#FINALLY. I can easily grab in-game references with ease | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

showrunnerihardlyknowher · 3 years

Note

26 for the prompts? perhaps w the cat n mouse lads :3 (also look danny i did it i sent a prompt are u proud)

I...actually don't remember what the prompt was for this one, but I'm 87% sure it was "I'm not that scary, am I?"

So fine since y'all keep asking for 'em, here's more of the cat and mouse bois. Shoutout to @gabbydafurry and an anon for finally giving them names.

“C’mon.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“I said no.”

“I’ll make pollo asado for dinner, we can eat it together while we watch!”

Aaron sighed and rubbed his hands against his forehead, trying to ease the dull throb that had yet to wane over the past two days. His headache certainly wasn’t being helped by the constant badgering of his...roommate, for a lack of better words (as well as being a title so eagerly self bestowed by the cat in question) but much like many of their other interactions, his resolve was starting to wear thin. Usually, he was able to hold his ground for at least a week until he was bribed into giving the other some type of social interaction with the promise of his favorite foods. Today, however, the poor mouse just wanted a moment’s peace free from knocking on the walls or calling through the cracks until he answered, and if that meant watching some stupid movie then fine.

Plus, Lucas did know how to make some incredible Mexican food.

“...fine,” Aaron conceded after a pause, the pressure behind his eyes giving him a sharp pang before fading to its usual ache, almost like his own body was projecting how horrible of an idea this was.

As soon as the mouse slipped out from behind the curio, he came face to face with the massive grin of the cat mere inches away from the opening. Seeing the grin only split wider when he was fully in view of the other normally would have instinctively sent a shiver up his spine, it was kind of difficult to be intimidated seeing how Lucas had strangely contorted his body to lay on the floor between the curio and the bookcase. Most cats seemed to be fairly flexible, so it probably wasn’t too uncomfortable for him to be so bent and curled up, but he definitely lost some of that hunter’s prowess with his back twisted sideways and one leg leaning against the shelving.

In a flash, Lucas had managed to untangle his strange positioning to instead be crouched on his knees, now looming over Aaron in a way he wasn’t sure he would ever get used to. He flinched back when his hand started to reach out towards him, fully intending to scoop him up to dizzying heights without a second thought, but the appendage stopped just short of touching him at all. Instead, he dropped his hand palm side up and waited, smiling all the while. At least he was getting better at remembering Aaron’s explicit request to not be grabbed without permission, though he did always apologize with a sheepish look and some little treat whenever he forgot.

Once Aaron climbed onto the awaiting hand that radiated a delightfully intense warmth into his already aching muscles, Lucas was already jumping up a chattering a mile a minute about how much the mouse was going to love the movie he picked out, how dinner would be ready soon, how he wasn’t expecting him to actually agree to watch a scary movie with him since he never seemed like the type who would be into that sort of thing but--

“It’s a scary movie?” Aaron interrupted, the noise finally registering beyond the headache. Truthfully, he tuned a lot of what the other said out for almost every conversation, not that it ever seemed to make a difference. Yeah, sorry, I’m a bit of a chatterbox, he admitted once, but it’s less weird talking to someone who doesn’t respond than to talk to yourself, right?

Debatable.

Lucas tilted his head and snorted. “Uh, yeah? That was one of the first things I told you about. You know that one actress who’s in almost every one of those Christmas movies we watch, who’s always the jealous best friend?” Aaron has no idea who he was referring to given that he never absorbed anything from those stupid romance movies he was boarderline forced to watch, but nodded anyways, “Right, this is supposed to be her big break out role, or something. It’s the first thing she’s doing as a lead actress, and you know, good for her! I’m glad she’s getting out of that typecast she’s been in forever. Horror probably wouldn’t be my first choice for her, but I guess since she has those singing vocals it could carry over to being a scream queen. Kind of like when--”

And Aaron was out of the conversation again.

Lucas continued to drone on about the actress’s entire film career, or at least that’s what the mouse was assuming he was doing when he occasionally zoned back in to pick up a stray word here and there. The headache he had been staving off to the best of his ability was starting to come back with twice as much force as it often did in the later days. He probably could have just asked the other for some aspirin, maybe even some cold medicine as that was no doubt what this bout of illness was turning into, but asking the cat for anything was always out of the question. Of course, Lucas tried to sway him numerous times into thinking it most certainly was not and that he could always ask for whatever he needed, never to his avail. Aaron was indeed willing to prolong his suffering if it meant not having to stomach the dreadful embarrassment that would come to being indebted to the feline, no matter how insignificant.

Unfortunately, he was only setting himself up for failure in thinking this “agreement” would be providing him any sort of relief. His headache was treading dangerously close into becoming a full fledged migraine and the flashes of light and screams from the television would not be doing him any favors. His only saving grace was that, after he had been settled on the couch and Lucas scampered off to get the dinner he promised, the cat turned off every other light possible to, as he put it, really get them in the spooky mood!

The smell of the food was delicious and nauseating. His stomach both wanted and revolted at the idea of anything filling it, which would only serve to worsen his headache no doubt. Damn it all, he wanted to throttle both himself and this illness, the first for agreeing to watch this stupid movie when he was already feeling under the weather, the second for preventing him from getting his half of the deal. These movie-dinner dates deals were the only reason Aaron continued to stick around, even if he thought the torment of being forced to watch awful romcoms in exchange for a hot, homemade meal was a little unfair. No, that wasn’t entirely true, Lucas was a freaking culinary genius as far as the mouse was aware. It was a wonder why he wasn’t majoring in a cooking field.

“I’m not hungry right now,” Aaron lied when Lucas had asked why he wasn’t eating. “I’ll try some later.”

The cat looked at him strangely before shrugging. “Alright, just let me know. If you don’t like it, I can always make you something else.” There he goes again, offering things he knows the other can’t accept. At least he could let it slide this time as he had no appetite to think of any other dish.

Lucas finished his own meal in silence, completely fixed on the television as the opening scene carried on, introducing the canine main character that Aaron did, in fact, vaguely recognize. This was fine, he figured, the dark apartment coupled with a painfully slow movie, a warm body moving to curl up behind him as it so often did during these deals, he could probably get a few moments of real rest in before the credits rolled. As much as he loathed to admit it, the cat was actually rather...comfortable to be forcefully cuddled by. He wasn’t like other movie goers that needed to make a comment on every character’s decision, steady breathing and the occasional purr helping the mouse slowly relax.

That relaxation was cut short as soon as the romcom actress tore her tiny avian neighbor to shreds by the end of the first act.

Aaron had hardly been paying attention to the storyline up until this point, something to do with the girl being bitten and experiencing insatiable hunger lately. The sudden carnage of the otherwise trusting little prey creature made both of them flinch in surprise, though Lucas was quick to laugh it off. From then on the mouse’s unwavering attention was glued to the screen, but not by his choice. A chill ran through him each time she claimed another unsuspecting victim, always a prey animal, and ripped them apart with her teeth and nails like a starving animal. The way the tiny’s incredibly realistic viscera was slurped into her bloody mouth made him queasy, all too easily imagining himself in their shoes.

Eventually, her hunger became too strong and she began attacking fellow predator species as well. Ripping into throats and soft bellies was far messier than snacking on a tiny creature in three bites, making her feast all the more gory. While the violence still unsettled him, it was a touch more bearable now that he couldn’t picture his own body being mangled between the teeth of a predator he thought he could trust. Speaking of…

The mouse gulped and risked a glance behind him at the other who had hardly moved, save for a few jolts and snickers whenever a particularly good jump scare managed to startle him. It didn’t go unnoticed that every time Aaron had physically reacted to a sudden screech or attack, the cat would curl just a little bit tighter around him, hiding a laugh behind a rumbling purr. He wanted to believe this was meant to be an act of comfort and not something equally as nefarious as the canine plotting her next kill. Regardless, Lucas was equally transfixed on the movie, except he seemed to be enjoying every minute of the horror aspect. His tail would flick in interest during the high tension scenes, even more so when a chase sequence was underway. It made sense, considering that was his favorite game to make Aaron play.

Whatever the case may be, the mouse couldn’t help but be unnerved tenfold that the other had the audacity to enjoy a fictional movie he was interested in seeing. The last thing the mouse wanted was for Lucas to get any more ideas when it came to chasing him around the apartment, much less awaken any sort of primitive instinct to maim his prize after it had been captured. To this day, it remains a deep seated fear in the back of his mind that every time the cat cupped his hands over him, his teeth would be quick to follow. Natural instincts were hard to shake for a reason when it came to prey animals such as himself, he could only hope the same wasn’t true for predators.

His imagination was running rampant, enough so that he completely missed how the movie ended. Something about a cure, something about being put down, whatever. The only thing on his mind was the morbidly hilarious thought that if Lucas were to go feral like the canine, would he eat him raw or would he cook him up in another fantastic dish?

Aaron jumped when Lucas moved to sit up behind him, only now registering the credits scrolling across the screen. He stretched a bit, the quickly fading warmth that had been surrounding the mouse making him realize just how tight the other must have been snuggled around him. How did he not notice?

“Wow,” Lucas said, pursing his lips. “That...was one of the worst movies I have ever seen in my life.”

That wasn’t the reaction Aaron had been expecting him to have, but it was certainly better than to hear him go on about how it was a brilliant masterpiece. He got up to flick the lights back on, still laughing as he recounted each poorly written scene and cheesy effects. “I mean, oh my god, right? The mail man saved everyone? Seriously? I actually feel bad for making you watch that, you totally have dibs on the next movie night.”

He turned around to look at the mouse who was still huddled tight on the couch, wide eyes glued to the screen even if it was just names moving along with ominous background music. Lucas gave him another quizzical look, smirking.

“C’mon, even you have to admit those tinies had zero survival instincts. Like, who goes up to a rabid dog and asks for directions? I get suspending my disbelief and all, but they could have made it just a pinch realistic. This is so going to tank her acting career…” The cat shook his head and moved closer to the couch so that he stood right in front of the television, finally drawing the other’s attention to himself. “Hey, you hungry now?”

Oh, absolutely fucking not. An hour and a half of being tensed up gave no relief to his aching muscles and now that the lights were back on, so was his pounding headache. His stomach rolled, the nausea a mix of dizziness and disgust from the special effects. He didn’t even want to think about food, he didn’t want to be out in the open anymore, and he most certainly did not want to spend another minute in the cat’s company right now.

“S-sure…” Aaron finally squeaked out. He just needed Lucas out of the room, distracted somewhere so he could make a break for it. In some instances, he would have just darted off whether the cat saw him or not, but that always resulted in a game of chase that had a 50/50 success rate, the other loving it anyways. All he wanted was some peace and quiet to rest up and heal and not think about how easy it would be for the other to bite off his head whenever he felt like it.

Lucas stood there for a minute, studying him, and just when Aaron genuinely feared he was going to pounce, he flashed an innocent smile. “Cool, just give me a couple minutes to get it heated up.” And with that, he disappeared into the kitchen.

Aaron decided to be bold and waste a few precious seconds of his head start to collect himself. Deep down, he knew he was being ridiculous. Lucas had been nothing but kind to him. Aloof, but still kind all the same. But as a prey animal that spent the better part of his life living in walls and stealing to survive, trust was a risk he simply couldn’t take. There was hardly any benefit to keeping up this con if the end goal was simply to eat him. For all he knew, though, Lucas was nothing more than a merciless sociopath that was willing to milk every ounce of fear he could before chowing down. A sociopath obsessed with romantic comedies and wore an apron when he cooked and had begged Aaron for two months straight to tell him when his birthday was so that he could make him a miniature cake.

...okay, so maybe Lucas wasn’t a sociopath, but that didn’t mean he was trustworthy. Evolution gave him sharpened fangs and agile reflexes for a reason and the mouse was not about to find out what it was like to be on the receiving end of those one day.

With his head as clear as it was going to be for the time being, sans the dull throb behind his eyes, the mouse finally pushed himself up to make his way over to the couch arm. Slowly, as to not overwork his stiff joints, he climbed his way down to the floor and skittered under the couch for a little extra protection. Strangely, he noticed that he didn’t hear any noises coming from the kitchen just up ahead and when he stopped by the doorway, he couldn’t see anyone either. Losing track of the massive cat should not be possible, especially considering this was a one bedroom apartment and there was literally nowhere else for the feline to go without coming back through the entryway. Aaron should have taken it as a blessing, but of course he couldn’t leave well enough alone.

He proceeded to be daring and come out from under the couch completely to peek into the kitchen, confirming it was empty. Again, that shouldn’t even be possible for Lucas to slip out without having to directly pass the living room to go somewhere else. Unless he had, which would mean Aaron missed him somehow. He had been in quite a deep thought process on the couch...but he could have sworn he was only collecting himself for a minute!

The answer became glaringly obvious when the mouse took a few hesitant steps back and turned to retreat under the safety of the couch, only to come face to face with Lucas. He damn near jumped out of his skin, slamming his back against the wall in an effort to gain another inch of distance between himself and the face taking up his entire view. Really, this was nothing too out of the ordinary for the cat, he loved to sneak up and pounce whenever the opportunity presented itself and Aaron wasn’t too obviously close to heart failure. What made his heart stutter, however, was the fact that Lucas didn’t look like...well, Lucas. There was no smile, no warm eyes, no words being talked a mile a minute about nothing.

No, there was just a frowning cat with his ears pinned back and pupils slit, stalking closer with a terrifying rumble in his throat.

Instinct overtook him as soon as he saw the other’s lip twitch, trying to dart under the couch for safety and having his path immediately blocked by a hand being slammed down, claw out. Aaron couldn’t even yelp, the bile in his throat threatening to turn into vomit if he idled around too long. So, he didn’t. Instead, he turned on his heel and scampered in the opposite direction with the cat hot on his trail. He very nearly dodged a swipe, Lucas hissing that his blow didn’t land while Aaron only tried to speed up his sprinting. They circled maybe half of the living room, the mouse weaving under furniture while the cat knocked into them in an effort to jarr his prey into taking a misstep.

It worked, unfortunately, when Aaron took a sharp turn at the bookshelf and caused Lucas to clip it with his shoulder. The small bump did nothing to deter the cat on his hunt, but the two books that came tumbling down were enough to make the smaller skid and trip to avoid being squashed under the novels. He ended up twisting his ankle awkwardly, stumbling flat on his face while the momentum of his running made him roll twice until he landed on his back. Despite being winded and the additional pain in his leg, he knew there was no time to waste, trying to pull himself. It was too late, though. The cat was already on top of him, hand coming down to pin him under his palm while only his head poked free from between his fingers.

That cold, terrifying face came nearer, eyes tunnel visioned on its prize. Oh God, Aaron would give anything to have the other Lucas back right now. He’d watch a thousand sappy movies, do a date night for every meal, actually move into his bedroom like the cat had suggested he do a dozen times. He wanted...fuck, he wanted his friend back. What he thought was his friend, anyways. Not this killer, not this predator who was baring his teeth and was now mere inches away from biting off his face and--

The growling above him broke off into a snort shortly before turning into a full blown laugh. Aaron wasn’t sure when he had closed his eyes in preparation for his certain death, but when he dared to open them and blinked away the budding tears, he saw that smile he had been wishing for again. Kind and warm, just like eyes, and it was like Lucas had never even taken the form of a starving hunter in his life. Like he hadn’t been moments away from devouring his beloved roommate.

“Oh, come on,” he howled with laughter, “You can’t be serious! That movie actually scared you? I mean, I thought you looked a little freaked out by it, but wow!”

The movie...so this...this wasn’t real. Lucas was just pretending, just playing a prank on him. He thought that the movie had simply wound him up and made him jumpier than usual, no different than watching a zombie flick and popping out from behind a bush at your friend later on.

Except it was different. It was different in the fact that zombies aren't real, but predators are. Predators didn’t need an excuse to go feral and maim and consume their tiny cohabitants, they simply could by the laws of nature. And yes, it may be illegal and have several laws in place to protect prey species, but if no body was ever left behind, who could say if foul play was involved? That was the whole plot point in the otherwise dull movie they sat through together, the reason why the woman was able to avoid suspicion of her sickness by feeding on tinies that could only be reported missing at most.

Lucas’s laughter had tapered off, still clearly enjoying himself. “Alright, note to self, no more horror movies.” Finally, he released Aaron from under his hand to sit back on his haunches. “Man, I really didn’t think you would scare that easily, especially from a B-movie like that. Anyways, are you actually ready to eat now? I put your stuff in the oven so it would reheat better, but it should be done by now….Ronnie?”

Aaron hadn’t moved an inch since he was originally pinned, not even after the hand had been lifted off of him. He just stared up blankly at the cat, trembling and wide eyed, unable to do anything as the rapid succession of events sunk in. The cat’s humor died down a little, smile hesitating.

“Hey, look, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t resist, you know?” He shrugged a little sheepishly. “You didn’t even notice when I came back so I thought...I don’t know, it was funnier in my head. I almost broke character and started laughing before you ran!” With still no verbal response, Lucas reached out a hand. “Aaron? You good? Come on, I’m not that scary, am I?”

The reaction he got probably wasn’t what he was hoping for with Aaron suddenly scrambling to push himself away from the outstretched hand that might trap and tear apart his limbs. He gave a sharp squeak, managing to find his footing only to come crashing down as soon as he took the first step, his ankle noticeably swollen by this point. His cry of pain was muffled into a desperate grunt, trying so hard to drag himself away as a last ditch effort to avoid the same fate as the bird and the squirrel and the mole in the movie.

Lucas gasped. “Oh, Ronnie, your leg!” Both hands were reaching for the mouse now, aiming to cup around him and scoop him up before they surely put him out of his misery. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I didn’t...oh my God, I hurt you.”

Yes and no. In truth, Aaron had been the one to hurt himself by making his body move in ways it physically shouldn’t. But that didn’t change the fact that Lucas had shown his true colors. Perhaps in hindsight, that wasn’t a fair assessment, as he really did think he was playing a harmless little joke on a skittish friend. The pain came from knowing that the cat could turn feral, though, no matter how genuine he was being. There was still clearly an instinct within him, one that knew how to hunt and bare his teeth and hiss, one that knew deep down where they both ranked on the food chain. It hurt in knowing everything he thought about his friend, everything that kept him from really letting down his walls like the other so desperately wanted, was right. Cats and mice were not friends.

“Get away from me!” Aaron shrieked when the hands came too close. Though they withdrew quickly, he didn’t bother to watch if they would move again as he forced himself up to stumble back to his nook behind the bookshelf.

“Aaron, wait!” It was a fruitless request and Lucas knew it as he didn’t even try to stop the mouse from disappearing behind the furniture back into the walls. It would only make matters so much worse. “Aaron, please, you’re hurt, just...at least let me help you. Please. I...I’m so sorry! It was an accident, I promise!”

The cat shuffled closer, leaning down in hopes that the other could at least hear his pleas better, could hear how sincere he was trying to be. “I would never hurt you, Aaron. You’re one of my best friends. Look, it was a stupid prank and I’m an asshole and I’ll never do it again, just please come out. Just let me know if you’re alright?”

It didn’t matter how hard or for how long he tried, Aaron was long gone within the walls.

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sugako · 4 years

Text

cold, cold, cold

pairing: timeskip!tsukki x gn!reader summary: there’s a little too much tension between you and your annoying co-worker at the museum after hours warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, semi-public (no one sees), light degradation (very soft imo), quickie a/n: psa do not fuck in a museum.. as someone who has worked in multiple museums i feel need to say this,, also yes, ‘sherd’ is a word

Tsukishima was always around. Not that it was difficult working at a relatively small place. Something about him bothered you, but you couldn’t really figure it out. Maybe it was how he always seemed to sneer at you, or how he commented on your taste in music any time he stuck his head in your office, or how he never seemed to be in a truly pleasant mood.

At first, you had even thought he was kind of cute albeit a bit awkward. Then you realized he was just selective and a bit haughty. You couldn’t help but think it had to be a front. He was never outright mean to you, although he certainly didn’t stop himself from criticizing you. Much to your dismay, his criticism were generally valid.

You tried to ignore your own mixed emotions and confusion as you sat in the back of the frigid storage room gently dry brushing a sherd of Hagi ware from some long forgotten collection that had been neglected.

“Oh, you’re still here.” His deadpan voice struck some fiery chord in your heart, but you simply glanced up. “Everyone else left.”

“Yeah, I got caught up cleaning these.” You groan as you stretch back in your seat, bones creaking from having been hunched over for so long. “Why are you still here?”

He rolled his eyes as he adjusted the stack of papers and bag in his hands and sauntered toward you.

“An interesting song choice. You shouldn’t listen to music while you work, you know.”

You groaned quietly at his condescending attitude as you began shuffling the small piece back into its bag with its museum tag and a little info-note you had written for reference. He set his bag and papers on the table with a small thud.

“I’m allowed to listen to music. Besides, you do it all the time.”

“You’re allowed, but you shouldn’t listen to such bad music.” He chuckled, snatching your phone of the edge of the work table before you could react. As fast as you could, you jogged over to the sink to give your dust stained hands a quick rinse. With an overly contented sigh, he pressed the pause button. “Isn’t that better?”

You expectantly held out your hand. “Tsukishima.” You said sharply.

He cocked an eyebrow, but your angry expression only seemed to egg him on. With a wicked grin he held the phone up beside his head.

“What?” He asked innocently.

“Tsukishima,” you urged, “we’re not playing this game.” This was embarrassing, but you couldn’t figure out for you or him. “We’re not ten, just give me it back.”

“If you agree to listen to better music.”

You wanted so badly to wipe the stupid smirk off his face, but deep inside you felt there was something a little alluring about it. Even if this situation was laughable at best. Sighing dramatically, you reached up for your phone. “Depends on what you think is ‘better’ music.” Standing up and straining your arm, you didn’t even notice how close you had gotten or how close your foot was too a loose power cord on the ground.

He hadn’t been entirely steady in his stance, so when you came crashing into him, he went down hard into the cool concrete floor taking you with him. His hand that wasn’t clutching your sleeve was still miraculously clutching your phone. You wrapped your legs under his to trap him and clawed for your phone.

“Stop, this is ridiculous!” You whined, tugging against his iron grip.

“You pushed me over. You never look where you’re going.” He quipped back.

“I only ran into you that one time because you’re so freakishly tall!”

“You ran into me twice! Apparently you can’t count either.”

“Who cares?!”

“The curator should. If you can’t count to two, how can you count artifacts?”

“What are you even... just shut up, you’re always so-!”

The grip his fingers had slipped up a little and your ass flew back into his hips. Hard. When you shifted a little in an attempt to free your limbs from him, you felt it. His long cocking pressing sharply into your thigh.

You gasp and flinch just enough that he notices. His eyes widen and his mouth gapes open as he goes to apologize, desperately trying to get out from under you.

“This is what does it for you?” Your whisper is half full of wonder and half full of disgust. And he loves it.

“N-no, you were just moving around so much. That doesn’t mean...” A deep blush lit up his cheeks as he attempted to sputter out some coherent set of words.

You held back a chuckle as you sat back and stood. When you stuck out a hand for him to lift himself, he graciously took it, not meeting your eyes.

“I’m just messing with you.” He doesn’t trust the smile on your face though. “But if you wanted to fuck me you should’ve just asked instead of acting like an insolent child.”

Your hand tightened around his, keeping him locked close to you.

“I was not acting like an insolent child.” He mumbled, though he made no attempt to move back from you. The look splayed across your face was far from joking.

You didn’t know what you were doing. The phone thing had been annoying and embarrassing, but when you felt him harden up under you just from a little struggling and mean words it was like a switch flipped. You finally realized why you were so frustrated with him.

“That sounds like something an insolent child would say.” You breathe, maneuvering your fingers around so they were intertwined with his. His soft, shocked expression morphed as he made up his own mind about the situation.

“You want to fuck me so bad.” He chuckled, an overpowering look gracing his features.

You set your phone on the counter behind you and rolled your eyes.

“You can’t stand to not be in charge, can you?” You took his other, very pliant, hand into your own.

“I don’t care about being in charge when I know I’m right.” He said lowly, leaning into you.

“Mhmm,” you humored him, leaning in as well.

Before you could blink, a sloppy clacking of teeth and tongues knocked you back. Tsukishima grabbed your cheeks roughly. You clutched around his slender waist and pulled him into you. His hard cock strained against your front.

Normally so put together, his actions were so hurriedly messy now that he had you in his arms. Despite the fact that you didn't seem to get his humor or appreciate his critiques, he had found himself drawn to you from the day he saw you.

You brushed your fingers up his figure and into his light curls. The rugged tugs on his scalp make him moan into your mouth. His vibrations filled you with a sweet warmth, making you press even closer to him.

Finally, you tore him away by the back of his head. Panting unevenly, you struggled to get the words out. "Want you to fuck me." You breathed hotly into his ear.

"Here?" His condescending tone was marred by his shaking breath. "What a slutty thing to beg for."

"I-I'm not begging for anything." You growled, palming him roughly through his pants.

"So you don't want my cock, then?" His hands grabbed your ass and pushed you back just a few centimeters. "Is that why you look so desperate?"

"You're pretty cocky for someone who got hard over a little tug-of-war." You didn't move your eyes away from his as you unhooked his belt and unbuttoned his pants.

"I wish you would talk less." He groaned and tore himself away from you.

"Excuse me?" You were slumped against the empty counter behind you, incredulous as he rooted through his bag.

"Shut up," his eye roll was almost audible when he stood back and up and turned to you again. He held a little foil package in one hand, smirking. "Turn around and bend over."

The small urge you had to argue was strong, but the sight of his long cock weeping through his powder blue briefs was enough to make you easily comply. Swallowing the thick lump in your throat you clutched onto the edge of the freezing counter.

"Good." He hummed as he came up behind you. His fingers worked around your front to unbutton and rip your pants down. You craned your neck over your shoulder as he carefully opened the condom package and eased it over his long cock.

Shuddering, you relaxed toward the counter. His foot kicked between yours, spreading your legs wider. He watched with pure bliss as your hungry little hole clenched around nothing.

"Just fuck me already." You whined. Not being able to see him or what he was doing was creating a delightful mix of nervousness and excitement in the pit of your stomach.

"Well, I can't say no when you beg like that." He cooed into your ear. As you jumped back in surprise, he quickly slipped his thick cock head just past your entrance. You yelped at the sudden intrusion and tried your best to relax. "Sure you can take me?" He said lowly as he massaged your sides.

You scoffed. "Don't be so full of yourself."

"Alright then..."

In one smooth movement he bottomed out inside of you. As you screamed in both pleasure and dull pain, he clamped a hand over your mouth.

"You take me pretty well and I haven't even really touched you."

You muttered some agreement into his palm. Moving his hand away, he soothingly kneaded his fingers into your lower back, urging you to relax around him.

"Tell me when you can really take me."

"Please," you whined quietly, "move, please..."

He wanted to tell you to speak up, fluster you more than you already were, tease you until you couldn't form a sentence. But here and now wasn't the time or place. So instead, he started moving just as you had pleaded.

You cried out, desperately trying to quiet yourself although there was no one else there except the two of you, as he plunged in and out of your pulsing hole. Even though his strokes were fast and hard you could feel every inch, every vein and ridge. His little moans and gasps drew you closer and closer to the edge, but it wasn't enough.

With your hands trapped between your chest and the counter, you couldn't even move them to relieve yourself. Lost in your own pleasure, you barely noticed how your hips pushed back to meet his as he pounded into you.

"You're so good, please, fuck..." You babbled on.

Your little praises sent him over the edge. With your sweet encouraging, he sloppily thrusted into you, fingers digging deep bruises into your hips as he finally emptied himself into you. The syrupy pitched moan that left his throat made you shiver under him.

He slumped over you for a minute, holding you close. Finally, he pulled away, carefully pulling the condom off and neatly tying it up before tossing it into a nearby trash bin. With unsteady legs you pulled yourself and your pants up. By the time you turned around he already looked completely put back together as if he hadn't been mercilessly pounding into you a minute ago.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you didn't quite meet his eyes. "I didn't-"

"Come home with me."

"What?"

"I know you didn't cum, so if you want to you can come home with me and we can finish."

You couldn't help but smile at the blush that graced his cheeks. Trying your best to walk confidently on unsteady feet, you strode up to him and gave him a small kiss on the side of his lips.

"Let's go then."

#tsukishima x reader #tsukki x reader #kei tsukishima x reader #tsukishima smut #tsukki smut

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forever-rogue · 4 years

Note

Just a simple clown asking for some soft Javi fluff after a particularly hard and rough day. 🥺🤡 ilyyyyyy (no pressure to write this if you are busy with other things! ) -Han 💕

Hello, please enjoy some sort Javi!

Javier x Fem!Reader; warnings; slight language, references to sex

Javier Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

The clock finally hit five o’clock, causing a small sigh to escape your lips as you almost jumped out of your office chair and grabbed your sweater and purse. You weren’t even sure what you had you in such a hurry - it wasn’t like you weren’t going home to anything in particular. Javier wouldn’t be home, having to work another overnight stakeout, and all you had too look forward to was cold, left over pizza and a dark apartment.

Thrilling. At least there were a few beers left in the fridge.

And anything was better than being stuck at the hellhole called work another minute. Not that work was that bad...it just seemed like lately that anything that could go wrong did and no matter how hard you worked it was never enough. At least it was finally the weekend and you could relax and de-stress for a few days.

It wouldn’t be the same without Javier, but that was the nature of the beast - his job. But you loved him unconditionally, as he did you, and you knew t wouldn’t always be like this. The promise of one day having a more calm and tranquil life was enough to keep you going.

As you walked the short distance home, you cursed yourself for not driving this morning when the sun had been shining brightly and spreading delicious warmth everywhere. In the morning it had seemed like a good idea; now your tried feet were screaming at you. Whatever. It was only a short walk back and you’d handled worse.

You made a game plan to keep yourself going. As soon as you got home, you were going to get a beer, run a hot bath and get warm, heat up some cold pizza, and then watch some trash television until you got sleepy enough to actually rest. You’d thought about calling Connie and seeing what she was up to, but decided against it, knowing you would just be a downer.

Repeating your plan to yourself seemed to have worked and you soon found yourself at the door of the apartment you shared with Javier, putting your key in the lock and bracing yourself for the darkness and silence.

But instead of dread and despair, you found the apartment brightly lit and the smell of cooking wafting from the kitchen, along with the soft sounds of music. Your baser instincts took over as you held a key between two fingers, ready to defend yourself if you needed. It would be odd for a thief to come in and make themselves at home in such a manner, but as you knew from your time with Javier, things could be very different from how they appeared.

“W-who’s there?” you held the key out as you slowly walking into the kitchen. But instead of an intruder, you found a very welcome surprise - there was Javier, dressed in a t-shirt and sweats, a relaxed expression on his face as he stirred something on the stove and hummed along to the music, “Javi?”

“Hi baby,” he turned to you easily with a big grin on his face as he set his spoon down and calm over to you. He reached for your outstretched hand, looking at the key before loosening your grip and tossing the keys onto the table, “did you really think that was going to work?”

“I dunno...Javi,” you couldn’t help but melt at the sight of him, looking so calm and at ease for once. He brought his hand to your cheek before leaning in and giving your lips a soft, gentle kiss, “I thought you had to work. You were supposed to be gone all weekend...”

“How much would you hate me if I told you that I lied?” his lips quirked into a nervous little smile as you crossed your arms over your chest, giving him a vain attempt at a stern look.

“I don’t know, Javi, you know we’re pretty big on honesty in this family.”

“I know,” he held out his arms to you as he motioned for you to step closer. You couldn’t say no to those soft brown eyes as you obliged and settled against his body, letting him envelope you in his warmth, “but I wanted to do something special for you. You’ve been working so hard lately and I know it’s been rough and demanding, and I figured it was high time for both of us to relax for a few days.”

“Really?” you looked at him with wide, gentle eyes as he nodded, an eager little grin on his face. You always knew he had something up on his self, but this was everything. He was a master of knowing exactly what you needed and when. You pulled back and put your hands on his face, tracing over his features before kissing his cheeks, his nose and stopping at his lips, “I love you, Javier. More than you will ever know.”

“I love you, dulzura,” he grinned at you, so gentle and delicate compared to how the world forced him to be at times. You were the shining beacon in his life, reminding him that there was still good left in the world, and that there were things worth fighting for. He nuzzled his nose against yours, taking a moment to breath you in before offering you another kiss, “how about a beer and a bath? Dinner’s pretty much done and we can eat after.”

“You took the words out of my mouth,” you sighed contentedly, “only if you join me of course.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he turned and went to the fridge to get some beers. They were your favorites - he must have gone and gotten them specially just for you, “let’s go dulzra. Time to relax.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

"What?" you asked asked as you polished off your beer and set it down on the tile floor. The whole bathroom was covered in a thin layer of steam, filled with the soft fragrance of your favorite bubble bath at the two of you laid in the tub. Javi was leaned against one side and you were sitting on his lap, laying back against his chest as he had his arms wrapped around you, "you're thinking much too loudly, Javier Peña."

"Its nothing," he promised quietly, placing a trail of soft kisses to your sweet shoulder, "nothing important."

"Anything you have to say is important," you insisted, turning your head to kiss his cheek, "out with it."

"I was just thinking that one day, we'll be able to do this whenever we want," he said softly as you nodded, "it'll be quiet and peaceful, unlike this fucking hell. I never thought I would look forward to that, but I can't wait for it."

"Soon, Javier," you promised him, reaching for his hand pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles, "we'll have it all. We already do - we have each other."

"I know," he agreed, "I don't know what I'd do without you sometimes, dulzura."

"I feel the same way, silly man," you closed your eyes and relaxed, "you always make everything better. I needed this, needed you. I love you."

"I love you," he slowly pulled his hand from yours as he slowly trailed it down your body, stopping just above your belly button, "now let me take care of you too. Show you how much I love you."

"Javier," his name was a whisper, almost caught in your throat as his hand slipped lower under the water and resting at the apex of your thighs. He stopped for your a moment, and you could already feel the tight, warm coil in your belly starting up as his fingers ghosted over you, "please."

»»————-　♡　————-««

"This is delicious," you swallowed another spoon of the delicious soup Javier prepared, "you are going to be required to make this all the time from now."

"I can only take credit for the making," he grinned, a small tinge of pink rising in his cheeks as relished in your praise, "its my Abuelita's recipe. She used to make it all the time when I was a kid."

"Well she did an excellent job," you picked up the bowl and drank the rest of it. You set it back down and looked at Javier. Reaching over, you touched his cheek, wiping a small but of soup from the corner of his mouth, "she made an amazing soup and helped raise an amazing man."

"Stop," he flushed deeper as he grabbed your bowls and went to fill them up with a second round, "you're just saying that because I made you cum."

"Nah," you insisted, eagerly accepting the bowl, "I mean, it helps, definitely. But I also happen to love you...a lot, a lot."

"Yeah?" he quirked an eyebrow as you nodded, "good, or else this could have been awkward."

"Very funny," you nudged his leg under the table, "but seriously, Javi. Thank you for this. Truly. You made my whole week. I love you."

"Te amo, dulzura," he gave you that affectionate smile you loved so much, "just wait until you see what I have planned for this weekend!"

"I look forward to it," you sighed, "but for tonight, I have something for you to look forward to as well."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," you offered up a coy little smile, "you took such good care of me. Don't you think its time I returned the favor? I'd like some dessert, Javier."

"Jesus, dulzura," he almost groaned at your words, "you're going to be the death of me."

"I don't want to do that," you gave him your doe eyes, "I just want to make you cum."

"Fuck me."

"That’s the plan, baby. That's the plan."

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #narcos #javier pena #javier pena x reader

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redstainedsocks · 3 years

Text

Pecking Order

References this piece, follows immediately on from this

Warnings: hospital setting, victim blaming, aggravation of injuries, broken ribs, manhandling, hair pulling, blackmail/vague threatening vibe, whump in a public place

Zach woke with a start and clambered halfway out of bed before remembering where he was. Waking in a bed was still strange, waking in a hospital even more-so.

Maybe that was just because of being taken care of. Or the clean, nostril stinging smell of disinfectant and quiet hallways that hid nothing sinister. Whatever the reason he liked it, once he settled. He curled back up beneath the sheets and tried to will the dry dusty feeling of tiredness out of his eyes. Looking blearily around the room he realised he was alone, and peering through the doorway to the corridor he couldn’t see anyone out there either. Usually at least one of the team was nearby.

He took the opportunity to relax, finally and fully. To breathe as easily as he could with a fractured, infected rib. Space to be alone was good. He couldn’t keep putting on an act around other people. Archer had been strange, attentive and almost...apologetic? It set his teeth grinding and his every sense on alert. What had he said in the midst of his fever? Had he given himself away?

He was dwelling on that thought when Tom appeared in the doorway and sniffed with disdain. Of course the first day he was fully lucid it was Tom on watch. He bit back a groan and winced when going tense spliced pain up his injured side.

“Finally decided to wake up then, Sleeping Beauty?”

Fuck Tom and his shitty wit. The defiant thought made him smile. “Yeah.”

“Good, because we need to have a talk.”

He nodded, even as his mind spun. Defiance trickled through his fingers like sand, until all he had left was an empty fist that he wouldn't raise to anyone.

He hated how he grovelled and snivelled and gave in to everything Tom wanted, he should be stronger. Tom was not Decker, or one of his men. Yet this was the deal he’d made--with himself and with the blond asshole standing in front of him. To let Tom take charge, to dole out punishments and admonishment that he knew he deserved even if Tom didn’t understand why. And in exchange Tom wouldn’t tell the team what a piece of shit he was, or that he was hiding something.

It had started easily enough, being told to fetch or carry things, do menial tasks like some kind of servant. And then Tom had started kicking him out of his bed at the team’s headquarters, relegating Zach to the floor. Because on the nights Tom was tasked with keeping guard the pull out couch wasn’t good enough for him but was apparently too good for Zach.

Tom sipped on the last of his coffee, waiting for Zach’s answer. “Oh, yes, sure.”

“Please, take all the time you need to daydream,” Tom said, sarcasm and scorn dripping from his mouth like venom.

He dropped the empty coffee cup into the bin in the corner and sauntered over, leaning into Zach’s space. With Tom leering over him, hiding the rest of the room from view, the appreciation of being allowed in a bed wore off in an instant.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were unwell?” Tom asked as he picked idly at imaginary fluff on the pillow beside Zach's head.

“I didn’t know,” Zach replied, shifting uneasily. “Just felt like I always did… until it didn’t.”

“So you weren’t trying to hide it?”

“No?”

“Because I wouldn’t have gone so hard on you, if I thought it would get me this close to being caught. I’m supposed to be discreet here, and you almost threw that out the window didn’t you?”

Remembering the methodical beat down Tom had doled out three days before he’d collapsed made Zach shiver and turn away. The first time he’d raised a hand to Zach like that, flicking him over and over with a wet towel, the flat of his hand, and then a folded belt, right across the injured side. It had hurt, landing on his fractured ribs, but he’d taken it like he was supposed to. Silent, and with thanks.

That Tom would imply he’d chosen this, in any way, made him miserably frustrated.

“I didn't mean to get sick, shit for brains.” The words were out of his mouth before he could regret the taste of them.

Tom grabbed him by the hair on the top of his head and tugged, holding Zach in place and forcing his head back around so they were almost nose to nose.

“Don’t talk back to me,” Tom hissed, “You should remember your place.”

He did, he did, he swore he wouldn’t forget. Tom was no Decker but he still held sway here, he shouldn’t be so stupid as to make him angry. He closed his lips into a thin line, hoping it showed he wasn’t going to say anything else.

“You’re such an idiot.”

Spittle hit Zach’s face as Tom spoke but he didn’t move a muscle to wipe it away, he held himself rigid and let the bad thoughts wash away as the pain and discomfort pulled him back into submission. His scalp stung sharply as Tom forced his head back by the hair, until his neck arched to the extreme. He wheezed, one arm wrapped around his midriff to try and ease the strain while the other clawed at the mattress.

“Be more careful. I won’t get pulled up or lose this gig because of you, or tolerate your mouthiness. You know you need me to show you the pecking order, but don’t go fucking getting sick and jeopordising our deal, or lose me my place on the team.”

When Zach said nothing Tom used his firm grip to shake Zach’s head back and forth like a ragdoll. “Speak, stupid. Or else how else do I know you’re even listening?”

“Oh-okay, sorry,” Zach replied through gritted teeth, his eyes squeezed shut to hold back the tears that had sprung up with the pain. “I-I’ll let you know when I’m hurt, and where.”

“Good.” Tom’s hand abruptly let go, and he stroked Zach’s hair back into place. “See that you do.”

“All good here?” Archer’s voice came through the doorway.

Zach startled and Tom grinned and shook his head minutely. “Oh, yeah. Just helping him get settled.”

Tom made a show of fluffing pillows and easing Zach upright, and Zach went, as floppy and willing as he ever was in someone else’s hands. He hated himself for it. He knew no other way to be.

“Come to relieve me of guard duty?” Tom asked, as he pulled away.

“Yeah, you can go get some shut eye, I’ll stick around today.” Archer beamed, and Zach forced his lips into a small smile to mirror it. “Good to see you awake. I brought games! And a few movies, nothing heavy.”

“Sounds good,” Zach choked out, his eyes tracking Tom as he picked up what remained of his belongings and headed for the door.

“Alright, you guys have fun. See you later.” Tom left, but not before turning in the doorway and giving Zach a pointed look while putting one finger over his lips.

[Taglist: @haro-whumps @whumpthisway @hurting-fictional-people @lonesome--hunter @crowned-avery @extrabitterbrain @firewheeesky @outofangband

Let me know if you want adding or removing]

#victim blaming #broken ribs #hospital setting #public whump #manhandling #hair pulling #creepy whumper #threats tw #threats of violence #Zach and Archer #Tom is a douchebag #team whump #hiding injuries #hiding whump #blackmail #ish?#aftermath of whump

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jj-scottsbee · 4 years

Text

You Broke Me

Prompt: You were married to Loki when he let go of the staff, you thought he was dead, as did everyone. You refused to stay where your husband had died. Odin agreed to let you live on Asgard, as long as you kept to yourself. You had lived a peaceful life, until one day your brother-in-law comes knocking on your door.

Warnings: language, angst, death

You were Sόl, the Goddess of the Sun. You were not one for formal names and preferred to be called Y/N. You were the wife of Loki the God of Mischief. The day that Loki had died, was the day you had lost your entire world. You knew what he had done was wrong, but that didn't make your loss any easier. Loki may have been known as a snake throughout Asgard, but he was the most delightful husband. He had treated you like the goddess you were and he worshiped you, as you did him.

You could not bear living in Asgard by yourself. You did have Frigga and Thor, but it was not the same without your lover. It was not long after Loki's death that you had discussed leaving Asgard. You begged the All-Father to let you go, to let you live a life away from your husband's death bed. Odin had refused your request, so you disobeyed your king. You fled from Asgard, leaving your entire life behind you. You cut all ties, you hid from your King, using magic to shield yourself from his watchful gaze. Heimdall understood your pain, he was hesitant to let you go, but after seeing the look in your eye, he opened the Bifrost to Midgard. You left with no goodbye and no second thoughts.

~ ~

"So reindeer games was actually able to snag himself a wife?" Tony questioned, as he flew beside the Quinjet. The team of five made their way quickly, needing to find you as soon as possible. They had Loki detained but didn't know how to get through to him. You were Thor's last chance to save his little brother from his gruesome mistakes. "She is a beautiful and kind-hearted lady. But I warn you, she can have a temper bigger than Odin himself when angry. You mustn't cause her any distress or show her ill-will. She is sweet, but she is much more powerful than Loki and when angered she can unleash nothing, but dangerous fury." Thor warned his teammates as he stood behind Natasha and Steve, who sat flying the jet. "How dangerous is she exactly?" Nat asked over her shoulder concerned, but made sure to keep her eyes on the sky. Everyone listened intently waiting for Thor's answer. "I would not dare challenge her when she is in one of her moods." Thor shook his head in a matter-of-fact manner, memories of the consequences of your anger coming back to his mind. "She had once caused a drought so terrible, in both Asgard and Midgard, that my Father had to plead with her to calm down." "We're all dead. We should have just taken our chances with Loki," Bruce sighed putting his head in his hands. He sat behind Thor on one of the benches that lined the walls of the expensive jet. For the rest of the flight, the team traveled with an uneasy feeling. They landed the jet only a mile from your house, in a field just on the other side of the woods that surrounded your home. You had settled into a tiny cottage in the middle of the woods. You avoided the large cities and the chaos they held within. Instead, you sat a few miles just outside of a small town, only venturing into it for groceries. It wasn't often that you went into to town for groceries, as you grew most of your food, but sometimes you wanted some meat. You stood in the kitchen, the sun had been shining on your face through the window above your sink as you washed your dishes. It warmed your face, the sun being one of the things that kept you happy. When heavy, dark clouds moved in a little too quickly, you became suspicious. You were often able to nudge rain clouds along, so you could enjoy the sunlight, but these clouds were much heavier than the rest. Then the flash of lightning split through the sky, the roar of thunder followed soon after. You knew whose presence that storm had brought. Only four out of the five heroes reached the treeline, Bruce had stayed back in case they needed to make a quick escape. Thor stopped as he broke out of the woods, staring at the small cottage. He looked at the sky and realized his mistake, he had given himself up.

"She knows I am here. Remember, do not threaten her." He commanded. They nodded, but everyone still kept their guard up. Tony sat in his iron suit, Natasha held one of her guns close to her hip, and Steve held his shield in front of his chest.

Thor had immediately tried your front door, not bothering to knock as he pushed his way in. All of the lights in the house were dark, leaving the house unlit. Thor crept through the house looking for you, not knowing if you were home.

"Well, this is quite simple for an Asgardian Princess," Tony called from the kitchen as he studied the freshly cut carrots. A creak on the floor sent him whirling around, his hand flying out in front of him defensively as he aimed the repulsors in the direction of the sound. Before his suit was able to let any shots loose, you faced your palm towards the ceiling, throwing Tony on it. His back hit the ceiling hard, knocking the air out of him. You threw him through the wall, sending him flying into the now muddy ground.

"That fucking hurt," Tony grunted as he began to push himself off the ground. Steve and Natasha were quick to sprint into the kitchen, but you faced both of your palms at the duo. You shoved their backs against the wall without even touching them. You gave them a cold stare, your eyes glowing the golden color of fire.

"Sόl, stop this. We have only come to talk." Thor tried to reason with you. Surprise covered your face, but only for a second as you flicked both wrists toward the hole Tony's suited body had made in your house. The other two heroes flew right into Tony who had just caught his breath. "Sister, we mean no harm."

"The metal man took aim at me, I am defending myself." You growled, your demeanor was tense and your stare still cold. Thor gently let go of Mjölnir, letting it fall to the ground. He raised his hands, surrendering to you. You looked at the hammer on the floor and then back up to your brother-in-law’s face. You dropped your hands to your side but refused to move.

"Sόl, I have urgent news." He pleaded with you, as you finally began to relax a shield came flying at your head. With ease you stuck out your arm, catching it in your hand before it could catch you in the head. You carefully slipped your gaze from Thor and towards the culprit of the flying shield. You were quick to drop the shield, catching the fist of Captain America as he hurled it at your cheek. Using your free hand you clenched your hand around his throat. You lifted the super-soldier off his feet by his throat, watching as he clawed at your hand. You narrowed your eyes at the blonde man, an emotionless look on your face, as you cocked your head to the side. You ignored Thor's plea's to put his companion down, watching the soldier struggle a little longer.

"Throw that over sized frisbee at me again and I will force it down your throat, your growled pulling Steve closer to your face. “And You know better Thor, then to call me Sόl. My name is Y/N and you do not bring strangers into my house unannounced.”

"Are we good? Anyone else you'd like to share your kink with?" Tony asked, referring to you chocking Steve. You rolled your eyes in response.

"Hey, Thor maybe next time, tell us she has telekinetic abilities," Steve choked out, holding his throat as he stood up. You looked him up and down, unimpressed. How could such a man as himself, be so easily taken.

"Why have you come." You turned to Thor ignoring the rest of the team.

"We have much to discuss."

~ ~

"You speak not of my Loki. He is dead." You whispered hugging your arms around your torso. You and the other four sat around your living room, you hugged yourself as Thor told you of the monstrosities Loki had done.

"Y/N, I would not lie about such a thing. Loki is alive and he threatens the lives of millions of Midgardians. I beg you, you must show him the wrong of his ways." Thor sat on the edge of your coffee table across from you, grabbing your hands gently as he pleaded with you.

"Thor, I left Asgard to get be free from Loki. Whoever you talk of is not my dead husband." You sniffed, removing your hands from his. "I have no place in this war that you speak of. Now, leave."

"I will tell Odin of your location, I will show him here myself. I would not have bothered to find you if it was not an important matter. I have missed you dearly, but I understand your leaving. You must make things right sister, help me bring Loki home."

"You throw threats at me as if they mean anything to me! You may have been my brother-in-law, but I owe you NOTHING. THAT MAN THAT YOU HAVE DESCRIBED IS NOT MY HUSBAND, my husband is dead. If you wish to give me away to Odin, then so be it." You lashed out at Thor, not wanting to discuss Loki any longer. You refused to believe that your husband had left you, had let you mourn him, had let his death break you, only to still be alive.

"Please, you don't that it isn't Loki for sure. Please just come with us, we need you on our side."

"I WILL NOT TAKE ANY PART IN YOUR WAR. I do not want to see any more deaths take place. You are on your own. Leave before I crush the breath from the lungs of these mortals." Your eyes began to glow once again, little cracks showing in your face. The cracks gave off a glow that matched your eyes. Thor looked at you with sympathy, those cracks had formed after Loki had left.

The team gave you defeated looks, collecting themselves. Thor went to plead with you one last time, but you had disappeared before he could say anything more. With tears streaming down your face, you watched as Thor walked back into the woods.

~ ~

You sensed as the battle began, the guilt grew in your stomach. You watched as the fight was broadcasted all over the news. You scoffed at how stupid the mortals were, instead of running they wished to televise an invasion.

Just as you were about to turn the tv off you caught a glimpse of him. You hurried towards the tv, trying to find that horned helmet once again. Your heart sank as Thor had told you the truth, in seconds you stood straight. You closed your eyes, envisioning the now damaged streets of New York City. You felt your feet leave the ground for a split second and then they connected again. You opened your eyes, just in time to rip an alien ship in half. You sent the two soldiers flying to opposite sides.

Your eyes glowed as you briskly walked toward the Stark Tower, ripping apart any threats that stood in your way. Steve was quick to spot you, as you walked angrily through the damaged street. Your eyes held a deadly look, your teeth bared as you easily fought the foe.

"We've got some unexpected help," Steve said excitedly into his earpiece.

Thor was quick to find you as soon as Steve let the team know, the cavalry had arrived. You had shown up in jeans and a tank-top, they were ripped as you fought off several aliens at once. You had become cornered by too many and as you did your best to fight all of them off, you were losing. Just before they all reached you, an all too familiar hammer came flying to your rescue.

"Glad to see you decided to join us." Thor laughed, as you stood back to back fighting.

"Where is he." You growled you took no pleasure in being there. Thor gave you an uneasy look but quickly grabbed you by the waist. He flew the two of you in the direction of Loki, who sat on the balcony of Stark Tower. You dismissed Thor once he had dropped you off, telling him to go take care of the ones threatening the city.

Loki held an insane smile on his face, as he watched the destruction carry on. He laughed excitedly as he saw his army taking over. He took no notice as you walked up behind him, you stopped several feet behind him. You took in his figure, the laugh that sounded so much like him, but wasn't the 'him' that you had loved so dearly.

"Loki..." You trailed off. His body stiffened as he heard your voice, he contemplated with himself if it was truly you or just his imagination. He refused to turn around, he stared down at the destroyed cars that laid in the streets. He begged himself not to turn around and see you.

"Why are you here." He asked bitterly. He spoke over his shoulder, not wanting to look you in the eye. He hoped with every inch of his body, that you weren't there, that his mind was simply playing tricks on you.

"You live." You said, your tone holding a slight hint of anger. You were overjoyed, but hurt to see him. You wished to run into his arms, wrapping your arms around him and never letting him go again. Your heart shattered and soared at the same time. You held so many emotions inside of your body. "What have you done."

"I'm building a kingdom darling." He turned around, an evil smile stood on his face. Never in your long life had Loki scared you, but the look he held, sent fear coursing through your veins.

"You let me believe you were dead, only to begin a war?" You asked. "You let me mourn you, TO HAVE A KINGDOM OF YOUR OWN." You screamed the last part of your sentence.

"This was something I had to do, I knew you wouldn't understand." He scoffed, his chest now facing you completely. "You were never brightest."

You felt your energy surge throughout your body, your blood boiled and you felt your power wishing to be released. You stared daggers at him if looks could kill he would be dead. In one movement, you forced your hand out in front of you, dragging him to come towards you. You grabbed his collar, stopping him from colliding with your body. You brought his face as close together as you could, without touching each other.

"You are my equal. YOU WILL NOT speak down to me. You have taken so much from me and yet you keep taking and taking. The Loki I called my husband, is not the man that stands here now." You were hurt and angered by his actions. How could he have done such a thing to you? He had left you broken and alone, without a second thought. How could he have hurt you so?

"My, my haven't you been practicing." He smirked, referring to the powers that you held. You quickly shoved him away from you, disgusted by him.

"Loki you broke me. I had to flee Asgard, because of your death. You are the love of my life and you left me without a second thought. How could you do that to me?" You said softly, "I don't know what has happened to you or what you were wishing to accomplish, but you will not win. I promise you that."

"Are you going to be the one to kill me Y/N? Is that why you came? Because I hurt your heart? My god, you are just as bad as the mortal women I have fucked." He scoffed, he was hurting you purposely. He was pushing you away, the awful things he said were to protect you from what he had become. You slowly began to realize, he did not want you in the fight, he hoped you would flee the pain in your heart too much.

"You have broken my heart Loki Laufeyson. I will never forgive you." Small tears flowed down your face, "I have loved you since we were young, I will always love you, but you are no longer the man who captured my heart so long ago." You whispered hurt, your demeanor was tense and you began to ready yourself for a fight. Your eyes glowed and the cracks appeared on your face once again.

Loki said nothing, a pained look covering his face as he stalked towards you. He towered over you, but you did not back down. You held the eye contact, not daring to look away. You took in his face, the way he was beautifully carved. You admired his entrancing eyes, the eyes you had once loved to stare into. You now saw nothing of the man you once loved. Any trace of your Loki seemed to have vanished.

"I will love you always Y/N, but you were not made to be broken," Loki whispered into your ear, as he pulled you close. In a mere blink of an eye, Loki had conjured up a dagger without you noticing and plunged it into your stomach. "You will feel no more pain, my love."

You choked in disbelief, your eyes and the cracks that lined your face burning brightly once again. You stared at Loki a single tear falling as you slowly slipped to the ground, Loki holding you the whole way down. He stared at you in agony, he had hoped you were never to see him again. He had hoped that his brother would have kept you away from him. He ran his fingers over the cracks in your face, as he eyed the cracks he had caused you. You let out a couple of choked coughs, blood filling your mouth.

"Yo...you are not m-my Loki." You whispered with your dying breath. You let one last breath escape your lips before the light of your eyes went out. Just as your heart had broken so many years ago, Loki's shattered as you said your last words to him.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!" came Thor's booming voice, as he stood in front of his younger brother. The sky turned almost pitch black, lightning flashed through the sky and thunder roared as it rolled through the sky.

Loki paid no attention to his brother's anger, his eyes never leaving you as you lie dead in his lap. He had taken his whole world away from himself and for what? A kingdom that he would never love without you as his queen.

#Loki Laufeyson #loki of asgard #loki fanfic #loki x reader #loki x you #the avengers #thor odinson #thor of asgard #loki!husband #goddess!reader #norse gods #norse goddesses #First Avengers #NYCBattle #loki imagine #Loki Angst #loki #sad imagines

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chowtrolls · 3 years

Text

Inferno

Length: 2155 Words TW: General Violence, brief mention of drugs. Brief: Boe causes problems for Bruuno. Credits: there's a reference to the Divine Comedy.

Google Docs

Bruuno knew the office building like the back of his hand. Walking in through the back cargo entrance was the easiest way in. The violet guard had basically watched Bruuno grow up and actually smiled as he passed. He towered over the violet at this point but always felt a small connection to the stranger, and made a point of smiling back. The elevator complained loudly when Bruuno stepped inside. The elevator only had twelve buttons. The thirteenth button was disguised as the emergency alarm. It was muscle memory by now, Bruuno held the alarm as it rang for fourty five seconds. The alarm stopped and the elevator started to go up.

It opened into a dimly lit hallway. Expensive art decorated the walls, each painting in the same exact spot as it had been the first time Bruuno walked past them. They always had a way of making him feel small. Chilly air encouraged him to stuff his hands into the pockets of his jacket. The secretary was gone, but the door to Boe's office was unlocked, so Bruuno invited himself inside.

"Hello, Bruuno. Always a treat to see you. How are you? It's been ages." Boe's voice filled the silence immediately. The jade had been waiting, standing in the center of his wide office. He always spoke too much. Despite being spoken to, Bruuno instantly knew something was wrong. There was a deafening silence. More notably, there was no fuchsia wriggler jumping up and bodyslamming him while laughing.

"Where's Shi?" Bruuno turned to the jade with a look of confusion. Boe's relaxed smile planted a seed of worry in the fuchsia's chest. His shoulders lifted slightly in a nonchalant shrug, as if they were discussing the location of a book and not a child.

"She's safe." Boe's voice, smooth as silk and honey, did nothing to ease the growing concern.

"I didn't ask if she was safe." Bruuno stepped closer to Boe, brow furrowed, "I asked where she was."

"And I asked how you were. You've been clean for a while, isn't that nice?" Boe closed the gap between him and his former charge. Bruuno's intimidation attempt went entirely ignored, the jade was seemingly unafraid of anything Bruuno may do. Boe's hands left his pockets so he could straighten the fuchsias' jacket, closing it slightly. "Your little moirails helped with that, right? Awfully sweet of them. You really owe them one."

"I don't owe anyone shit." Bruuno didn't stop Boe from touching him, but made no effort to hide the hostility in his voice. "Boznik, where is Shiloh?"

"Mmm, wrong there buddy. You still owe me." Boe smiled and patted Bruuno's chest, knowingly ignoring the constant pestering over Shiloh. Bruuno's expression must have been blatantly confused once again, because Boe laughed. The jade turned away from the conversation, walking over to his desk. He straightened out some papers as he continued.

"I only let you go because you became a liability. Became sloppy! Messy! Hard to fix your mistakes. You must've thought you were so smart, blaming that pesky little addiction problem on your matesprit. I knew what you were doing, Bru. You're not as clever as you think you are." Boe snickered softly as he spoke. Normally an unprofessional move, but Boe didn't care too much for the formalities when it came to his former charge. "I saw what you did to that other little fish, Klasha's brother. Both arms! Impressive! Ripped them off like they were nothing! Now Bruuno, that is the man I raised." Boe paused and looked up from his desk. Bruuno's silence was deafening as the horror started to sink in.

"I let you have your little fun. I helped you, even. You got to have your fifteen minutes of fame. You seadwellers live for so long...it really was just fifteen minutes out of that ancient lifespan of yours. And be honest with yourself Bru, who do you think helped you get there?" Boe's voice got softer, near a whisper, "I spared your life. I gave you fame. I let you have this glorious little life. And now you have to pay me back."

Each word that left Boe's mouth was a dash of salt on the ever growing wound. Anger started like milk on the stove, it always did. Slowly and slowly heating. One had to keep their eye on the pot every second it was there. It was so easy to just glance away for a moment, but doing so would cause the entire pot to boil over. Bruuno's anger was the same, growing slowly and unchecked until the pot boiled over and the contents burned everything around it.

"I never fuckin' asked you to spare me." Speaking between his teeth did little to hide the venom dripping from his voice. "I would've fuckin' preferred you didn't. But I didn't get a fuckin' say in any of this." Bruuno's fins pressed down flat like a cornered cat's ears.

"Well, that's unfortunate." Boe's smirk faded into an unamused frown. Any normal troll would've thought twice about being alone in a room with such a furious highblood. Boe knew better than anyone how catastrophic highblood rage could be. And yet, he stood before Bruuno, cool as a cucumber, collected as ever. He knew in his heart that Bruuno was a pushover, too soft to cause problems or stir the pot. Boe knew the troll he raised, how could he not?

Just as Boe knew Bruuno would never hurt him, Bruuno knew the jade would never harm Shiloh. There was an unspoken line between them that neither would dare to cross. Shiloh happened to stand directly on that line. Despite his rage, Bruuno knew Shiloh would be fine. She was most likely with Chowow, or Kamuuk, and they just hadn't told him. She certainly hadn't a single clue what was going on. Good, because this wasn't about her. His anger was less about Shiloh, and more the sheer audacity. The gall that Boe possessed to even dream of having that control over Bruuno's life. As the two stared each other down, Boe felt safe. Secure. He was certain that Bruuno would bend to his whim. After all, the fuchsia seemed to bend however someone wanted him to, why would he do any differently to Boe?

Boe's sense of security held Bruuno in his place. He felt small, smaller than he ever had in his entire life, because he knew what Boe thought of him. A passive troll who simply wishes to please everyone, who has no self worth beyond what he can present to others. He had done so much to get to where he was in life. Even if Boe really WAS pulling the strings, Bruuno was happy. He was genuinely happy with his life, the path he was heading down. For the first time in sweeps, Bruuno finally felt like he was healing. He no longer lamented over the torment he caused others, and the days spent awake wondering if karma would present itself with glittery fins once more seemed rare now. The pot of anger had boiled over moments ago, and was starting to burn in Bruuno's chest. One can never remember pain, brains aren't programmed to remember pain, but the raw burning in his lungs was so painstakingly familiar. It was an infection he covered up so well he started to believe it was really gone. An infection he had for so long that he almost felt empty when he covered it that well. Now that the anger fought through the makeshift gauze of happiness, Bruuno realized he missed it, in the same way someone misses a toxic friend or a migraine they had for too long. It had become a piece of him.

Bruuno remembered snippets from working under Boe, but more importantly he remembered how much he hated it. He hurt so many trolls for no reason beyond being told to. He was taught how to hold a gun before he was taught how to write. He learned the best methods of a hidden execution before he learned how to cook. The best took for pulling fingernails, pressure points to incapacitate someone, the direction to aim a weapon so it looked like an accident. From the best cleanup crew to call, to the safest places to dump a body, and the best excuses to tell a drone. Everything Boe taught him centered around pain and violence. Destroy lives and cause destruction for the sake of money and power. Breaking bones and shooting trolls at point blank did nothing but cause anxiety and depression, and created the insecurity that allowed Bubble to seep into his life like a virus. Bruuno was never happy with who he was or what he was doing. Who was Boe to decide if Bruuno got to be happy or not? Only Bruuno could decide that.

And Bruuno decided that he did deserve to be happy. That he didn't deserve this; not from Boe, or Bubble, Carina, the Empire, Shrivo, anyone else. He was worthy of being happy. And he didn't need to make himself valuable to others to be worthy of it.

By the time Bruuno had come to this mental conclusion, Boe had started and nearly finished another cheesy and demented monolog. He strolled right up to Bruuno once more, chattering away while folding some boring origami crane. At the end, he just crumpled the crane up in a dramatic show of power. It was apparent that he thought of himself as some kind of villain, that the hero in this story would do as every hero does. No hero would ever harm the villain, because that'd make them equal and just as evil.

But Bruuno was not Aeneas, nor was he Paul. There was hardly anything heroic about him.

"So, you see my point, Bru? Just a pawn in the game of life. An important pawn to some, sure. But you, too, can be so easily crushed." Boe's smile was sinister, but frankly Bruuno found it annoying. The burning anger had created the desire, no, the need to destroy, to break things.

The fuchsia silently looked at the crumpled paper in Boe's palm. After a moment, he gingerly took the crane from Boe. It was so small in his hand, so fragile, but he still craved to demolish it. Boe's smile returned, obviously pleased that his words stuck with his charge. That was, until Bruuno dropped the crane without a care and instead grabbed onto Boe's robotic wrist with one hand, and the opposite shoulder with his free hand. Without hesitating, Bruuno destroyed. He tore Boe's arm off, just as he had done with Meduza. The prosthetic came off like a breeze, but it was obviously never meant to, permanent prosthetics are so expensive and difficult to replace so they were secured in the socket so neatly. There was nothing neat about it now. Boe's expression was horrified. If he made a sound, Bruuno didn't hear it. All he heard was the crumbling of metal and the tear of flesh. The prosthetic may have been sturdy once but it bent and folded under the pressure of Bruuno's closing fist. The jagged parts of the metal cut his hand but the pain was a welcomed feeling, grounding almost.

The arm dropped unceremoniously to the floor, and Boe did too. Jade started to pool under him and stained his white button down. Boznik tried to prop himself up and move away, but was pushed back down by Bruuno's foot.

The weight of an 8 foot fuchsia on his chest was nothing compared to the weight of the trauma that hovers over Bruuno's heart constantly.

"How's that fer the man you raised? Still like 'im?" Bruuno's expression was deadpan as he spoke, with just enough weight on Boe's chest to hurt. "A real fuckin' asshole, ain't he? Takes after his lusus. Y'know how it is. Like lusus like son, eh?" A bitter laugh escaped, and only grew louder as more pressure was applied. Bruuno heard and felt a couple cracks, the pain being confirmed by Boe's strangled gasp of pain.

Boe was no stranger to pain, but the crushing weight on his chest and white hot burning from his arm had him fading in and out. Breathing was difficult, but not impossible, and was instantly better as Bruuno got off his former lusus.

"I hope we both rot, ya daft fuckin' jackass. Don't try this shit again." Bruuno wasn't certain if Boe even heard him, but he felt better saying it out loud.

He made sure to hit the emergency alarm on Boe's desk before he left out the way he came. The violet security guard was still at his post by the cargo entrance. The radio on his vest was going off with frantic chatter as Bruuno passed him.

He made sure to smile on his way out.

#ghost.art #drabbles #Bruuno sinopa #Boe hexxio #Ask 2 tage #This took way too long to format on mobile and twice as long to write.#If I need to add a warning leme know!

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wanna-do-bad-things · 4 years

Text

Expecting.

Summary: Tired of dating for nothing, Henry laid everything out for her on that very first date. But when he gets everything he hoped for, there’s one thing left that he really wants.

Word count: 1683

Warnings: trying to get pregnant (no heartbreak tho, it just takes a lil time), fluffy baby daddy Henry

A/N: this was for @henrythickcavill, requested via my patreon.

________

Henry has been on cloud nine ever since she told him she was pregnant. Tired and mentally exhausted trying to find the right person, Henry had all but given up. It’s not that he was actively looking for a girlfriend, or wife in his case, but he did hope that when the right person came along, he’d just know. He’d feel it in his bones. He didn’t think it would happen like it does in the movies, where everything aligns, everything tastes better, music sounds better and he can breathe like he’s never breathed before. But he thought he’d feel something different.

She didn’t breeze into his life. She didn’t make him understand now why everything else hadn’t worked out. But what she did do was make him wonder how the hell he’d managed to feel so complete before when he felt bursting at the seams when he was around her. He’d laid it all on the table on their first date.

“I know this is a little full on, but I’m going to be honest with you. I can’t keep doing meaningless dates. If you’re not looking for something serious, something long term and possibly the end goal, then this date isn’t going to go far. You can leave, I’ll still pay for the bill, but I won’t hold it against you. I understand not everyone will be on the same page.”

Instead of pushing her chair back, grabbing her coat and bag and walking out of the restaurant, she pulled her chair a little closer, poured them both a drink and said, “so what colour theme are we having at the wedding and how many children are we having?”

She took an open interest in what he had to say, she challenged him on a few of his viewpoints just for a good conversation piece. They shared many of the same opinions and differed on a handful but nothing deal breaking or something that neither could get past. Henry understood that not everyone was the same and listening to her speak was amazing. He adored that they were on the same page when it came to values and their life.

As the weeks and months went on, he tried to trip her up. Tried to catch her out and see if she was just spoon feeding him everything he wanted to hear but no, it continued to flow almost perfectly. Henry took her on several vacations per year, she joined him on set, rode him when he needed his stress relieving and helped him with his lines. She was by no means a good actress, but she would try to put her feelings into it, try to give the script some sort of justice and helped Henry when he needed it.

They married three years later, with her joking that Henry would rush her down the aisle just so he could get straight to the baby making part of marriage. But it didn’t happen as quickly as either of them hoped. She came off her birth control and though they’d lose themselves within the sheets (or on the counter tops, table, against the hallway wall, the sofa, his gaming chair…just anywhere which could hold their weight,) as often as possible without wanting to take the fun out of sex and just have it for the sake of having a baby, pregnancy just wasn’t as easy to happen as they’d thought.

A year and half into their marriage, she’d began to draw up schedules, bought thermometers to check her temperature and downloaded several “trying to get pregnant” apps. She tracked her cycles, found the optimum times for having sex and had started to pitch it all to Henry when she realised she was two weeks late.

He’d sat there before her, waiting for her to reach the main part of her big presentation of why looking at their baby making schedule would be most effective when he’d watched the blood drain from her face and her scramble out of the room, roughly slamming the bathroom door closed and lock it before he’d been able to fully understand what had just happened. He’d heard things dropping onto the floor, things being torn open and as he’d stood nervously on the other side of the bathroom door, his hand on the wooden surface, listening carefully for anything which could give him an idea of what had happened, he’d finally heard the little sob that came from her.

“Are you ok?” He’d asked softly, not wanting to refer to her by any pet names, instead addressing her by her name. She hadn’t replied for a moment or two, just the sound of her soft cries filling the room in which he couldn’t access until she’d finally slid the lock open and he found her sitting on the floor, surrounded by torn open pregnancy test boxes and four tests sitting in front of her, letters boasting PREGNANT 4+ WEEKS on each of them.

Henry hadn’t wanted to go too crazy. He’d wanted this for too long and didn’t want to curse anything by purchasing anything too early. He’d gripped her hand, their fingers locked together, tears falling from his eyes as he’d pressed their hands to his lips as his eyes had remained fixated on the screen during her scan, watching as their two babies wriggled around for them. Watching as their tiny limbs stretched out and they flipped themselves around in their little bubble of comfort.

With each passing week, Henry ensured that he took care of any of the big jobs, needing her to take it as easily as possible. She hadn’t wanted to completely give up their workouts, and he’d make sure that he was there to observe each one, with a personalised plan specifically for pregnancy. They scoured the websites for the perfect nursery set up. With the babies genders remaining a secret, pots of neutral paint sits in the room. Dust sheets are down ready to catch any splatters of paint which hadn’t made it onto the walls. Tins of light colours are waiting to be applied and Henry has changed into his “DIY” clothes which are sweatpants and a loose, though still fitted for him, cotton tee shirt.

Most of the walls will be a pale grey to match the carpet, but there’ll be soft mint greens, duck egg blues, pale yellows scattered around the room in forms of cuddle bears, artwork and books that he wants to read to them. Two rocking chairs have been placed, and tested, and he already looks forward to sitting in them while reading to the two of them as they have their feed, much like he’s already done with her sitting beside him, their joined hands pressed to her large bump as he’d read some of his favourite childhood stories to them so that they would already recognise his voice. She’s due in one months’ time, and only now does he feel confident enough to begin to paint and assemble everything he’d bought.

She’d caught him in the middle of their living room two months ago, the boxes emptied out and him checking every screw, every nut, bolt and piece against the assembly instructions to ensure that everything was there, fully prepared with the phone and laptop beside him to make all the forms of contact needed to get the right parts sent out. “I’m not leaving it until last minute to then find out something is missing, or wrong or damaged and it’s too late.”

He’s strolled around the house with the double pram, telling her he needed to break in the wheels. He’s practiced for what felt like hours closing the pram and re-opening it again. Getting it in and out of the large car which he bought for the babies in mind. He’s tested numerous ways of picking up the baby carriers and how to get them in and out of the car with ease. He’s completed a baby first aid course and made sure he’s bought enough things to baby proof the house.

“You have some explaining to do.” She says, waddling into the doorway of the nursery, holding up some of the baby outfits he’s purchased.

“Look at the little cape though.” He grins, putting down the paint roller and tray before he’s even applied the first stroke. He walks over to her, his hand instinctively going to her belly as the other touches the cape of the baby vest which reads “my daddy is superman.”

“And this?” She holds up a mini Chiefs kit.

“I don’t make the rules around here. It’s law that they should match their daddy.”

“But what if they choose to suppo-”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Henry cuts her off with a wag of his finger, “we don’t have none of that negativity around here. Absolutely not.” It takes everything she can muster not to crack another smile and to try and keep her expression as neutral as possible but the stern look upon Henry’s face makes it more difficult to do so.

“You can’t wait for this, can you?” She asks him as she sinks down into her rocking chair and slowly goes back and forth, sighing contently to get the weight from her swelling ankles and sore feet.

“Lumberjack beard, bags under my eyes so big I could do a months shopping in them and endless stories of ‘so yeah, my kid pooped today’ conversations. I can’t wait.”

“No dad bod?” She questions.

“I’m a daddy now, and I’ve got a body.” You sure are daddy, she thinks. If she weren’t suffering from her aching hips, she’d be wanting to climb onto his lap and ride him. He looks far too good right now.

“Yeah you have, now let me see that body of yours get to work….on this room. Not on me.” She says, holding up her finger and lifting a leg up as though that could stop Henry from covering her body with his own, “you’ve done enough.”

“Well, you know what they say… it helps to speed things along…”

#henry cavill one shot #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill imagine

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isis-astarte-diana · 4 years

Text

Tetchy

Summary: “Tetchy tonight, Mandy.” Miranda pushes your buttons. You push back.

Warnings: NSFW. M(iranda)IHOW. (I need a new acronym! Why does everyone’s name have to start with the same letter?) Mildly dub!con, possibly. Knifeplay with bad BDSM etiquette. Violence. Painful sex (at this point, I don’t know if I can not write it). Semi-public sex(?). Name calling. One (1) use of Daddy, but it’s in jest. Very dodgy relationship dynamics, including references to stalking. Also, I make some non-sexual references to peeing, because it’s a stakeout and I think about these things.

Word Count: 3057

NB: It has come to my attention that there is some serious brat erasure in my smut. Can’t have that, can we? Also this is the first time I’ve been able to write a normal human person and I’ve had a lot of fun with the playful dialogue and the swearing. Sorry. And, uh, I’m sticking with darlin’ for Miranda because every single time a Scottish woman has called me darlin’ I have combusted slightly.

“Would you stop showing off?”

Miranda shoots you a sideways glance, her gloved hand never pausing in its relentless manipulation of the butterfly knife. She wrinkles her nose and flashes a contemptuous smirk. “Am I showing off?”

“You know that you are.” Once more, the swish, the click, the endless rhythm to her frustration. “And the noise is doing my head in.”

“Noise?” Swish. Click. Swish. Click. Your fingers twitch into a tense fist. “What noise would that be?”

Huffing, you turn away from her, staring out of the passenger side window into the gloom of the multi-storey car park. The car is shrouded in darkness, the nearest fluorescent light sputtering with a sickly greenish glow a good few yards away. “I had so many better plans for tonight.”

“No you didn’t.” Swish. Click. You wish that she would cut her fucking hand, but the glove would take the brunt of it and she’d probably just carry on out of spite. “I know what you’ve been up to, darlin’, remember? No secrets here.”

You can feel her eyes on the back of your neck now, and the reminder that she watches you shouldn’t have a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, but it does. There’s something of a thrill to knowing that every part of your day, however tedious - buying a coffee, crossing the road, wandering around a bookshop without choosing anything - is now a performance. Miranda does not like to be out of the loop; and, admittedly, coming home to find a bag of your favourite muffins - the ones you’d eyed in the coffee shop before deciding not to treat yourself - or a copy of the book you’d almost bought waiting for you on the kitchen table is, bizarrely, rather sweet.

Sweeter, now that you’ve given her a spare key to the flat after having to call the landlord for the third time in less than a month to explain that the lock on the front door had been mysteriously damaged yet again.

“They’re obviously not coming,” you mutter, unabashedly petulant. “Can’t we just go?”

“We’ve barely been here half an hour.” Swish. Click. She sighs, sounding far more annoyed with you than anyone who’s being as irritating as she is has any right to. Swish. Click. “Fuckin’ hell, give it a bit longer.”

“Right. Fine.” Your jaw clenches. Desperate for any excuse to get out of the car and away from her, you snap, “I’m going for a piss.”

When your fingers loop into the door handle and wrench it slightly too hard, nothing happens. You try it again. A mechanism inside the door judders and grinds with a tell-tale noise and you whip around to face her. She’s staring straight ahead, through the windshield and into the dark, with a smug look in her eyes.

“Did you put the child locks on?”

Miranda has the audacity not to laugh while she plays with the knife and says sternly, “safety first.”

“Very fucking funny.” You eye the button in her door that controls the lock. You could reach it, quite easily, but doing so would mean sticking your hand into the blur of the swinging blade. “Open it.”

She doesn’t even look at you. “Nah.”

“Open it, or I’ll scream.”

“Go for it.” It’s toneless. “Anyone comes, I’ll kill them.”

You scoff. “No you won’t.”

“Might do.” She says it like you’ve dared her. “Would serve you right. You’ve been getting on my tits all night.”

Your voice is an indignant squeak. “I’ve been-?! Fuck, alright.” Folding your arms, you snort, “maybe you should put one of your tapes on, babe.”

It’s a low blow and you know it. She falters, just for a second, before starting up the infuriating pattern with the knife again, even quicker now. “Don’t.”

It feels dangerously good to see that you’ve had an effect. “Oh, you’re so scary.” Turning back to the window, you point out, “you’re just like one of those dickheads in a meeting who won’t stop clicking a pen, you know. Always fucks me off. Always just makes me want to-”

You can’t finish the thought.

With serpentine speed she’s grabbing a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back until you’re staring up at the soft grey ceiling of the car. Your hands find the locked door handle, the seat cushion, holding onto them with white knuckles to keep from slumping across the handbrake from the force. You’re twisted awkwardly in your seat, your back aching in protest at the angle, but you can’t suppress a laugh.

“Something funny?” Her voice is low as she brings the knife around in front of you so that you can see it. A loose strand of her hair tickles your forehead when the flat of the blade comes to rest over your exposed throat.

It’s cold, and smooth, and you can just barely feel the sharp edges of it. Breathless for more than one reason, you tease, “tetchy tonight, Mandy.”

“Oh, don’t call me that, darlin’.” She presses harder, hard enough that you can feel your pulse where it touches you. This position puts some pressure on your windpipe so that it’s distinctly uncomfortable. Still, you push on.

“Don’t call me darlin’, Mandy.”

“Think I’ll call you what I fuckin’ like, you mental little bitch.” She pulls on your hair again and you mewl at the wash of prickling pain across your scalp. “Take your pants off, then.”

The words inflame you, but you’re not finished playing, not after spending half an hour with her deliberately pushing your buttons. Echoing her, you sneer, “nah.”

“Please yourself.”

Before you can react the knife is gone and she’s pushing you forwards, letting go in time to send your forehead smacking into the passenger side window. It makes light burst behind your eyes. You swear under your breath, rubbing the impact site with one hand.

Behind you, her door opens and closes.

You barely glimpse her through the windshield before she’s wrenching your door open and reaching for you, fisting the front of your dress in one gloved hand, tugging hard enough to make the fabric dig into your skin as she hauls you gracelessly out of the car and to your feet. You almost bang your head on the doorframe, so sudden is this assault.

“I can-” you cover her hand with yours, trying to ease up on her grip. “I can stand up on my own, for fuck’s sake, get off me-”

“Or what, you’ll scream?” She flashes the knife again, teeth glistening in her mirthless grin to match it. “Thought we’d been through that already.”

You offer some perfunctory resistance while she shuts the door and manoeuvres you around to the back of the car, but the heady thrill of finally having her attention dulls your attempts to escape her hands. In a moment of bravery you reach for the butterfly clip that fastens her hair back and yank it loose. It must hurt - it’s supposed to hurt - but she just laughs.

“You’re such a pain in the arse, d’you know that?” Supple leather wraps around your wrist and your left arm is twisted brutally up behind your back. You grit your teeth to withhold a cry. “That big mouth’s gonna get you into trouble one day.”

Even as she turns you around and pushes you down over the boot of the car, the impact knocking the wind out of you as the hairclip falls to the ground with a clatter of plastic on concrete, you manage to bite back, “that’s the idea.”

Outside the semi-security of the car it’s bitterly cold and black as pitch. The smooth surface of it chills you to the bone and makes you shiver; this, though, is nothing compared to the tremor that runs down your spine when she leans down to cover your back with her chest, loose hair brushing your neck, lips close to your ear.

“Are you gonna shut up or do I need to teach you a lesson?” She punctuates the words by slamming her other hand down on the boot of the car where you can see it, the knife still gripped tightly in her leather-clad fingers. The sight of it makes you push back against her, shifting your arse as provocatively as you can with her pinning you down like this.

In the whiniest, most abrasive voice you can put on, you retort, “are you gonna take your belt off, daddy?”

“You’re fucked in the head.” It’s nothing short of a snarl, her hand tightening around your restrained wrist, but there’s no shortage of affection in it. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? If I turned your arse bright red, right here, while you cried and begged me to stop.”

“You think fucking highly of yourself,” you scoff, weakened by the thought that she might actually do it. “Why don’t you suck it and see?”

“Because I’m not in the mood to play your games, darlin’.” She leaves the knife there, within reach of your free hand, while she tugs the hem of your dress up past your hips, and picks it up once more when you’re bared to the waist save for your underwear. “I’d rather play one of mine.”

Your squirming stops when the blade slides under the fabric of your knickers, tight to the outside of your thigh. It doesn’t cut you, but it scratches, and it disturbs you to know that she isn’t even looking while she does it. “Do not cut my pants off,” you warn, aiming for stern and falling short.

“Think I will.”

“This isn’t porn, Miranda, I paid good fucking money for these and I will be so pissed off-”

You cut off with a furious groan when she does it anyway, the material stretching away from your skin and then fluttering loose with the motion of the knife through it.

“You’re such a bitch sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?” Seamlessly she changes hands, one still pinning you down, the other now going for the opposite side of your underwear. “I need to try harder.”

She slices through the other leg, her gloved fingers brushing your thigh when she snatches the fabric up into her hand before it can fall to the ground. Her task complete, she retrieves the knife and finally, finally closes it, slipping it back into her pocket. Her leg slides between yours, the cotton of her trousers pressing insistently up against your vulva in a way that almost makes you forget your displeasure.

“Shame.” She clicks her tongue. “I liked these ones.”

You writhe against the boot of the car. “So did I!”

“Say your goodbyes, then.” Once more, she leans down, proffering the fabric now clutched in her gloved hand. “Open wide.”

You jerk away, but not quickly enough, and she stuffs your ruined underwear into your mouth, pushing it deeper with her fingers until you almost choke on it. It’s not a merciful gag - the material steals the saliva from your mouth, and the taste of your own arousal is thick on your tongue; while the sound of her messing around with the knife is infuriating, the sight of it never fails to affect you.

“Much better.” She covers your full mouth with her hand and gives your face a painful squeeze. You cough weakly around the fabric. “Bet you taste good, don’t you?”

Your face heats under her hand at the words.

Miranda almost tugs your shoulder clear from the boot of the car when she pulls back, straightening up once more, still holding you down by your twisted arm. It’s starting to ache. Her other hand squeezes between her thigh and your own, palming you without care or ceremony, and you grip the edge of the bumper with your free hand for stability. The touch makes your legs quake.

Even with the leather of her glove smeared with your arousal, it still burns when she presses two fingers inside of you.

You cry out into the gag, arching your back, hand slapping down on the car boot with enough force to make your palm hurt. She knows that you hate this, that however slick and supple the leather might be it’s still not fit for this purpose. The thickness of the glove broadens and blunts her fingers, turning the familiar invasion clumsy and rough. With a soft chuckle she pushes them deeper.

Your eyes prickle with tears from the sensation. There’s something unnatural about it, the leather dragging at the delicate membranes of your cunt like this, but being filled and stretched around her fingers still makes your walls throb and tighten.

“Not your favourite game, is it?” Her voice is low. You shake your head emphatically, whining into the makeshift gag. She soothes you without softening. “It’s alright, it’s alright. I’m not gonna hurt you much. Not if I don’t have to.”

You sniffle pitifully and twist under her hand when she slowly withdraws.

“But you do deserve it.”

The upthrust is punishing, lifting your hips with its force, making your abdomen clench as her fingers slam into the patch of nerves at the front of your walls. Your legs twitch, tensing, trying to escape the assault. Your neglected clitoris throbs in time with your pulse.

“D’you want me to stop?”

Without even thinking about it, you shriek a muffled sound of disagreement into the gag, shaking your head again. She laughs.

“Didn’t think so.”

The rhythm she takes up is slow, but no kinder for it. She makes a point of putting her weight behind her wrist every time she fills you, so that even when the dull discomfort of the leather is eased by the slick arousal flooding your cunt the ache never quite goes away. All the while she holds you down, trembling in the cold and the unforgiving dark, dry mouth stuffed with fabric, breathing in the taste of your own desire.

“Touch yourself for me.” Something dark stirs in her tone. Her breaths are heavy, a reassuring indication that she’s enjoying this in her own way. You obey immediately.

This, too, is awkward, wriggling your hand under your hips where she has you bent over the car, and your wrist is trapped between your stomach and the edge of the boot. Your fingers are freezing from the exposure when you finally manage to press them to your clitoris, shock making your walls draw tighter around her fingers as she fucks you.

You overcome it quickly enough.

It doesn’t take long to drag yourself over that edge, your fingertips working frantically against the flesh that feels scalding in its wet heat. She manipulates you from the inside, crooking her fingers skilfully, never easing or faltering in her pace until you howl and stiffen underneath her. Huffing desperate breaths through your nose, biting down on the ruins of your underwear, you come apart with a flood of sensation that has your legs quaking and cramping where they hold you up.

“There you go,” she murmurs, when you finally fall limp against the car. “Good girl.”

She lets go of your arm, letting you stretch out the tightness left in the muscles there, and withdraws her fingers from your cunt with only a pitiful mewl of displeasure from you. You reach up to weakly tug the mess of fabric from your mouth.

“I’m still fucked off at you,” you manage, but it’s hoarse and breathless. “My favourite pants.”

“I’ll buy you more.” She snatches the damp fabric from your hand and uses it to wipe her gloves clean before balling it up in her fist and shoving it into her pocket. “No sense in letting them go to waste. Could be a long night.”

“Take your gloves off next time.” You wince when you straighten up, feeling sore and empty where she’s opened you with her fingers. Hastily you straighten your skirt. “You know I don’t like that.”

“Seemed like you liked it well enough.” Still, she catches the middle finger of each glove in turn between her teeth and drags her pale hands free of the leather. The gloves, too, go into her pocket. “You alright?”

“Fine.” It’s terse, and she frowns, cupping your cheek with her warm hand. When she meets your eyes there’s a carefully measured tenderness in her expression.

“Seriously, darlin’. Was that- was I a bit much?”

If you didn’t know her any better you would say the question was a challenge, but her eyes are crinkled at the corners with genuine concern and you nuzzle into her hand. “No,” you admit, twisting your fingers into the lapels of her jacket to pull her in for a kiss. “Never.”

It’s a good kiss, particularly after the sharpness of the game, her fingers sliding into your hair with affection far removed from the way she’d pulled it earlier. She wraps an arm around you to tug you into her chest, calming your shivering body with her warmth, but the other effects of the cold and the recent orgasm make themselves known with a vengeance and you laugh into her mouth when you pull away.

“I do actually quite need a piss now, though.”

Miranda snickers and lets you go. With a tilt of her head she indicates the dark corner a few feet away from the back of the car. “Go on then.”

You snort with disbelief. “Fuck off.” Raising an eyebrow, she folds her arms and leans back against the car. A smile tugs at her lips. “You’re not serious.”

“I’m not letting you wander off at night with no pants on. Anything could happen.”

"I wouldn’t have no pants on if you hadn’t ruined them!”

“Funny, that.” Her tongue pokes at the inside of her cheek as she rolls her eyes. “Now hurry up, it’s freezing.”

“You have a coat on!” Reluctantly, you glance around yourself, but the place is deserted and you have no doubt that it’s seen far worse. She watches with a smug smile as you wander into the corner. “Right. Fine. Turn around, then.”

Her boots shift on the concrete when she settles against the car, lifting her chin defiantly. “Nah.”

“Of course.” As you start to tug the hem of your dress up once more, you mutter, “god, I hate you.”

Even so, you can’t stop smiling.

#mine #nsfwork #miranda croft x reader #is that a tag yet???#it is now

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years

Note

The ficlet of blind Jaskier is so good! Your writing is amazing

I am so happy you liked the blind Jaskier ficlet! Hurting Jaskier in novel ways is quite good fun, I hope you like this little thank you for your lovely words!

CW: Alcohol abuse.

Life For Rent

It had been a while since Geralt saw Jaskier. They hadn’t parted on the best of terms, Geralt snarling that if he wanted Kaer Morhen to be a place where birds wintered, he would go out and buy a flock of pigeons - they would at least sound better than Jaskier’s constant, inane twittering. Needless to say, that hadn’t gone down well. After a few more barbed comments, they went their separate ways. That winter, Geralt was vicious with his training, focusing utterly on honing his skill and working himself to the point of exhaustion each day just so he didn’t have to think.

Come spring, he left Kaer Morhen, a little less frustrated with Jaskier and ready to travel with him again. However, Jaskier was nowhere to be found. Nobody knew where he had spent the winter, there was no news of new songs or performances. Geralt wasn’t best pleased with that but he had to fend for himself first and foremost, so he continued along his path, taking contracts and keeping an ear out for Jaskier.

All at once, news of the bard surfaced. He was playing not too far from Geralt, maybe two day’s ride. Which meant that maybe they could cross paths again and once more Geralt would have a travelling companion. It took four days to catch up with Jaskier, he was playing in a tavern, as bright and colourful as ever before. He spotted Geralt, face going through a complicated range before settling back on a smile as he pranced through the crowd. It earned him good coin. At the end, Geralt was the one to approach him.

“Winter has done nothing to dull you,” he greeted.

“And I see it hasn’t sharpened your wit,” Jaskier shot back. “Good luck on your path.”

With that, Jaskier left him and Geralt blinked, trying to figure out what just happened. By the time he tried to find Jaskier again, he was gone, not a single sign of him. Almost like he had disappeared into thin air.

So, Geralt continued alone. Contracts came and went, he completed them, took payment which was usually less than when he had Jaskier by his side. He reasoned that with one less mouth to feed, it didn’t matter. Villagers could hate him and it was fine. Even if sometimes they withheld all payment and threw stones to get him out after his services were no longer needed.

The next time he bumped into Jaskier, it was by accident. He was at a court, answering the call about a creature terrorising a settlement at the edge of the land. It was a complete surprise to find Jaskier there, playing and smiling as if he’d spent his entire life tethered to such a court.

“Jaskier,” Geralt nodded. He hoped he could lure the bard away from his post.

“Witcher.” The title stung and Geralt frowned.

“Does the road not call to you?” He tried again, wanting to offer Jaskier his usual spot.

“It does. And it always will call in the direction that takes me furthest from you.”

That was a slap to the face and Geralt blinked. He didn’t understand. Before he could ask, Jaskier turned and excused himself for the night, claiming fatigue. After that, Geralt didn’t see him again for a long time.

Only, stories of Jaskier kept cropping up. Geralt was listening out for them, wanting to understand and to maybe stay out of the bard’s way after the last encounter. Yet there were stories of Jaskier in villages and towns. Some claimed he had taken a post at Oxenfurt while others swore they saw him near Nilfgaard. It made no sense. Especially not when Geralt knew from a merchant that Jaskier was in Cintra yet a day later they met in passing in Cidaris. It was impossible for Jaskier to be able to travel so fast.

Opting to say nothing, Geralt watched Jaskier leave Cidaris and he took the road in the opposite direction. He and Jaskier were no longer friends but at least Geralt could afford him the courtesy of avoiding him. Only, two days later Geralt found him in a tavern. He shouldn’t have been there. Even if he had turned back and headed out of Cidaris in the same direction as Geralt, they should have passed on the road. Something wasn’t right.

Waiting for Jaskier to be done with his set, Geralt approached him as he was collecting the coin thrown by his feet. With everything squirrelled away, Geralt could easily grab him by the arm and haul him to a room.

“What are you?” he hissed, dagger close to Jaskier’s throat.

“Don’t hurt us!” Jaskier squirmed, leaning away from the silver of the blade with wide eyes. “We’ll show you everything. Just let us be.”

Really, Geralt should have killed the creature then and there, imitating Jaskier as it was. But he needed answers and this beast could give him that. “Just remember I can hunt you down,” he snarled. “So don’t try to run. Tell me everything.”

“We’ll show you. We won’t run. We need to return to pay anyway.”

It was so peculiar to hear Jaskier talk like that and Geralt had a sinking feeling he was talking to a doppler. It would make sense, given the peculiar habit of referring to himself in plural and fear of silver.

“We’ve only just started. We’re still learning but we hate you.” Even if it wasn’t Jaskier saying it, hearing that in his voice still hurt. Geralt did his level best to ignore it.

They rode together, passing through villages and sometimes seemingly taking an unnecessary detour. However, in the end they were in Lettenhove. Rather than the viscount’s mansion, they pulled to a stop in a village, in front of a hovel. Knocking on the door three time, Jaskier let them in, a pouch of money in hand.

“We’re back, we’re sorry,” he said.

There was a low growl from the table shoved in the corner. “How many times, it is ‘I’m back’! If you want to pass as me, you need to talk in singular.”

The voice was familiar but it was slurred, bottles lined all the surfaces, empty but that did nothing to hide the stench of alcohol. A dull and lifeless figure lifted its head from the table and sunken blue eyes glared hazily at them.

“What the fuck have you done?” Jaskier snarled, angry and at the same time smelling terrified. “There are three rules. You sing like I showed you. You avoid each other. And you never bring him back.” He pushed up from the table and swayed dangerously. Geralt could see how much weight Jaskier had lost, his skin pale and sickly, too much drink and not a whole lot else had been wasting him away.

There were so many questions but Jaskier yelled at them to get out, threw one bottle before reaching for another to drink from. It was a pitiful sight. However, Geralt left, watching as the doppler all but threw a coin pouch onto the table and beat a hasty retreat. Once outside, Geralt listened to a hiccoughing sob from behind the closed door.

He stayed and watched, trying to understand what was going on. Over the next couple of days, he saw Jaskier only leave once to order a fresh delivery of bottles, indiscriminate of what he got as long as it got him drunk. However, other Jaskiers returned to the house, slipped in with a coin pouch in hand and left without it. Each time, they knocked three times before entering.

Slowly, Geralt understood and he waited until one of the dopplers left. There would be at least a couple of hours before another turned up. He approached the door, knocked three times and let himself in.

This time, Jaskier was half propped up by the empty fireplace, hand clutched at the neck of a bottle and slumped forward.

“Leave your payment on the table and get out,” he snapped, not even looking up.

On quiet feet, Geralt approached and crouched down opposite him. “How much do you charge?”

That had Jaskier’s head snapping up, teeth bared. “Don’t play games with me. I will end you.” A silver blade appeared in his hand and was waved in Geralt’s face. With great ease, Geralt grabbed the dagger, ignoring the bite of blade against his palm and twisted it out of Jaskier’s hold.

Silence engulfed them and Jaskier stared up at him, blinking and trying to decide on what emotion to settle on. It looked like he was torn between rage and horror.

“It’s you.”

“It’s me,” Geralt agreed. “And I finally found you.”

A bitter laugh left Jaskier at that and he leaned back against the wall. “I’m everywhere. The great Jaskier must live on after all. The Continent needs me. At least that’s what I tell myself. That the people need me even if you don’t.”

Finally, Geralt understood. Or he thought he did. Jaskier had been selling his life, renting it out to any doppler that wanted it. He could teach, be a viscount, travel the roads and sing all at once. While he himself could drink himself into oblivion in a rundown house, taking rent for the lives he never lived.

“I got myself a flock. Spread my wings to cover the Continent with my shit.” There was something so bitter about him and Geralt knew it was his fault. Slowly, he sat down next to Jaskier, feeling old and tired like he never had before. “I give them my songs. I give them my potential. They will do more with it than I ever could.”

Carefully, Geralt pulled the bottle from his lax hand and took a swig from it. He’d fucked up beyond recognition. Now, it was time to make amends. The only thing Geralt could hope for was that he wasn’t too late.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #tldr: jaskier rents his life out to dopplers #cw: alcohol #cw: alcohol abuse

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the-regal-warrior · 4 years

Text

Olympic Dreams Chapter Three

It’s here - it’s finally here!! And I’m so excited to share it with you. Huge shoutouts to @highqueenofelfhame and @nalgenewhore for putting up with my whining and getting me through this chapter.

This is the last of what I like to refer to as the “intro chapters.”

Summary: Join all of our favorite characters from Throne of Glass as they take on the Olympics. And by everyone, I mean everyone. I literally have 14 main characters to work with. I might be in a little over my head. Watch as our characters experience life and relationships with the Olympic Games as their stage.

Warnings: Language and smut, lovelies - you all know me by now.

Lorcan:

Flopping down on the ground next to his bag, Lorcan pulled his phone out of the front pocket of his duffel. Upon flipping it so he could see the screen, he saw that Elide hadn’t answered his last text yet. She’d texted him last night once they’d both gotten back to their rooms, and they’d both been up later than they’d planned, just talking about nothing and getting to know one another.

He’d fallen asleep in the middle of their conversation about his first Olympic Games, and he’d never been happier to wake up in the morning than he was when he saw a message from her just waiting for him. They’d picked up their train of thought like there hadn’t even been an interruption, and he was pretty impressed with himself. He didn’t exactly make friends easily - partially because he was fairly stoic and partially because he had what his teammates referred to as “resting bitch face” - so he was surprised at the ease with which the two of them were able to converse.

They’d talked as they both got ready for their day - apparently Lys had conditioning to do and Elide, as her coach, had to go with her to actually be a coach - and now he was sitting on the side of the field, slowly stretching out his legs while he waited for the rest of the team to show up. He had a habit of always being early because he liked the silence of the field and the stadium before everyone showed up and crowded him.

Glancing up at the sound of a loud “whoop” echoing from the locker rooms, he saw that Fenrys and Connall were walking toward him. He barely had time to wave at them before his phone buzzed against his thigh. Looking at the screen, he had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from smiling when he saw it was Elide.

>> I can’t believe you were starry-eyed about your Olympic teammates during your first games. I wish I could have been there to see that.

<< Oh, it’s true - the other guys never let me forget it.

<< I’m sorry you couldn’t compete four years ago - I know that had to be hard for you.

>> It basically broke my heart, but I did what I had to.

Lorcan was debating how to respond to that since he knew that her injury was a sensitive subject - it had come up briefly the night before but she’d quickly changed the subject - but she sent him another text before he came up with anything.

>> How’s practice going so far?

<< We haven’t started yet - most of the team isn’t even here. But thing one and thing two just walked in, so my peace and quiet is gone.

>> Fenrys and Connall, then?

The sound of two duffel bags flopping onto the ground next to him pulled him out of his reverie just in time for him to realize he was smiling like an idiot at his phone. He tried to school his expression into a more neutral one before either of them noticed, but it appeared luck wasn’t on his side when he felt one of them ruffling his hair.

Tilting his head back, he saw Fenrys smirking down at him. “Well, well,” he started, flicking the tip of Lorcan’s nose, “someone certainly seems chipper this morning.”

“He certainly does,” Connall chimed in, throwing himself on the ground next to Lorcan and resting his head on his outstretched legs. “I think I even saw him smile.”

Fenrys chuckled, plopping down next to his brother. “You know, I think I saw that, too.”

“Both of you can fuck off,” Lorcan grumbled, leaning back until he was stretched out on his back. His teammates were his best friends, but he was still a fairly private person and he didn’t want to be bothered by all of their teasing just yet.

The two of them continued to grumble quietly where they were sprawled on top of him - somehow Fenrys had spun himself around so he could rest his head on Lorcan’s legs as well - but he just closed his eyes and tuned them out, letting the early morning sun warm his face.

He didn’t get to bask in the sun for long, however, before a shadow fell over his face. Cracking one eye open, he saw Vaughan staring down at him. He heard a rustling sound off to his left, and he turned his head to see Gavriel sitting himself down next to Fenrys, and giving him a questioning look as he just kept grumbling.

Shifting his attention back to Vaughan, he saw that he too was giving the twins a confused look. “What’s with them?” he finally asked, folding himself to the ground by Lorcan’s chest.

“They’re being ridiculous,” Lorcan replied, huffing a breath when Vaughan leaned forward and dropped his head on his chest. Glancing down, he saw both Fenrys and Connall flipping him off.

“Lor here,” Fenrys mumbled, “was very smiley when we got here this morning.”

Connall added, “yeah, smiley - towards his phone - and he won’t tell us why.”

“Is that so?” Gavriel chimed in, turning his questioning looks to Lorcan. “Not in a sharing mood?”

Vaughan nodded as best as he could with his chin resting against Lorcan’s sternum. “Yeah, Lor,” he whined, poking him in the side for emphasis. “Tell us what was so interesting about your phone that it made you smile.”

A new voice chimed in from behind him, and Lorcan groaned when he realized it was Rowan. “Ooo, a smiling Lorcan?” he questioned. “Could this have anything to do with a certain dark-haired diving coach?”

That caught Fen’s attention. “That’s right! You and Elide did seem very cozy in the pool last night.”

A chorus of “oooo” rang out from the other guys around him, and it took everything in him not to groan out loud. He’d forgotten that he’d had an audience when he was spending so much time with her last night, and he had a sinking suspicion that Rowan knew he’d given Elide his phone number.

“I think you’re losing it boys,” he finally settled on. They continued speculating and grumbling good-naturedly, but he tried to ignore them.

“Come on, Lor.” That was Rowan, leaning down and hauling him into a sitting position by grabbing his shoulders, effectively toppling Vaughan onto the ground next to him. Lorcan felt fingers in his hair, and he realized that Rowan had started braiding his hair. It was a common sight among the six of them - they all had long hair, and they’d quickly found that braids were better for keeping it up for the duration of their games - and they used it as a bonding tool now. “Don’t you wanna tell us all about your pretty little lady friend?”

They all gave him expectant looks, and he shook his head at them when he felt Rowan secure his hair into a bun on the crown of his head. “Look boys, I don’t know what the fuck y’all are talking about. There’s nothing going on with Elide and me - nothing.”

Apparently Aedion had walked in while they were all focused on Lorcan, and now he was voicing his opinion on the matter. “That’s not what I saw last night.”

Lorcan heaved a sigh, already dreading the coming practice. It was going to be a long fucking day.

Chaol:

Rapping his knuckles against his best friend’s door, he lifted the bottom of his sleeveless t-shirt to wipe the lingering sweat from his forehead. He’d spent the morning in the weight room, although it had been a relatively easy workout. Since it was the day of the Opening Ceremonies, he and his coach, Brullo, had decided that it was a good day for a lighter workout. Even though the Ceremonies didn’t officially start until that evening, the athletes representing the teams had to show up later in the afternoon to get ready to support their countries when they were announced.

“Hey, man,” Dorian greeted after he opened the door, ushering Chaol inside with a nod of his head. “Tough workout this morning?”

Shaking his head, Chaol flopped on his back on the bed. “Nah, it wasn’t too bad - took it easy since we have Opening Ceremonies later.”

“Will you get your sweaty ass off my bed?” Dorian chucked a pillow at him, laughing when it hit him square in the face. “I don’t care how easy your workout was, I don’t need you sweating all over my sheets.”

Chaol grumbled good-naturedly, but he did climb off the bed. “Fine, fine. Guess I’ll just sit on the floor.”

“Yeah, I guess you will.” Dorian gestured to the drawstring bag his friend had dropped just inside the door. “Or, better yet, you could just go shower, since I know you don’t plan on going to the Ceremonies like that.”

“Gods, we’ve been friends for too long.” Though he shot Dorian a withering glare, he did grab his bag and head for the bathroom. “Yrene’s on her way - try not to flirt with my girlfriend if she gets here before I’m done.” He had a habit of flirting without even knowing it, though he knew Dorian would never flirt with a girl who had a boyfriend. Not to mention whatever was going on between him and Manon…

Chaol had just shut the door to the bathroom when he heard Dorian yell, “no promises!”

~*^*~

He’d just climbed out of the shower when he heard Dorian chuckling from outside the door. “What’s so funny out there?”

“Erm…” Dorian seemed to pause before he responded. “Nothing, really. I was just texting Aelin about her schedule and stuff.”

He could hear the hesitation in his voice, and Chaol knew it was because he was talking about Aelin. He’d dated her soon after the last games four years ago. Actually, they’d met during the Olympics, when she was seventeen and he was twenty. Their relationship had lasted for about nine months, and even though it hadn’t exactly ended well, it was a long time ago.

“Chill, man,” he finally responded. “We broke up a long time ago - we were different people then. Besides, we’re sort of friends now.”

“When the hell did that happen?”

Chaol chuckled. “Officially? About two days ago. But honestly, I’m not really sure. I’d gotten over our break up long before I started dating Yrene, and then I actually ran into her two days ago when I was out on a run. We talked, and it was awkward, and then it… wasn’t? I don’t know, it was like before we started dating, when we were just friends. It was… a nice change.”

He heard Dorian’s low whistle even through the door. “That’s a nice change.”

He’d finished getting dressed by then, and he was just getting ready to respond when he heard a knock on the door. Running the towel over his hair to get rid of any water droplets that were still clinging to the short strands, he heard his girlfriend’s familiar laugh echoing from the other side of the door.

Tossing his towel on the rack, he pulled the door open just in time to see Dorian set Yrene back on her feet and release her from a hug - he always picked her up and spun her around whenever he saw her, and it never failed to make her laugh.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted, his lips pulling into a smile when she collapsed into a chair and groaned. “Sounds like someone had a rough morning.”

Yrene just rolled her eyes and shook her head at him. “Nah, just a boring one. The soccer team had practice this morning, which I was watching just to make sure nothing went wrong, but then I had to leave halfway through to go check on swim team practice.” Even though she grumbled, he knew she was ecstatic to be here. He and Dorian had both competed four years ago, but this was her first time at the Olympics.

“Well,” he finally said, walking over and sprawling across her lap, which pulled a muffled grunt from her even as she wrapped her arms around him. “You came to the right place.” He kissed her forehead gently, smiling when he felt her relax against him.

“Indeed you did,” Dorian chimed in. “If you two can be bothered to remove yourselves from one another, the three of us can get lunch before the Ceremonies.”

“Which you’re going to love, by the way.” Chaol climbed off her lap and grabbed her hands, pulling her to her feet and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “So, what do you say? Lunch and then more firsts for your Olympic journey?”

Laughing when she saw Dorian was nodding along with everything Chaol was saying, she nodded and let her boyfriend lead her out the door, linking her arm with Dorian’s. “Sounds like a plan, boys.”

Lysandra:

“This is amazing!” Lysandra knew she sounded like a little kid on Christmas morning, but she couldn’t help herself. Though this was her second Olympic Games, it was her first Opening Ceremonies. The diving preliminaries had been the day after them during the last games, so she hadn’t been able to go because she had her final round of training before the competition officially started.

A massive smile stretching over her face, she bounced on her toes as she waited for Erilea to be announced. They were slowly making their way toward the entrance to the stadium where the Ceremonies were held, and she kept drumming on Aedion’s arm in excitement. “It’s almost time!” she squealed, tapping out a happy beat on his forearm before bouncing again.

Unfortunately, her bouncing was a little too enthusiastic, and she stumbled into Aedion just as he grabbed her hands to keep her from using him as her own personal drum kit. His grip was the only thing that kept her from toppling over when she rebounded off his chest, and he just shook his head at her. “It’s a good thing you’re so cute when you’re so excited.”

“Oh, you hush,” Lysandra chided, settling into him when he tucked her against his side. “Aelin told me all about how excited you were during the last Games.”

Chuckling at the glare she was giving him, he just knocked his forehead against hers briefly before gesturing to the entrance. “Yeah, well, you haven’t seen anything yet - get ready.”

She barely had time to blink before they were walking into the stadium, the announcer’s voice echoing through the massive structure. “And here come the athletes from Erilea!”

Lysandra giggled in excitement and clapped her hands together before following the example of her teammates and waving to the crowd. She couldn’t believe how many people were there, and she saw Erilean flags waving everywhere she looked. Letting out a soft “whoo” when she heard cheering from a group of fans on her right, she turned to face Aedion with a gleeful expression on her face. “This is… so much better than I ever thought.”

“Isn’t it?” he replied, gesturing to the smiling faces of all the athletes around them. “Being asked to represent your country at the Olympics is an honor, but this is still my favorite part. Getting to see the joy on everyone's faces as it all sinks in that they’re really here, that they’re representing their country on an international scale? Nothing beats that feeling.”

“It’s an awe-inspiring feeling,” Lysandra agreed, catching Elide’s smiling face out of the corner of her eye. “I forgot! It’s Elide’s first Olympics - I’ll be right back.” Weaving her way through the other members of the diving team, she quickly made her way to Elide’s side and wrapped an arm around the other girl’s shoulders. “Welcome to the Olympics, El,” she murmured.

“Oh, Lys!” she cried, turning to her with a happy expression and tear-filled eyes. “This is everything I’ve dreamed of. Being here… I never thought this would happen. Even though I’m not competing, I’m still representing my country… I’m representing Erilea at the Olympics!”

Lys couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her at the other girl’s tone, and pulled her into a hug even as they kept walking. She knew how much Elide had been looking forward to being able to compete before the injury, and she knew how crushed she was when that dream was shattered. But she was glad that Elide finally found her way to the Games, even more so because she’d get to share her journey.

The two of them talked about how amazing it all was for a couple minutes before Lysandra noticed that Elide seemed to be limping slightly. She figured it was a combination of diving the day before and the way she’d tripped coming out of the pool. Though she knew Elide was more than capable of looking after herself, she still worried about her irritating her injury.

Just as she was about to ask if she was okay, she took notice of someone walking on Elide’s other side. Turning to see who it was, Lysandra had to stifle her gasp of surprise when she realized it was Lorcan.

Elide noticed him at the same time that Lysandra did, and the smile on her face seemed to grow even bigger, if that was possible. “Hey, Lorcan!” she greeted, bumping her hip against his.

“Hey,” he rumbled, his low voice someone still audible with all the noise. “Are you alright?”

Elide gave him a confused look, but when she saw that his gaze was directed at her ankle, she just nodded. “I’m okay. It’s just a little sore from getting so much use, and from diving and tripping yesterday.”

Lorcan just nodded, and looked like he wanted to say more when his teammates started calling for him. Elide gave her a look, and Lysandra nodded and gestured over her shoulder. “Go on - I’m gonna go find Aelin!”

As the two of them walked off, Lysandra noticed that Lorcan had wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and Elide was leaning into him, grateful for the support. Deciding to wonder what that was all about later, she just turned and skipped to Aelin’s side, where she was surrounded by the rest of the gymnasts.

The two of them waved to the crowds together for a few moments, taking pictures and videos to document the moment, but eventually they split, Aelin going in search of Rowan and Lys looking for Aedion again.

It only took her a handful of seconds to find him - he was with the Bane (the soccer team he played for in Erilea and most of his Olympic teammates), and they were a fairly difficult group of people to miss. Walking over to him, she wrapped an arm around his waist, curling into his side as he grinned down at her. She couldn’t help the way her heart fluttered every time she saw his grin. Though she had been the one to insist on a friends with benefits relationship, she was beginning to develop feelings for someone she had quickly found to be a best friend… and she didn’t know what to do about it. As conflicted as her emotions were, she still relished in getting to share this experience with him.

She spent the rest of the walk around the stadium like that, his arm a comforting weight on her shoulders. As they rounded the final bend in the track, she caught a glimpse of Lorcan and Elide - and felt her mouth drop open. He was carrying her on his back, and Elide didn’t seem to mind the help at all. In fact, both of them were smiling, and Lorcan was nodding along as she talked into his ear.

Interesting.

Lysandra shook off the part of her that wanted to know more right away, knowing that there would be time for that later. For the moment, she’d just take in the experience with Aedion by her side.

Rowan:

Rowan walked out of the bathroom to see his girlfriend bending down to touch her toes - in nothing but a sports bra and thong. The sight of her stretching before bed wasn’t uncommon - in fact, it was probably one of the most expected things in his daily life. As a gymnast, she was constantly stretching and doing whatever she could to keep her joints and muscles loose. He’d learned early on in their relationship that she did an evening cool down - be it stretches or simple yoga poses - every night before bed.

However, she usually had on more than just her matching black undergarments.

She must have heard the way his breath hitched in his throat, because she stood and looked at him over her shoulder. “It was too hot for clothes,” she stated, her lips twisting into a smirk.

“Aelin,” he breathed, eyes caught on the way the thin fabric of her thong disappeared between the very firm cheeks of her ass. “I think you just like to watch me suffer.”

“Maybe,” she murmured, reaching her arms over her head and stretching onto her toes, the added curve in her back pushing her ass even closer to him. “But if you’re going to give me a show, I figured you deserved one too.” She gestured to him for emphasis.

Though it was hard, he managed to tear his gaze from her tantalizing curves to glance down at himself. They’d come back from the Opening Ceremonies, both of them agreeing that it was time for bed. The day of the Ceremonies tended to be both exhilarating and exhausting for the athletes, and they both had full schedules for the Games. He’d gone into the bathroom, since he liked to shower before bed. It was something that helped calm his muscles at the end of the day - Aelin had her stretching and he had his warm showers.

He’d walked into the room clad in only a pair of sweats that were slung low on his hips - standard sleeping attire for him - and it seemed his girlfriend was fascinated with his bare chest. “Well, I suppose fair is fair, love.”

She merely nodded, talking several steps in his direction until she was standing right in front of him. “I need you to help me stretch my legs,” she whispered, brushing her lips over his jaw.

“Is that so?” Rowan responded, his hands settling on her waist. “Well, your wish is my command, Fireheart.”

“You do love pleasing me, buzzard.” Pushing his shoulders until he started moving backward, she didn’t stop until his back was resting against the wall. “I just need you to stay right here,” she murmured, pulling herself out of his grasp.

Rowan watched her as she took a step back from him, her gaze fixed on his left shoulder. She stared at him for a moment, and he was just about to ask what she was doing when she moved. Kicking her right leg just to his left, she lifted it until her ankle was hovering just over his shoulder.

Aelin lowered her foot gently until it was resting against him - and then she leaned into the stretch.

He groaned as her damp, barely covered folds came in contact with his quickly hardening length. Though he was trying to control himself - after all, if she truly wanted to stretch, he had no qualms helping her - but that went out the door when she began grinding against him.

“Seems like someone is in a teasing mood,” he all but growled, one hand coming to rest on her calf as it rested just below his shoulder.

Aelin tried to play coy. “I don’t think I know what you’re talking about.”

He merely raised a brow at her - two could play at that game. Still gripping her leg with one hand, he worked the other between their bodies, sliding it down her stomach until he was cupping her slick heat. “That’s odd, because your wet little pussy sure seems to know what I’m talking about.” Leaning in until his lips were just brushing hers, Rowan pushed her thong aside and slid two fingers inside of her.

Gasping against his lips, Aelin couldn’t seem to help the way her hips rolled against his hand. He captured the moans that escaped her in a soul-shattering kiss, all teeth and tongues and gasping breaths, his fingers never stopped as he worked her toward what he decided then and there would be her first of many orgasms that night.

It seemed, however, that Aelin didn’t want to be the only one falling apart. As distracted as he was with watching the looks of pleasure shifting across her face when he wasn’t kissing her like her lips were the oxygen he needed to survive, he barely noticed her hand sliding down his chest. He only really felt it because she was scratching her nails over the defined muscles of his abdomen.

Rowan had just started to work a third finger into her dripping walls when her hand dipped below the waistband of his sweats and wrapped around his hard, aching cock. “Is this all because of me, baby?” she teased, though her voice, needy and breathy as it was, fell just shy of that teasing tone.

He just groaned and rocked his hips against her hand, thrusting his fingers against that spot inside of her for every pump of her hand along his length. And every time she swiped her thumb over the head of his cock, teasing the slit with just the lightest of touches, he pressed his thumb against her clit.

The room was filled with the sound of their groans, and he found that he was getting dangerously close to that edge. He could tell Aelin was getting close too, and though he wanted nothing more than to focus only on the feeling of her hand on him, he wanted to bring her over that edge with him before he took her to bed and worshipped her for as long as she wanted him to.

Yes, it certainly seemed that using their hands to bring each other into blissful oblivion was only the start to their night.

Tags: @highqueenofelfhame @city-of-fae @musicmaam @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @tacmc @tangledraysofsunshine @fo3v3r-a-day @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @nish247 @lordof-bloodshed @nalgenewhore @how-to-be-a-bad-ass-be-me @bookrebelwordwarrior @sleeping-and-books @faerie-queen-fireheart @photofeesh @belamoonbeam @julemmaes @mis-lil-red @thesirenwashere @tswaney17 @b00kworm @over300books @spyofthenightcourt @empress-ofbloodshed

As always, if you want to be added to or removed from my tag list, just let me know! And let me know what you thought - I really hope you all liked it!

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bffsoobin · 4 years

Text

redamancy

↳after snagging the boy of your dreams, you walk on cloud nine around all of your friends. Life is perfect. Beomgyu is perfect. Except for one thing. When will he say I love you?

find the moodboard here

01 | 02

➤ fluff, vaguely 60s!au, Beomgyu playing guitar!

Word Count: 1,937

A/N: This is the second and final part of my collab with @bloomingjun who made the lovely moodboard you see at the top! I hope you’ve all enjoyed my vague 60s references in this fic :)

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

Elizabeth sat at the foot of your bed as you rummaged through your closet. You were already clothed in a white sleeveless turtleneck top as you flipped through all of the plaid skirts you had collected.

“Should I go with yellow, black or blue?” you pondered over the three skirts, waiting for one to jump out at you. Elizabeth approached you with a critical eye and took the skirts from your hands. She handed you each one in turn so that you could press it against your waist and simulate the look of the whole outfit. It was so quiet as she thought that you could hear your brother’s Beatles record playing in the next room over. After you tried all three and still had no answers from your best friend you became annoyed. “Elizabeth, please. I need your help.” You knew you sounded whiney but you didn’t care. She had promised to help you get ready for this date with Beomgyu and she was slacking big time.

“Okay, in my opinion I think the yellow looks best. That way you can wear your white boots too. But honestly, Y/N. You could wear a paper bag and Beomgyu would think you look pretty.” she sighed wistfully and plopped back into your pillows. You shimmied into the yellow plaid garment and sat down next to Elizabeth on the bed, clutching the stuffed bear that Beomgyu won you on your first date. In the back of your mind, you knew she was right. Ever since your first amusement park date with Beomgyu, the two of you have been basically inseparable.

“You don’t know that. He’s sweet, but he still hasn’t…” your voice trailed into silence as Elizabeth sighed.

“Don’t lie to yourself.” Elizabeth heaved herself up to hug you from the side. “You got the best boy out of that group.” Her sweet voice soured and you knew she was referring to her failed date with Beomgyu’s older friend, Yeonjun.

“‘M sorry that Yeonjun was such a bummer.” you offered loosely.

“He wasn’t just a bummer! He bugged out on me.” she whined loudly into your shoulder.

“And he’s an idiot for it. Even Beomgyu agrees. He told me all about how he called Yeonjun and told him he was being way too much of a square to be his friend. They even didn’t talk for a few days over him bugging out on you.” Elizabeth offered a tiny smile at the knowledge. Suddenly the doorbell rang and you jumped out of your skin. Both of your parents were out of the house so you knew you had to rush down to answer the door for who you assumed was Beomgyu. Luckily, you were able to quickly slip on your shoes and grab your purse from its spot on your vanity. Elizabeth trailed behind you, planning to exit your house just after you. You bounded down exactly 12 carpeted steps to get to the living room and open the front door. The smell of freshly cut grass flooded your nose yet your primary concern was the boy standing in front of you. Every time you saw your boyfriend he made your heart flutter. Today, he was wearing a powder blue short sleeved button up and a pair of neatly pressed black slacks.

“Hey, sugar!” His voice was bright as he held out a hand to guide you out of your home. Elizabeth emerged behind you and Beomgyu’s face split into a crooked smile as he regarded her. She offered him a polite wave and patted you on the back as she said her goodbyes. Beomgyu ushered you to the car, making sure that you didn’t have to open your own door. The sleek white convertible was the envy of all your friends and your boyfriend was not afraid to show it off; especially with you sitting inside. He slid into the driver's seat easily, a sleek metal dashboard reflecting his every move. Beomgyu began to drive. You had no idea where the two of you were going but you couldn’t really find it in yourself to care. Downtown was busy this afternoon. Cars lined the streets and people filtered down the sidewalks, apparently all soaking up the sun together on this summer day. You passed the diner you worked at and noted the crowded tables, feeling grateful that you had gotten the day off. As the car came to a stop at a traffic light, you voiced that same thought to Beomgyu.

“Hm, I’m glad you got the day off, too. D’you think you can ask them for a steady schedule? I wanna make the most of our time together. If you had a schedule like that, maybe we could plan a little road trip to the beach.” He reached a hand out to lace into yours so that you could feel the cold metal of his rings against your palm. You hummed happily at the idea of a steady schedule that would allow more concrete plans with your boyfriend. The light turned green again, and Beomgyu kept only one hand on the wheel so that he wouldn’t have to let go of you. Storefronts whirled past until Beomgyu began to slow in order to pull over to the curb. He parked the car and wiggled his hand out of yours. A loud laugh escaped him as he looked you over.

“Your hair,” he took a beat to collect himself as well as he could. “The wind got it all messed up.” With anyone else, you would have shrieked in embarrassment, but you simply allowed Beomgyu to fuss over your hair for you. He was very particular, so you knew he would never let you down. Once he was satisfied, he clapped happily and made his way out of the car. No matter how badly you wanted to open your own car door you sat still; knowing Beomgyu was obsessed with the romantic gesture. The boy linked his hand in yours again and pulled you into a store you didn’t have time to examine.

It was much cooler inside, and as soon as your eyes adjusted to the darker interior you recognized the music shop. Records were carefully stacked on shelves, organized in perfect alphabetical order. Along the back wall, dozens of record players were on display for customers to examine and choose from. Although he had obviously known you were going to end up here, Beomgyu was just as awed as you were.

“Close your mouth or you’re gonna catch flies,” you poked his side in a teasing gesture. He merely faked upset by pressing his lips into a thin line and dropping your hand. Two could play at that game. “Okay, well if you’re going to be a baby I guess I’ll just...wander over there.” Your finger was pointed right at a gaggle of boys huddled together around the discount bin. Backing away slowly, you kept your gaze locked onto Beomgyu so you could see the split second his attitude changed. It didn’t take long before he was lunging toward you and wrapping his arms around your waist protectively.

“Please don’t go over there, sugar. They’ll snatch you right up,” he was surely pouting at the idea, which only made your smile grow fonder. Turning to face him properly, you squished his full cheeks between your cupped hands.

“Well it’s a good thing I have a big, strong boyfriend to scare them away.” Beomgyu keened at your praise and pushed into your hands, obviously thriving under your attention.

“Let me show you what we actually came here for.” He dragged you between the shelves of records, walking in erratic directions that would have made your head spin if he hadn’t been holding your wrist. Eventually you came face to face with a wall of electric guitars in every color you could have dreamed. You traced your fingers over some of the lined up amps and knit your eyebrows together. It was still a mystery as to why Beomgyu wanted to bring you here so badly. He had wandered away a bit, but you could hear his voice talking to someone else so you simply followed the noise. Where you arrived was simply the corner of the store with padded partitions on either side of a stool, a guitar stand and an amp. Your boyfriend stood with his back to you, conversing with a middle aged man in a uniform.

“Beomgyu, what are you doing?” Curiosity got the best of you once the employee walked away.

“I have a surprise!” His eyes were sparkling even under the harsh fluorescents of the music store. He sat down on the stool and produced a black and white electric guitar from a place you hadn’t seen before. A pair of big headphones slid over the top of his head and cushioned his ears. Slowly, you stepped closer to him. He plugged the guitar in with ease only a practiced player could have. His hands curved perfectly around the instrument as if he had placed them there thousands of times. Puzzle pieces began to click together in your brain.

“Do you play guitar?” Part of you already knew the answer already, but you had to ask. Beomgyu simply nodded but you could feel the pride radiating off of him. Your boyfriend was nothing if not confident. You watched on as his skilled fingers plucked the strings to produce a tune you didn’t quite know but enjoyed nonetheless. Beomgyu was truly in his own little world as he played guitar, head bobbing up and down with every note. There was nothing to do but look on in awe. Your heart swelled in your chest at the hidden talent of your already extraordinary boyfriend. The tune didn’t last long because Beomgyu became distracted by the wondered look on your face. He unplugged the guitar and set it aside in favor of waving you over to him. Standing between his legs, you were able to get a better look around the padded booth.

“Can I see the guitar?” Beomgyu picked up the instrument and set it into his lap so that you could easily examine it. It curved easily beneath your fingers, slightly warm from where Beomgyu had just been holding it. The strings were wound perfectly, tightened to the perfect degree in order to produce every note you could want to pluck out. More amazing than the instrument though, was the boy who propped it up.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You weren’t offended, only truly curious as to why he decided to hide such an amazing talent from you. He hid his face behind one of his large hands.

“I dunno. It just never came up, I guess. But that’s why I wanted to bring you here. I wanted you to know two new things about me.” He peered up at you with wide eyes before finally discarding the shiny instrument and standing to his full height. The proximity between the two of you made your eyelids flutter instinctively.

“Two new things?” You inquired, trying to recall anything else out of the ordinary he had done. Beomgyu hummed in confirmation.

“Yeah, two. One, I play guitar. Two,” he waited a beat, letting the general atmosphere of the store sink in on you. “Two is that I’m in love with you.” It was only then that you noticed his hands were shaking between your bodies. You encircled them with your own and brought them up to press a reassuring kiss to the flesh before speaking.

“Hey, guess what? I love you too.”

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atomicpugs · 4 years

Text

The Gift

happy birthday to one smug boi~

and endless thanks to @pdrrook for this amazing game! ✧ﾟ*ヽ(◕ヮ◕ヽ)

(ao3)

⬫

Not even a tier-five gift of allure can relieve you of the torment of retail.

Despite completing your runs for the week, you’ve been inordinately busy at the perfumery. A big holiday approaches, bringing with it an irregular influx of customers. The day had flown right past you, and you feel exhausted after being on your feet all day, greeting and serving one customer right after the next.

With a tired nod, you bid Dia goodbye as she locks up the shop. She’s quiet, but returns your goodbye with a quick nod of her own before stomping away towards her car. Clearly, she’s just as tired as you are and equally ready to go home.

Unfortunately for you, you’re not heading home just yet.

As you approach Alan’s bar, you could already feel the thumping music under your feet. You stop before the doors to rub your jaw, sore from giving your best customer service smile nonstop the entire day, and you take a deep breath.

The city air is stale but it’s daisy fresh compared to the bar, and your olfactory nerves are burning and dull from sampling perfume all day. With a slight grimace, you open the doors and feel the music immediately flood your senses. You’re not at all a fan of the placement of the speakers right by the door. Alan said it was good for drawing people into the bar. You always thought it was a stupid idea.

Your eardrums are throbbing, but it’s not the worst of it. The bar is completely packed tonight with patrons. Like the music, they’re too loud and too boisterous for you right now. From the state of the sticky floor, the bar appears to have been busy for a while. You feel submerged in the smells of alcohol and sweat and other things you’d rather not think about.

A voice sounds in your mind, as warm and inviting as the day’s first cup of coffee. “Ah, cara, I’m in the back.”

You’re holding your breath as you squeeze yourself between half-drunk dancing patrons, making your way to the back of the bar. Your oldest friend－Reed, as he calls himself now－is seated at a high top, thankfully the farthest away from the blasted speakers. Normally his natural charisma attracts attention, but tonight, he sits alone. You envy his ability to maintain a dignified space from the crowd.

“Evening, carina,” Reed calls out, espresso in hand. An odd choice for a bar, but it doesn’t surprise you one bit. You simply nod in return.

His brow lifts as he takes stock of your appearance. “You look beat.”

“Uh huh,” you reply bluntly, eager to get to business.

Earlier that day, Reed had dropped by the shop, but you were so busy, you barely gave him a second glance. So he scribbled a cryptic note for you: Meet me at Alan’s after work. He wouldn’t make such an effort if it wasn’t important.

You don’t take a seat, choosing instead to stand close to Reed as casually as you can to hear him over the booming music.

“So?” You ready yourself for anything.

For his part, however, Reed is calm, relaxed even, as he finishes his espresso. He dabs his lips with a napkin. It’s either very, very good news… or possibly the worst.

Reed’s eyes center on you, their previous warmth draining away as quickly as he drained his espresso.

You feel your heart drop. This is bad.

“Fuck, what happened?” Your heart beats almost as fast as the music banging in your ears. His brows furrow as a distinct look of disappointment shadows over his features. Oddly, though, his scent remains unchanged. The dissonance confuses you.

His eyes burn into you, and he finally answers.

“You completely forgot my birthday yesterday.”

Oh. Oh no.

Your heart sinks further. This is really bad.

Shit. How the hell did you forget? You've never forgotten his birthday. Never. After all these years, you’d learned that Reed took these things seriously, so you always made an effort to celebrate it with him.

The knots in your stomach tighten. Time to grovel.

“Reed, I－”

Then it hits you.

“Wait…” you whisper.

You’re incredulous.

“I did not forget your birthday!” you exclaim. “Your birthday is months from now!”

In an instant, Reed’s bitter frown suddenly melts into a pout. A fucking pout.

“I wasn’t talking about my real birthday.” He’s whining.

No way.

Is he really referring to the completely, absolutely fake birthdate on his phony papers? Is he really that petty enough to be upset at you for missing it?

Of course he is. This is Reed.

The realization hits you like a bulldozer, and Reed has the nerve to knowingly grin at you. You’re pissed, but a tiny involuntary ripple of guilt runs through your brow and instantly he looks more smug, victorious even. The shithead.

You snarl. “You’re a fucking brat.”

“And you owe me a gift,” he declares and slowly eyes you up and down. “Seeing as you’re empty-handed.”

Reed pouts but a quiver of a grin remains.

“Okay, alright already!” You throw your hands up, nearly knocking over someone’s beer nearby, but you couldn’t care less. You want this over and done with so you can finally go home. If you hadn’t been friends for so long, you would’ve been out the door by now.

In the most caustic singsong voice you can muster, you ask, “Reed, what would you like for your birthday?”

Your irritation clearly fuels him. Reed smirks widely, tapping his chin and making an exaggerated show of deep thought.

“Hm...”

The constant thumping in your ears halts as the music changes. This new song is a much, much slower tempo, it’s melody practically delicate in comparison to the previous one.

Nonchalantly, Reed leaps from his barstool. “I love this song.”

You don’t recognize it, but the change is a welcome respite for your ears. Suddenly, Reed grabs your hand and leads you to the center of the bar where the other patrons are coupling up to dance.

In a swift and graceful movement, Reed whips you around and pulls you close. You let out a haggard breath as if you were holding it this whole time. With him so close, the scent of the bar promptly dissipates, leaving only Reed. His sweet, smoky scent fills your senses. It is so familiar to you now that your body immediately relaxes in the comfort of it. The fight in you fades. The warmth of him is welcome amidst the chaos of the bar.

His hand grips yours tightly, but you feel his other hand graze your waist in surprisingly careful manner. Absentmindedly, you rest your forehead on Reed’s shoulder. For just a moment, he stiffens, then immediately relaxes and leads you in a slow dance. You let out a long, drawn-out breath into his jacket.

Reed switches the conversation to your mind. “Long day today?”

With a sigh, you nod wordlessly. As you inhale, you immediately detect something astringent coloring Reed’s scent. Bitterness and worry echo in the aftertaste.

“Look, I’m sorry for scaring you,” he says, sincerely.

“Sure you are, asshole.” You can’t help but bite back still. To this, Reed chuckles so deeply, you can feel it vibrating through you.

“I am,” he whispers, despite speaking telepathically. His tone turns serious. “You know, you’re working too hard.”

You’re unsure how to respond. “I guess.”

“You are working too hard.”

Reed’s words haunt you. Without thinking, you lean harder into this shoulder, and he instinctively holds you closer. No one knows better than him what little choice you have in the matter.

“You don’t need to worry about me so much,” you say, with some finality to your words.

You feel his grip on your waist tighten just a bit, his thumb tracing you slowly.

His voice echoes heavily in your mind. “I will always worry about you.”

When the two of you are speaking like this, it’s easy to drown out the sounds of the bar. For a spell, you’re both silent, swaying to the music and basking in the comfort of each other’s presence.

You feel safe, almost perfectly at ease. A foreign feeling, these days.

Reed breaks the silence, his chin brushing against your hair. “You know, I still remember the first gift you ever gave me.”

“I bet,” you attempt to snark, but your voice is timid. Reed remembers it more clearly than you do. A small smile curves on your lips as the memory of it gradually comes back to you.

Strangely, Reed releases you, and though your heart should know better, it instantly sinks, craving his embrace. The feeling stuns you. You look up, and Reed is gazing at you with a curiously unfamiliar expression. It’s intense, his amber eyes are burning into you. The two of you are still, almost frozen.

Reed wants to say something. Something important, you know that for sure. It’s his hesitation that alarms you. His full lips part, and he takes a deep breath.

But the song comes to an end. Heavy beats of the next track immediately invade your senses.

You almost dread letting him go. But when you look down, you find that Reed is still holding your hand, though limply this time.

“So for my gift,” Reed’s voice calls out in your mind, full of mischief. His signature smirk returns, quickly replacing whatever was there before.

“Gift?”

“Technically,” he shrugs, his smirk widening. “I never answered your question.”

“Wait, what?” you gawk.

“You owe me a birthday gift. The dance was a nice bonus though.”

Reed laughs. It’s exuberant but rings hollow.

“Are you fu－”

He pulls on your hand, leading you towards the exit. “But first, dinner. Dancing with someone so pretty really works up the appetite.”

“Oh, for the love of…” you mutter, unable to roll your eyes any harder.

“I’m thinking that one place by the square!” he giggles.

“I can’t afford that place, Reed!” you haggle as he continues to lead you towards the exit. The music gets louder as you get closer to the speakers. Earlier you struggled to navigate through the crowd, but Reed cuts through it effortlessly.

His laugh cuts through the crowd just as easily. “It’s on me, of course! Can’t discuss the important matter of my birthday gift on an empty stomach.”

Of all the things, Reed is an excellent negotiator. He knows you well enough to see that you’re starving before you’re even aware of it. You’re wracking your brain on what you could possibly give the guy. The infamous Reed, with his bank account much deeper than yours, typically wants for nothing.

“Reed!” you try to shout over the music, out loud this time. “What else could you possibly want?”

Without looking back, Reed pushes the doors open, and you feel the cold air pour in from outside. He squeezes your hand, and you hear him mutter something out loud instead of in your mind.

But your hearing is overwhelmed by those damn speakers.

⬫

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purelyfiction · 4 years

Text

Title: The Return of A Royal

Summary: After finding a bounty hunter in the midst of Mon Calamari, Cara, Din and Grogu jet off with the new accomplice to complete a favor, in exchange for information about a Jedi.

Word Count: 2,263

TW: Sexual Tension but that’s about it. Canon violence and weaponry

Chapter 2: A Rough Start

Exiting the cantina with another body tagging along felt strangely familiar. Many times the Mandalorian would find fellow hunters to split payment on a job and easily bring the bounty in with no issues. So, with Cara and the new face, it would be a little crowded on the Crest but they would manage. Din not being one for small talk, lead the four of them back to the ship, leaving Cara and the other woman to speak. "You got a name? Or are we just not gonna go there?" Cara asks rather bluntly, Din's head dipping slightly to hear the woman's reply.

"I go by Eliaden. You can call me Elia if you want." She offers in response. Din finds her phrasing odd, but doesn't judge. It was possible that this wasn't her primary language and she did her best to translate as rapidly as she could.

"Cara Dune. And of course you're familiar with The Mandalorian." The larger woman speaks as the group enter the ship.

"Razor Crest. Nice. You get her second hand?" Elia pipes up as Din shuts the back hatch, only after settling Grogu in his small hammock for a nap.

"Yes. Sturdy piece of machinery." He doesn't give much to her and Elia makes a face. The New Republic employee sees her reaction and gives her arm a tap.

"Don't let him bother you, he's not a chatterbot. I think in my acquaintance with him he's not said more than one hundred words." The three of them each take their turn climbing to the cockpit and settling in. Elia seemingly takes in the controls of the ship, a small smile on her face. Cara watches her uneasily, tilting her head. "You're into this kind of thing aren't you?"

Elia shrugs, watching as Din made haste with the buttons and levers easily. "I had a lot of time on my hands growing up, I spent a lot of time reading. I studied a lot about ships, machinery, general repairs, the likes. I mainly do a large portion of my own repairs on my ship. It's just some rusty freighter I got from some guy who cleary was picking up parts from Jawas. I call 'er Gypsy." She speaks pretty rapidly before Din cuts in.

"I need a location." Elia looks to him, rather quiet, emotion falling from her face. She stands and reaches over the silver that reflected off of the Mandalorian, quickly putting in coordinates before sitting back down. "Off you go." Her response is curt and she stays quiet from there on out.

The journey to their next destination was rather stiff, no soundwaves moving between anyone. Cara had gone down to the cargo bay to clean and condition Din's collection of weapons, while Elia stayed put. She simply sat looking at nowhere important, before Din started the ship into its landing sequence. He's turning to leave to check on the Child, noticing her far off gaze. He sighs and she seems to look to him when he does so. "I didn't mean to be harsh. Earlier."

"Well it wasn't exactly a meadow of sunshine and flowers, Mando." She snarls before looking to a screen flashing behind him. The helmeted man's head rolls, almost as if he was trying to crack his neck.

"Cara was right I don't speak much. So -"

"Mando, you -"

A breath of annoyance leaves him before he speaks again. "No, don't start. You need to learn that I'm not here to make friends. I'm here to get the kid -"

"Waadar Ke'sush'! The screen!" The brunette shoots up, pushing past him to settle in the ship's captain chair, kicking into action as the ship's warnings begin to take hold, ringing through the cabin and the cargo bay. Cara's head pokes up from the lower level as the ship begins to shake.

"What the hell did you do?" As the ship rattles towards the atmosphere of the planet they were arriving to Elia is quick to level the ship as the landing sequence fails, the other passengers grabbing onto whatever they possibly could. In a flash, the Razor Crest finds its way from the midst of space to the docking port of the planet. It's no gentle ride, but Elia manages to keep the contraption from turning to rubble. Once they're stopped, she looks to the Mandalorian on the floor.

"Gar cuyir very olarom." With that, Elia was making her way to the cargo bay, leaving Din in a pile of surprise.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Elia paid for the port fee and started leading her companions to their destination. As they walk, Din slowly strolls behind her as they maneuver through a crowded marketplace. "Where did you learn Mando'a." It's firm, no inflection in any portion of his words.

"Self taught. Remember the studying I mentioned?" She's quick and Cara gives him a glance, waiting til she's out of earshot to grab Din by the arm, making him look to her.

"What did you do." Her head tilts to look at him, like a disgruntled mother almost. Din turns his head away and mutters.

"I just tried to talk to her. Then the landing protocol failed. I didn't do anything." He pulls his arm away, hearing Grogu from his side making plenty of noises. When he looks back to Elia, she's standing with a grin on her face looking the tallest of them.

"You're falling behind, you two."

The woman leads them to what looks to be a residential building and she's quick to wrap her knuckles on the door. When no response comes from it, Din reaches over her and knocks on the door firmer and much louder. When it finally opens, a scraggly man dressed very minimally comes to the door, goggles on his forehead, toothpick between sharp teeth. He has a smirk when he registers Elia's features.

"Em. What a surprise." Cara's chin rises when he speaks.

"Em?" Elia's voice burns in the air and Cara suddenly knows what this is about. "Try again, greaseball." She gives a slight nod, taking a step back where Din finds himself pushing past the man into the residence. "You owe me. Big time." She stands with her arms crossed in the foyer of the room, Cara on her left, Din on his right.

"The only thing owed here, is an apology from you." The other speaks and the shorter woman groans.

"Gander, I don't have all day. You know what you owe me. If you just give me the payment, we'll leave. Otherwise, this is gonna end differently." Din can see the male give her a scowl before moving to a box on a table across the room. He unlocks it before pulling the blocks from the container with ease before slowly approaching her and handing them over. The Mandalorian can see the emblem clear as day in her hands, a small smile on her face. "Good choice. Have a nice life." She gives a squint before heading out the door, Cara looking to Din in confusion before the two follow her out. The owner of the residence gets to the door, cursing something in a different language, a clear curse, before a very clear word is pronounced.

Mari.

"Elia." Cara calls out to her through the market as she slinks her way through the crowd. She's moving quickly - far too quickly. Din can see what's happening and pulls the satchel from his side, offering it to Cara before he's quick on his feet. Elia turns behind her and sees the body of metal moving towards her and rapidly tucks the metal chunks in her pockets before starting at a running pace. The two begin in a race through the market, displays occasionally being knocked over and yelling insinuating at the actions. Elia slips into an alleyway, starting to navigate the maze like neighborhoods. Din was one step ahead of her, using the scanner in the helmet on his head to follow her footsteps.

Elia had thought she was clear, sat behind a wall, catching her breath. Din rounds the corner, an attempt to grab at her arm, circumnavigated by a block from Elia. The two begin in a hand in hand combat, each throwing their best efforts in. A kick, a duck, a dodge under legs, ending in Din grabbing the woman by the waist and pinning her to the wall she'd been hiding against. Both of them panting, it was then they realized how close together they were. Din finally gets a word out, spoken between sharp breaths.

"Who's Mari." He snaps and Elia's back straightens. Her cheek is against the building and she can feel the material scratching at soft skin.

"I don't know, his ex?" She scoffs before Din moves one of her arms behind her back, pressing a little harder into her, metal forearm armor most definitely leaving bruises.

"I'm not playing games. You either tell me and we can figure this out or I can drag you in bindings back to the ship and introduce you to the carbonite sheet with your name on it. Your choice." He watches as the two of them sit in the empty alleyway, the light of day beginning to fall, leaving a slight glow of orange over everything.

"Fine. Let me go first." She grumbles, Mando letting out a slight chuckle.

"Try again, sweet girl." Elia can feel her skin tingle at the words, eyes widening a little. She stays quiet for a few moments causing Din to grow impatient. He lets his hips press to her, securing her to wall further as he takes a hold of both arms, holding them above her head. He leans in a little, breath heavy.

"If you want to test me, you're welcome to. But I guarantee you'll regret it." It's lower than normal, husky and dark almost. Elia has to take a labored breath, her lungs feeling tight since most of her was encased between a sheet of beskar and a hardened wall.

"She's my sister." The young woman's voice is almost a rasp now as Din pulls himself away from her, hand over his blaster - just in case she gets an idea of running again.

"Explain. Now." Its a command and now, Elia isn't risking pushing him any further.

"He sent that to every bounty hunter in the Guild." She begins, referring to the hologram message Din had received. "I know because I got one. He's been looking for her for years. He had my mom and I evacuated before they closed in. He claimed he couldn't lose us too. As for why Gander called me that? He's her ex. She left quite a bit of things at his house. I knew he had the material, and I knew that if I got it, I'd be able to get a hefty amount of credits for it. He's just a junkie, he's not a bounty hunter. " She confesses before reaching into the pocket of her clothing, pulling out the four bars of beskar and handing them to him.

"I'm not taking those." He scoffs, shaking his head as he takes a step back. "If you lied about the bounty hunter, do you know where that Jedi is?" Din is doubtful, as the woman in front of him as certainly lost most of his trust now.

"That, I didn't lie about. I know she's been planet hopping. She's been trying to find the kid." Elia looks to him with a softened face. "Listen, I know you have no reason to trust me on this, but I promise. I can help you get to her. I know her last coordinates." Din shakes his head turning away and starting down the alleyway again, Elia finding herself confused. She starts to follow him, needing to take larger steps as he practically gallops away. "Where are you going?"

"To my ship. You're a joke." He scoffs, still walking towards the market in the direction they had previously ran through. Elia slowly stops walking, watching as he continues walking further from her.

"His name is Grogu." She speaks. The Mandalorian stops. He'd not once said his name in front of the bounty hunter, neither had Cara. And only four of them knew his name. Well it seemed as though, five did. He turns on his heels, jaw clenched. He's beyond frustrated. The whole day had been wasted because of this deviation and now Elia was milling it.

"How do you know that." Din pushes his tongue to the root of his mouth as he waits for a response, looking at the woman. He can see the scrape on her cheek from the plaster from earlier. He'd not thought he'd been pressing that hard - guess not.

"She told me. The Jedi. I may have spoken to her before she left Mon Cala. She told me that she was looking for him and that she was struggling to locate him." Elia takes a closer step to the Mandalorian and looks at him with a calm gaze. "He told her he was safe. That he was protected and that she would find him when she needed to." She laughs a little shaking her head. "But I don't blame you if you don't believe me." Din wants to punch something right about now. This woman had been so innocent at the cantina. A simple favor was all she asked. Now here she was, going on about conversations with the Jedi he'd been searching for. With hesitation he gives a wave.

"Get your ass back to the ship."

#the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian smut #mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian fanfic #din djarin smut #din djarin #din djarin fanfic #din djarin fanfiction #star wars fanfic

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xxwritemeastoryxx · 4 years

Text

These Violent Delights Ch. 1

Close to Home

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x OC

Word Count: 2.9K

Warnings: Horrible crime references. I seriously need to look into this more before next week’s post. But not much is going on in this one.

Author’s Note: WELCOME TO THE FIRST CHAPTER OF THESE VIOLENT DELIGHTS! I do hope you guys enjoy this one and I am definitely looking forward to writing this out for you guys!♥

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. ♥

<<Masterlist || Chapter 2 >>

Sirens filled the air as several cop cars surrounded the outside of the Vega household. What was once a quiet night at home had been ruined the moment the sirens blared, leaving the members of the house knowing there was nowhere to go. That their night would be anything but peaceful

The younger Vega children that were at home didn’t understand what was going on. They didn’t understand what it was that any of them had done to cause the police to enter their home. Worry filled Adriana’s face as she helped her mother hold on to her younger siblings as several officers led them outside. She and her mother understood what was going on. Her father’s life work had finally caught up with him and they were finally there for him.

Victor Vega had his hands deep in the black market. Whatever anyone needed, Victor could easily procure it in a timely manner. For the right price of course. His morals were out the window when it came to his business. There was never a shortage of business and his family had been able to live comfortably. At least that was until he messed up, catching the attention of Mikael Mikaelson.

While Mikael once followed the rules, he now used what he could to his advantage. His pockets bought the information he needed and it led him straight for Victor. If he could arrest someone such him, Mikael could make a name for himself on the force and he could move up the ladder as he wanted.

At least that had been the plan. Until the search through the house came up empty. Victor had been sane enough to ensure he never brought his work home with him. While those traces had led them to Victor, the proof of possession was lacking.

“Just tell me what you know,” Mikael said as he looked at Adriana. He had pulled her over to the side, wanting to speak with her privately. “Your father must have told you something.”

“I know nothing.” Adriana said as she crossed her arms. While there were many reasons why she had despised the Mikaelson in front of her, she hated him even more for coming to her home and disrupting her younger sibling’s sleep. “He has never pulled me into this. You would know that if you actually listened to what your son has told you.”

“My son has been wrapped into your lies for long enough that I no longer accept what he has told me.” Mikael’s eyes narrowed at her. “What he sees in you, I’ll never understand. Maybe after tonight, Elijah will actually see how much you try to protect your vile family.”

“Mikaelson!” A new voice filled the air. Another officer came up to them, someone that Adriana had never met before. “That’s enough. She’s a kid.”

Mikael took one last look at Adriana before walking away from her. This wouldn’t be the last time he had that conversation with her. His gut was telling him that even a child such as her would eventually find herself in plenty of situations similar to her father.

Fifteen Years Later

The sound of metal snapping had been music to Adriana’s ears. Cutting the lock to the roof access was one of the easier tasks of the night. A small smirk pulled at her lips as tossed the bolt cutters into her bag before picking up her rifle case and headed up the last few steps to her destination.

As the cold night air reached her face, she took in a deep breath. Tonight was going to be easy money. As she walked over to the ledge of the building, her brown eyes scanned the building right across from her. The view of the high-end hotel in front of her gave her the perfect view she needed.

Once she had the right room she needed in view, she began unloading the sniper rifle she carried with her. While she would never admit it out loud, this was one of her favorite parts of the job. To have the power to take someone’s life way without them ever knowing that they were the target.

From years of practice, she had the rifle set up and in position in a matter of moments. Just as she moved into position, her target walked in through the door with his mistress. “Right on schedule.” She mumbled to herself. All she had to do was wait for the right moment.

A second later, her phone began ringing. Her eye never left her target as she brought her hand up to her headset. Tapping on the button she accepted the call before bringing her hand back into position. At the beginning of the automated message, her eyes rolled. It never failed that she would be getting a call from someone in a detention facility.

It usually meant that her next black card would come from someone that was behind bars. In Adriana’s line of work, a black card held a chip inside of it that gave her all the details she needed of her target. It gave specific routines and details that she would need to complete her task. She just wondered who it would be from this time.

Rosa, it’s Damon.

A huff passed her lips at the quick recording. Damon Salvatore was an old friend of hers as well as a regular client of hers. The Salvatores had given Adriana a pretty nest egg over the last few years. She could comfortably retire and live her life off on some island if she wanted. But she was still young, and she enjoyed what she did a lot more than the idea of retirement.

“How is it behind bars, Salvatore?” She asked the moment the call connected.

Damon’s laugh on the other end had brought a small smirk to her lips. He hadn’t changed one bit. “I bet you say that to all your inmate callers.”

“Just you, Damon.” She said as she adjusted slightly. “If I said it to everyone, it wouldn’t make you so special.”

“Careful, Rosa.” Adriana could hear the smirk in his voice. “Wouldn’t want Elena to hear you have a soft spot for me.”

A scoff passed her lips. “I’m in the middle of getting take-out. I’m assuming there was a reason you were calling me?”

A chuckle came over the phone. “What is on the menu tonight?”

“Chinese.” She watched as her target came to settle on the couch in front of the window. The exact place she had noticed from the information on the black card. Where was the challenge of someone going out of their daily routine? All she needed was for the woman that was currently entertaining him to move.

"Sounds delicious." She could hear the teasing in his tone. "Look, I was wondering if you could pick up a kitten and drop it off in New Orleans. Elena is a little lonely, and I thought a companion would help ease that while I'm gone. She’s had her eye on this specific one for a while now."

"Does it need to be a handoff or can I drop and run? I do have a lot of things I need to take care of starting tomorrow." At this point, she knew this was going to be a conversation of interest. The faster she could get off the phone, the better.

"Preferably a handoff." He scoffed. "Can't leave a kitten on a porch until Elena gets off of work."

"Alright. Have Blondie leave word at my office; I'll get the details once I get back." She watched as the companion moved over to the bar and began pouring herself a drink.

"When will you be back?"

"As soon as I finish my order." She mumbled before pressing the trigger. A satisfied smirk pulled at her lips at the chaos that unfolded before her." You know it's rude to be speaking on the phone while getting ready to order.” She said as she pulled herself up from her spot.

“Right.” She could almost see him roll his eyes at her comment. It wouldn’t have been Damon if he hadn’t. “Before I forget, put a red bow on it. Make it cute.”

Adriana laughed. “Anything else I should remember?” She asked as she began putting things away in record time before picking up the shell casing.

“I’m sure she’ll know it's from me, but it wouldn’t hurt to tell her.”

Her eyebrow raised at the words. That was a dangerous game, and Damon knew it. But Damon also knew it was Adriana that could pull it off flawlessly. “Want the works or short and sweet.”

“Will it hurt to do the works?”

A chuckle passed her lips. “A little extra never hurt anyone.” She said as she made her way towards the roof access. She had a usual routine when it came to ‘the works’. “Make sure Blondie gets it to me soon; otherwise, I might not be able to do it.”

“Don’t worry, Rosa. I already called her and details would be waiting for you the moment you get back from lunch.”

Without another word, Damon hung up. Or it was that his time was up. Either way, Adriana knew that with this next job, she’d be going to the one place she hadn’t been to in years.

Home.

_____

The light green case folder slid across the desk, pulling Elijah Mikaelson’s attention from the desktop for only a second. His eyes moved back to the screen, continuing to fill out the report he had been working on. The sound of a throat clearing was what caused him to finally stop and look away for longer than a second.

He found Marcel Gerard standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. Sighing, Elijah reached over and grabbed a hold of the file.

"What is it now?" He asked as he started to open the file.

"Damon made an interesting call last night." Marcel said as he leaned against the desk.

"And?" Elijah's eyebrow raised, not bothering to look at the case notes just yet.

“The first call he made was to Caroline Forbes.” Marcel said with a slight shrug. “Mostly to check in on his girlfriend, who was working at the time. But he asked her to deliver a package to a friend. There were no details on what the package was. At least there wasn’t until he made the second call to a burner phone.”

Elijah’s eyebrow raised as he took in Marcel’s words. “He’s making deals while behind bars.”

Marcel shook his head. “He’s ordering hits. The transcript is in there. I was told this one holds priority.”

Elijah flipped several pages over until he found the transcripts of the calls. Just as Marcel said, Damon’s call to Caroline had been nothing too out of the ordinary. While the details of the package hadn’t been clarified, he had gotten more details out in the next phone call.

Placing the file down on the desk, Elijah leaned back in his seat. “I would ask how Salvatore had managed to get a mercenary’s number, but this is Damon we are talking about. We’ve been after ‘Rosa’ for years and he’s been one way to get to her all along.”

Several years after Elijah joined New Orleans PD, a mercenary by the name of Rosa had started appearing in multiple intelligence reports. Corrupt politicians around the world were relying on Rosa to get several jobs done. And as the years passed, she became untouchable. No one in the world had managed to get a hold of the woman and take her in.

Anytime someone called her, her voice had been distorted, leaving her voice unrecognizable. No matter what techs had been hired, they couldn’t fix her voice. She left no traces of her time there and there was never any DNA Evidence left behind.

Elijah had been close to finding out who she was when he had first become Detective. He figured out the location of her next target and was ready to take her down. But just as he was about to, he was handed a more important case that focused on the Salvatore Crime Family. His priorities changed and Rosa slipped through the cracks.

Marcel sighed. “Your sister said that would be the only fact you focused on.”

Elijah’s eyebrow raised. “Is there something I’m missing?”

“Rosa is coming to New Orleans to take down a target. The only one who has pissed of the Salvatores recently has been you.” Marcel hoped that his words would register in his mind this time.

Elijah shook his head and chuckled. “You think I’m the target?”

“Rebekah believes so. And if Damon hired Rosa, it’s not going to be something you see coming.” Marcel didn’t like the thought of it, but it was something that needed to be discussed.

Elijah thought for a moment. Rebekah had reason to worry. He had dismantled the Salvatore family in more ways than one. The Salvatore Brothers were both sitting in two different Prisons. The girlfriends were the only ties to the organization. Both of them had currently been under surveillance.

If Rosa was hired to take him out, Marcel was right. He wouldn’t see it coming. That was proven several times over the years. Every one of her targets never saw it coming. Her Mo was different each time, making it harder to decipher if it was her or not. The choice of death was always asked by the person that hired her.

With that thought in mind, he pulled the file back to him. His eyes scanned the transcript. If it was for him, he needed to know what was the choice. As he scanned over the transcript, a small smirk pulled at his lips. “I’ll see it coming.”

“Excuse me?” Marcel asked wanting to be sure he had heard Elijah correctly.

“If I am the intended target, I’ll see it coming.” He held out the file to Marcel. “She asked if it would be a handoff or a drop and run. Salvatore replied with a handoff. It means he wants her close and personal with the intended target.”

“Elijah, this could be anyone.” Marcel hated that at this moment Elijah was being stubborn about this. While he understood that hiding away wasn’t the best option, it was going to make things difficult. “Waiters, bankers, anyone that we may come into contact in our daily lives and you wouldn’t know the difference.”

“She works based off of routine.” Elijah reminded him. “If I stick to the same places and faces, this will work in our favor.”

“You really want to do this?” Marcel asked as he pointed a finger to the file. “He asked her to put in the works as well. That could be anything. If it’s an in-person encounter, she has an unlimited amount of ways she could do this.”

“I’m taking this as a challenge, Marcel. One that I’m surprised you aren’t taking. We’ve been after Rosa for years and now that we have a target close to home, you want to back out.” Elijah understood the risks. His whole job was about risks. But he wasn’t about to lay low out of fear. He’d rather face it head-on.

“Are you crazy?” Rebekah asked as she walked into the office. She had heard the tail end of the conversation. She wasn’t about to have her brother go through with his crazy ideas. “I would expect this from Nik, but not you Elijah.”

An amused looked formed on Elijah’s face at his sister’s words. “I’ve been in worse situations than this one. Say, for instance, actually taking down the Salvatores.”

“Bloody hell,” Rebekah said as she ran her hand down her face. “You had a bulletproof vest on. Are you going to walk around with one on all day until she is caught?”

It was Marcel’s words that shocked them both. “He’s got a point, Bex. This is a case that we haven’t solved in years. She’s still out there because we started working on the Salvatore case. I’ve always been wondering who’s the face we are supposed to put on the wanted poster.”

Rebekah looked between the two men in front of her. She shook her head and threw her hands up. “Fine, but we are making your life a case out of it. You will have your team on standby any time you go out. I want surveillance on Forbes up until the handoff.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Marcel said with a smirk. Rebekah rolled her eyes and walked out of the room at that. “Remind me how she’s your boss when she’s your family?”

Elijah chuckled. “As many times as I’ve mentioned she’s my sister, they never quite believe it. If there is anyone to ask about why, I’d say it has something to do with Mikael.”

Marcel shook his head slightly. “I bet she’s already out there getting people on it.”

“No doubts about that.” Elijah said with a nod. “Why don’t we get Niklaus on surveillance. I’m sure he wouldn’t lose sights of Forbes.”

Marcel threw his head back with a laugh. “100 says he’ll get smacked from attempting to get her number.”

“Lets make it more interesting. 200 that we’ll get a call about it.” Elijah said as he stood from his desk and grabbed his jacket.

There was a lot of work ahead of them. If things were going to work in their favor, there was a lot of prep work that needed to be done. From experience, Elijah knew there was going to be long nights ahead of them. Especially if Rosa was coming into town. And this time, He wasn’t going to be letting her slip through the cracks again.

<<Masterlist || Chapter 2 >>

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