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dreamwritesimagines · 3 years

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Burn The Witch 10 - Bad Influence [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s an extra chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.

Summary: Some nights are more hectic than others.

Series Masterlist

Oh hell no.

Tonight was supposed to be a normal night. Boring even. You were supposed to stay at home, watch a cliché horror movie, eat noodles and worry about whether your fake boyfriend, who didn’t know he was your fake boyfriend, was safe and sound on yet another secret mission of his.

Okay, maybe not that normal of a night.

But what was not supposed to happen was your ex-boyfriend showing up out of nowhere at your door.

“I know we left things off a little awkward but that’s no reason to point a gun at me. I was just doing my job.”

“Walk away,” you said, “Go back to the circle of hell they unleashed you from.”

“I heard you’re fake dating Barnes?” he asked, “He looks like your type.”

“I’m going to give you three seconds, then I will start shooting.”

He hissed in a breath,

“Except you can’t,” he stated, “You have to keep your cover. Milkshake waitress having a gun? People would start asking questions.”

“You’re right,” you said through your teeth, “A knife would be much more silent.”

“What’s taking you so—“ Keith called out but he stopped talking as soon as he saw you two. His eyes narrowed almost immediately and he took a step but you threw yourself in front of him, knowing he was about to punch him.

“Keith, I got it.”

“What the fuck are you doing here dickhead?”

“Nice to see you too Keith,” Julian said, “Am I interrupting something? I always kind of wondered what was going on between you two.”

“Ew!”

“If I didn’t want to punch you before, I certainly want to do it now,” Keith stated and you shook your head.

“I got it,” you said, “Really, it’s fine. Go back to the living room.”

He gritted his teeth, “I’ll fuck you up the moment I get you alone, Julian.”

“I can pretend to be scared if you want,” Julian deadpanned as Keith walked back to the living room and you tucked your gun into the waist of your shorts again, crossing your arms.

“So what crossroad is missing its demon right now?” you asked and he tilted his head.

“Y/N.”

“Why are you here?”

“I wanted to say hi,” he said, “Is that so bad?”

“Yeah. Considering the shit you pulled, it is bad.”

“You would’ve done the same thing.”

“No I really wouldn’t,” you said “What, am I supposed to believe you’re here to say hello?”

“Yep,” he said, “It’s customary to meet or re-meet your team leader on a mission.”

You blinked a couple of times, gawking at him before you let out a bitter chuckle.

“Oh fuck no.”

“Hey take it up to the General, I didn’t ask to be put on a mission where you play the honeypot,” he said, “Speaking of, is Barnes head over heels yet? I know how charming you can be when you want to, call it a first hand experience.”

“You’re not a part of my team.”

“I sort of am.”

“It’s my team,” you insisted, “I didn’t give okay to you being on my—“

“I’m afraid that’s above both of our paygrades,” he pointed out, “Nothing you can do about it. Trust me, I won’t enjoy this either.”

“Oh you won’t?”

“You think I will enjoy watching you have a relationship with the goddamn Winter Soldier?” he asked, “As fake as it may be, it will look real.”

“You’re so full of shit.”

“So I take it he doesn’t stay over yet?”

You ran your tongue over your teeth, shaking your head, “You know what?” you said, “I think I’ve had enough of this bullshit for the night. It’s always a displeasure to see you Julian, fuck off now.”

You slammed the door on his face and ran a hand over your face, making your way to the living room.

“General put him on the team?” Keith asked, “Is he serious?”

“Looks like it,” you checked your wristwatch, “I need to talk to him. Do you think I can-”

“Don’t call the General right now,” he interrupted you before you could finish your sentence, “You’re angry, and I get that, so am I but wait until tomorrow.”

“Keith, he can’t be in my team!” you insisted, “He can’t be trusted, you know he can’t!”

“Hey,” he grabbed you by the shoulders, “I know. I know what he’s done, I know he can’t be trusted. But the rest of your team got your back, okay? Especially me and Chloe. What happened at that last mission won’t happen again.”

You threw your hands up, “Ugh, fuck this shit!”

“We got this—” he started but then your phone started vibrating on the couch, making you both turn your heads. You leaned over to check the screen, then snatched the phone off the couch when you saw Bucky’s name flashing.

“I should take this,” you murmured and made your way to the bathroom to close the door behind you. You jumped into the empty bathtub and answered the phone.

“Hi Bucky.”

“Hi darling.”

Even the sound of that was enough to make a small smile warm your face and you closed your eyes, leaning your head back to the bathtub.

“You could’ve just texted, you didn’t have to call.”

“Nah I wanted to hear your voice.”

Your smile widened as you bit down on your lip.

“I wanted to hear your voice too,” you murmured, for once dropping the act, “God, you have no idea what kind of a terrible night I’m having.”

“What’s wrong?”

You scrunched up your face, scolding yourself in your head. “Just a…just a bad night.”

“Girls at soup kitchen are giving you a hard time?” he asked and you let out a chuckle.

“No,” you said, “I just heard some less than ideal news.”

“Do you need me there?”

You raised your brows, “Aren’t you on a secretive and highly dangerous mission?”

“Yeah,” he said, “Doesn’t matter, I’ll come if you need me. Do you?”

The clear difference between your ex-boyfriend and your current, albeit fake boyfriend was impossible to miss and you felt your throat getting tighter before you coughed.

Fuck no, you didn’t cry.

The last time you genuinely cried was when you were 16, and quite frankly you had no idea if you were even capable of doing it anymore.

“It’s fine,” you managed to say, “It can wait. Date night when you come back though.”

“Of course.”

“And actually I’ve been thinking about that,” you said, “It’s my turn, right? To pick the place?”

“Mm hm, we last went to Brooklyn.”

“So I was thinking what if we did one modern and one old times?” you asked, “I can pick the modern dates and you can pick the old times dates.”

“Huh,” he said, “That’s a good idea. Wait, you’re not going to drag me to one of those nightclubs, are you?”

You giggled, “Would it be that terrible?”

“Please don’t do that to me.”

“You don’t like dancing?”

“Not that kind of dancing.”

“You know, I keep waiting for you to actually utter the words ‘back in my day’, but it’s not happening.”

He chuckled, “Back in my day, we wouldn’t call that dancing.”

You hummed, slipping a little in the bathtub, “Good point,” you said, “So okay then, it’s settled. I got the modern and you got the old dates covered. What does that entail anyway? Home cooked meal dates?”

“Nope,” he said, “We’re dating, not married.”

You pulled your brows together, “How is that relevant?”

“Me being at your place or you being at mine would be very frowned upon,” he tut tutted, “Us together, without anyone else. Inside and privacy and all. Scandal, there’d be lots of gossip about your virtue.”

A clear laughter escaped from your lips and you covered your mouth with your hand, trying to pull yourself together.

“Right, my virtue,” you played along, “So I take it you have never been alone with a girl back in your day then? Since virtue was a huge deal?”

There was a pause on the other line, “I mean it wasn’t— it wasn’t that huge of a deal for everyone…” he trailed off, and you clicked your tongue.

“But overall, no Netflix and chill?”

“What’s Netflix and chill?”

You bit inside your cheek, trying to ignore the warmth at the pit of your stomach, “I know you hate to hear it, but you’re so cute.”

“No I’m not.”

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,” you taunted him, “I won’t tell anyone.”

You heard Sam calling his name and there was a shuffle before he cleared his throat.

“I gotta go,” he said, “Promise to be safe?”

“Right back at you.”

“Good night sweetheart.”

“Good night.” you said and hung up, pressing the phone to your lips before you shook your head at yourself. You got off the empty tub and opened the bathroom door to step out, then found Keith busy with the noddle boxes in the kitchen.

“It’s still hot, and I took the liberty of texting Chloe,” he said, “She’s on her way.”

You tried to offer him a small smile.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he grabbed the chopsticks, “But we might want to finish Scream before Chloe gets here, because knowing her, she will make us watch a rom-com.”

***

You should’ve known trying to change the General’s decision was a lost cause. He listened to your multiple reasons why it was a bad idea to have Julian in your team, but you could’ve been talking to a wall and it still wouldn’t have made a difference.

“I’m aware of your past with Julian,” he said with a sigh after you were done listing your reasons, “Trust me, this wasn’t an easy decision to make.”

“It’s not about my past with him, sir.” You forced yourself to say, “He can’t be trusted. He’s not a team player, he doesn’t think about anyone but himself-”

“It wasn’t just my decision to make him a part of the team, it was all your superiors’,” he said, “We believe that you’re professional enough to pull this off.”

You gritted your teeth, “Sir, it’s not—“

“He’s in your team and a part of the mission now,” he cut you off, “You’re dismissed, Shrike.”

You dug your fingernails into your palms and nodded, then left his office to march up to Chloe and Keith who were huddled over Chloe’s desk.

“What did he say?”

“That he’s not going anywhere.”

Keith clenched his jaw while Chloe heaved a sad sigh.

“I can try to talk to him if you want, but…”

“It won’t make any difference,” you said, “I know.”

Keith crossed his arms, leaning back to the desk, “I mean we could always poison Julian.”

“Keith.”

“Or he could get caught in the crossfire. Spies die like flies, you know that.”

“Don’t say that!” Chloe exclaimed, “You guys are spies too and I already feel way too worried about you.”

“No worries, the only type of death Y/N will get from Barnes is la petite mort.”

You smacked him on the arm, “Fuck you, we’re not sleeping together yet.”

“But you sort of want to,” Keith said, “I heard your giggling last night while talking to him.”

You shifted your weight and threw your shoulders back, “Yeah, so? It’s my cover.”

“Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want to fuck his brains out.”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer!”

“I’m kind of excited about that too,” Chloe said and both you and Keith turned to her.

“Please tell me you don’t want to sleep with Barnes—“

“No!” Chloe said, “No I just… when Y/N wants to, we’ll go and get some vintage inspired lingerie so I’m excited for that.”

“We’re not going to do that Chloe.”

“Yeah, let the guy see the good things 21st century has to offer Chloe,” Keith winked at you and you rolled your eyes.

“You know what, I didn’t give you shit when you were the one undercover in Brazil and had to—“

“Y/N,” Julian’s voice reached your ears and a shiver ran down your spine, making you clench your teeth, “You have a minute?”

Chloe stole a look at Keith who glared at Julian while you raised your brows.

“Not for you Julian, no.”

“I just joined the team, you have to update me.”

“Actually she doesn’t because I already gave Sarah your file and I know that she gave it to you two hours ago,” Chloe stated and Keith nodded.

“Yeah and you’re standing a little too close, so why don’t you step back a little?”

Julian shot you a look, “Seriously? And you’re okay with this?”

“He’s right, you’re standing a little too close,” you stated, making him sigh.

“Y/N, we’re on the same team,” he reminded you, “We need to get along.”

“Actually, you’re on my team,” you corrected him, “I’m the leader in here. So technically, I don’t have to get along with you. You have to get along with me, seeing that you work under me.”

A small arrogant smirk curled his lips. “Wouldn’t be the first time I worked under you,” he said, “Brings back the memories.”

Your eyes narrowed and you tilted your head.

“It really does,” you mused, “The memory of the most boring ten seconds of my life, you tranquilized mattress.”

Keith snorted out his coffee while Chloe gasped, staring at you. You smiled at Julian sweetly, then grabbed your phone.

“Well, I’d better go,” you said, “Some of us have a mission to lead after all. I’ll see you guys later.”

“Have fun,” Keith said without taking his eyes off Julian, “I know we will.”

You winked at them and walked out of the bullpen, grinning to yourself.

***

The following two days were an actual disaster. Bucky wasn’t in the city so you had nothing to do and nothing to report about. Not only that, you had also made it your own mission to avoid Julian but so far that mission had been a success.

You were beginning to suspect Keith and Chloe had something to do with it.

There was also something at the pit of your stomach. Something that made you both sad and uncomfortable at the same time, like an itch you needed to scratch and no matter what you did, it wouldn’t go away.

Chloe had this genius theory of you missing Bucky, but she was absolutely wrong.

You were just done with counting the money and locking the register when you heard the wind bell by the door chime, but you were way too busy with trying to place the mason jars on the shelf to even look around.

“Sorry, we’re closed,” you said but there was no answer. You froze for only a second before the spy in you kicked in and you grabbed the mason jar tighter before reaching out to grab the nearest knife. The footsteps didn’t signal that it was more than one person and you would throw the jar and judging by the angle of his shadow he would probably lean left to dodge it and that would be when—

“Hi beautiful.”

You whirled around, still holding the jar tight before you dropped it on the counter with the knife, staring at Bucky standing by the door.

“Oh thank God….” you rushed to jump into his arms and he caught you, lifting you off the floor as you wrapped your arms around his neck, inhaling his scent deeply. Somehow just his presence was enough to make up for these last terrible days and you closed your eyes for a moment while his hand cradled the back of your head, pressing a kiss on your temple.

“Hi,” you giggled as you pecked him on the lips, “I didn’t know you were back!”

“Oh we just arrived,” Bucky said as he put you down, “Sam went home and I came here. He says hi by the way.”

“Hi back,” you said and the duffel bag on the floor caught your eye, “Wait, you literally just arrived?”

“Mm hm.”

You hummed, pinching his chin between your fingers as you turned his face, making him smile.

“No bruises,” you commented “That’s a good sign. You scared me though, I thought you were a robber!”

“Yeah, speaking of,” he said, “Where’s your friend?”

“Tara? She had a date, and the part timer had an emergency, so I’m closing today.”

“By yourself?” he asked, “That’s not exactly being safe.”

“I can take care of myself,” you taunted him, “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Glad to be back,” his smile widened, “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

“Oh you don’t have to, you know I live close by. You should go home and get some rest, you look like you haven’t slept in days.”

“Y/N,” he said patiently, “It’s night time—“

“Meh, evening more likely.”

“It’s dark outside,” he said, “I’m walking you home, come on.”

You thought for a moment, then heaved a sigh.

“Okay,” you said and looked around to see whether you had missed anything, then grabbed your jacket and switched off the lights. He adjusted his duffel bag over his shoulder as you locked the shop then you both started walking.

“So I take it the mission was a success?” you asked, entwining your fingers with his vibranium ones. He still wasn’t used to it and he hesitated for only a second before he held your hand.

“Something like that.”

“How are you going to celebrate?”

He frowned, “Celebrate?”

“Yeah!” you said, “A nice thing happened, why wouldn’t you celebrate it?”

“We don’t really… celebrate missions.”

“Why not?”

He thought for a moment, “I don’t know,” he admitted, “Can I- can we celebrate it then? Together?”

“Oh we absolutely can,” you nodded, “How does tomorrow sound? It’s my time to pick the date, and I’m picking a bar with lots of celebration drinks.”

“There won’t be any dancing in this bar, right?”

“Not yet,” you wiggled your brows, “But I’m warning you, I have plans. We will push you out of that comfort zone of yours.”

“My shrink would like you.”

You tilted your head, “Is that a good thing?”

“Yep,” he said, “How about you? Do you feel better?”

You heaved a sigh and made a face, “Trying.”

“Anything I can do to help?” he asked, “Anything at all, I’m serious.”

A small smile warmed your face and you looked up at him.

“It’s fine,” you said “Thank you for asking though. It means a lot.”

He squeezed your hand like he was trying to assure you and you turned around to see him better as you stopped in front of the building.

“I’d ask if you wanted to a cup of coffee upstairs but…” you sighed dramatically, “My virtue and all.”

“Right,” he played along, “Of course not. We can’t have your neighbors get the wrong idea.”

“No chaperone or anything…”

“I’m astonished you’d even think of such a thing miss,” he said, trying to keep a straight face and you bit down on your lips.

“Well, thank you for being the perfect gentleman, mister,” you taunted him, then stood on your tiptoes to brush your lips against his, his arm around your waist tightening. He looked down at you as you pulled back, that soft light crossing his eyes again.

“Good night Bucky.”

“Good night,” he stole a kiss from you again and you giggled, then made your way into the building. You took the elevator and as soon as you reached your floor and stepped out, you found Keith fumbling with his keys by his door. He looked over his shoulder and you tilted your head, staring at his blood stained clothes.

“Why are you covered in blood?”

“Why are you grinning like a high schooler with a crush?” he asked back and you tried to control your expression. “Something tells me the answer to both of those questions is the same.”

“Mission?”

“Mission.”

You hummed and went to unlock your door as well while Keith leaned sideways to his doorframe.

“At least one of us is having fun on missions,” he pointed out and you curled your lips, shooting him a look.

“Aw you poor baby,” you said, “I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not.”

“No I’m not and you know why?” you pointed at him, “You didn’t bring me coffee the other day.”

He gasped dramatically and you let out a laugh, then closed your door behind you.

“That Barnes guy is a bad influence on you young lady!” he called out before closing his door as well and you chuckled to yourself, shaking your head.

“Yeah,” you murmured, “I think you might be right.”

Chapter 11

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #tfatws!bucky #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #tfatws bucky #marvel

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joonie-beanie · 4 years

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Game Night

Pairing: Leviathan x Reader

Word Count: 5,826

Preview: You and Levi have a game night once a week, in which the two of you get a...little too competitive.

So, when you decide block Levi's line of sight in a desperate bid to win the game, well. You get what's coming to you.

** Please note that this is a cross-posting **

This chapter was originally posted on 5/29/20 as a part of my “Devil Doms” series on AO3.

It’s kind of become tradition—that once a week, you and Levi have a game night.

At first, it’d simply been you helping him with dungeons or runs for supplies in a game you really had no idea how to play. When you’d complained to him about it, saying you wanted to challenge him in some way—to show him that you were actually good at some games—he’d dug out the Devildom’s equivalent to games like Super Smash Bros, and Mario Kart.

He hadn’t really considered the idea of you being able to best him before then. Leviathan was used to you struggling with the controls—being a good distraction for enemies as he snuck past to get whatever rare item was held in that level.

Now, when your kart zooms over the finish line just seconds before him time and time again…he starts to go a little crazy.

Your game nights quickly go from semi-calm dungeon runs, to Leviathan jumping to his feet—cursing at you, the game, and himself as he attempts to get his anger under control before his demon form claws its way to the surface.

Before, you may have been scared to see the otaku so full of frustration, with his horns and tail threatening to sprout from his body, but now? Now, you feel giddy at the sight—full of pride each time you manage to beat him.

You know that you have a bit of a…sadistic, bratty side to you. It’s fun to watch Levi get so frustrated over losing to a “normie human” at a video game that shouldn’t be hard for him to win.

To be fair, you had warned him before playing that you had lots of experience in games like this, but he hadn’t believed you. So, it’s his own fault for getting beat by you, and you’re sure to tell him that—laughing at the way he angrily pouts when hearing so.

It’s been a few weeks since your switch in games, and tonight—like every other night—Leviathan is determined to win. He’s already got the title screen of the game loaded by the time you knock on his door and step into his room.

His eyes immediately flit to you—gaze raking you from head to toe. Beneath the pile of snacks and drinks in your arms, he can see that you’ve once again decided to arrive in your pj’s, and deep within his brain, a part of him feels like screaming.

It’s not like your pajamas are unseemly—an oversized t-shirt and a pair of black shorts is hardly an outfit to feel scandalized over. And yet, Levi finds himself inexplicably attracted to the outfit—relishing each peek of the tight, ass-hugging shorts when your shirt rides up ever so slightly.

Seriously, game nights are both his favorite, and most frustrating part of the week.

“Ready to get your ass kicked?” you ask, dumping the snacks in your arms onto the side of his desk. Rather than look at you, he busies himself with picking a snack and drink to start the night off right.

“I wouldn’t sound so cocky, if I were you,” he finally mumbles when he hears you dragging his old gaming chair over (he’d pulled it out for you a while ago, and tends to shove it in the corner until game night rolls around again). “I’ve been practicing.”

“Is…that something you should really be admitting?” you ask with a laugh, your eyes shining with amusement as you lean forward to peek at his face. “You basically just acknowledged that I’ve been kicking your ass so bad that you need to practice in your spare time.”

“T-That’s--!” he’s immediately flushing red, wishing oh-so-badly that he could shut you up as you openly laugh at him. Despite your teasing, however, your bright smile is genuinely happy. You enjoy spending this time with him, and the realization makes him feel warm, but in a different way.

“Just…s-shut up, normie…”

He reaches forward and grabs your controller, shoving it into your lap, and you giggle quietly—flashing him another smile that has his heart doing a tiny flip.

“Sooo~,” you speak, relaxing back into your chair as Leviathan grabs his own controller. He clicks out of the title screen and onto the main menu. “Best of five, like usual?”

He nods, and you watch the screen as he picks which courses he wants to race. (You’d told him before that you’d let him choose the tracks, since you’d beat him either way. He hates the advantage, but nonetheless uses it.)

After picking the tracks, the character selection screen pops up. You go to your regular—a black and purple character named “Shroom” (the first time you’d see the off-brand Mario characters, you’d gotten a good laugh), and decide to stick with the basic kart (which secretly drives Levi insane, because how the hell do you manage to beat him without picking a kart with the best functions?!)

Levi, unsurprisingly, goes for the princess, “Cherry”. He takes time building his kart—choosing only the superior parts—and finally, once he’s ready, the race begins.

He hunches forward in his chair—his forearms resting against his knees as he dials in on the computer screen. You glance at the demon, lips tugging at the corners fondly at the sight of him.

It’s cute how much he wants to win.

On screen, you hear the countdown begin, and quickly turn your attention away from him. As much as you want to watch his every reaction as he desperately tries to best you, you can’t. Right now, you have to win.

Tightly gripping your controller, you turn your eyes to the computer screen. The race starts.

Slowly, with each passing level, the game begins to descend into chaos. When Levi wins the first level, it’s impossible to keep a smug grin from coming to his face. However, at the sight, you’re quick to reassure him not to get too cocky, and—sure enough—you kick his ass on the following track. He ends up coming in 6th after you hit him with two consecutive red shells, and when the race ends, you can see the veins in his hands beginning to bulge from how hard he’s gripping the controller.

“Want to take a break?” you ask, half serious, half teasing. His response is to start the next level, so you take that as a “no”.

The conclusion of the third race is much closer—only a .8 second difference in your finishing time, but you still come out on top. The near tie has Levi quietly cursing up a storm—remarks about “stupid normies” and their “stupid games” filling the space around him.

You decide to keep your mouth shut this time—figuring it’d be best to not push him for once—and simply smile to yourself as the next race begins. The fourth track is perhaps one of the most difficult, but you manage to traverse it well. At least, until Levi trips you up on a borderless curve with a banana.

As you go tumbling off the course, Levi jumps happily in his seat—grin breaking out on his face. A little too competitive for your own good, you kick your leg out and hit him on the side of his calf. He yelps, but it’s already too late. His kart rolls over the finish line, and he’s immediately turning to glare at you.

“Hey! No kicking!”

“I mean~,” you hum innocently, finally finishing the race. “We never exactly established a rule that says we’re not allowed to physically interfere with each other.”

“It’s basic gaming courtesy!” he argues, squeaking in surprise when he hears the countdown on screen. You’d started the final race without warning him!

“Y/N!”

“Whoops~,” you feign innocence, tongue poking out of your lips determinedly as your kart revs to life. The two of you fall into silence, eyes locked on the computer as you desperately attempt to best each other.

When you finish the first lap, you’re ahead. The second lap, however, Leviathan finishes two places ahead of you. Frowning unhappily, your leg begins to bounce nervously beneath you.

You hate that Leviathan actually manages to make you so damn competitive. You’re never like this with anyone else, and usually you wouldn’t be feeling so frantic to win, but tonight is different. A burning desire to come out on top takes over your brain, and as the final stretch of the last lap appears on screen, you find yourself pressing to your feet.

Levi, immersed in his own desperation to win, doesn’t realize you’ve moved until your body appears in front of him. It’s a seriously petty move—standing in front of someone to block their view—and almost immediately Levi’s anger gets the best of him.

The frustration that had been building beneath the surface lurches forward, and within a split second, his demon form materializes.

You squeal in surprise as his tail wraps tightly around your waist—dragging you back into his lap. Your controller clatters to the floor, and your kart rolls to a stop just short of the finish line. Levi—who had already been in the lead—finishes in first.

The room goes quiet save the sound of NPC’s overtaking you and finishing the race, and your heartbeat drumming loudly in your ears. Levi is scarily still beneath you—the edge of his controller pressed against the center of your back. You can feel him puff out a heavy breath—the hot air fanning against your neck and shoulder.

“L…Levi?” you question when you manage to find your voice. He doesn’t speak, but instead you feel him shift. His hands move, the sound of his controller being carefully set on the edge of his desk reaching your ears. Then, his tail loosens around your waist, and for a brief second, you think he has finally calmed down. That notion, however, is quickly thrown out the window.

Rather than releasing you, the appendage snakes upward—curling around your neck. Your breath hitches—both nervous, and somewhat aroused—as his tail grips tightly at your throat. The pressure is enough to let you know he’s pissed, but not enough to choke you.

“Do you have any idea,” he starts quietly, his voice carefully measured as he speaks for the first time in what feels like minutes. “How hard this is for me?”

One of his hands falls against your lap, his fingers curling into the soft flesh of your inner thigh and giving it a squeeze. His touch is rough, yet holds a hint of nervousness. He’s always been flustered by physical contact, and has never gone out of his way to touch you.

Yet, now you’re sitting in his lap, with one of his hands one your inner thigh, and the other lifting to hover over your clothed breast. His fingers twitch—as if he’s holding himself back from touching you in all the ways he wants—and you swallow the lump in your throat, your tongue peeking out to wet your dry lips.

“How hard what is?” you question, biting your lower lip as you watch his hand slowly lower onto your chest. His fingers splay across the mound of flesh, giving it an experimental squeeze, and you inhale shakily.

“This,” he says, his tone almost a whine. His nose presses into your hair, getting a good whiff of your sweet scent, and for the first time you notice something stiff pressing at your ass.

Levi is getting hard.

The realization has you turning all sorts of shades of red.

“You come to my room, wearing your stupid little shorts, and looking at me with your stupid little smiles that make my heart feel like it may burst right out of my chest.”

The hand on your thigh begins stroking softly over the skin there—inching closer and closer towards your womanhood, and your breath catches.

“I…,” his breathing stutters, his voice becoming softer with embarrassment. “It makes me want you. Makes me…c-crave those cute little blushes, and makes me want to taste your pink lips and…c-claim them as my own.”

His tail marginally loosens around your neck, and you take a deep breath, completely aware of the way your heart is racing within your chest. You’ve always felt something beyond the line of friendship for the Avatar of Envy, but you’d never known he’d been struggling with those same feelings.

“Levi--,” you open your mouth to speak, but he silences you as his tail tightens around your throat—even tighter than before. You gasp, a whine building in your chest as his touches suddenly turn rough again—his nails digging into the sensitive flesh of your breast and thigh.

“But then,” he continues, his voice darkening with anger, as if he’s just remembered why exactly you’re in his lap in the first place. “You tease me to no end. Rile me up just because you can…”

His tail winds tighter around your neck, his other hand falling to grip your thigh as he grinds you against his crotch, and you struggle to breathe. He’s rock hard—his cock pressed flush against your ass.

“You try to sabotage my win,” there’s a growl in his voice, and suddenly you’re reminded of the time he nearly killed you over TSL.

“L-Levi,” you gasp, voice pitched high as your brain begins to fog over from lack of blood flow “I…I’m sorry. B-But you still won.”

“I did, didn’t I?” You can hear the sudden smile in his voice, like he’s just realized that despite your interference, he still won the game. “Then what do I win?”

Emboldened by the victory, he grinds you back against his cock one more time—letting you know what he wants as his prize.

“You…you can have me,” you tell him, voice quiet. He breathes a shuddering breath against your hair, as if he doesn’t believe what you’ve said.

His fingers dig into your thighs, like he’s trying to ground himself.

“Are you sure?” his voice is no more than a whisper, and yet you can hear his internal struggle. On one hand, he wants to tear your clothes off your body, bend you over, and stick his dick into your hot, wet pussy without any type of warning. But…on the other hand, he knows he’s not totally himself right now. He’s riled up thanks to the competition, and your efforts to make him lose, and he doesn’t want you agreeing to let him have you just because you feel you have to.

Luckily, you don’t leave him worrying for long. Your hands drop into your lap—fingers slotting atop Levi’s where his hands rest on your inner legs. You give his digits a gentle squeeze, freely rocking your hips back against his hard-on—and a needy moan bubbles in his throat.

“You won, Levi. Claim your prize. I want you to.”

“Fuck.”

His breath hitches, and suddenly his tail has unfurled from around your throat. You’re quick to suck in a mouthful of air, your hands instinctively rooting in the fabric of Levi’s shirt as he scoops you into his arms.

Within seconds, your back is dropped onto the pillows lining the inside of his bathtub-turned-bed, and Leviathan cages you in—his hands resting on either side of your head as he kneels above you. For a moment, he can only stare—still a little disbelieving that you’re allowing him to have his way with you.

Your cheeks flush under his intense gaze, and you lift your palm to cup his cheek.

“You don’t have to hold back, you know…,” you mumble, eyes shying away from him. “As the winner, you can have whatever you want.”

“Please stop trying to kill me,” he retorts with a tiny whine, capturing your lips in a kiss. He’s a little sloppy, and a little forceful, but you don’t mind at all. You’re quick to wrap your arms around him—angling your head so your mouths slot together.

Levi moans against you, his hips unconsciously beginning to grind against your own in a desperate bid for friction. As you nip at his bottom lip, one of your hands moves downward and sneaks between your bodies. You cup Levi’s bulge with your palm, his body instinctively rocking into your hand, and another pained sound leaves his lips.

“F-Fuck, Y/N--,” his voice is breathless, and needy. As he grinds into your hand—your palm sternly pressing his cock against his own hip—you feel something slick and heavy begin to curl up your leg.

Immediately you shiver, your gasp lost against Levi’s tongue as he steals your breath away. Before tonight, you had never considered all the things the Avatar of Envy’s tail could be used for, but apparently, its versatility is not lost on Levi.

Within seconds, the appendage has scaled your legs, and managed to hook beneath the waistband of your sleeping shorts. Levi groans against your lips as you squeak in embarrassment—your pelvises bumping together as you gingerly lift your hips in order to help the demon out.

Soon, you’re naked from the waist down—only covered by your oversized sleeping shirt, which Levi seems desperate to get out of the way.

With a red face, you watch him as he softly slides a hand beneath your shirt—his hot palm resting against your stomach. His pupils—which you note are now narrowed like the eyes of a snake—shake as he slowly hikes his hand higher—his fingers coasting against your skin. Your breathing hitches as he does so, but you find your gaze trained on his face—monitoring his reactions.

You’ve never seen someone so embarrassed, yet distressed by his own arousal. To you, it seems like Levi is constantly torn between running away, and giving into the deep, dark, perverted feelings he’s always kept to himself.

You bite your lip as his fingers finally skim up the valley of your chest. The cotton fabric of your shirt pools above your breasts as the sensitive mounds are finally revealed to Levi’s hungry gaze. His amber eyes start at the top, and drag their way down.

He reaches his hands out as he surveys you with his full attention—his fingers curling around your ribs, and his thumbs just barely brushing up against the underside of your breasts. Licking his lips, he slowly begins trailing his fingers down your sides. Levi takes note of every dip and curve, relishing the feel of you. And when his hands finally find your hips—his eyes falling to space between your legs—he visibly swallows.

His movement is hesitant, but he lowers his hands between your bodies and presses his thumbs at the folds of your pussy. You turn bright red beneath him—because even though Levi is obviously embarrassed as well—you’ve never had any person just spread you open before, and yet Levi does.

He peels you open, and you know you’re already wet. You don’t want to admit it, but him choking you had been a huge turn on, along with pretty much everything else.

Face burning, you lift your arm and partially shield your face. Levi is slow to notice. It seems like he’s in a trance.

Still keeping you spread with one hand, he shifts the other and curves two fingers between your walls—making you gasp.

Finally, his eyes flit up to you—taking in your cute blush, and the quick rise and fall of your chest. The swell of your tits, and your nipples that are hardened from arousal…

And here he is, knelt between your legs with two of his fingers in your pussy.

Which is wet.

For him.

In that moment, any of Levi’s reserves are stripped away.

You can sense the shift in him—see it as he jolts into action. He moves quickly—perhaps a little overly excited about what is happening.

Finally, he seems to have realized that yes, this is all real—and yes, he has consent to fuck you.

“L-Levi--!” you squeal as his tail suddenly curls around your ankle, tugging you closer to him as he hurriedly shoves his pants any underwear down his thighs. His cock springs free—longer than he is thick, but the veins along his shaft are prominent, and his length visibly twitches as Levi settles himself between your legs.

The head of his cock is already wet with his pre-cum, and you get the feeling he’s not far from coming. His breathing is shaky as he presses himself against your entrance—the first few inches of his length sinking in without much protest—and you groan happily.

“F-Fuck,” he bites, his voice pitched high as he pulls his hips back and then grinds in again—this time fully sheathing himself within your heat. His entire body visibly shudders—his face red, and eyes clouded with lust.

You suddenly feel somewhat shy beneath him—your thighs spread, and his cock stretching you out so deliciously.

“Kiss me,” you tell him, voice quiet, and Levi blinks. The next moment his lips are on yours. You quietly moan into him—accidentally breaking the kiss when he thrusts inside of you.

“O-Oh my god,” he groans, his hands finding your waist as he sits back and begins fucking into you with vigor. You raise an arm to shyly cover your face once more—your breasts bouncing at each intense thrust of his length inside of you—but Levi won’t have it.

His tail snakes up your body, wrapping around your wrist and tugging it away from your face. You startle, unable to do anything as the appendage searches out your other wrist and successfully drags it above your head. Within seconds, your wrists are pinned away from your face—and you can no longer hide your reactions from the demon above you.

“Make more sounds,” Levi speaks—somewhere between a beg and a command. You open your mouth to retort, and he purposefully fucks into you hard, effectively ripping a cry from your throat. Immediately your face flushes red in embarrassment, but the sight has a smile tugging at the corner of Levi’s lips

His dick throbs inside of you.

“Nnn--!” The Avatar of Envy continues thrusting into you. His motions are quick, and damning. Each thrust as you gasping and whining—pleasure thrumming in your gut. However, as your impending orgasm begins to build, Levi’s hips stutter, and his cock suddenly leaves you. Your gaze flits to him in surprise, watching as his dick visibly jumps. Then, he’s spurting his cum against your lower stomach—painting the soft skin streak after streak.

His breathing is harsh as he begins to come down from his high—his cock starting to soften, and honestly, you’re not mad. Sure, it would have been nice to cum along with him, but more than anything you’re happy that Levi had gotten what he needed. After all, he had won the ga—

You’re knocked out of your thoughts as the tail around your wrists suddenly tugs you upwards. It lifts you higher and higher—until you’re left on your knees, with your hands held high above your head.

“Levi?” you question, gaze falling on the male as his eyes shine.

“Huhuhu~ I’ve always wanted to do this,” he says, sounding far too giddy as he sinks into the tub and settles on his back. You’re about to ask him again what the hell he’s planning when his tail yanks you forward. Within seconds, you’ve been repositioned atop Levi, with your thighs caging either side of his head.

You feel your entire body heat up as you realize his intention—his hands lifting to grip your hips.

“Le-vi!” your voice hitches as he drags you down onto his face—his tongue lapping heartily between your soaking folds. He groans at the taste of you, his nails sinking into your skin as he keeps your womanhood thoroughly trapped against his mouth.

You feel him lick against your clit—the demon flicking the head of his tongue against the sensitive bud, and you take a sharp inhale. Your wrists strain against his tail, but you find yourself completely at Levi’s mercy as he begins eating you out like you’re his favorite food.

“Mmm~,” he moans happily, enjoying the way your body wriggles in his hold—wanton little cries falling from your lips. Applying a bit of pressure, begins rocking your hips back and forth against his face.

“Fuck,” you pant, feeling hot all over. Despite being embarrassed at your current position, the pleasure in your gut is rapidly building thanks to the demon’s bafflingly good oral. He spends most of his time on your clit—lapping, kissing, and sucking the bundle of nerves. But every so often he presses his tongue into your pussy, making you groan, and causing you to buck against him.

Quicker than expected, you find yourself on the brink of an orgasm—your pussy writhing against Levi’s mouth.

“I—I’m gonna--,” you attempt to warn him, and he hears the hidden plea within your breathy words. Don’t stop. And he doesn’t—his tongue flicking quickly against your clit. You cry out, pussy throbbing and muscles tightening. Your body momentarily stills, a stifled moan caught in your throat as your orgasm finally arrives—a brief moment of peace before you find yourself tumbling into your pleasure. And Levi draws out your bliss as long as he can—his lips wrapping around clit and sucking. You gasp, floundering in his hold as the pleasure borders on oversensitivity, but Levi refuses to release you—not yet.

It’s another minute before he lets up—convinced by your tiny, desperate pleas that you can cum no more—your clit twitching with aftershocks against his tongue.

His hands release your hips, and you suck in a deep breath of air—your chest heaving as you struggle to regain your coherency. Your mind is hazy—body slumping forward tiredly (because god, that was one hell of an orgasm).

You whine quietly when Levi’s tail pulls at your arms—lifting you up so that Levi has just enough room to scoot out from beneath you. You can hear the cushions and blankets of the tub shifting behind you as the demon moves around.

“Mm,” you make a small sound as his tail finally loosens a bit—allowing your arms to drop forward. Your fingers grip against the edge of the tub—thighs shaky as you support your own weight for the first time in minutes. However, when a few seconds pass and his tail is still wrapped around your wrists, you pause.

“Levi?”

His response is to saddle up behind you—his now-hard cock settling against your ass. You freeze in surprise.

You…hadn’t expected him to get so aroused just from eating you out. He’s back at full mast.

“Levi,” you whine as his hands find your ass cheeks—squeezing them together around his cock.

“Y-You said I could have—ah—whatever I want,” he reminds you breathlessly.

“But—”

“Just…o-one more time,” he begs, and you gasp when he moves his hips—his cock finding its way between your wet folds. When the head of his length brushes up against your clit, your entire body shakes. You’re still extremely sensitive from your orgasm, and your body feels like a bag of bones, but nonetheless you find yourself nodding your head.

He did win, and you want to fulfill his desires best you can.

At your submission, Levi is quick to act. He shoves his cock inside of you without warning, and you gasp—your fingers tightening around the edge of the tub. The demon moans—hands firm on your hips as he begins thrusting into you. In the same beat, he drags your body back onto his cock.

Lewd, wet sounds fill the space between your bodies—your arousal slicking Levi’s cock as he fucks you—and he groans.

His pace is less frantic than before. His motions are smoother—his hips rolling against your ass. The motions manage to draw a moan from your lips, and you start to become lost in the feeling of his cock stretching your walls open.

In fact, you’re so focused on how good it feels to be full again—the head of his length finding that sweet spot within you and pressing against it with each thrust—that you don’t notice when his tail unfurls from around your wrists.

You do realize it, however, when the tip of his tail presses at your lips. Your previously closed eyes shoot open—a gasp of surprise muffled by the scaled appendage as it snakes its way into your mouth.

“Mmph--!” your whine of protest is lost. His tail fills your mouth—moving out of sync with his thrusts—and your eyes roll back when he ventures too deep and causes you to gag. The gag, however, also causes your pussy to clamp around his dick, and Levi moans.

“Oh my god.”

His tail begins to fuck into your mouth with a bit more fervor—pressing into your throat and causing you to gag every few seconds. Each time, you hear Levi’s breathing stutter, and you know he’s drawing closer and closer to his orgasm.

Despite how fucked out you feel already—spit sloppy against your chin, with your body slumping tiredly against the edge of the tub—you begin to feel your arousal building as well. As tired as you are, your body is somehow ramping up to another orgasm.

Honestly, you wouldn’t mind not cumming, though, you think to yourself as tears threaten to spill over your bottom lashes. You can sense that your clit is still overly sensitive, and you feel like you may actually fade out of existence if another orgasm rips through you.

So, you quietly decide that if you don’t cum, it will be fine. Levi, however, has different ideas.

The base of his tail curves—resting against your clit as the appendage continues to fuck into your mouth. You immediately cry out—body writhing—because with each thrust of his tail between your lips, he’s now also rubbing against your clit.

“Nnn!” your arms give out beneath you, broken sobs wracking your chest. Levi grunts, and you feel him shift forward—his chest pressing flush against your back as he readjusts his position.

“So good. You f-feel so good,” he pants. His breath is warm against your neck, and his arms wrap around your chest. He holds you tightly against him—his arm circled just beneath your breasts—and you gasp as he begins fucking into you once more.

His tail, which had also stilled, resumes its motions. The brief moment of rest is over, and you’re once again left crying around the scaled appendage. You reach your breaking point within a few seconds—tears finally streaking down your cheeks as the demon forces you to choke around his tail once more. Your pussy clenches around Levi’s dick—and with a few more rubs of his tail against your clit, you’re cumming.

Any remaining strength in your body disappears, your body going limp in Levi’s hold as you shudder—your orgasm tearing through you.

Knowing that you need to breathe, Levi removes his tail from your mouth, but doesn’t let you go. He keeps you trapped against him, his cock working inside of you with a few desperate thrusts, and then, finally, he cums as well.

The Avatar of Envy empties inside of you with a spent, but satisfied groan—listening to your quick, shuddering breaths as you attempt to recover from a lack of oxygen.

“Thank you. Mmm, t-thank you so much. That…I…that…mmm,” he’s left mumbling against the skin of your neck, his hips still pressed to your ass. You feel him going soft inside of you—his cum beginning to leak down your thighs—but you can’t find it in yourself to care.

The only thing keeping you from passing out right then and there is the purple haired demon, and his quiet, thankful praises.

“I’m glad you got what you wanted,” you eventually whisper, your hand lifting to pet against his head. He nods against your neck, shuddering when he finally slips from inside of you.

With a grunt of effort, he sits back onto his knees, and then grabs your waist. Soon, you’re both laying tiredly beside one another in the basin of the tub, and you glance over at the Avatar of Envy. At some point, he had removed his hot clothing, so now he lays completely bare beside you—his pale skin flushed, and sweaty.

You can’t help but smile at the sight of him, and when he notices you’re staring, he blushes.

“What?” he mumbles, rolling onto his side to face you. You giggle tiredly, your palm reaching out to cup his cheek, and your tender gaze makes him melt.

“Nothing. I’m just…happy. You’re cute.”

“…you can’t just say that,” he whines, but nonetheless presses into your touch. You laugh again, but choose not to comment. You don’t want to suddenly have him feeling all self-conscious after all of…that.

“We should do that more often,” you comment, hoping to reassure him that you enjoyed yourself. You roll onto your side, spent, and snuggle into the pillow beneath your head. You know you’re filthy and in need of a shower, but right now, you seriously can’t move.

After a few seconds, an arm hesitantly wraps around your waist, and you feel Levi’s chest press against your back.

“D…do you really want to?”

His voice is quiet, but full of hope. You nod, snuggling back against him.

“Yeah. It would certainly make game night more exciting for the both of us.”

At that, he finally giggles. Levi’s arms wrap tightly around you, giving you a squeeze, and he makes a sound of contentment.

Within a minute, you’re asleep in his arms, and the Avatar of Envy is quick to follow you into dreamland, but not before pressing a kiss to your hair.

“You’re cuter,” he mumbles, barely audible, and then he’s gone as well.

The week following your ecstasy filled game night is…amusing. Well, at least for you.

Anytime Levi sees you, he turns bright red, and—more times than not—pops a boner.

He’s left running around, trying to preserve his modesty, while his brothers wonder if he’s okay. You tell them that he’s just…disgruntled…when thinking about your last game night, and—knowing how competitive Leviathan can be—they buy it.

Each time it happens, however, you’re left giggling to yourself—wondering exactly how a boy who fucked you silly can be so damn embarrassed by his own dirty thoughts.

It’s honestly adorable.

And you can’t wait for next time.

#levi x reader #levi x mc #leviathan x mc #leviathan x reader #obey me #om!#obey me fic #obey me smut #levi smut #leviathan smut

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yukipri · 3 years

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Bad Batch end of season thoughts/ramble, bc it's been a week and I just wanna get it all off my chest...

(end of season spoilers and very disorganized rambling)

First off, I do want to say that I enjoyed watching the show. It fulfilled its primary purpose: entertainment. It was nice having something to look forward to every week, and even though it wasn't quite what I was expecting, it was fun. The animation was gorgeous, I liked all the references and tie ins. I will likely watch it again, and will watch season 2. This is by no means meant to be a hate post.

That being said, it is critical so please just skip if you're not into that!

The thing is...it takes very, Very little for me to love a clone. He doesn't need lines, or a face, or even a name, and the default is that I will love him. He can even be a little bastard, like Slick, and it's fine. I always want to know more about them, and wish they had more screen time and time in general to develop their characters. So given that we were getting 16 (20 eps total if we count TCW S7 pilot arc) centered around these guys, I was expecting to absolutely adore them by the end.

And I wanted to love the Bad Batch, I wanted to love them so damn much, and I tried. But I think one of the reasons why they never fully clicked for me was that their thing seems to be "we're unique, we never fit in, we're outsiders in our own home, among the people who are supposed to be our own family, and so we've found our home with each other."

Which! That's usually a wonderful message, and not a particularly rare or unique one either for stories! I usually dig these kinds of stories!

The problem here is the extremely unique situation of the clones. They are literally created to be identical, brain washed to be uniform. They must conform, or are killed off by their creators, and their conformity isn't a choice in the slightest, but one of fear and necessity.

Their uniformity is something that they are also entirely aware of--it's unavoidable, they're clones. Once out in the real galaxy, they all strive to find and establish unique identities for themselves, struggling against a galaxy that just wants them to be faceless products. It's a shared struggle, and all they have are each other, and their brotherhood is sacred as a result. Shunning unique identity is the opposite of who a clone is--it's what they all want.

So on one hand, it's understandable that the Batch stuck out (when all others who would have also stuck out were culled, when individuality isn't allowed). It's understandable that they would have yearned for the brotherhood shared by the other clones, and when they couldn't have it, they stuck closer to each other. It's even understandable that they would feel bitter, having experienced bullying at the hands of the other clones (but isn't it also understandable that the other clones would feel bitter that the Batch gets special treatment, when their own brothers with less-than-beneficial mutations were taken by the Kaminoans to never return?).

And so we have this batch of clones, who the Kaminoans call "mutated," but also specify that their mutations are "desirable" (implying what happens to mutations that are undesirable...). They have their own unique unit, in which they're able to improvise and act freely with seemingly little to no oversight, so long as they complete their mission. No Jedi to obey, no nat-born officers who look down on them. In fact, they look so different from standard clone troopers that most of the galaxy probably don't even know they are clones. They have their own ship (personalized), they have their own possessions (which we don't really see any other clones have), they have their own barracks (probably also very unique), and they even have access to superior weapons and armor (most of the Batch, minus Echo, seem to be wearing modified Katarn-class armor which is supposed to be for Commandos. we KNOW it holds up better than standard trooper armor).

So I'm sure they had some unpleasant experiences growing up, and I do get it. But at least at "present" end of clone wars, they honestly seem to be living infinitely better than all other clones? They still need to follow orders but they have more freedom, and perhaps most importantly, they have clear uniqueness that is denied almost all other clones. And yes, some of the clones on Kamino bully them, but we've seen NONE of the "regular" clones that we know to be particularly nasty to them, and in fact it's Crosshair who starts it by calling them "Regs."

And how does the Batch respond to this situation? By acting superior. It's Crosshair who says and it believes this firmly, and I do feel that the others are likely mostly influenced by this, but it's also true that Hunter, Wrecker, and Tech don't really deny this either. They don't like the "regs," they do act like they're "better." Poor Echo, who they repeatedly seem to forget is in the room, and who they call "machine" and such...yikes yo

So I guess the point is, I just really struggled to feel sympathetic towards them, and was already on a kinda eh about their premise. They're marketed as "the special clone squad"--and yet they're not nice to the clones I love. I thought that wasn't great, but also hoped that the series would work towards them understanding the other clones better, and I love character development so that woulda been fine--but, nothing. A glance from Hunter at Howzer. Extended camaraderie from Gregor, who I feel they mostly just tolerate for the mission, other than Echo who genuinely cares.

And on top of feeling not feeling particularly sympathetic towards what I saw as a pretty privileged group of clones, the Batch seems to place primary blame of their woes on the "regs" themselves, who again, honestly seem far worse off! There isn't blame directed at the people who demanded the conformity from the other clones in the first place, that made it so the Batch couldn't fit in. The Batch was modified due to the Kaminoans (and implied specifically Nala Se). She's the reason why they don't fit in. And the Kaminoans are also why the other clones have to be so uniform, why they must fight to be people and not products.

Bitterness and pettiness can be fine in characters. But it's frustrating to see in a group supposed to be competent and elite, especially when those feelings have consequences. Sure, it sucks when someone throws a food tray at you. You can throw food back. It's not an equal reaction to feel no remorse when you shoot that guy dead in a blaster fight, when for all other clones, having to kill another clone is one of the most horrible, tragic things that one can do (thanks, Umbara).

Fives was the only clone to actually point a blaster at Nala Se.

We know Omega has deeply personal history with Nala Se. She was Nala Se's personal medical assistant. We see her cry when she takes off her head ornament that matches Nala Se. We know that being back in the lab gives Omega complicated, and probably not entirely positive feelings. But we barely learn more about this relationship, other than these glimpses.

And I get the feeling that to Omega at least, Nala Se wasn't all terrible. If Omega grew up with mostly only Nala Se for company, she had to have gotten her sheltered outlook on life, and her willingness to help others from somewhere. Nala Se intentionally let Omega go, to be "safe."

I think Omega's adorable, and I do like her. But I wasn't able to fully love her to the extent I wanted to, because there was always the fear that she was involved in the creation and implantation of the chips. She knows about them, she would have been positioned to do so. I want to think she would never, and I was hoping the show would reassure us of that, but it never did. We don't actually know how Omega feels about Nala Se, or even the chips and their presence in other clones. Instead, all we know is that Omega doesn't like "regs."

And again, "they call me lab scrubber," and "I helped put (or am complicit in putting) mind control devices in their heads," are kinda, unequal. Again I hope it's not the case. But it definitely kept me feeling uneasy throughout the show.

It really boils down to I don't trust or forgive Nala Se, and the Batch's lack of stance against her and the other Kaminoans, and clear distaste for their other clone brothers, really puts them in a situation that makes it difficult for me to take their side entirely.

And then gosh, Hunter. During Crosshair's whole "you never came back for me," spiel, I couldn't help but think he's kinda right. He had 15 episodes. Sure, it's difficult to get Crosshair back. But they could have done something. They could have done research. We could have had scenes of them wondering where Crosshair is, discussions on how best to find him, even if that discussion ended in, "but we can't risk it right now." They could have grilled Omega for information on the chips, which they really shoulda done either way, but especially since that knowledge is important to understanding what (they thought had) happened to Crosshair. Instead, they just ran every time Crosshair showed up. The show could have done better to show that they cared, and were trying, instead of just, y'know, doing chores for Cid. One, "I kinda miss him," doesn't really count as working on getting him back, at least in my books.

The sole exception to all of this, of course, is Echo. Who really, he works with the Batch fine, he's a former ARC and can more than keep up. Skillset-wise, he fits in well enough. But this season really made me wonder why he's with them at all. Crosshair's revelation and true feelings at the end of the season were no surprise to me, as they're consistent with what we've seen of him from TCW S7. But for Echo, a former "reg" to have to work with someone like Crosshair...even if Crosshair thought Echo was "different" enough to accept him, those are his brothers that Crosshair thinks he's so superior to, and has no issue speaking disdainfully about.

The increasing tension between Echo and Hunter, Echo's interest in helping Rex, in helping other clones, in doing something...I do hope they reach a point where Echo demands they go help, or he's leaving.

They gave Crosshair a chance, despite the fact that his choices were willing. I really hope Echo can convince the Batch to help save the other clones who don't have a choice. Because even if the Batch doesn't consider them their brothers, they're certainly Echo's. They matter just as much as Crosshair, and I really hope season 2 shows it narratively.

To conclude, again I'm interested in seeing what happens next, and I want answers about Omega and Nala Se. I find it interesting that they tied the facility where they took Nala Se in with the scientist dude collecting data on Grogu in the Mandalorian and those cloning labs. All of this is interesting, but at the same time I feel like it's trying to build up to Snoke/Palpatine stuff in the sequels which...I don't care nearly as much about, but who knows, could be neat ^ ^;

I'm okay with, and have made peace with the fact that the Bad Batch probably isn't the "clones-centric" show I wanted, and that they'll continue their own story, and probably continue to not care much about other clones in upcoming seasons. That's unfortunate, but alright. I'm interested enough in their story too.

But at the same time...I can't help but think man, if they have the time and budget to do a season 2, after seeing what was (or wasn't) accomplished in season 1...I wish they'd also make a Rex/Cody/Wolffe/"regular clones" show, because in the end, if you're going to do a "clones show"....that's who I want to see most.

If you got to the end, thank you for reading, and being an ear to my ranting ^ ^; Again this is literally just getting this off my chest. If this take isn't one you agree with, please just ignore. For people who did fall in love with the Batch, I'm happy for you, and regret that it just couldn't happen for me. But, I'm hoping that S2 will change my mind, but we'll just have to see! ^ ^;

#the bad batch #bad batch #YukiPri rambles #really i'm not interested in a debate i just want to ramble

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snootsnoot-fiction · 3 years

Text

It's A Date

Pairing: Mark Renton x fem!reader

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Mentions of drug abuse and sex, a tiny smidge of angst, but otherwise just fluff all the way x3

A/n: I got way more into this than I thought I would, I spent most the day on it, I hope is good. Feedback is appreciated. This is a lil gift for @rentskenobi, I hope you enjoy

Summary: You go to Scotland for work, and on the first night you meet none other than Mark Renton...

It was hard to believe he was in his late 20s now. Mark Renton had spent most of his time getting high off heroin for some time now. Him and his best mates; Spud and Sick Boy. They weren't his only best mates of course, but they all got high together under the valued guide that was 'Mother Superior'. Their dealer.

To Mark, it was a way of life. He always said a hit was better than sex. That was a fact he lived by since his first ever hit. Not to say he didn't enjoy both - he very much did - but he just wasn't as bothered about the physical intimacy. Heroin ruled his life, and in the midst of his addiction, he wouldn't have it any other way.

One day, Renton decided to go clean. To try stop wasting his life. To actually do something.

It was a bit of a difficult start at first. Mostly thanks to that very unpleasant journey to the toilet, but he did it. The man still wasn't quite sure what he was going to do with his life, but this was the start. To what, though, was a mystery.

Something was missing. Mark didn't know what was missing, but something just didn't feel… right. It came to him while out with his mates. Renton was just standing there, having a smoke, when he suddenly realised they all had women companions. With his mind completely clear from drugs, his desire for that physical intimacy seemed to increase tenfold. That's what he was missing. Or so he thought. It was something beyond that.

Walking through the crowd of dancing people, trying to make eye contact with women yet failing to really attract anyone, Mark stopped to take another breath of his cigarette when he noticed her. Standing alone at the bar looking miserable was the most stunning woman he had ever laid eyes on.

You had come to Edinburgh for work. You were a freelance writer based in London. The freedom that came with your job was one of your favourite things about it. Sure, there was the occasional client that seemed almost too stressful to work for, but you were your own boss in the end. No-one to tie you down and order you about, while simultaneously being able to travel to places you've never been, and revisit the ones you loved.

Naturally, it had taken a little time, but you were able to build a reputation that helped keep a steady flow of income and enabled you to live comfortably enough. There was something missing from your life too though, but you had no idea just what it could be. You figured you were happy as is with your dream job.

A magazine company had requested your help. They were intending to feature a special in a future issue talking about life in Scotland from an outside perspective. Of course, you were more than happy to take the job on. You had always wanted to see Scotland. To see what it had to offer. To see the difference between their night and day life, to life in a city like London.

You hadn't been on it for too long. In fact, you had only been here since late morning/early afternoon. The company had offered to pay for hotels while you were working on this for them, so you went and got settled in your room first, freeing yourself of everything you carried all the way from London. Your intention was to just go out and experience as many facilities this place had to offer. Maybe even get to know some people who lived here to get a more personal insight.

You had heard about a club in the area that the locals seemed to enjoy, so your first idea was to check that out. It wasn't your usual environment, but you were still excited to get started at least. Not dressing in anything fancy, more casual, you made your way there after a small meal. You felt tense the moment you entered. Unsure why exactly, you simply stuck by the bar. The bartender was nice. You occasionally asked him questions, and sometimes he would give you a drink saying 'from the gentleman over there' whilst pointing his thumb behind him at a guy that offered you an odd smile.

The drinks were turned down, and finding yourself frowning slightly as you looked out at the crowd, you decided maybe it was time to retire for the night. So you made your way to the exit, stopped only by the same guy that had smiled at you, offering you a couple drinks himself. No matter what, you were certainly going back to your hotel for the night by yourself, so with a sigh you took the drinks and downed them both before you simply walked away.

"Excuse me!" You sighed at a voice, but ignored the man thinking it was the same one as before. That was, until he was suddenly jogging backwards in front of you. You had only glanced at this man the odd few times in the last couple hours, yet you never approached him. Now here he was. Seeing him up close, you couldn't help but think to yourself 'man you look really nice…' absent-mindedly smiling slightly as he smiled too.

"I couldn't help but be impressed with how you handled the situation back there. What's your name?" He seemed charming and sweet. You got the impression he didn't do this too often, yet he also seemed genuine.

"Y/N.." Something about this man instantly had you hooked.

"Mark. Mark Renton. So I noticed you're not from around here." Referring more to your accent than anything. You merely smiled in response, making his smile widen. "Can I ask where you're from?" Mark was walking next to you now.

"London."

"You here for business or pleasure?"

"Business."

"Where you off to now?"

"My hotel room."

"Where's that?" You simply raised a brow in answer. "I just mean to say I can walk you back if you want, I know this place, but I'm not promising anything." He chuckled at the joke suggestion. Yet you stopped and studied him in silence for a moment. You weren't about to trust a complete stranger in the middle of the night, but Renton seemed genuinely okay. Not to mention how this could potentially benefit your work. He simply stood there patiently with a small smile.

"Alright," you finally said after a moment, "but we're getting a taxi." At that moment, a taxi came driving down the street.

You invited him to your hotel room, and the two of you spent the whole night talking. Part of you suspected Mark initially approached you for other reasons, but the two of you hit it off and were enjoying yourselves more than either of you had in a long time. He admitted to you about his addiction, highlighting the fact he was clean now. You were happy for him. You couldn't deny that was one of the best nights of your life. Neither of you were quite aware at the time, but that was the night you fell in love.

During your stay in his city, Mark took you out to all the places he thought would be great to hang out together at, insisting each time 'for the sake of your work'. Of course, you took time to actually do work and type up impressions thus far. You even met a couple of his mates. Spud and Sick Boy. Sick Boy attempted to flirt with you when he first saw you, but you swiftly turned him down, noting that Mark's muscles seemed to tense when his friend flirted with you. You learned their other mate Tommy had recently been dumped so wasn't getting out as often, and Begbie… well you got the impression he wasn't too nice a guy. Mark confirmed your suspicions when he told you about the guy's violent nature.

You were enjoying yourself so much, when the day came for you to leave Edinburgh over a week later, you were sadly disappointed. You were going to visit other cities such as Glasgow, but you had come to really like this man. It was clear Mark wasn't all that excited about you leaving too. Despite knowing you were only here for work, he asked you to stay longer.

The two of you had only known each other for just over a week, but it made you sad to leave him. More than you let on. You both tried to keep your goodbye civil as you waited outside the hotel. Renton's heart was beating faster, as though he was about to miss the biggest opportunity. You had to force yourself to wave for a taxi, and put your luggage in the back before looking at the man you spent your last week with.

"Well… if you're ever in London…" you trail off. You look at each other for a few seconds before you turn to the taxi and open the door.

"Y/N!" Mark's hands were suddenly on your shoulders as he turned you around. He gave you no chance to respond before his lips were suddenly on yours as he held your face in both hands. Your arms went limp, but you reciprocated as the most wonderful feeling spread through you. A sort of happy warmth. Suddenly you were on cloud nine, and the world around you fell away like magic. You thought you could stay like this forever. Then he pulled away.

"I love you.." the words came out before he could even think about it. You froze, unsure how to react. The happy buzz was still there, but your brain had no idea what to do in a situation where someone you had only known a week suddenly says they love you.

Mark's face fell as what he said dawned on him while you merely stared at him. His mouth opened and closed, unable to say anything else in the moment.

"Oi! You getting in or what?" The taxi driver brought you back to reality and you had to force yourself to look away from the man in front of you. "I'm sorry.." was all you muttered before you closed the door and suddenly he was far behind you. Standing there for what felt like forever, Renton eventually walked home, cursing himself for putting the both of you in that situation. Suddenly his home city felt just as bad and depressing as it always had. Soon enough, he and his friends turned back to their old habit.

Meanwhile, you were working, working, working. Mark entered your thoughts often. Even more so when you finished writing up your final piece on Scotland back at home. You were still clueless as to what you should do. You had each other's numbers, but neither of you had been the first to message. He thought about calling you when him and Spud got arrested, about telling you everything, but that seemed almost cruel to suddenly throw that on you out of nowhere.

When your next project came along, you vowed to focus on that, and only that. You were more than happy to stay in London for this one, and you actually managed to focus. So much so that you forgot about Mark Renton until you suddenly bumped into him on your way home from your office one day.

You had your head down, reading certain notes you had written down when you physically walked into the chest of another person, dropping your notepad.

"I'm sorry, I-" you froze when the stranger stood up - having picked up your notepad for you.

"It's no bother, really." Mark Renton smiled down at you in his suit, holding out your pad. You hesitantly took it. Seeing you in front of him for the first time since his confession, he couldn't help but feel awkward, but he forced himself on. "Say, I don't suppose you've seen the most beautiful woman around, goes by Y/N? You'd know her if you see her. I'm new to town, and was hoping she could show me around. In fact, you actually look a lot like her." You couldn't help but smile as you blushed.

"Mark.."

"No wait." His face was serious, but there was still a soft smile. "I'm sorry about… you know. Too much has happened since you left, I've come down here for a fresh start - I even have a job!" He smiled proudly at that. "If it's okay with you, I was hoping we could start over?" You studied him again like you did the night you met.

"Alright… but for what it's worth, I've missed you too…" your words pulled the biggest smile from Mark as a relief and happiness took over him. He had missed you tremendously, especially when his parents forced him to go cold turkey. Your presence made him happy.

"First things first, may I take you to the only pub I know in this city? Treat you to a drink or two? Maybe even have a little spontaneous date as it were?" His words made you blush again and your heart fluttered.

"It's a date." You accepted happily. It was like when you first met, except it was still light out. Which made an idea spring to mind as you remembered some of his earlier words. "I'll have to show you all the best spots after today when we're both free again." At that, Mark smirked.

"It's a date." His words made you chuckle as you gave him a light slap on the arm. He laughed in response before turning around, "Come on then." He went to wrap an arm around your shoulder, but stopped and held his arm out for you to hold as he led the way.

"Yes Rents." He smiled warmly at your use of his nickname before your hand gripped his arm, sending little bits of pleasant electricity through him. Oh how he missed you. How he loved you.

Needless to say, you were both back where you needed to be. Feeling complete in each other's presence. You knew you loved Mark Renton, but you weren't about to tell him that just yet.

#mark renton #mark renton x reader #mark renton fic #ewan mcgregor #trainspotting

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rhys-rambles · 3 years

Text

FIGHT CLUB | 1999

I was introduced to the movie Fight Club around 3 years ago. It wasn’t until recently I’ve become interested in it. So here’s my Fight Club breakdown :) WARNING FOR SPOILERS!!

For those who don’t know, Fight Club is a cult favorite novel that was later adapted into a film released in 1999, directed by David Fincher. Starring Brad Pitt, Edward Norton, and Helena Bonham Carter.

The story of Fight Club revolves around three main characters. It’s told from a first-person perspective by a nameless character that’s commonly called ‘the narrator’, who has a dead-end white-collar job at a major car company and has fallen prey to what he calls the ‘Ikea-nesting instinct’. Dictated by social norms he walks perfectly in line like a docile sheep, which translates into an inauthentic, repetitive and empty life.

He suffers from a bad case of insomnia, which causes him to be neither fully awake, nor fully asleep. Sometimes, he entertains self-destructive thoughts: as he flies around from state to state for his job, he prays for a crash or mid-air collision every time the plane bankes too sharply on takeoff or landing.

During a flight, he meets an eccentric and hypermasculine character named Tyler Durden.

Tyler seems to be the direct opposite of the narrator. He’s a wolf rather than a sheep, disentangled from society, and impervious to social norms. He takes what he wants, without asking, and whenever he pleases. He’s self-sufficient, has no superiors, and doesn’t care about material possessions.

The movie later reveals that Tyler and the narrator are the same person, as Tyler is a product of the narrator’s imagination, that’s probably induced by severe insomnia combined with dissatisfaction with a dull, meaningless existence and a lifetime of repressed urges.

The narrator is addicted to going to support groups for specific illnesses because these give him the opportunity to cry, which seems to be a remedy for his insomnia. The downside of his behavior is that he isn’t genuine; he has no testicular cancer, or blood parasites, yet acts as if he does, so he can reap the benefits of these sessions.

But these benefits come to an end when another non-genuine visitor starts to join the sessions as well. This is a woman named Marla Singer, and her motive for joining these sessions is, and I quote: “It’s cheaper than a movie and there’s free coffee.”

Marla is a self-destructive, chain-smoking fatalist, who’s expecting to die at any moment, but finds it tragic that it never happens. She steals food and clothes for a living and attempts suicide by overdosing Xanax.

Even though the narrator, Tyler, and Marla are totally different personalities, they all live their lives accompanied by a nihilistic undercurrent.

Tyler seems to have figured out what causes this emptiness, and during the course of the story, his solution unfolds. Unfortunately, his character slides from a sage-like father figure to an anarchist terrorist, who’s out to destroy modern civilization. Nevertheless, he exposes a series of harsh realities about modern life that are worth contemplating.

Anti-consumerism

The anti-consumerist stance of Tyler Durden becomes obvious when he verbalizes his concern about the modern way of life. Shortly after the narrator meets Tyler, he discovers that his apartment went up in flames. After this unfortunate event, realizing that he has no friends to call, he calls Tyler. The two meet, and the narrator complains about losing his furniture, and his respectable and almost complete wardrobe. Tyler responds rather indifferently and slightly sarcastically before he begins to express his views on the matter. Quote:

“We’re consumers. We are by-products of a lifestyle obsession. Murder, crime, poverty, these things don’t concern me. What concerns me are celebrity magazines, television with 500 channels, some guy’s name on my underwear. Rogaine, Viagra, Olestra…”

It becomes clear that Tyler has quite an unconventional view of what’s good and bad. Murder, crime, and poverty are generally considered bad things, while consumer goods like televisions, clothing from a certain brand, products that help to hide aging, enhance bedroom performance, and help us with weight loss, are considered preferable.

Tyler has a contempt for the artificial, as opposed to elements that have been a natural part of the human condition, probably as long we exist. This way of thinking touches upon an ancient Cynic philosopher named Diogenes of Sinope, who believed that modern, civilized life hinders our natural state.

At the end of the movie, it appears that the narrator has destroyed his apartment himself when he was taken over by his alter ego, Tyler Durden. This deed was the first step onto the road of detachment from his property, into a more authentic way of life and to (how Tyler puts it): “reject the basic assumptions of civilization, especially the importance of material possessions.”

The narrator moves in with Tyler, who lives in a dilapidated house with ongoing leaks, power failures, and no Ikea furniture. Slowly but surely, the narrator indeed detaches from his previously destroyed property. “Things you own end up owning you,” Tyler tells him. And this simple piece of wisdom probably hits home, when the narrator realizes that he doesn’t need all these worldly goods, and is actually much happier without them.

Non-conformity

Tyler Durden is a non-conformist, and shows, again, similarities with Diogenes, who not only purposefully lived in poverty, but also rejected social norms. For him, social constructs are nothing more than a superficial layer of culture that represses our true nature.

Diogenes lived in a barrel, Tyler lives in an abandoned building. Diogenes urinated in public, Tyler urinates in the soup of a restaurant.

The narrator, on the other hand, seems to be the embodiment of conformity, as he adapts his lifestyle completely to societal expectations. The problem with this behavior is that we dedicate our existence walking the paths that people other than ourselves have laid out for us. This need to conform, the fear of falling by the wayside, this sickly preoccupation by what others think of us, this necessity to keep up with the Joneses: what an exhausting way of life, just to feel ‘accepted’.

So, what if we stop caring? What if we reject the generally accepted norms, and choose our own values, elect our own leaders, determine our own goals, regardless of the social expectations? This is a fundamental difference between the narrator and Tyler Durden, who puts it like this: “I am free in all the ways that you are not.”

Ironically, later on in the story, Project Mayhem, a terrorist organization led by Tyler that grows out of Fight Club, is a textbook example of conformity, as it’s members wear the same clothes, are absolutely equal, abolish their names, and are referred to as space monkeys that sacrifice their lives for a greater cause. We could say that by rejecting one doctrine in order to be ‘non-conformist’, we often imprison ourselves in another one.

Fighting and masculinity

Fighting and the experience of pain play a significant role in Fight Club. At the beginning of the story, Tyler asks the narrator to hit him as hard as he can. He explains his strange wish by saying: “How can you know yourself if you’ve never been in a fight? I don’t want to die without any scars.”

So, the narrator hits him. Tyler hits him back, and the two engage in a fistfight. Both seem to feel surprisingly pleasant afterward and decide to do it again. Their nightly activities on a parking lot attract the attention of other men, that are also interested in joining these non-hostile fistfights. And thus, Fight Club is born.

It’s widely known that voluntary exposure to certain forms of pain makes us stronger in the face of adversity, which could be a legit reason to partake in these fights. As the narrator states: “After fighting everything else in your life got the volume turned down.”

However, Fight Club is more than just a metaphor for dealing with hardship through exposure: a physical fight, and the violence and aggression that goes with it, resonates with the primal part of our being.

Not only the men in the story are attracted to the violence of fighting; Fight Club as a movie and novel was so impactful on its audience, that real-life Fight Clubs started to emerge.

The story shows an experiment in which the members of Fight Club pick fights with random strangers (and are supposed to lose), which isn’t as easy as it sounds; most people do everything to avoid physical conflict.

But Fight Club makes us wonder if it’s a good thing that we’ve lost touch with these primal tendencies. Should we repress this part of human nature? Or, perhaps, integrate it in healthy and constructive ways?

Self-destruction

When the story progresses, Tyler and the narrator begin to see the world through a different lens. Tyler criticizes the modern self-improvement hype by saying: “Self-improvement is masturbation. Now self-destruction… ”

This statement is slightly confusing, as the increasingly destructive nature of Fight Club, in which faces are permanently mutilated and teeth are knocked out of people’s heads, doesn’t seem to be a sustainable way to live.

But Tyler might be onto something when we look at self-destruction as the destruction of a false self.

‘Self-improvement’ often points to the accumulation of external goods: a better house, a better job, a better body, more money. But why should we endlessly want to improve ourselves? Why can’t we just be happy with how things are, and take life as it comes? Or as Tyler states:

“I say never be complete, I say stop being perfect, I say let’s evolve, let the chips fall where they may.”

We create an identity through material wealth, and social status. And as far as Tyler is concerned, this false sense of self must be destroyed, before we are free to do anything we want. Therefore, the ‘space monkeys’ of Project Mayhem live by a mantra which goes like this:

“You are not your job, you’re not how much money you have in the bank. You are not the car you drive. You’re not the contents of your wallet. You are not your fucking khakis. You are all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.” - Tyler Durden, Fight Club

Tyler makes a so-called human sacrifice, namely a man called Raymond who works a dead-end job in a convenience store. Raymond wanted to be a veterinarian, but didn’t make it because it was “too much studying.” Tyler threatens Raymond, saying that if he doesn’t start studying within six weeks, he’ll kill him.

In this scene, Tyler points to another aspect of self-destruction: the act of letting go of fears, negative self-talk, and all distractions, so we can fully focus on our purpose. It’s the destruction of everything within ourselves that holds us back from living life on our own terms.

A near-life experience

Many people go great lengths when it comes to pain avoidance. The problem is that running from pain means running from an inevitable part of life.

The prospect of incurring pain makes us anxious, and often leads to self-indulgent decisions. That is: choosing the less painful path, even if a more painful path guarantees more success and pleasure in the future.

Tyler Durden deals with this by inflicting a chemical wound on the narrator’s hand using lye.

As expected, the narrator does everything to escape the pain: he uses visualization techniques he learned at a seminar, and retreating in his cave to find his ‘power animal’. But Tyler slaps him in the face, forcing him to stay with the pain, saying: “This is the greatest moment of your life, man. And you’re off somewhere missing it.”

For the narrator, Tyler has one central goal: he must reach bottom. After putting him through suffering, and destroying his false identity, there’s yet another aspect that must be crushed: hope. Losing all hope is freedom. And, therefore, he must reject what has rejected him: his father, and God. I quote:

“Consider the possibility that God does not like you. In all probability, he hates you.” - Tyler Durden, Fight Club

Tyler states that we don’t need God. That we shouldn’t care about redemption and damnation. And if we’re God’s unwanted children, so be it. Thereby, we lose all hope, but are also liberated from religious doctrine and fatherly authority.

Now we’re truly free. Now we can create our own meaning, and live how we want to live.

Tyler emphasizes the importance of knowing what we want in life. To achieve this, we must be willing to get out of our comfort zone and jump into the unknown without safety brackets.

The narrator, however, has difficulties letting go of security. He begs Tyler to not mess around when he lets go of the steering wheel in a driving car while hitting the gas. Tyler calls the narrator ‘pathetic’, and yells: “hitting bottom isn’t a weekend retreat. It’s not a goddamn seminar. Stop trying to control everything and just let go!”

After an inevitable car crash, Tyler states that they just had a ‘near-life experience’.

Wrap up

Fight Club is a story about rebellion against the status quo and a plea for the simple life. It criticizes the ways in which we are so hung up on security, and material possessions, and how people let social norms dictate their lives.

‘Stuff’ has become our religion. The idols we worship are Ikea and Starbucks. And the more we immerse ourselves in such an empty and unfulfilling existence, the more we start to resemble the things that we produce: manufactured products rather than authentic human beings.

Tyler shows us a way out. And even though his insights are profound, the execution is questionable. Fight Club, and its terrorist branch Project Mayhem, show us how easy it is to oppose one ideology, in order to fall into another, and how a cult-like echo chamber built on rigid beliefs could become very destructive.

Nevertheless, Tyler challenges us to be self-sufficient and disobedient to the authorities that let us down, to live authentically and in the moment, to confront our fears, to boldly step out of our comfort zones, and let the things that don’t matter truly slide.

#fight club #tyler durden #the narrator #marla singer #fight club (1999)#i wrote this instead of sleeping #movie analysis

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sirowsky · 3 years

Text

The Flowers Always Know

Description: When a mad scientist uses you as an experiment while you’re on holiday, the Heroics only just manage to save you. And in your recovery you become very close to the leader of the group. (Slow burn)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language, some mild smut.

Link to Masterlist

Comment: All I can say is: I’m sorry. My head is a strange place.

Chapter 29

“Marcus!! Oh, get that sweet tush over here and hug me, and you better make it a good one after you’ve neglected to visit my cave for longer than these magic hands care to remember.”

You already loved Velma.

“Hey, Vel. I’m sorry, I’ve been preoccupied.”

He did hug her, and properly too, as well as about 10s longer than what would be considered socially acceptable for mere friends, without either of them seeming to find it weird or awkward at all. You still loved her.

“Thank you, my darling. You’re forgiven. Now, tell me what you’ve brought me?”

He beamed at you. He really did love any opportunity to show you off, but he seemed especially pleased about this introduction.

“Velma, this is my fiancé. Hermosa, as you’ve undoubtedly gathered – this is the one and only Velma.”

“Your fi… You’re getting… And you’re here. You brought her to me! Are you…?”

“Yes. I am. On both counts.”

“YES!! Thank the Greek fucking Gods!! A wedding-dress, and for you, my darling, of all people! Thank you.”

“Well, technically it’s for her.”

“Oh, no, sugar. The dress is for the groom. The shoes – are for the bride.”

She finally set all of her glorious attention on you.

Velma was a drag-queen, and the most awe-inspiring individual you’d ever seen. Everything about her was superior. She was taller than anyone else in the room, helped by fucking spectacular plateau shoes, she was broad-shouldered and muscular to boot. She carried herself like an empress, with a kind of stillness and real elegance, despite having so much flare and finesse to her. And even though she was covered in colours and sparkles, she somehow looked like she would belong absolutely anywhere. And when she actually looked you in the eye, you could almost feel her read the pages of the book that was your life, and yet, there was nothing intimidating about it.

“Well, now. There’s a lot of story here, isn’t there?”

“A bit. Yeah.”

“Mm. Alright then, come with me, darling. I demand to know every little detail about the woman my Marcus has chosen.”

She turned dramatically, and headed for a side-door in the studio workshop where you were, and you looked at Marcus with a wide grin.

“She’s coming to the wedding.”

“Don’t worry – she’s on the list.”

“I don’t care about any list. She’s coming. I need that amount of sparkle at my wedding. And I’m not just talking about the clothes.”

He chuckled happily as he watched you literally skip over to the open door, and disappear inside.

-----

Three weeks later, you finally got around to getting your house sold. It was a fairly quick sale since the neighbourhood was nice and the yard was bigger than most other properties on that street. And since you didn’t really need the extra money, you could give the young couple that fell in love with it, a kind price. You weren’t really particularly sorry to see it go, but you were very happy to see it fall into the hands of people who would appreciate it. For a long time, that house had been your refuge, your safe harbour when life got hard, and you wished that it could be the same for someone else. You put the bulk of the money in your savings-account, and ear-marked the rest for wedding-expenses. There still wasn’t really any actual planning going on, as far as dates and times and venues were concerned. But you and Marcus were still getting through a lot of the stuff that goes on around the actual day. You’d settled on what colours you wanted for the flowers, and what types they should be. You’d had an almost outrageously fun day last weekend, trying out the recipes for all the wedding-cakes you’d both found online. And after soiling literally every inch of the kitchen with flour, and tasting so many different cakes your taste-buds had eventually given up, you had managed to conclude that you wanted a lemon-flavoured one. Missy had tried to get you onto the chocolate-train, but you’d held your ground, with the promise that there would indeed be chocolate present, just not in the cake. You’d completed the guest-list, and chosen the invitation cards, but they were safely stowed away in a drawer, still unwritten. It wasn’t that you were stalling or didn’t feel ready. You were just genuinely enjoying the preparations, and not having that deadline made them feel like they were just fun things to do over a weekend, rather than things you had to do to be ready in time. Especially since Missy loved being a part of it too, it made the whole thing feel like a prolonged family event.

By now, the only thing that was still on the prep-list was Marcus’ suit, but you’d both agreed not to make any decisions on that until you’d seen what Velma did with your dress. You’d spent two whole days in her cave, getting your measurements taken and your skin-tone evaluated. There were about a hundred things about your body that she’d wanted to know, but you trusted her with your life already, so you’d happily complied. Plus; any excuse to spend time with her was a good one. Work was finally becoming manageable again, as you’d finally caught up on all the stuff that was trailing behind, and you were deliberately keeping any and all new projects firmly steered in other directions or delegating them onto other designers. You had enough on your plate with just getting through the already started ones, on top of the wedding-planning. Today had been a good day, so far, and you’d decided to go and find Marcus and see if he had time to join you for lunch. When you approached his office, his door was open and you could hear Tech talking. Not wanting to interrupt, you stopped outside and out of sight, while you waited for their conversation to finish. You picked up your phone to send an e-mail while you waited.

“I can’t believe that building was still standing after that.”

“Crushing lost control for three seconds. Let’s just be grateful it wasn’t longer.”

“Oh, I remember that time back in the beginning when he was out of it for like 20 seconds.”

“I think most of Colombia remembers that, too.”

“Probably.”

“Hey, um. Speaking of losing control…”

“What?”

“Well, there’s a certain office on the other side of the building that gets a fair bit of noise-complaints.”

You snapped out of your e-mailing and instinctively turned your head to listen closer.

“Stay out of it, Tech.”

“Hey, I’m not the filing them, and I never will. I’m all for healthy appetites. Just wondering if you’re aware of the fact that a lot of people are talking about you guys?”

“So? Let ‘em talk.”

“Sure. But they’re not talking about it being a nuisance or inappropriate. They’re talking about how the hell you can keep it up for three hours straight sometimes. Is that true, though?”

You weren’t sure if you wanted the ground to open up and swallow you, or if you wanted to go find these people and tell them to mind their own business. There was a brief pause before Marcus answered, and his voice was a bit lower than before.

“It is. I seriously can’t get enough of her. Ever. No matter how tired I get, I can always go another round.”

“That’s kind of amazing. How do you ever get anything done?”

“I have no idea.”

“Any idea when the knot-tying might be happening?”

“No. I’m dying to do it, to the point where I have to repeatedly tell myself not to just beg her to go to Vegas with me. But I also really wanna get it right, you know? Not necessarily perfect; just right. Right for us. And I want her to feel ready, so that she can just relax and enjoy that day, whenever it happens.”

Your heart swelled to an almost painful size behind your ribs.

“I am ready, honey.”

You stepped over the threshold and watched as his expression turned from confusion to realisation as he saw you.

“You wouldn’t have to beg. I’d go to Vegas with you right now if you asked. I’ve told you; I don’t really care how it happens. I’m enjoying the preparations and everything we’re doing together, but even if nothing ever got used, I wouldn’t feel like I missed out on anything. You’re the one that wanted the traditions, remember?”

Tech excused himself at that point, and closed the door behind him after he left.

“Do you still want all that, Marcus?”

He looked so torn.

“Damned it… Yes. I really do.”

“Then let’s pick a date. Let’s find a place that feels right and let’s make it happen.”

“Are you sure?”

“Are you ready?”

He shot up from his chair and was suddenly holding your waist, staring into your eyes.

“Ah, mi novia, I’ve been ready for a long time.”

His hands migrated down to your ass, and you let him squeeze you to him. You were wearing a simple blue summer-dress today, and he quickly found his way underneath it, letting his hands run up your thighs and relieve you of your panties. Then he pulled you along to the sofas, sitting down and urging you to straddle him. It was almost strange how calm it was. The two of you were always so heated, so passionate whenever you came together, to the point where it was almost always beyond your control, or at least, on the very edge of it. But this time, there was no tearing at each other’s clothes. No hands desperately grasping, needing and demanding more. No burning heat that made you feel empty and aching until he entered you. The heat did come, but gradually. With each caress, each tender kiss and each movement of your bodies together, it slowly built from an ember to a flame. Your walls actually allowed him to move inside you this time, and as you rocked yourself over him, a completely different kind of pleasure to what you’d become used to with him, built inside your core and seemed to reach towards your heart, instead of your sex. After a while, he turned you both to the side so he could lay you down and settle himself on top of you, and that feeling that was creeping towards your chest, drastically intensified. He drove into you in long, strong thrusts that buried him as deep as your bodies would allow, each time, and his throat made involuntary little sounds of pleasure every time he returned into your wet and welcoming warmth. It took you nearly thirty minutes to build to a climax this time, and when it finally hit, it was strong in a completely different way than it ever had been before. Your bodies didn’t curl or clench in on themselves, there were no involuntary power-outbursts, no levitation. But it felt like you were underneath each other’s skin. Like your hearts actually melded into one through the intricate contact of your skin and nerves. It was utterly overwhelming and there were tears streaming from your eyes throughout the whole climax. And they didn’t stop, even after you’d come back down. There was no pain or sorrow anywhere inside you in that moment, so you concluded that these were tears of pure love and you made no effort to stop them. You just held him close and waited for the feeling to burn itself out. He burrowed his face into your neck while you laid there, feeling the tears as they passed over onto his cheek on their way down, but making no comment about them. He knew what they were, and it made him love them too.

You took a late lunch together, and since the pills were working perfectly and the lab had been able to produce several months-worth already, you could enjoy eating like a normal person these days. Marcus really did miss your stomach-bear, though, and he would occasionally drop comments like ‘this is one of those moments when mama bear would have roared’, and you felt a little bit sorry for him. It was like he’d lost a puppy. While you ate, you started discussing what places you thought might be nice for a venue.

“Churches are nice, but a bit… I hesitate to say ‘stuffy’.”

“Yeah. They feel so formal, like you’re not allowed to have fun, and I really want us and our guests to feel like we’re allowed to have fun.”

“Definitely. So, what about restaurants?”

“Not my thing, if I’m honest, hermosa.”

“I figured. Pavilion?”

“Now, we’re talking. A big one, with lots of decorations and a dance-floor!”

“You and your dancing.”

“Oh, no; you’re the dancer, remember?”

“And your foxtrot is adequate, but your waltz needs some work.”

“Thanks. So, do we know of any potentially available pavilions, or are we gonna have to build one?”

“Don’t you worry about that, sugar-plum, if it’s a pavilion you’re looking for – I know the perfect one.”

Velma approached your table, wearing an even more daring outfit than last time you’d seen her. As always, she made a show of eyeing Marcus up and down and making appreciative noises to showcase his hunky-ness. And, as always, Marcus just smiled and let her do her thing.

“Where is it?”

“Didn’t I just tell you not to worry? I’ll take you to see it later if you want, but for now – I need to borrow your little cherry, here. Time to dolly you up, hon.”

“It’s finished?”

“Literally seconds ago. I came to find you right away, I need to see it on you before I can definitively say that it’s done.”

Marcus beamed at you both while Velma slipped her arm through yours and led you back to her cave.

Somehow, you’d expected it to be difficult to get into, or at least require assistance, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t a big or flaunty thing, nor was it heavy or complicated in its design. And yet, there was something so special about it. It was snow-white with a hint of gold to the shimmer in the fabric, to match the rings. It was an off the shoulder style dress, with long sleeves in the most beautiful lace you’d ever seen, that carried over into the body of the dress as well, though it was purely ornamental there, as the actual body was made from satin. From the waist down, there was no lace, but tiny golden details had been sewn into the satin and it made the dress come alive somehow. The skirt was cleverly designed, so that it billowed out just a little, but without getting puffy, and it was still just two layers, making it easy to handle and comfortable to move in. There was no train, but she had made you a vail in the same exquisite lace, in case you decided that you wanted one.

“Oh, my. Honey… I thought it looked gorgeous on the mannequin, but damn! You make this dress.”

“It’s perfect, Velma. It’s everything I didn’t know I wanted.”

“Marcus is gonna swoooooon…”

“He’s gonna love it.”

“Well, just make sure to have someone strong standing next to him so they can catch him when he inevitably goes down.”

You just smiled at her.

“Oh, and thank you for the shoes. You’re right, I’m gonna love these a lot more than the dress before the night’s over.”

“You got that right, Cherie.”

You met up with Marcus as soon as you were done in the cave, and the smile that lit up his face when he saw you carrying the special box that housed the dress, shoes and vail, could have put the sparkles in Velma’s very short skirt to shame.

“You actually have it? It’s finished?”

“It’s right in here.”

He looked positively squirmy with anticipation.

“And it’s even more beautiful than anything you’ve imagined. Trust me.”

He chuckled.

“I do.”

Velma took you out to see the pavilion she’d mentioned, and it really was perfect. It sat on several acres of green lawns and meadows, with a large pond not too far from the structure. You could have the ceremony out on the grass, overlooking the water, and put up a canopy over the tables and chairs for the dinner and cake. And then move over to the pavilion for the dancing and fun-times. There were huge old oak-trees framing the entire area, giving the whole place a bit of a fairy-tale feeling.

“Marcus, we have to pick a date. We have to find out if this place is available for us.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that, honey-bun. It’ll be available whenever you want it.”

Velma gave you this knowing look and you gawked at her.

“You own this place?”

“For a long time now. I only use it for very special occasions, and I don’t go blabbering about it to every Joe and Willy looking for a party-house. But for you, my turtle-doves, it’ll always be available.”

By the time you went to bed that day, you’d not only picked a date, but completed and sent all of the invitations as well. You were going to get married on the ten-month anniversary of when you first opened your eyes and saw him by your bedside, which gave you roughly a month to get everything ready. And since you had everything pretty much figured out already, that wasn’t going to be a hard deadline to keep.

Or, so you thought.

But the day before the wedding came at you like you’d somehow fallen asleep at the wheel going 200mph down the highway. Suddenly it was all happening. And while you were totally ready emotionally, you were also just not ready over-all, and you woke up that morning feeling sick. Actually sick. Marcus was too excited to get more than 4h of sleep per night in the week leading up to that day, but he didn’t want to disturb you, so he’d gotten up and left the bedroom some time earlier that morning. You walked into the bathroom to splash some cold water on your face but it didn’t do much to alleviate the nausea, so you gave up and just got dressed instead.

“Hey, alma, are you okay?”

“Yeah, sweetie, just feeling a little overwhelmed I guess.”

“You sure?”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry. The wedding is happening, come hell or high water.”

“Good.”

“Where’s Marcus?”

“He got called in to work really early, some crisis with a blue-whale, I think.”

“Okay, well, then I’ll drive you to school.”

“Are you sure you shouldn’t just take a sick-day?”

“I’m not gonna be helped by sitting here wringing my hands all day. Let’s go, Maid of Honour.”

She smiled at that, but then frowned.

“You’re not gonna have breakfast?”

“Kid, I’ll be happy if I can keep the damned pill down this morning.”

You dropped her off and went to work, intending to treat this like any other Friday. But when you stepped into your office, there was a weird smell that just set off all your senses, and you had to duck over the first available trashcan and vomit. Since your stomach was empty, all that came up was bile, and that somehow made you even more nauseas.

What the fuck was that smell?

You abandoned your office and headed for Marcus’ instead. It smelled fine, so you sat down at his computer and used your own login to access your files and get to work. But after about an hour you’d had to visit his bathroom three times as your stomach continued to try and cough up shit that wasn’t even there, and you gave up, and headed down to medical.

You had just intended to ask for some anti-nausea medication, but because of your medical history, they insisted on an exam to rule out any possible delayed complications.

You left medical in a daze, not even realising where you were going before you found yourself back in Marcus’ office. You sat down in one of the sofas and just waited. You didn’t dare to even try and feel anything without him there, because you were afraid that you might suddenly feel way too much, and you needed him to be there, to keep you calm if that happened. Some time later, Crushing ducked his head in and had to almost shout to get your attention.

“Huh… What?”

“I said, Marcus went home straight from the mission, two hours ago, he had something he wanted to get done for tomorrow. So, there’s no need to wait for him here.”

“Oh. What time is it?”

“Almost five.”

“Shit…”

“Hey, you okay?”

“I hope so. Yes. I mean, yes.”

“Want me to take you home?”

“No, I’ll be fine, thanks Crush.”

You drove home being almost ridiculously cautious and you laughed a little at yourself when you parked the car, next to Marcus’. You were surprised to find the front door locked. You never locked the door when you were home. They must have gone out on foot for some reason. Fishing your keys out of your bag, you unlocked it and stepped inside, and you were just about to call out to see if anyone was home, when you heard a sound that made every hair on your body stand straight up. It was a mechanical sound, a machine of some sort. You couldn’t identify it, but your body sure as hell remembered it. Walking into the living room, a fear unlike anything you’d ever felt before, flooded every cell inside of you. Your own blood rushing in your ears drowned out the sound of your keys and handbag falling to the floor, as you tried to take in what you were seeing.

Tubes… wires… computers… machines… bags of liquids… chairs that weren’t chairs but fucking instruments of torture. Two of them. One for Marcus… and one for Missy. And right in between them – Dr. Prince.

Authors’ Note: I love criticism, don’t be shy to let me know if there’s anything you like/don’t like/have questions about.

@blueeyesatnight @farfromjustordinary @allmyspideys @hrk-fic-recs @strawberryperegrine @lucrezia-thoughts @computeringturtle @sarahjkl82-blog

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno fic #we can be heroes #we can be heroes fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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fortune-fool02 · 4 years

Text

Freedom

Jonathan Joestar x mermaid reader

Requested by: anonymous

Request for, Jonathan and Mermaid reader?

Mermaid AU

Please enjoy.

The newspaper articles and advertisements that were sen out had brought a great many customers to visit their attraction. Something that had never been seen before and labelled as a true ‘Once in a lifetime experience’. Something that had denied the law of biology and laws of nature as humans knew it. For the attraction was a true, real mermaid.

It was given mixed reactions from the public, many believing it was nothing more than a hoax or con to steal money from their pockets while others believed it to be genuine; regardless, many came to see this for themselves. The presenter and owner of this attraction smiled with incredible pride as the crowd gathered to see this mermaid.

“Come, come, gather around! Gather around and witness the true wonders of nature! A real mermaid brought from the depths of the ocean! A temptress of the waters! A mistress of the waves! Come! Witness her and peek into a world unknown!” The presenter bellowed, motioning for everyone to gather closer towards the gigantic tank. Jonathan stood among the crowd, curious at this attraction that had spread word like wildfire.

Once a large enough crowd had gathered, the presenter grinned brightly before passionately proclaiming the mermaid and how he discovered her from the depths of the ocean. “Ladies and gentlemen! I present to you,” His turned towards the tank, pointing his cane towards the ledge above the tank. “The mermaid of London!”

All eyes followed his cane and landed on a [Hair colour] woman who stood on the ledge, her features -even from their distance- were beautiful from her smooth, [Skin colour] skin to her stunning [Eye colour] orbs that held this gaze that no human could. Oddly though, she didn’t appear as a mermaid for she had legs in place of where her tail would be. The woman then dropped down into the tank, no sooner had she done so, her body began to change before everyone’s eyes. Her legs fused together, becoming one singular tail as her body glimmered with scales. A collective gasp left the crowd at this, all watching with a mix of wonder, amazement and shock at her transformation. Very few seemed to care for her pained cries as this happened, but Jonathan did, and it twisted his heart painfully to witness such a fascinating creature trapped within a tank like this for entertainment.

As the presenter spoke about her ferocity and ‘facts’ about her, Jonathan couldn’t help but gaze at her and not see something that belonged in a tank but out in the ocean’s waves. How could they keep something like her sealed up like this?

After the day was done and the museum was closed, Jonathan went back there after “borrowing” a uniform as a night-guard and went over to the tank again to see the mermaid still in there. She was beautiful in a way that a superior creature was. The scales glimmered under the light that stood over the tank, allowing them to almost glow. He approached the tank and rose his hand to the glass, resting it against it. The [Hair colour] mermaid seemed intrigued at this and swam over, inhuman [Eye colour] eyes glowing brightly as she examined him.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I want to help you get home.” Jonathan spoke softly to the mermaid, his sky blue eyes radiating with a warmth she hadn’t know before. A kindness that was foreign to her from humans.

“Home...[Name] wants home.” In her short time of being among humans, she had learned their language somewhat but not enough to master it, yet. Jonathan gave her a soft smile,

“It is nice to meet you, [Name]. I am Jonathan Joestar.” She tilted her head at that, bringing her webbed, clawed hand up and resting it against the glass as well.

“Jonathan...Joestar.” A smile lifted his lips as she said his name. Her voice was soft yet course, rough, clear evidence of her lack of using it. But to hear her saying her name made a spark flicker within him. He quickly got to work of getting her out of there, opening the top seal of the tank where a ladder was waiting for her. He stood here and held his hand out for her.

[Name] swam closer to the surface of the water yet hesitated, her form still submerged out of his reach; observing him how a predator would observe something new to it, determining whether it be friend or foe. Jonathan simply remained there, his eyes soft as he looked at her, his hand still outstretched for her.

“I will take you home, [Name]. I promise.” He spoke, his words coated in the same softness that his eyes reflected. No threat, no danger, no hostility; the complete opposite of what those humans who captured her, dragged her from the ocean and bound her with their tight nets. He was pure.

Slowly, her webbed hand emerged out of the water, breaking its calm surface as she also rose from it. Their eyes never leaving one another as she rose further up from the water.

Her hand locking with his.

#jonathan #jonathan joestar #jojo bizarre adventure #jonathan x reader #jonathan joestar x reader #jojo bizzare adventure x reader #jojo #jojo x reader #jojo part 1 #phantom blood #phantom blood x reader #jojo phantom blood #mermaid au #mermaid reader #modern au

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finalfantasy7 · 3 years

Text

Letting go

Despite all the crying, all the pain, all the disappointment that came from that little bookstore, I’m still scared of letting it go. Honest to god afraid of allowing it to become a distant memory where I can barely make out most of the details.

Little did I know going in I would barely register as a real job, strictly viewing it as a seasonal gig, only to leave it with bleeding heart strings.

I remember how at first I didn’t allow myself to see it as a long term gig, not after only staying as a seasonal at a previous location (a decision that admittedly ended up being a strike against my confidence). And yet, as the holiday season came closer to ending, the more anxious I became about being kept on passed the holiday season. It only became worse as I started to bond with the team there. Everyone and everything seemed to click. I very quickly found myself in a new “comfort zone” and much like love, it’s beautiful to experience and even scarier to lose.

What I failed to realize until now, was I had personally laid down the structure of the home I now associate with that environment. Yes, my colleagues were each as warm as they were individuals; each carrying a back full of personalized arrows and hearts full of dreams and fears alike. But looking back, so many of them highlighted how their kindness was not cheap and for some, certainly wasn’t free.

I now understand what [redacted] means when she says I seem to be the “glue” between people. A substance whose sole purpose is to hold things together and tightly at that. That being said, there are few cases of universal glue. No, in fact there’s specific types of glue for specific materials. I am nowhere near being a universal glue but I seem to be a decent brand for people…or at least those who can afford to be a bit vulnerable and honest.

To this day I will rave about my former coworkers, even more so about the ones I still keep in contact with today. But I’m now starting to see that the bookstore was home to me for a bit BECAUSE I made it home. I could have come in day in and day out and never looked back but I didn’t, at the time it almost felt like I couldn’t. How could I? When a small, insecure being was being suddenly labeled with tags and titles they had never heard before.

I wasn’t “[dead name]” when I stepped through those blue doors but “Finn Acosta”. Nor longer was I this lost entity, a ball of failure, fears and anxieties. No, I was now “Finn”; an attractive, fashionable leader who always seemed to “really see” people for who they were. But even at the time these words read hollow, not because I didn’t believe the genuine sentiment behind them but simply because I didn’t see that person looking back at me in the mirror. They unfortunately went from compliments to a heavy mask I felt I needed to wear, to proudly carry and maintain lest I seek to disappoint everyone.

There was a time period when “life was good” at work. I had recently been hired and I was hungry. You wanted to teach me how to make a table? Let’s do it. Need help with overnight inventory? Something I’ve never done before? I’m game. Wanna teach me how to rearrange every decorative piece on a table? Can’t wait. I suppose this time period could accurately be labeled as “Finn was bubbly” here or at least that’s how one manager described it when discussing how much I had changed by the end of my bookstore career. Managers seem to like this time period as much as I did. I used to think I was happy here and I suppose I was and yet, looking back it all seems so Illusionary? Perhaps our image of happiness changes more throughout our lives than we’d like to admit. But here I was in a relationship which I believed at the time was perfect, was in a workplace I believed was perfect and was starting to carry a new outlook of myself I had, you guessed it, deemed as perfect.

I sometimes wonder if I had the opportunity would I go back in time and warn that version of myself about the storm that was starting to brew? No, I don’t think I would. Even with the knowledge I have now, nothing could have prepared me for what was about to unfold, not really. Plus, who am I to rip off those rose coloured glasses off my past self- she was genuinely as happy as she could have been. I feel weirdly maternal towards that person. I know they were doing their best….unfortunately their best would soon be crushed by reality, more specifically, the flaws and beauty of what it means to be human.

Now going into my second year of psyche I can confidently say reading about humans and experiencing them are very different. To read about projection and have it’s description neatly grouped in small bullet points is very different from someone angrily shutting down your greeting because they’re having a bad day. I experienced a lot of projection at work and equally threw in my own.

It’s fascinating to think I experienced both appreciation and questioning of personality all at once in the same environment. I would be commended on how understanding I could be but equally questioned on how I couldn’t view things as more black and white the same people. How could you see only grays, is what I’d heard in my mind. Where was the fire? Where was the anger? Did it mean I didn’t care? Perhaps I simply didn’t give enough thought to these topics? But that wasn’t the case at all. For months on end I would ruminate about work; everything from issues of health and safety, union processing, to the well being of my coworkers.

This was my pack and I needed to care for it as best as I could…so I did. Someone didn’t feel comfortable addressing concerns to management? I’d do it for them. Let me check in with everyone I saw to see how they were. You look tired, allow me to buy you a coffee. Let me send out feedback forms to see what people need. Remember, each and everyone one of you matters and deserves nothing but care. Oh wait, management is also made up of human beings so I should also extend all this to them. Let me do this, let me do that, I will do this, I will do that. Eventually I became a husk of the person I started off at the beginning of the year. I felt bitter and broken. To put it frankly, I was exhausted.

I’ve never broken down so much in a place of work. I would sit in the corner of the washroom and cry (not too much so we couldn’t stop but enough to get a good sob out). No one ever knew. I know because I’ve now highlighted this to a few former coworkers and they each wear the same look of surprise, sadness and empathy. But why the tears? It was just a part time job and it was…until it wasn’t. Somewhere along the way this part time job truly became something else. I went from clocking in and out, to bringing every person who worked with me home. I packed up their fears in a precious bag and wore it around, how couldn’t I? They were afraid and I was used to carrying around people’s emotions with me. I was even better at wearing a bright toothy smile that hid my own emotions.

At some point I stopped being a CER and started to be..well..I suppose glue. But remember what I said earlier about different types of glue for different materials? Well, you see- management wasn’t particularly fond of the type of glue I was, at least a majority of them didn’t seem to be. You see in the eyes of my leaders, I WAS someone who was just clocking in and out and they weren’t happy with this. You see, the company preferred the type of glue that bonded workers and the company’s “vision”. Workers that were so bonded with that vision that it became almost indistinguishable of where the person started and the sales pitch ended. They wanted you to take work home with you, just not in the way I did. Ironically, because of this I was rated as a low performer; because I didn’t care enough, when all of my peers were telling me the opposite.

But there it was, the other shoe had finally fallen and little Finn isn’t as sturdy as they seem. No, in fact, I remember running out of the performance review in tears, rushing past my coworkers as I digested being told I was a failure (another notch to add to the belt). It’s true when they say, sometimes it’s not the information itself but how it’s delivered. I felt ganged up in the review; mine being the only that required the GM to be present (more like be the one who conducted it but I digress). My mind had completely shut down as my superiors watched me shrink into myself, using the little energy I had to not break down and cry. The surrealism of them joking around about not being able to find a seat in the mall to conduct the review as my mind turned into static. They told me I had “really up days and really down days”, a sentence that may as well be a death sentence if you deal with a form of mental illness. They noticed, they noticed I wasn’t neurotypical, that I was different and not in a good way. You know what hurts the most? These two women were part of a moment of trauma for me and they didn’t even try- for them it was just another day at work. They’ll never know how I spent the next few months psychoanalyzing myself, speaking with professionals to help me find “what I did wrong?”, “why was I a failure?”.

After months of pouring every bit of energy I had towards my team I was told I wasn’t good enough. A part of me wishes I could send this letter to those women, to show them “look what you did to me”. But I feel it would give them another opportunity to dismiss me when I’m most vulnerable, a moment similar to when they glossed over my anxiety disorder, chalking it up to, “I think we’re all anxious right now”. At the end of everything I’m more hurt than bitter. I’m not a manager, I’m not a leader but I know I would never put someone in such a situation and at the very least I can sleep at night knowing that.

To say my time at the bookstore was a learning experience would be an understatement. One day I was at cash dealing with a customer who clearly wasn’t having a good day and I decided then and there, I needed to leave. So, I finally ripped the rose coloured glasses off and decided to give my two weeks. Those two weeks were the least stressed I had been the entire year. Ironically, I had to leave the bookstore to finally take to heart the kind words that were told to me in it. I remember how I was told at my previous location how incredible it was of how many interpersonal relationships I had made in the short amount of time and it looks like here was no different….but it was. I’m now permanently leaving this company behind and realizing if this is what I can do with a few months, a year, imagine what I can do in a permanent career setting? I think I’ll be just fine; not because I’m “Finn”, not because I’m glue but because I try and maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.

#mine #letting go

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baoshan-sanren · 4 years

Text

Chapter 12

of the wwx emperor au that’s now more like the terrible horrible time the Lan Sect is having ugh

The “small event” is anything but small.

Almost the entire court has gathered outside the Immortal Mountain City gates, spilling across the rolling meadows. Lan XiChen would call it a picnic, but on a much grander scale, and lacking some of the restraint and dignity of the picnics usually held in the Imperial Gardens. The tables for each Sect and clan are set properly, silk canopies provided to shade the guests from the sun. In between the tables, rugs cover the ground, so no Sect Leader would dampen their soles on the grass still drenched with the morning dew. The tea and nourishment is to be served on the delicate Imperial porcelain. It all gives the appearance of a formal and proper gathering.

However, some distance beyond the canopies, groups of young disciples are scattered across the meadow, their excited shouts and laughter rolling down the mountain. A number of kites are hovering in the air, being tugged back and forth by a mild breeze. Even from a distance, XiChen can see a dozen arrows flying through the air, majority of them hitting their mark. It is a game originally designed for children, but many of the young masters will take any opportunity to display their skills. With so many disciples participating in the game, the canopied areas are mostly occupied by the Sect Leaders and Ladies, and those too proud to be seen having fun.

The Emperor’s dais and seat are notably absent. Instead, the Jiang Sect table has been set in their place, and Jiang FengMian appears to be the one presiding over the event, his wife and children by his side.

The Lan Sect is not given a chance to find their way to their designated seats. The moment uncle has stepped foot under the canopies, Lady Jiang is rising from her seat, moving to intercept them.

She bows gracefully, delicate lotus ornaments in her hair twinkling with the movement. Her greeting is made more polite by her unrestrained smile, as if she is genuinely delighted to renew her acquaintance with the Lan Sect.

“Sect Leader Lan,” she says, “This very morning, my father happened to remind me that this is Second Young Master Lan’s first visit to the Immortal Mountain. Forgive us for being so careless in welcoming you properly. Two years ago, during the annual Sect Leader Conference, my brother was very pleased to give the Young Master a tour of the City. I had hoped you would allow me to do the same for the Second Young Master. I have taken the liberty of arranging a small escort, and General Nie has graciously provided his second in command, so you may be assured of your nephew’s safety.”

XiChen distinctly remembers touring the Immortal Mountain City with Jiang WanYin, but the boy had seemed far from pleased at having to play a guide. However, XiChen does not know Jiang WanYin very well. Despite having spent hours together, they had barely spoken a dozen full sentences to each other during the tour, or in the years since. Perhaps Jiang WanYin had been pleased.

Regardless, he thinks that a tour given by Jiang YanLi is bound to be infinitely more pleasurable. His brother does not seem to think so, judging by the faint expression of panic in his eyes. The expression is quickly hidden, WangJi’s shoulders growing stiff, as if he is being asked to venture forth into battle.

XiChen is sure that uncle would very much prefer to keep WangJi by his side, but he can voice no reasonable objection. Lady Jiang had come prepared. The small escort includes two maids from the Jiang household, four men from the Emperor’s personal guard, and Nie ZongHui, the Lieutenant General of the Emperor’s army. Aside from Nie MingJue himself joining, WangJi could not have possibly had a more dignified escort, or one better equipped to keep him out of harm’s way, especially for such a harmless excursion.

Unable to find any reason for opposition, uncle agrees, and thanks Lady Jiang for her attention. XiChen watches his brother walk away with Jiang YanLi by his side, and feels a cautious thread of hope, that despite his reserved nature, WangJi may form a new friendship today.

The Lan Sect table is set quite a distance away from the seat of power. As such, the tables around them are mostly unoccupied, and they are provided with an unobstructed view of the disciples and their game. XiChen is glad; the pretense of politeness in those he must socialize with can be exhausting to navigate. It is a pleasure to simply sit and watch the disciples, competing with no malice, a sea of different Sect uniforms mingling together.

Their elders rarely quarrel the way they did during the Empress’ rule. The Emperor might be young, and judging by WangJi’s experience, a little bit wild, but he clearly knows how to steer them away from the old divisions. As a result, these young generations are already forming lasting bonds, and XiChen is only sorry to remember the dozen Lan Sect disciples they had brought along, forced to remain outside of YiLing, and unable to participate.

After a few moments of resting in comfortable silence, they are approached by the HeJian Fan Sect Leader. Judging by uncle’s reception of the man, they are already acquainted, although nothing about their greeting suggest that they are on friendly terms.

Therefore, XiChen is very much surprised to hear that the Sect Leader has come to seek uncle’s advice. The man begins by asking about the irrigation techniques used in LianYi during the last drought; apparently, a similar but unsuccessful attempt was made by the Fan Sect in JiaXin. Uncle, who had become an expert in drought management in a single, terrible, three month period, quickly zeroes in on the reason the attempt had failed. He also has a solution to the issue, and soon, the Fan Sect Leader is seated where WangJi should have been, requesting ink and parchment from the servants, so uncle can draw him detailed instructions.

XiChen sits quietly, alternating between watching his uncle, and watching the children, feeling a deep contentment bordering on happiness. He had been anxious that the Emperor’s insistence they remain in the Immortal Mountain would turn out to be unpleasant for everyone involved. But at this moment, he feels nothing but gratitude for these peaceful hours, when nothing seems amiss.

Not long after the Fan Sect Leader’s arrival, the tea is served. XiChen pours, as his uncle and the Sect Leader are too preoccupied to notice. He has barely had a chance to taste his own cup, when he sees the Nie Sect Leader arrive, pause to speak with Jiang FengMian, then turn his attention to the Lan Sect table.

Their eyes meet for a single breath. Instead of acknowledging it, XiChen reacts by getting flustered, burying his face in the teacup, and scalding his tongue in process. The calm serenity that had enveloped him only moments ago is completely gone. There is an odd dryness in his throat, despite the tea, and he is not sure if the heat in his chest is due to his nerves, or the burning hot liquid.

Nie MingJue greets uncle and the Fan Sect Leader first. By then, XiChen had already risen to his feet and is bowing deeply, anxious that the heat he feels might be reflecting on his face.

“Young Master Lan,” Nie MingJue says, “Are you enjoying the game?”

“Very much,” XiChen says, “the Nie Sect disciples are quite skilled with the bow.”

“You are being too generous,” Nie MingJue says, a ghost of a smile hovering around his mouth, “the Jiang Sect is far superior.”

“The game originated in YunMeng, I believe,” XiChen says, “it stands to reason the Jiang Sect would excel.”

Still flustered, he is unsure why the Sect Leader has approached them, but suddenly, he does not want the man to leave.

“Sect Leader Nie, would you like some tea?”

“No, thank you. I was going to take a small tour of the mountain, as I do every year at this time. Would Young Master Lan like to join me?”

“Oh,” XiChen says, immediately glancing to his uncle for approval.

Uncle is not paying attention. He is insisting that there is only one correct way to construct a cistern. Apparently, the man that the Fan Sect Leader has hired, had done it incorrectly. The Fan Sect Leader looks as if he may enjoy personally beheading the man in question.

XiChen turns back to Nie MingJue, “I-- it would be my pleasure. To accompany you.”

He had not realized that he means to accept until the words have already left his mouth, and then it is too late to consider the consequences.

He tells himself that there is nothing improper about a stroll in the fresh air. Nie MingJue looks pleased with his answer, and if his smile causes an odd, trembling sensation in XiChen’s chest, no one else needs to know.

#the untamed #cql #mdzs #nielan #one trick pony strikes again #two ships per fic are a max i can handle i think #wwx emperor au #m #here i go taking liberties again #2 hours of research into imperial garden picnics #i've got nothing i can really use #the cultivation world doesn't seem to wanna mix with accurate historical depictions of anything #anyway #some shit is about to start happening soon #i'm starting chapter 18 where more shit is about to go down #so we're moving right along #ily guys

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primummobile · 4 years

Text

⚡️ Why are they mad at me? ⚡️

Check sun🌞, moon🌙 & MARS⚔️

✨⭐️ quick note: this is not about who’s at ‘fault’, i have simply provided some (practical) guidelines intended to explain and deal with anger in the signs ⭐️✨

⚡️ Aries (fire, cardinal): You ‘won’ (at some mundane activity). You insulted their ‘virility’, their ‘potency’ (yup, women too). A somewhat ‘basic’ emotional reaction that is usually not that difficult to understand (watch out for physical reactions!).

‘[Angry, non-verbal noises].’

What you can do: Try to distract them, do some other activity—or else they’ll try to ‘beat’ you until you both pass out from exhaustion. Exaggerate your ‘humorous tone’ when poking fun at them.

⚡️ Taurus (earth, fixed): There is most likely a practical, ‘common sense’ reason for their anger. Not prone to getting angry unexpectedly or for ‘irrational’ reasons.

‘If you’d just start [behaviour that actually makes sense].’

What you can do: Don’t argue with them. They’ll repeat the same thing ad nauseum & will never (ever!) change their mind (only internally/over long stretches of time). Consider changing certain behaviours: Taureans don’t demand much, won’t demand the impossible.

⚡️ Gemini (air, mutable): You interpreted their words literally/you don’t know the value of an (quote unquote) ‘interesting’ conversation/are limiting their self-expression. Be prepared for a verbal tirade; there is little chance of you being able to explain your point of view.

‘Sometimes I just say stuff...’

What you can do: Go talk to some water-dominant people. Alternatively: If you get to know the Gemini in question better, you’ll learn to tell when they’re being serious & when they’re just ‘experimenting’ with thoughts & concepts (hint: it’s usually the latter). Also: When they’re angry, just let them talk until they’re done.

⚡️ Cancer (water, cardinal): You offended someone they care about/someone they think needs protecting. Watch out: they will know how to hurt you because they are so easily hurt themselves/are emotionally intuitive, sensitive.

‘You can’t say that to x!!’

What you can do: Apologise to the person you (may have) offended. Simple. Tried & true.

⚡️ Leo (fire, fixed): You humiliated them (in public) or messed with their public image and/or self-image. They don’t feel valued for their gifts, they don’t feel a ‘heart to heart’ connection to you & feel you’re inauthentic.

‘You made me look stupid!’

What you can do: Verbally express your (sincere!) admiration for them. Describe how you’ll act differently next time. Make them feel less self-concious.

⚡️ Virgo (earth, mutable): You broke some very strange, very specific rule of theirs you weren’t aware of. How is it possible for them to be angry about such minor transgressions? Are they angry for ‘deeper’, more psychological reasons? You might never know.

‘You know that goes there!’

What you can do: Make a mental note of what set them off. Ask them if they’re really angry about something else. Remind them there’s a limit to what can (realistically) be expected of other people.

⚡️ Libra (air, cardinal): You only picked up on their anger because they started being passive agressive. It takes a lot of time/effort to get to the actual confrontation/the ‘why?’ part. Oftentimes it’s a case of them perceiving something you did as ‘tactless’, ‘inappropriate’, ‘rude’. Maybe you destroyed the harmony/peace in a certain social setting.

‘Sometimes I just feel like people don’t really appreciate me enough, y’know?’

What you can do: Patiently try to find out the issue at hand. If you’re genuinely interested in solving the conflict/hearing their side of the story, don’t intimidate them by raising your voice or confronting them head-on. Also: maybe buy a book on social etiquette??

⚡️ Scorpio (water, fixed): Angry due to deep psychological reasons that have their roots in childhood & are known only to their therapist. Will use their almost ‘psychic’ intuition to hit you where it hurts & to—ultimately—make you retreat & leave them alone.

‘...’

‘So going back to what you said last time about your first day of kindergarten...’

What you can do: Never assume they’re angry cause of petty reasons, even though it might manifest that way. They’ve probably been ‘brooding’ over the issue for (literal) ages. Don’t assume you’ll be able to understand said issue without having a lot of insight into their psyche/personal history. Their words will cause permant psychic damage so make sure you have either a. good psychic defenses or b. a good support system (you may need to see your therapist afterwards).

⚡️ Sagittarius (fire, mutable): You attacked their belief system. If you’re ‘lucky’ (& depending on how close you are), they might try to ‘enlighten’ you. If not, they’ll find someone else: ‘positive vibes only.’

‘[Walks away].’

What you can do: Try to approach conversations with them differently—‘Oh, that’s fascinating, yesterday I learnt [something that expands on their notion]’ instead of ‘But if you believe x is true, it logically follows you must also believe y is true.’ Or just go talk to a Virgo or an Aquarius.

⚡️ Capricorn (earth, cardinal): Some all-to-legitimate reason (Although keep in mind: they do have very high standards). Harsh & severe; a reality-check.

‘You have no right to speak to me like that. You should try focusing more on your personal growth instead of trying to pull other people down all the time. I’ll talk to you again once you’ve become a better person.’

What you can do: They probably weren’t trying to make you cry; they just believe in the whole ‘tough love’ approach to things. They usually respond well to open communiction so just tell them if they hurt you. Show them you’re trying to become a better person—but not because you’re intimidated by them.

⚡️ Aquarius (air, fixed): They may not actually be angry, just trying to demonstrate their intellectual ‘superiority’. They can easily get preachy (‘annoying’), disregarding subtle social/emotional cues on their quest for the ‘truth’. If they are angry, you might not be able to tell the difference: they will do everything in their power to remain ‘unaffected’ & ‘rational’: they will deeply insult you like it’s nothing.

‘I thought we went over this: [something you haven’t thought through as well as they have].’

What you can do: If you want to have your emotions/the conflict analyzed by them in great detail, tell them openly (without getting emotional) how you feel—they’re fascinated by interpersonal conflicts, others emotions. If not, drop it. Don’t expect them to spontaneously start talking about their own feelings (If they do attempt this, they probably care about you very much (!)). It’ll usually take them a while to ‘figure out’ their emotions, by which time you’ll probably get a ‘loosely-scripted’ explanation.

⚡️ Pisces (water, mutable): They’re more upset than they are angry. It could literally be about anything. The world is a harsh place. Victim complex (!!).

‘It’s just... [bursts into tears].’

What you can do: Make them the focus, not you. Comfort them. Listen to them. Don’t ridicule them. That said: they’re not always the victim. You might have to hurt their feelings at some point in time.

#astrology #mars signs #aries #aquarius #libra

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hailbop1701 · 3 years

Text

25 Days of FicMas

December 19th prompt: The Magical Adventures of the Santa hat

Word count: 1,581

A Kirkian Christmas Set Up

Sort but cuuuute. Read it, love it, write songs about it. It would have been longer if I didn't feel the strong need for sleep. Remember to drink water and love yourself. Cause I love you. I need you so...now you can't leave me. No returns.

-H❤🖖

No one knew where it came from. The damn thing just showed up a few days before Christmas, and of course Captain James. T Kirk had to wear it. The crew snickered and grinned at the little decoration, “Nice hat sir!” one ensign called out when Jim entered one of the rec rooms with Spock following behind; it was a Tuesday night and Tuesdays were always chess days. Kirk grinned at the young ensign, “It’s in the spirit of the holiday,” he bowed his head a tad letting the ball of the Santa hat sway over his shoulder. You sat in a large comfy chair in the corner with an old fashioned book in your hands, you watched as The Captain and The Commander set up at a table right next to you, “Hey Lieutenant, good read?” Kirk asked casually sending you a kind smile. You shrugged glancing at the front of the book, seeing the title was faded somewhat, “Just some Dickens sir. Like you said the spirit in the holiday and all that,”

Kirk gave you a look, “Jim, (Y/N). Call me Jim when we’re off duty,” he ordered. You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, “of course sir,” you said almost teasingly making Jim groan annoyed. “We’ll get there,” he muttered moving a piece on the chessboard, “Which ghost are you at?” he asked not taking his eyes off of the Commander’s movements. “Present,” you answered absentmindedly as you read; Jim smirked making another move, “Most of all beware this boy, for on his brow I see that written which is Doom unless the writing be erased,” he quoted like he was reading over your shoulder. Raising a single eyebrow you breathed out a laugh, “I’m impressed sir,” you said honestly and Kirk shrugged. “Gotta love the classics, isn’t that right Mr. Spock?”

The Commander looked up from the game in front of him toward his superior, “Yes Captain. I too enjoy old Earth literature. I find the works of George Orwell and Oscar Wilde fascinating,” he said as he moved a rook to the next level of the board. Jim narrowed his eyes in thought, “I love Tolkien personally,” he murmured. You chuckled and nodded, “I knew it! I totally pegged you as a Lord of The Rings fan. Ginly owes me fifty credits,” you grinned at the prospect. Kirk barked out a laugh, “Well I’m glad I could help you out. Let me know if I can do anything else for you,” he winked. You huffed mildly amused but not exactly surprised; Kirk was a known flirt so you didn’t think anything of it. You certainly didn't notice him check the time.

The conversation lapsed into a comfortable silence until Sulu and Chekov collapsed into the chairs by you to watch the ‘exciting’ game going on between The Captain and Commander. “Nice hat sir,” Sulu complimented flicking the white puffball so it swung and smacked Kirk in the face, the man scrunched up his nose in response. He took off the Santa hat and threw it in Sulu’s face with a huff, he moved another piece on the board calling “Check,”

Sulu pulled the hat from his face and secured it on his head with a snicker, “Checkmate,” Spock announced making Kirk curse under his breath. Spock raised a single eyebrow but otherwise said nothing and began to reset the board. Glancing up from your book you saw that Kirk was whispering lowly to Sulu who was grinning madly, ‘Oh this is going to end badly,’ you thought with a snort. Shifting in your chair so your legs were now over the arm you looked up again when the rec room door swished open. Scotty and Uhura were walking through talking about upgrades for the comms relay, Kirk jerked his head toward the CE smirking. Sulu bounced up and whispered hurriedly into Scotty’s ear, “What are you planning Jim?” Uhura asked dryly walking to Spock’s side, arms crossed over her chest she leaned against her boyfriend. You gave her a little wave in greeting before getting back to Dickens.

Scotty grinned at the little plan Kirk had cooked up and gave Sulu a little salute. Hikaru deposited the Santa hat on Scott’s head and watched him scurry out the door. You didn’t notice Sulu casually get close to your chair before it was too late, the helmsman snatched the aged book from your hands and raced out the rec room doors like a bat out of hell. “Damnit Hikaru!” you shouted floundering in your chair. You flipped out of the thing landing on your hands and knees, jeans getting dirty on the floor and mild stinging on your palms didn’t stop you from chasing the man out the door. Uhura stood there shocked and wide-eyed for a moment, “Okay Jim seriously what have you cooked up!” she scolded. She stopped abruptly noticing Spock hadn’t said a word or did his customary eyebrow raise, “you’re in on it,” she accused looking between the Captain and his second in command. “Let’s just say we know a couple of people who need...a little push,” Jim explained moving a knight on the chessboard. He looked up at Uhura with a cheeky grin and nodded at Pavel who pulled out a PADD with Enterprises schematics. It took a moment for the comms officer to catch on but when she did she couldn’t help but grin, “I can’t believe I’m saying this but damn Kirk you’re a genius,’ she said gracefully plopping down in your vacant chair. Jim grinned and held out his arms in a “Ta-da” motion.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Scotty dashed through the corridors of the Enterprise like his life depended on it; mostly because it did. He poked a bear and now he was running from said bear; that metaphorical bear was the ship’s CMO Leonard McCoy. “Damnit Scotty come back here!” McCoy shouted eyes blazing. Montgomery Scott refused to say that he was afraid of anything but at that moment he practically screamed like a “Wee lass,” as he ran through his lady. Glancing over his shoulder he saw McCoy gaining on him, yelping Scotty picked up the pace hoping to get to the drop-off point in time.

Scotty whooped when he saw Sulu at the end of the corridor running toward him with you hot on his heels. “Drop it, Scotty!” Sulu shouted passing by the man dropping the book he was holding on the floor before continuing like hell itself was after him. Scotty bent down and gently dropped the object he was holding before sprinting past you. Santa hat flying off his head he dove into an empty turbo lift laughing hysterically as the doors closed him in. You skidded to a stop before you tripped over the object Scotty dropped on the floor, panting you picked up the hat and what looked to be a holo frame. Looking down you saw a smiling little girl with a missing front tooth, “I think this belongs to you,” you said holding up the picture. McCoy huffed and picked up your book from the ground, “Dickens?” he asked impressed. You blushed and held out the picture frame, “ I like the classics,” you mumbled nervously. Leonard smirked as you traded items, “My daughter just finished To Kill A Mockingbird,” he said weighing the frame in his hands. You grinned, “I loved that one when I was little,” you said excitedly. “How did she like it?” you couldn’t help but ask. McCoy chuckled and ran a hand through his hair, “She loved it if I could guess by the video message she sent me,”

You were walking back down the corridor with Doctor McCoy when suddenly the lights dimmed and Christmas lights sprung to life lining the walls with holiday cheer. You laughed nervously, “Is it me or are we being set up?” you asked rubbing the back of your neck. Leonard raised an eyebrow, “now darlin’ whatever gave you that idea?” he asked dryly making you giggle. “So this is what he was up to,” you murmur with a shake of your head, “I’m not sure if I’m gonna kill him or…” McCoy trailed off muttering curses under his breath. You bit your lip to keep from smiling, “Well better make the most of it, “ you said and placed the Santa hat on your head. Leonard laughed a wide smile breaking across his face; you couldn’t help but follow suit. Your smile caused Leonard to pause his walking, his heart thudded in his chest and his breath caught. He had to admit he had always thought you were beautiful, smart, funny, and genuinely kind but he never dared to ask you out or even if he should. The divorce was such a messy painful thing he didn’t want to experience something like that again. You cocked your head to the side curiously, Leonard cleared his throat nervously. “I uh I’m running out of book titles to recommend to Jo, I was wonderin’ if you could help me make a list…” he trailed off clutching the holo frame in his hands tightly. You beamed, “Of course I’ll help! Does she have a favorite genre?” and with that, you were both off again. You and Leonard talked for a good portion of the night, neither minding waking up tired for shift the next day. For the future was bright and full of new stories to tell. Like the one, Joanna McCoy would ask for every Christmases to come: “The Magical Adventures of the Santa Hat,”

Tags:

@thottiewithashotgun

@lauraaan182

@writerdee1701

@dw-writes

@marvelouslytrekking

@spenceneedsahug

#star trek aos #leonard mccoy x reader #leonard mccoy #james t kirk #montgomery scott #hikaru sulu #pavel chekov #mister spock #nyota uhura #25 days of ficmas #reader insert #hailey the queen of typos

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tloujm · 4 years

Text

Part XII: Jackson Manor

Author’s Notes: Here’s my attempt at horror that I promised! Its roughly a week until Halloween, so just in time I guess! MY GOD, DOES TIME FLY. It was just the beginning of October a minute ago, wasn’t it? It’s a long one, just under 9k words, so grab a snack. It features some continuity on the main plot, but really its a stand alone chapter. Because there are multiple other characters mentioned, there is less focus on you and Joel as a couple, but there’s definitely some fluff and angst (grumpy Joel) hidden in there. I know I’m no James Wan or Stephen King, but bear with me. I only did it as a seasonal thing. The next chapter will go back to focusing on you and Joel’s relationship.

Genre: Cheesy Horror

Summary: Maria puts together a specially curated group for the next patrol outing that includes you and Joel. The group of five are sent on a mysterious treasure hunt of sorts. The “treasure” is inside of a creepy, abandoned house that plays tricks on the group, fueling into the already existing tensions.

Ship: Joel x Reader

Joel watched on with tired eyes as you sat with the newcomer at the daycare. You got up early so you could talk to her. So far, the girl remained silent, but her body language was responsive. Joel just stood there, unsure of when a good time to interrupt and steal you away would be. Luckily, he didn’t have to wait too long as you finally caught his gaze. After a moment, you excused yourself and walked over to him standing in the doorway.

“Maria has us scheduled to patrol today.” He said.

“Us? Together? Well, that’s a treat. You usually do the tougher routes. Am I going on one of those with you, or are you doing an easy one with me?”

He shrugged. “Honestly, I’m not quite sure. Maria didn’t say much after she told me to come fetch you.”

“Maybe they think I’m ready for something more challenging.”

“I think so, but what’s strange is that she’s got us goin’ out with a couple other people who I don’t think are.” Joel said, scratching his beard.

“Who’s all going?” You asked.

“Tim, Rhonda and uh, Jesse.” He replied. He was less than enthused with the last name that exited his mouth. While he was civil with Jesse, he still couldn’t help but feel like he had a thing for you, whether you acknowledged it or not.

“Jesse’s a veteran, but Tim?” You made a face. “And Rhonda?” You made a slightly more exaggerated face. “Did Maria say why she chose all of us to go together?”

“Didn’t get the chance to ask. We’re meant to meet her at the stables. That’s where she’s debriefing us.”

*****

“Thank you all for meeting me for this patrol on such short notice. I know this is everyone’s day off.” Maria began. You and the others were seated on bales of hay as she paced in front of the stable doors. “I hand picked each of you to work together and complete the task at hand. I drew up copies of a special map that came into my possession a little while ago.” She handed them out. “Outside the city of Jackson, there is a little village...smaller than that really, that is not located on any published map. I want you guys to check it out and report back on it. Note everything. More specifically, I want this team to sweep through a large house over that way. You’ll know it when you see it. According to the original map, ‘the exterior is dark, almost black, three stories high and overshadowed by a massive pine tree’. I was tipped off that the house was used as a supply cache for the Jackson Frontier Faction, a recently extinct group of survivors. Bring back anything you can. Leave what you can’t and we’ll come back for it. Update the map if need be during your journey. Any questions?”

“How long do you think this mission will take?” Jesse asked.

“I don’t want you to spend too much time out there, but I estimate no more than three days. That’s including the time to get there and back on the horses. If you are not back by then, I will send a search and rescue team.” Maria responded confidently.

“No offense, but why did you pick us? We’ve never worked together as a group before.” Joel spoke up.

“True, I do not have the advantage of seeing your group dynamic, but there is method behind my way of thinking. Each of you have a specific skill set that I believe would simultaneously compliment each other as well as make the group superior to our previous patrols. Joel, you are an excellent shot and an exceptional tracker. Jesse, as well as your combat skills, you have a great sense of direction, even in the most foreign of environments, and you think outside the box. (Y/N), I know you have trained under both Joel and Tommy and I have seen your melee combat in person. I trust that you are ready for a more difficult route such as this. I also appreciate your level headedness. Keeping calm during dangerous situations can be the difference between life and death. Now as for Tim and Rhonda. I know the two of you have never been on patrol before, so I especially thank you for agreeing to this. I wish I could have introduced you to this job with a more novice route. Tim is our medic in training and has been Dr. Carson’s right hand and apprentice for over a year now. He will be there to aid in any medical relief.” She turns her attention to Tim. “If you ever need any assistance, (Y/N) is trained in first aid.” He looks at you for a long moment. You return the gaze, realizing that you’d never formally met him before. “Rhonda, you are great at your job taking inventory at the pantry. Now, you are the group’s official scribe and your job is to take inventory of the things collected. I’ve also seen how good you draw. I would like you to note the environment and work with Jesse in drawing up a new map. Also, I want you to record things of interest through writing and drawing.” Maria gives her a journal. “I would have had you all wait until the first sign of spring, but we are in desperate need of certain supplies. To be honest, this is an experiment, having all of you in a group together, but I still have high expectations. Please, do not disappoint me. We are all counting on you. Have a safe trip.” Maria left to tend to some business at the main gate.

“I think we should go over this map she gave us so we can all be on the same page.” Jesse suggested.

Joel grunted in agreement. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.” You began to push the bales to form a circle. The others followed suit and Jesse placed his map in the middle. Before you could take a seat, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Hi, I’m Tim.” He began to laugh nervously. “I’m sure you know that because of Maria, but I wanted to introduce myself. I didn’t want my asking you to apply pressure on somebody’s wound be the first time I talk to you.”

“Nice to meet you, Tim. (Y/N).” You shook his hand.

“I’ve heard a lot about you actually.” He responded.

“Oh?” You questioned genuinely.

“Yeah. Everyone knows about that bloater you and Joel ran into. And I was there helping Dr. Carson handle the bodies when the two of you found Sid and Adam. I just want to let you know, I think you’re very brave.”

A grin slowly grew on your face. “Thank you. I’m sure you are too, having to deal with blood and whatever gory things you see in the infirmary.”

He brushed past the compliment. “No more gory than what you guys see on patrol when you run into clickers and bloaters. The way the Cordycep fungus disfigures the body is something from a nightmare.” You nodded in agreement. Joel watched on from his seat as the two of you conversated. Eventually, he cleared his throat, causing you to turn and see that everyone else was seated and ready to go over the map. Tim’s cheeks turned red as he gave you a small smile before sitting.

“Nice of you to join us.” Joel whispered after you sat next to him. You nudged him in the shoulder and focused on Jesse’s words.

After agreeing on a specific route in accordance to the weather conditions, the group picked up their respective horses and headed to the main gate. Maria and Bill from weaponry passed out a plethora of guns and knives. Joel and Jesse led the way out into the open with a couple clicks of their tongues. Everybody's horses galloped behind. It was cold and the snow was fairly high, but light enough to dredge through.

Tim gently kicked his horse in the rear to gallop faster and catch up with you. “So how do you think Maria found out about this place?”

“I don’t know. Must have been one of the merchants who passed through a few weeks ago. If this place was discovered by someone inside Jackson, all of the patrol groups would have known by now. For Maria to be the only one who knew and had a map?”

“Do you think it actually exists?” He asked.

“The house?”

“The whole village.” He confirmed. “Maybe a merchant made up the location with the hopes of convincing someone of a known cache supply, like a treasure map, and had the intentions of charging a high price for it.”

“Maria is smart. She wouldn’t have let anyone get over on her, especially a merchant.” You defended her.

“I’m sure you’re right. What do you think is going to be in there?” Tim asked casually.

You shrugged. “Food. Hopefully not molded or eaten through by rats. Medical supplies. Seeds for the spring. Could be anything.”

“So long as it’s worth it.”

“She wouldn’t have sent us if it wasn’t.” Things fell silent between the two of you. You thought about riding off to the front next to Joel, but figured it was rude to just leave him.

“You and Joel,” He began before clearing his throat. “You guys patrol a lot together?”

“We used to. Not so much anymore. Matter of fact, this is the first time we’ve been assigned to the same group in about a year.”

“Why is that?” Tim questioned.

“It was this whole thing.” You explained it away, not wanting to get into detail. He kept looking at you as if he was waiting for you to expand on the response. “We just got busy doing different things. I help out at the daycare too, you know.”

“Yeah? I know Wendy. She brings the kids by the infirmary from time to time for check ups. I traded for a pack of stickers a while back. I give them out to help put a smile on the kids’ faces when they come in. You know, a lot of them get nervous around doctors. My stickers don’t stand a chance against Joel's wooden toys though.”

“You know about those?”

“Of course. They come in holding the little horses or race cars kind of like a blankie. So...speaking of Joel, you two are together, right?”

“Yes, we are.”

He nodded. “He’s more than lucky, I’d say.” He waited until you turned and held his gaze before bidding you a goodbye. He slowed down his horse to ride alongside Rhonda. After a moment, you rode up next to Joel. You offered him a small smile, to which he returned the same.

“What did he want?” Joel nodded his head back in Tim’s direction.

“He was talking about Maria and this mission. He seems skeptical about the whole thing.”

“I don’t blame him, but I trust Maria. What else did he say?” Joel inquired.

“We were just getting to know each other. Small talk really.” You responded. You seldom saw Joel jealous, but you didn’t want him to get into a funky mood when there was a mysterious task at hand to focus on.

“The winds picking up, you feel that?” Jesse chimed. The two of you nodded.

“Yeah. I hope we find this place soon.” You shouted over the howling winds.

“According to the map, there's still a ways to go. Let’s just hope the weather doesn’t get any worse than this.”

Unfortunately for the group, not only did the winds pick up, but it got cloudier, blocking the sun’s warmth. It was hard to tell whether it was snowing or if the wind was just blowing around what had already fallen. Either way, the visibility got progressively lower by the second. At one point, you had become separated from Joel. The only people you could see were Tim and Rhonda. Joel was alone; nothing but white around him. He shouted your name over and over, but the frigid air entering his lungs began to hurt. His horse started to slow down as it became harder for her to gallop through it. Joel had been separated from the group for so long that he thought he was going crazy when he heard crunching in the snow from behind. He heard his name, but it wasn’t from your voice. Jesse came up from behind him. Despite the cold air whipping his face, he seemed happy to see Joel.

“Where are we?” Joel shouted.

“I don’t know, but we have to find somewhere soon. These horses won’t make it.” Jesse replied.

“Did you see (Y/N)?” Joel asked.

“I don’t know where anybody is.” Jesse pulled his hood back over his head. “The storm’s getting worse. Should we turn back?”

“No!” He shouted over the winds. “We came as a group, we leave as a group.”

“What if they already turned back? They’re probably assuming that we’re going to too.” Jesse pleaded.

“I’m not leaving without (Y/N).” Joel retorted. “We just need to find cover to wait out the storm and go on from there.” Jesse quietly followed his lead. There seemed to be no shelter in sight. If there were, they were masked by the white wall of snow directly in front of them. Joel was contemplating pulling out his map and risking it against the wind to estimate how far they rode from their last known point. Just as he began to pull it out, a big dark building came into view.

“That must be it!” Jesse exclaimed.

“This way!” Joel noticed a large opening on the side of the house. As he galloped closer, he realized it was the opened door of an attached shed. The men ducked their heads as the horses walked them inside.

“Joel!” You exclaimed, voice laced in relief. He immediately looked your way and his heart skipped a beat. He was so worried. You approached his horse and waited for him to dismount before you attacked him with a tight hug. “You’re so cold.” All you wanted to do was strip him down and warm him up.

“Well, it is cold outside.” He responded sarcastically. You lightly slapped him on the arm before moving onto Jesse. You gave him a quick hug and helped tie down both of the horses.

“We’re glad you’re back.” Rhonda announced as she entered the shed. Tim followed close behind her.

“Good. The gang’s all here.” Jesse said.

“We wouldn’t have been if we hadn’t convinced (Y/N) to stay.” Tim began. “She insisted on going back out for you guys when we saw that you weren’t here. We told her that it was too dangerous, but she insisted. Practically had to hold her back.” He chuckled.

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t.” Joel said flatly to Tim.

Breaking up the tension, Jesse spoke up. “Did you guys clear the house?”

“Only the first floor. There’s two more floors, not including the basement.” Rhonda responded.

“Alright, Jesse, Rhonda and Tim. Y’all sweep the top floors for Clickers. Me and (Y/N) will board up them windows over there.” Joel points to the wind entering through the broken glass. Jesse nodded and pulled out his gun. The others did the same.

“Y’all know how to use those things?” Jesse questioned them. Joel didn’t see or hear their answer as he was focused on you.

“Are you okay?” You asked him.

“I’m fine, darlin’. What about you?” He asked with a soft tone.

“I’m good now.” You smiled. He tilted your chin up with his still gloved hand and kissed you. He let his forehead rest on yours for a moment before straightening back up.

“Alright, let’s find some wood or somethin’.” Joel’s body was weary, but he didn’t want to rest until the house was secured. You couldn’t find any tools to board the windows up with, so the two of you settled on barricading them with large furniture. It wasn’t until you were done, did you realize how big the house was.

“This isn’t just some house, it’s like a manor.” You commented. “Almost reminds me of that hotel.” The last part you said almost in a whisper.

“This ain’t gonna be like the hotel.” Joel tried to comfort you.

“How do you know?” You furrowed your brows.

“Well, how about this, I’ll make you breakfast in bed the morning after we get back if there are zero bloaters in this house...I’m sorry, manor.”

“Well aren’t you naughty, implying that I’ll stay the night when we get back.” You teased, changing the mood of the conversation.

“I’m implying that you’ll consider moving back in.” He gazed at you, all playfulness left behind.

“If you still agree to make me that breakfast in bed, I will.” You replied coyly.

“It’s settled then.” Joel smirked.

The two lovebirds had just begun to feel each other up when the rest of the group came back downstairs. They would have been caught if it weren’t for Jesse’s heavy footsteps. He gave the all clear but claimed he saw something of interest upstairs and wanted Joel’s opinion. Rhonda, wanting to take note of whatever it was, tagged along with them as they went up to the third floor. With just you and Tim left alone, the two of you agreed to scavenge the second floor.

“Oh wow, look at this!” You walked up to a bookcase in one of the bedrooms. It was tightly stocked with classical literature with matching book spines.

“Lord of the Flies, The Secret Garden, For Whom The Bell Tolls, Tinker Taylor Soldier Spy…” Tim followed your voice into the room and read some of the titles from over your shoulder. “Quite the eclectic collection.”

“Oh look! One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.” You pointed out.

“Ah, Nurse Ratched. She creeped me out. Almost didn’t finish it because of her.”

“You read it?” You asked.

“Don’t sound so surprised.” He chuckled. “I’m a well read man. It's funny, I’ve read more after the outbreak than before.”

Turning back to the bookshelf, you crouched down and ran your finger across the spines. “Look how dusty these are. They look like they haven’t been touched in years. That Jackson Frontier Faction, or whatever Maria said they were called, probably never even touched these.” You continued to read the titles before eventually picking up a book that peaked your interest. “Charlotte Bronte.” You breathed out her name as you flipped the cold, leather book in your hands. “Jane Eyre is one of my favorites. I never wanted to like all that mushy, gushy romantic stuff, but in the end, it appealed to me. You know, sometimes I think of Joel as kind of like my Mr. Rochester because he can be so grumpy at times. Don’t tell him I said that, though.” You chuckled as you turned to face Tim, but he was no longer there.

The large bedroom was empty and you began to notice just how eerily still the air was. You calling out to him was the only sound. You waited for an answer to no prevail. Turning back to the bookshelf, you placed Jane Eyre back in its slot. With a light, barely there click, the door behind you closed. Slowly, you turned to face it. A sense of dread washed down your body as you got up and walked to the door. Your eyes cautiously bounced around as you did, looking for anything abnormal. It was wide open when the two of you walked into the room. Your hand reached out for the door knob and, barely touching it, the round thing of metal fell onto the floor and rolled around your feet.

“Hey.” You exclaimed as you banged on the door. “Tim, the doorknob broke off. Let me out.” Your brain allowed you to think that it was all just a prank masterminded by Tim. “You got me, but it’s not funny anymore.” You began to bang louder. You heard the echoes of your fist against the wooden door, but again, he did not respond. “Tim?” You banged harder. “Help!”

“(Y/N), step away from the door.” You heard Joel’s voice on the other side. He gave you a few seconds before kicking the door in. It only took him one try before the door swung in and you were revealed to him. He pulled you into a tight hug. “You alright?” He kissed the top of your head. “How did you get locked in?”

“I’m ok---”

As soon as he heard that you were fine, he began to bombard you with questions. “You sure? Weren’t you with Tim? Where is he?”

“Yeah, Tim was there for a moment. Look, it was probably just a draft that closed the door on me.” You wanted to believe that.

“That still don’t change that he should’ve been with you.” Joel sternly said. Jesse watched and waited in the hallway until Joel took your hand and led you out the room. “Tim!” He called out as he sped down the stairs.

“Hey, we’ve been waiting on you guys.” Tim casually stated.

“Well, guess who’s been waitin’ on you.” Joel retorted. He glanced at you before glaring back at him.

“Wait, I don’t get it.” Tim said, confused.

“(Y/N) was locked in a room upstairs. A room both of you were meant to be in.” Joel’s voice became more aggressive.

“I don’t know how she got locked in. I didn’t do it, I swear, if that’s what you’re saying. I left it open when I walked out.” He shifted his gaze to you. “I thought you were right behind me, (Y/N). I heard Rhonda call out from downstairs and---”

“Yeah that’s true,” Rhonda began as she leaned back on an end table. “I went downstairs to look for my pencil sharpener because my tip broke and I called you guys down to keep me company. I don’t know if it’s just me, but this place kinda creeps me out. I didn’t want to be down here by myself and I know Joel and Jesse were busy upstairs so...”

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). I swear I thought you heard her too and were following me.”

“She was up there for God knows how long. You didn’t notice when you got downstairs that she wasn’t behind you? Did you even tell her that you were leaving the room?” Joel questioned him.

“Well, I mean no,” Tim began to stammer. “But that was because I thought she heard her too! I didn’t notice that she wasn’t behind me until about a minute after I got downstairs. She was having a good time looking at those books in the room, I figured maybe she ignored Rhonda and kept looking or maybe went upstairs with you guys. Look, she’s an adult! I assumed she made the decision herself not to come down. It’s not like she’s some lost child that I have to look out for!”

“She may not be a child, but we look out for each other beyond them gates. You may not be used to how patrollin’ works, but they put us in groups for a reason. Anythin’ can happen out here!” Joel explained.

“Ok, let's take a breather.” Jesse spoke up to relieve the tension. “(Y/N) is fine and that’s all that matters.” Jesse was not immune from Joel’s heated glares either.

“You didn’t hear me calling for you?” You asked Tim in a low tone.

“No.” He simply said in an apologetic tone. You didn’t know what else to say. It was probably really all just a harmless mistake. You concluded that you didn’t hear Rhonda over your own voice when you were rambling on about Jane Eyre.

“Let’s just make sure we communicate better next time, huh?” Jesse suggested, focusing in on Tim.

A sudden, blood curdling shriek cut through the air. It belonged to Rhonda. She flailed about the living room, shaking tiny black dots off of her hand. It was hard to see as she moved quickly, but the black dots were crawling up her arm. Jesse stepped in and began swatting her with a blanket off of the couch. Her feet hopped up and down from the floor like a choreographed dance. Even after Jesse asked her to stand still to inspect her, she kept moving. Joel stepped in to gently hold her still. She whined in protest, claiming that they were still crawling on her. Tim took the time to thoroughly look over her body for anything that moved. He even raked his fingers through her hair. Jesse walked over to the end table that she was leaning against and investigated.

“There’s a sac of spider eggs directly behind one of the table’s legs. You probably broke them when you leaned against it, releasing all those baby spiders.” Jesse explained calmly.

“They could have crawled anywhere! Why did they have to go for my hand?” Rhonda asked rhetorically.

Still Jesse answered. “Maybe they were crawling toward the scent of their mother.”

“Are you saying they thought I was their mother?”

“I’m saying that the mother must still be around here close by.”

“God! I hate spiders!” Rhonda exclaimed. “I told you this house gives me the creeps. I can’t be the only one who thinks this.”

“Spiders are everywhere, Rhonda. I didn’t see any bites, so you should be alright.” Tim chimed in.

“What were you guys checking out on the third floor?” You asked Jesse and Joel as a way to change the subject.

“It ended up bein’ nothing.” Joel said curtly. He saw your dissatisfaction with his answer and sighed. “It turned out to be a couple of dead rats. They were frozen.”

“We haven’t gone down to the basement yet. I think we should make sure it’s clear before we start really scavenging.” Jesse made notice of the oversight. “It’s really cold in here. Can’t we make a fire first?” Tim spoke up.

“I’ll stay and make one here.” Jesse volunteered. “Tim, since you want one so bad, you can stay back and help me with it.” He turned to Joel. “Y’all can go ahead. Let us know if you run into trouble.” Joel nodded and led you and Rhonda down the basement stairs. The temperature dropped almost immediately after making it to the sub level.

The three of you pulled your respective weapons out and cautiously walked across the cold cement floor. The large basement was divided by metal shelving units. There was no space left on any of them. It seemed like whoever owned the house before the outbreak was a hoarder. The snow blocked out any light from peering through the narrow windows. The only thing guiding the three of you were your flashlights.

“What’s that?” Rhonda spoke up. It fell silent, but everyone heard it. It was a drawn out creaking followed by a deep rumble that sounded as if it moved across the whole basement.”

“It’s just the house settling.” Joel simply said.

“That’s what they all say. Feeling a draft when there’s no wind. Hearing doors slam in the next room. Oh, but it’s just the house settling.” Rhonda responded.

“Well, did you hear a door slam or feel a draft?” Joel inquired, almost wishing he hadn’t.

“No, but now that you mention it, it’s colder down here than upstairs. This is probably one big cold spot.”

“It’s always colder in basements.” You tried to reason.

The creaking sound occurred again. “Look,” Joel flashed his light up toward the ceiling and moved it along the direction of the pipes. “Whatever water is left in the pipes from when they were last used is freezing which means it’s expanding. As the ice grows, it’s pushing against the walls of the metal pipes.”

Rhonda looked up at the frost covering the illuminated pipes. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Come look at this.” You beckoned them over. You had found a table covered in a sheet and after whispering some encouraging words to yourself, you pulled it off.

“What is it?” Joel asked.

“It’s an orrery.” You breathed out. Despite your amazement, he was no closer to knowing what it was. As a matter of fact he was more confused. Rhonda took out her notebook and began to draw it.

“Its a mechanical model of the solar system.” You explained. To Joel, it just looked like different sized spheres positioned in a circle.

“They don’t look like planets to me.” He said.

“This isn’t the most extravagant one I’ve ever seen, but it’s something.” You walked around the table, studying the spheres. “See, right here, this one is the sun,” You pointed. “Which makes this one Earth.”

“Really makes you feel small, don’t it.” Joel chimed.

“I know we won’t be able to take this now, but this would be great for school. The kids would love this. Teach them about how space works.” You said.

Joel studied it a little bit longer before moving on to see what were on the shelves. As soon as Rhonda was done drawing, she did the same. You threw the sheet back over the model before continuing on as well. Most of the items were either junk or rotted with mold. On one of the lower shelves, you found a small hand mirror. The base was ornate in design, but the glass itself was dull and cracked. You held it up to your face, angling it in your hands. Something moved in the corner near the crack. You didn’t pay the occurrence much mind until it happened again. You saw something in your peripheral vision that couldn’t be explained away by the house settling. Turning around, you inspected the area of interest in the dark. Everything was still. Whatever it was that moved, maybe it knew that you were watching it, so it stopped. You stood still, hoping to blend into the darkness as well. Maybe you could catch it moving before your very eyes if you just waited long enough. Your heart thumped in your chest as you began to fiddle with the switch on your flashlight. Quickly, you illuminated the space in front of you only to reveal nothing but boxes stacked up against the wall and another item covered in a sheet. Carefully, you approached the cloaked object and ripped the fabric off. You jumped out of your skin at the sight before you.

A shaky breath escaped your lips as you turned around. “You scared the shit outta me!” You told Joel. He was standing behind you when you pulled the sheet off of a standing mirror. Your light reflecting off the glass masked some of his features and for a moment, you didn’t know exactly who was standing behind you.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, darlin’.” He said. This time it was your turn to glare at him. You knew it wasn’t his fault, but your heart was still beating out your chest. “I just came up to check on you. I saw you wandering around in the dark.”

“I’m fine. I just...I thought I----” You stammered through your explanation before being cut off by a loud thump. It went eerily silent. “Rhonda?”

“Rhonda.” Joel called out as well. There was no response. The two of you searched up and down the makeshift aisles that the shelving units created. You called out for her again.

“She has to still be down here.” You mentioned.

“Think she pulled a Tim?” Joel suggested.

“No, she wouldn’t do that. God, how is this basement so huge?” He led you to a tunnel-like portion of the room. “Rhonda!” Your light shone on her unmoving form on the ground. You and Joel kneeled beside her. Upon closer inspection, you found blood slowly dripping out from the back of her head. The back of her hair was matted in a mixture of gravelly dirt and the dark red liquid. Joel got back up and flashed his light around the narrow space to see what could have happened.

“Looks like she hit her head on this.” Joel commented. You followed the direction of his light and saw a stack of cement blocks against the wall. The top block had fresh blood painted on the side of it.

“Go get Tim. He needs to help her!” You were scared for her. The blood wasn’t coming out at an excessive rate, but there was still a lot more than you wanted to see on the ground underneath her head.

Joel began to leave in a hurry, but stopped in his tracks. “Be careful, (Y/N). This is what she must have slipped on.” He said as he shone his light on a patch of black ice on the ground. He moved the light higher and inspected the pipes directly above his head. A frozen over droplet formed around a tiny crack in the cylindrical piece of metal.

You were scared as you sat alone with her in the basement. Her lips were turning blue and you couldn’t tell if it was because she was dying or because it was really cold down there. You wanted to believe the latter. Either way, she needed to be moved. After what felt like five long minutes, Tim came rushing into the narrow section where you waited. You screamed for him to be careful around the ice. He hopped over the patch and knelt down by Rhonda’s side to assess her head injury. He managed to wake her back up, though she was slipping in and out of consciousness. Tim gently picked her up and walked her upstairs to where the fire was going. Jesse laid a blanket down on the floor in preparation for her.

There, in the middle of the living room floor, Tim treated Rhonda. He diagnosed her as having obtained a severe concussion. He elevated her bandaged head and gave her a pain killer to swallow. He practically swaddled her in the extra blankets to discourage sudden movement.

“I’m going to help her eat so her medicine can digest properly. After that, I’m going to ask her a set of basic questions just to see where her brain and motor functions are. Nothing major; her brain definitely needs some time to heal. Despite falling unconscious, the blunt force trauma doesn’t seem to have caused any swelling or permanent brain damage, but like I said, I still have to evaluate her and see where she’s at.” Tim explained. The four of you were huddled together on the other side of the living room to make sure she was out of ear shot.

“If you’re gonna look after her, I reckon the rest of us should finish scavenging. The faster we do this, the faster we can get back home where she can better rest.” Joel stated.

“Given the storm ends soon.” Jesse spoke up.

While the three went up the stairs, Tim went over to his backpack to review his medical supplies. As he rummaged, a drawn out creak sounded from the kitchen. He glanced in the direction of the room despite not being able to see inside. A few moments of silence was followed by a loud bang. Tim glanced back toward the kitchen again. This time, he moved closer to the fire, giving him a better view into the room. His heartbeat quickened as he peaked around the corner. From his angle, nothing suspicious could be seen. He exchanged a worried glance with Rhonda before looking at the staircase. He wanted to see if anybody upstairs had heard. If not coming down to investigate, he figured they would at least shout out to them and ask if they were ok, but there was nothing.

“I’m going to go see what that was.” Tim said to Rhonda.

“Please don’t.” She replied weakly.

“It’ll be fine, I promise.”

“No, no, no.” She profusely shook her head. Tim read her face, he knew that she was sincerely frightened, but if there was an impending danger, he needed to know where it was. I would only be gone for a moment, he told her in his head. He pulled his gaze from her and turned the corner. The kitchen appeared completely normal. He was confused. The sound was so close; it had to have come from the kitchen. As a precaution, Tim went into the laundry room located right off the kitchen.

“(Y/N)? Come here. Wait with me.” Rhonda spoke up, barely above a whisper. She didn’t hear you come down the stairs, but you were in the living room nonetheless. It was good timing as she was too scared to be by herself. “Please?” You hadn’t so much as looked in Rhonda’s direction. You just walked from one end of the room and down the hallway, disappearing from her view. “(Y/N)?”

Rhonda waited for you to come back down the hall. This time you’d be facing her and surely she’d be able to get your attention. Despite calling out again, you never did. Left to her own devices, Rhonda began to think about what you wore when the group left Jackson. She couldn’t completely remember, but the more she thought on it, the more she realized what you wore just a moment ago was different from what you wore earlier today. She never did get a good look at that woman’s face, but she thought it was you by the color of your hair and the height. She wanted it to be you. A wave of shivers ran down her spine as the realization sat in.

You, Jesse and Joel split up the rooms upstairs to cover more ground, but decided to stay on the same floor to avoid a repeat of what happened earlier. As soon as you were done searching your room, you moved on to the next only to find Jesse. He called you over from the doorway but shushed you as you walked in. You noticed that it was a grand bedroom, similar to the one you were locked in on the second floor. You walked past the four post bed and stood next to him. His ear was to the wall.

“Tell me if it’s coming from here.” Jesse whispered. You heard a faint scratching sound, but it could have been from anything inside the old house. Standing next to him, you mirrored his position and let your ear rest against the cold wall. The scratching sound became more clear as it mingled with a slow, yet distinct clicking sound. The two of you stared at each other. You silently expressed to him that you did in fact hear what he was hearing. You read the question in his eyes, unsure of how to answer: what was behind these walls? This was the last room in the hallway, so there wasn’t much space for anything else. You began to walk backwards with your ear sliding against the wall to follow the sound. Jesse followed your footsteps. When you stopped, there was no more than a half foot distance between you two.

“It’s right here. Right on the other side.” You whispered. Jessed nodded. Subconsciously, you held your breath and stayed like that for a few moments. Suddenly, you jumped at a new sound echoing through the room. It was Joel clearing his throat as he glared between you and Jesse from the doorway.

“What’s this?” Joel asked in a less than impressed tone. His arms were crossed as he walked in further. You hadn’t realized how the proximity in which you stood to Jesse looked from another view point. You knew Joel wasn’t the happiest camper around Jesse, but you also knew that you hadn’t done anything wrong. Quietly, you placed a finger to your lips and pleaded for his silence with your eyes. As he walked closer, you could tell by the curiosity in his face that he heard it too. He made a move to stand in between the two of you, prompting the other man to walk away from the wall. “It’s probably termites or rats. This house is old and falling apart. There’s no tellin’ how many little openings there are.”

“With all due respect, I don’t think it’s rats this time.” Jesse disagreed. “I think we should investigate.”

“What good would that do? There’s nothing beyond these walls! You’ve seen it; there's nothing but the outside. If it ain’t rats, then what is it? We ain’t here to play ghost hunter, alright? We’re meant to be lookin’ for them supplies.” Joel argued. His attention was geared at Jesse, but when there was no rebuttal, he turned to look at you only to find a hint of disappointment in your face.

“Who knows how long we’re gonna be stuck in this house. We may as well while we’re here.” You said. Much to Joel’s dislike, you sided with Jesse. With an exasperated sigh, he agreed under the condition that it wouldn’t take long.

The three of you walked around the room, looking for clues such as holes in the walls for rodents to scurry through. It didn’t take long for you to find a draft coming from behind the armoire. It was as if the large piece of furniture was blocking an opening. The two men moved it out the way to find that it was blocking a crawl space. With the opening exposed, the scratching and clicking became clearer. The three of you were hesitant, knowing that whatever it was making that sound, it was through that small, dark space. You glanced between the two men before volunteering to go in first. You were the smallest, you argued, and could best fit through. Crouching down, you saw that the large hole in the wall was like a tunnel to something deeper in the house but that it also passed the interior of the wall. You let out a deep breath and began to crawl with a knife in your right hand.

With your body only 3/4ths of the way in, you came face to face with the origin of those sounds. You removed your flashlight from your waist and shined it on the clicker. It was so disfigured that you concluded that it had turned many years ago. Remaining completely still, you watched as it slowly clawed at the wall. The scene before you was so abnormal. Never had you seen a clicker move so slow. You eyed the way it was positioned between the walls. It could have found its way out easily if it wanted to. Living for years after the outbreak, you observed how the fungal parasite used its host cleverly to spread its disease. It had probably been there for so long, blocked by the armoire, that its blood lust fell dormant. You continued to watch as its mouth slowly opened to release a few clicking sounds before closing again. You were afraid that as soon as any sudden movements were made, a switch would flip in whatever was left of the clicker’s brain and it would begin attacking you. While silently weighing your choices, Joel and Jesse noticed that you hadn’t moved for minutes and asked if you were ok at the same time. He gave the younger man a glare before refocusing on your well being. Your eyes immediately went back to the clicker to see if it was disturbed by the sudden sound. Normally, all it took was the tiniest sound of a human voice to activate their savage nature. You watched and waited, but nothing different happened. You let out a deep breath and told the guys you were ok. Despite the thing being closer than you would have liked, it was an easy kill. You told them what had happened before carrying on through the crawl space. The tunnel spilled out into a secret room. It was as big as a walk-in pantry closet or a janitor room. Before you stood up, you shouted behind you for them to follow. It was a tight squeeze, but they did it.

The group had already scavenged valuable odds and ends throughout the house, but this was the jackpot. The walls were lined with nonperishable foods and cases of bottled water stacked up as tall as Joel. Jesse broke the lock on a heavy duty trunk to find it full of weapons and ammunition. There was another trunk with other survival tools like batteries, matches and medical supplies raided from a hospital. The three of you donned huge smiles at the amount of supplies that was discovered. With Rhonda injured, you pulled out your own notebook and marked everything that was inside the room while the other two filled their bags up to the brim to take what they could.

Downstairs in the laundry room, Tim found nothing out of the ordinary. It made no sense to him. Was it all a prank; something the rest of the group was doing to initiate him into the patrol job? Or was it all in his head? He knew it wasn’t that; he wasn’t crazy. Just as he turned to walk back into the kitchen, he heard the loud bang again. It came from the same place he investigated just moments ago.

“Rhonda, did you hear…” He shouted out as he walked into the kitchen. He stopped mid sentence when he saw the disarray before him. All the drawers were pulled out and all the cabinet doors were opened. His body froze in fear. The only thing that moved were his eyes as he watched a mouse scurry between the cupboards. For no good reason at all, he was overcome with a feeling to not look behind him as if there was something there waiting to reveal itself in the laundry room.

“Tim!” Joel shouted from the living room. He was still scared, but hearing his voice snapped him out of that debilitating fear. Quickly, he made his way out the kitchen. Without warning Joel pushed him against the living room wall and held his arm against Tim’s throat to keep him in place. “Where the hell were you?” Joel asked aggressively. “We come down here to find Rhonda crying and bleeding through her bandages.” Tim’s eyes, bulged out, danced across the room before landing on the wounded woman. You were holding her in your arms.

“C’mon. Ease up. He gets it.” Jesse gently rested his hand on Joel’s shoulder.

“No, I don’t think he does.” He replied over his shoulder before looking back at Tim. “When you said you were gonna look after her, I figured you meant it. I thought we’d been over this, Tim.” He glared daggers into the medic’s eyes, but he was only met back with fear. Assuming that he was the cause, Joel finally let go. Tim scurried to another corner of the living room to gather himself.

“I saw her...it...whatever that thing was!” Rhonda spoke up raspily. “I called out to her, thinking it was you. I thought you’d left me, but then she came back. Not once did she look at me, but she paced the living room and each time she walked back, she got closer to me. I told her to stay away, but she didn’t listen; she kept coming closer. I tried to crawl away, but I got dizzy and my vision got blurry.” She began to weep again. “So I closed my eyes and counted to ten, like my Nana taught me when I was little. Then I heard you guys come down the stairs. When I opened my eyes, all I saw was you. The real you. She was gone.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Rhonda.” Tim hoarsely apologized. “I...I was gone because there was this sound. A huge bang. You guys didn’t hear that?” Joel only offered a blank glare while you and Jesse shook your heads. “It had come from the kitchen. It was only right there, so I figured it was close enough for me to see what it was. Just in and out.”

“Well, it wasn’t in and out was it?” Joel questioned.

“That’s the thing. When I went into the kitchen, I couldn’t find anything out of place; nothing to have made such a noise.”

“I told you not to go in there.” Rhonda said in a low tone.

“I saw that there was another room right off of the kitchen. I decided to investigate that while I was in there. I meant to be quick.” Tim explained, meeting no one’s eyes in particular. “I...I...I swear to you, my back was to the kitchen, and when I turned back around, the whole thing was a mess.” You continued to hold Rhonda as she shivered while Jesse and Joel rounded the corner into the kitchen. Things were a mess, yes, but in the way a house this dilapidated would be.

“I don’t get it.” Jesse whispered to Joel.

“I know you couldn’t have expected this place to be immaculate.” Joel said to Tim. The medic followed them into the kitchen and looked around with his mouth agape.

“It wasn’t like this. The...the cabinet doors were open! All of them! And the drawers. All pulled out! I mean what could have done that all at once in the matter of seconds?”

“Your mind maybe.” Jesse answered.

Tim shook his head. “I saw it with my own eyes.” He whispered.

“Whatever it was, it’s gone now.” Joel concluded.

“Yeah, I vote we call it a night and settle around the fire. Tomorrow morning, we will collect as much as we can upstairs and prepare to leave.” Jesse suggested.

“Right, we meant to tell you guys, we found the cache!” You began excitedly. “You should have seen it. It wasn’t as extravagant as when the kids found the pirate ship in The Goonies, but it was just as special. Everything in there is everything we need.”

Rhonda’s weeping quieted down into whimpers as she was comforted by the idea that they would get to leave soon. Tim acknowledged your words with only a nod. His mind was still on the house and all the tricks it's played since the group arrived. Was the woman that Rhonda spoke about all in her head. He was quick to think so on account of her head injury. For her it was easy to explain away, but what about himself? He wasn’t a doctor of psychology, but he was familiar with the idea. He felt fine and had no idea how he could have made something up that played with more than one of his senses.

Tim volunteered to take the first shift of keeping watch, determined to catch whatever was messing with him. His plan was to wake the others up as soon as something happened so they could see what he had saw. The exhaustion he felt, however, played against him and he dozed off. When he came to, the living room was shrouded in darkness. The makeshift pit in the middle of the living room floor was nothing but ash. His mind raced as his thoughts went back to that elusive woman Rhonda was haunted by. He was so engulfed with fear that he couldn’t tell if what he was hearing was the whistling wind seeping through the cracks of the barricaded windows or the whispers of a woman. He looked at all the sleeping forms and wanted so badly to wake someone up to keep watch with him, but selflessly chose against it. Sitting there, his eyes flickered to every corner of the room, waiting for something to happen. He waited for so long that he forgot to wake Jesse up for his shift to keep watch. It wasn’t until the little rays of sunshine poked through did Tim realize how long he’d stayed awake for. There was something about the light that comforted him. He mustered enough courage to get up and stretch his legs before waking up the rest of the group.

Joel peaked behind one of the barricades and saw that the blizzard had finally passed. Despite that, there was a significant amount of snow left on the ground. The group wasted no time in doing as they agreed last night. The bad feeling that each of them got coupled with Rhonda’s injury, quickened their pace. After packing what they could carry, the group grabbed their horses and made a slow trek through the snow back to Jackson, leaving the dark manor in their wake.

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wyrd-weaver · 4 years

Text

"𝔏𝔢𝔱 𝔐𝔢 𝔖𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔅𝔲𝔯𝔡𝔢𝔫."

Trigger Warnings: Suicidal Ideation, Mention of Self-Harm, Mention of Rape (That Resulted in Pregnancy), Mention of Binge Eating, Mention of Weight (By a Disgusting Man), Depression, Anxiety.

⤷ Remember: Every body type is beautiful, and you're legally allowed to maim those who say otherwise! The brief few sentences in this story are not accurate of any decent, sane individual.

Word Count: 1887

～～～～～～～～～～

Depression had you caged, shackled to the memories...the all-consuming sensations of horror and disgust. The very same that were forced upon you, that iced all your muscles twelve hellish months ago. Twelve! And yet, the nightmares refused to cease. Every evening, you battled demons most powerful and foul, acquiring scar after scar after scar. If you stumbled, if you lay down your weapon or lost...could you really be faulted? If this was Heaven's retribution, a cleansing of your contaminated, sinful body, then...was it not misguided? Surely a void replaced the evidence against you?

Blame should never have befallen you! This child, despite his mask of innocence, attested to humanity's ugliest side. Your heart was unravelling - you needed him, as an extension of yourself, as someone to cherish, but...you didn't want him. He wasn't the product of consent. He was loathsome...and a burden. He was so young, so dependent.

Casting him to the mercy of the streets would be more than a mere violation of morality. You already felt criminal - convicted on thoughts and false claims, serving a life sentence in the bowels of Hell. There was an escape, of course. Although...it wasn't accompanied by a light, or the gentle touch of a loved one. No...this escape was advertised as selfish, shameful...weak. And maybe so. Maybe life's greatest demand was the forgoing of happiness. But...to such an extent seemed excessive, and deliberately cruel. You shouldn't have been so dirty, so broken...an embarrassing stain on your family's name.

A single mother. A victim. A failure.

Plagued with flashbacks that favoured spontaneity above calculation, you carved miserable little lines on to your arms. Nobody knew - not your son, nor the Avengers...nor even Loki. They all harboured some form of trauma, however deep-rooted, and so...they had no need for your sob story. Who would care for someone so violated? Someone so...afraid? Your mind, weakened by fatigue and chronic worry, was simply too weak to resist those thoughts, and all hope had been drained from your heart. Why should you be tethered to life, if only for your child? Should you instead seek liberation, peace...joy? Decency discouraged it, but pain stood its ground.

With your dignity in shambles, your disowning, your binging...nothing felt right anymore! Nothing felt...clean. Loki had noticed, observant as he was. Here, sequestered within the walls of the Avengers' Compound, he was the closest to a friend...maybe even more.

No, no, no! I can't think like that! He's a man! A man! I shouldn't even be going near him anymore! Why, oh god...why is he the only one I'm not afraid of? The only one who can comfort me when I break? I can't...! I haven't even told him about...about...Well, I haven't told anyone! They all just think I slept with someone recklessly! And now...now I'm tainted, unlovable! This is...it's all my fault...I should have defended myself. I should have done something! Anything! Why...why did I freeze...? Why? Why?! Why?!!

Loki understood mental anguish and the torture of dissimilarity, as his birth-rights. Perhaps that was reason enough for your breathing to even, in his embrace. It had taken moths to allow such a privilege, and Loki's persistence, how his voice quivered as he begged to help you in any form...

You, whom he held so very dear...

You might have assumed his affections romantic, once upon a time. Yet...no longer. An ailment had struck you - one that rendered both eyes and ears ignorant to his double meanings, his implications...his love. You couldn't process them over the fear and paranoia. Didn't all relationships entail force, and...activities of a sexual nature? You never wanted to experience that again. Never! So, while sleep washed over the Compound, you crept to the kitchen, intent on expanding your waistline evermore. That your size may, to some, be cause for revulsion, had never previously occurred. It was only when the words danced on the tongue of that godforsaken man...

Eat, eat more! Who cares if you're sick? Keep eating! He said...he said that excess was unattractive. So - so maybe he won't...maybe I won't be...again...?

It had been dominance play, a show of superiority.

Loki would never steal something so sacred, unless you willed it.

He was a gentle soul, manipulated into committing an atrocity, and scorned - by the Avengers, especially. He wouldn't find any resonance in your tale (and you hoped he never would), but as a companion, a patient listener...surely there would be no judgement in his heart? He wouldn't be so quick to abandon you...right? Still, a single utterance of that day, of that most fright-inducing event...required courage far surpassing your own. Maybe...just a word? A sign? Something...?

Lonely was the path you wandered, in spite of Loki's presence. Alone, he failed to drown your demons. He held them under the waves, but they always returned.

You appreciated the effort. Plasters may cover your scars, but they could never heal your heart. Could Loki?...In time? If distorted thoughts of him were enough to ground you in the midst of panic...could he aid your recovery?

He also wondered that. Your deception wasn't half as masterful as you had hoped. Or perhaps you were simply the target of Loki's observations, and therefore came under frequent scrutiny. He had, of course, picked up on the subtle changes in your demeanour - particularly post-pregnancy. He idled at your side, throwing neither intrusive question nor accusation. This was at the behest of his conscience, although he longed desperately to ignore it. He wanted to know...what exactly happened last year, when your transformation began?

Your lips were sealed, but his very essence ached - sorrow, curiosity, love, sympathy and compassion all melding together within him. They ran amuck, refusing any whisper of sleep. His concentration had flown alongside it, rendering him unable to enjoy the book that rested in his palm. It had maintained a decent level of interest until now, but duty called. He would pry open your chamber door, glimpse your ethereal, sleeping form...and finally feel content. If you were strolling through dreamland, then his concern could dissipate. At least for a while. If not...he would discover why.

Loki hesitated outside your door, for if you were truly non-the-wiser, asleep...vulnerable, then a mere survey of yourself and the room would leave, on his tongue, a terrible aftertaste.

But, lo and behold, only your young son slept soundly, in his crib.

Loki was grappled now with a sense of alarm - where in Odin's name were you? And, pray tell...why was your child on his lonesome, cleansing himself of the prior day, in such a frigid room? He was wrought with grief upon recalling your distaste for the babe, and again when he realised there was no option to remove him, bring him to a warmer space, rock him and sing soft melodies...

Loki's primary goal was to find you, and perhaps...coerce you into confessing everything. From a true account of the day that always replayed in your mind, to your innermost feelings and thoughts...he needed to know, and to understand.

He had scoured half the building before laying eyes upon you. However...relief proved elusive. There were an endless number of questions, but none dared to grace the air. Why was your beautiful face stained with tears? Why were you eating, despite looking so sickly? What had troubled you so? And...could he kill it? He was unsure of the proper manner in which to approach you. He had always tread lightly, but complete silence and delicacy were more fortes of his mother. He swallowed down the nerves.

"(Y/n), darling...why aren't you sleeping?"

You startled, eyes bloodshot and a biscuit lodged between your lips. "U-Uh..."

He walked forward. "Is there something weighing on your mind?"

"...No?" This was mumbled, as though credence escaped you.

"My dear, you aren't a skilled liar. Talk to me, please." The heartache nearly tore him apart.

You wouldn't meet his gaze. "I...I can't."

"Please?" Both of your voices cracked, in unison.

Oh god, alright. Okay. This if fine...right? It's fine. I'm fine...Am I? What if I'm not?! I can't tell him just yet! But he looks so upset...I did this! I caused this! Oh god...just stay - stay calm! Calm down...calm down...

A tear trickled down your cheek, then another. "I-I've never...I don't want to - to relive it."

He brought you into a protective embrace. "Then you won't. I swear, by all the beings in the Nine Realms, that I will keep you safe. Please, let me share your burden."

Three sentences. Who was so weak-willed, that a mere three sentences shattered all their defences? You cursed his silver tongue. "(S-S/n)...! He - he's...I didn't...I-I don't want him! J-Just because I didn't fight back...I didn't try to run, he...t-that man, he did...things. To me. And now...now I'm so dirty! I'm disgusting...unclean, weak. B-But...sometimes - sometimes I think it's all in my head. But it isn't! I-It happened, and (S/n)! He's...he's the proof! He reminds me...o-of that..."

Loki froze. "What...?"

"But I-I couldn't - I couldn't tell anyone! They wouldn't...believe me, o-or care! People like me, they don't - this...this doesn't happen! Why...why did this happen?? A-And now...there's (S/n). And every...every minute is Hell! I can't take it anymore...I don't w-want to be here. I don't want to be...to be alive anymore..."

Loki could almost see the threads of rationality thinning. Who would...defile you, hurt you? You were so important, so genuine and...lovely. "I will find this man, and personally deliver his comeuppance. He never deserved your voice, let alone your touch."

"No!" You stiffened in his arms. "Then he'll...he'll come back..."

"If he does, I shall slay him." Yet, Loki made no attempt to leave. Instead, he slipped into a mask of composure, enough to continue speaking without seething. "I apologise...if you thought I wouldn't care. I do - more than you could ever imagine. You are the most stunning creature I have had the honour of meeting, in all my lifetime. I was resolved to spend my days at your side, never professing my love, but after hearing that...I..."

You panicked. "Loki...don't. Please-"

"I know it would be impudent to assume that you could accept me right now, but consider that...I can protect you. I will never let him, or anyone, hurt you again." Loki wiped away your crystalline sadness. "But, please...when you can't see worth or joy in this life...please come to me. I will be here to remind you of your victory - you survived such torture, and delivered a child. You are far from weak, (Y/n)."

Loki's fingers darted along your wrist. He yearned to kiss every scar, every inch of your skin.

Though, he would do nothing without permission. "Now, my dear...let's put these treats away. I would suggest that, henceforth, you eat balanced meals and partake in some fun activities. Perhaps I could read to you, one day? And venturing out for a walk - we can do that together. I...um, hope I'm not overstepping any boundaries. I'm simply thinking of ways to occupy your mind...and your time. You can do these things alone, of course..."

You nodded. "But...you'd - you'd do them with me?"

"I would gladly do anything with you, my love." Loki's words were empty of duplicity.

You were angelic - the only one safe from his lies.

#loki x reader #loki x suicidal reader #loki x self-harm reader #loki laufeyson #mcu loki #loki odinson x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #angst #loki x single mother reader #rape

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