanded, pointing his chin to the bag next to Jill.

With a raised eyebrow and a bemused smile, Wesker took off his shades before pocketed them. His icy blues pierced the man, watching him take a sharp breath, a slight tremble to his hands.

"You need to let her go first, and then the drugs are all yours. No one will go after you. Our priority is the safety of all civilians and law enforcement officers. Let's all get home safely." Wesker stared directly into the hostage-taker's eyes, his posture relaxed, speaking as if conversing with a friend.

"Do you think I'm stupid? I ain't falling for that shit again. Bag first."

As Wesker turned around to go grab the bag, he whispered into his walkie-talkie. " Joseph and Brad, be ready for an armed hostile at the south exit. Over." with an affirmative answer from both officers through his earpiece, he picked up the bag. He proceeded to walk closer to the hostage-taker, his free hand up in the air.

"Stop, don't come any closer. just throw it over."

"As you wish," complying, Wesker threw the bag, watching as it slid across the floor to stop near the man.

The man kept eyeing the exit furthest from them before bending to pick up the duffel with jerky movements. Sweat pooled on his forehead as he pondered his next move. Slowly he inched backward, his eyes not leaving the three officers. He should've known how rotten the deal would go. His hands were so clammy the gun kept slipping. He swallowed as a pillar of hay blocked them from view, and he was quickening his steps to the exit.

"Move it!" he hissed, dragging Claire to her feet as she stumbled.

"Let me go, you fucker!" Claire wailed, fighting against him.

"Shut up, you little bitch. You're my ticket out of here. Stop struggling, and don't think I won't blow your brains out."

As they made it just outside the door, another gang member appeared. "Casper, that you man?" he called out and suffered a kick to the chin.

"No names, you little shit!" the hostage-taker hissed, spittle flying into his partner's face.

"Sorry man-"

"Any more of our people left?"

"Well, there was them, but they're caught up with the cops over there," he pointed to an area where two gang members wrestled with Brad and Joseph.

"Let's go, start the van. We're getting the fuck out of here. I have the drugs. We'll sell em' in another town." they ran to the van, dragging Claire with them. Opening the back of the van, they were about to shove her inside until a voice shouted.

"Wait! Please don't take her!" Cara cried, stepping out from behind a car right next to their van. She had been watching them drag her best friend out of the barn.

"Cara, no! what the hell are you doing?" Claire hissed, forming wild motions with her hand for her friend to get the hell away. This was the stupidest thing she had ever seen.

Without an ounce of thought, she shouted. "Take me instead!"

"Your pretty dumb shit. but it's not like I want to watch two hostages while the cops come after us," the man holding Claire spat. "You go, and you get in the van now!" he shoved Claire to the ground before grabbing Cara by the collar and shoving her inside. Slamming the doors shut, he and his partner were quick to get behind the wheel, ignoring Claire as she banged on the doors.

Before Claire could chase the van, she was grabbed from behind. "Let go!" she shoved frantically, watching the van get further and further away down the dirt road through the cornfield.

"Mrs. Redfield, you're already in enough trouble as it is. don't add to the list." Wesker pulled her by the arm, confused as to why she would ever chase the car of the people who held her at gunpoint moments ago.

"You don't understand they have-" Claire grabbed the front of his jacket, looking at him pleadingly.

"Enough Claire!" Chris hissed, detaching her arms from his Captain and dragging her off to the side. Opening the door to his undercover car, he shoved Claire inside. He was about to slam the door, but she stuck her arm out.

"Chris, please, you have to listen to me. they have-"

"I'll listen once your ready to tell me why you're out in the middle of nowhere and drinking underage. what part of 'be careful' did you not understand?"

Straightening out his jacket as if nothing happened, Wesker placed his shades back in their rightful place. He watched Joseph and Barry get into a car before giving chase as Brad herded the arrestees into an undercover cruiser. It was a tight fit with three bulky men sharing the backseat. He will interrogate them tomorrow, finally shoving the leads down Iron's throat so he would shut up.

Walking over to the STARS undercover van, he looked over their communication devices and smirked as the tracker on the culprits' van signaled their exact GPS coordinates. Umbrella was generous with the tech donations to the police department, making the job all that much easier.

Picking up a radio, he connected to the team's frequency. "Hostage is secured. Jill and I will set up a blockade based on their GPS coordinates. If they push you, push harder. I don't care if you flip them over. Make sure they don't get away. Over."

He walked towards Chris and frowned; his mouth set in a grim line. "Seeing as you are currently busy, I think you should go home, Chris." With a glance at the feuding siblings, Wesker knew he couldn't use Chris tonight.

"What? You're not leaving me behind. They had their hands on my sister. How the hell am I supposed to let someone else catch them? it should be me." Chris exhaled through his teeth, glaring at his Captain.

"Are you sure you'll simply put them in cuffs? Right now, you're biased. Your emotions are not in the right place. Go home and help your sister get sobered up. you can't afford mistakes that will ruin your career or her getting charged with underage drinking."

"Is that a threat?" Chris blinked, speaking dangerously slowly, glancing between his captain and sister.

"It's a warning. Now go. you've done enough tonight."

Getting into the van with Jill, Wesker saw Chris punch a lamp post and smirked. His smile was gone as he thought about how he will have to discipline Chris all over again.

Remembering what he left behind in the junkyard, he paged one umbrella's bribed cops to go and fetch her. Cara will be furious, but she will be safe. She will get over it, having been through much worse. And then they will be home in no time at all.

With Jill in the driver seat, they drove off with Wesker looking over the communications equipment, directing Barry and Joseph after the signal. It was amusing watching the dealers rest their car, thinking they lost the cops before being chased again. They were too stupid to abandon the vehicle with a tracker on it. He thought out possible blockade locations at predicted intersections where the dealers may go.

Getting to their destination, Wesker and Jill worked quickly to set up the blockade, laying out the tire spikes. Traffic was minimal, but they still left the police siren up. Frowning, Wesker rejected another call made by Chris. To prevent further distraction for the rest of the team, he made everyone change radio frequencies. The scolded STARS member has been calling nonstop through all forms of communication. Wesker ordered the rest of the team to disregard him. Whatever silly grudge the boy had would have to wait until they handed the suspects into the RPD, where they'd be bragging trophies for the Chief.

With their guns out, Wesker and Jill used both van doors like a shield as they stood ready for the lights fast approaching at an illegal speed. A familiar vehicle flanked the white van, leaving more and more impressions against the exterior as they smashed into each other over and over. Barry was enjoying himself tonight.

"Captain! There is another hostage!" Chris shouted through the radio. He must have figured out their new frequency change.

"What? Enough of this, Chris. You are off the mission. What you're doing now is interference with official police business, and you know the consequences. last chance, Chris." Fed up, Wesker slammed the radio on the dashboard, gripping his gun tighter. As the van came closer, he fired several shots at the tires, and the van began swerving on wobbly tires.

"What's up with Chris?" Jill glanced over at her boss, seeing the overly familiar scene of Chris and Wesker clashing. She, too, fired a couple of rounds.

"He claims there is another hostage," Jill grew stiff, her eyes growing wide. She was quick to lower her gun.

"On no, I thought his sister was the only hostage. then what the hell are we doing!"

"Likely, he just wants back in on the mission and is being childish," his voice was as sharp as his next shots into the engine.

"Are you sure Captain? Chris may be thick-headed, but he wouldn't lie. especially about something like this."

Wesker opened his mouth, but no words came out. No, he wasn't sure without a doubt. Something felt off to him. Like the feeling he had in the parking lot of the Hospital. Later that same day, he ends up finding Cara almost being used for an experiment.

His pager went off, and he quickly read the message with a sinking feeling. 'Nobody at the junkyard, Captain. Just a pack of stray dogs.' What were the chances of Cara being the hostage? She was a magnet for trouble everywhere she went. So, there was a very high chance.

Wesker lowered his gun, but the damage was already done.

The van swerved before flipping over three times, sending metal debris all over the road. Before the van stopped sliding, Wesker was already sprinting as fast as he could to the wreck. Through the blood rushing through his ears, he barely heard Jill call for an ambulance.

Disregarding the injured men crying for help in the front, Wesker dug through the wreck. The back of the van was crumpled, sealing the doors, and he kicked it in frustration as they refused to budge.

As Jill ran to the STARS van to grab a saw, Barry, Joseph, and Brad watched their captain behave as they'd never seen before. They helped the hostage-takers not so gently exit the heap of metal as they all gawked at their Captain. Returning with the saw, Jill received a death stare as soon as she tried to push her captain out of the way.

Seeing how his behavior has caught the attention of everyone, Wesker begrudgingly had to detach himself from the scene and collect himself. Only he lost it all again as they dragged her body out.

#resident evil #albert wesker #albert wesker x oc #oc #fanfic #albert Wesker X original character

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